From the beginning: Last Saturday I woke up completely surprised by a nasty head cold. Somewhere in the middle of the night I was awakened mid-dream with a funky nasal taste (graphic? it should be) and immediately rolled over in hopes that sleeping on my left side would ward off pre-trip illness. Turns out my left side only breeds it.
I packed deliberately in between huddling under my covers while my body exchanged sweating for shivering as if I were jumping from sauna to snow and back. But this wasn't the enjoyable kind. Because of this I was forced to shift our departure time back on Sunday, and thus Bill had to wait around for my sick ass to show up - clutching his skis and wearing his pack probably with his eyes closed picturing us cruising down I-5 and far away from Ptown.
After a 7 hour long drive and some wintry conditions we eventually rolled into the Rim Village at Crater Lake. A quick bowl of chili and a frigid piss outside the van led us to warm sleeping bags in Bill's built-to-live-in soccer mom van (look for the sticker on the back window).
The next morning was cold, but clear. With sun creeping over the elevation to our east we stepped inside the Ranger Station for our backcountry permit. And then we were off.
For this trip, our two objectives were to ski around the entire lake along the Rim Drive and to try for some turns in an area called Mount Scott. For these purposes we chose to use our Alpine Touring skis with skins, not the best for cross country travel but would offer us the chance at claiming some higher viewing points (with the descent in mind). The distance is approximately 31 miles by the road, and the elevation at the highest is almost 9,000 feet. The road itself hovers around 6,500 feet and the the highest we slept at was 7,700, on a day when we knew Mount Scott lingered just beyond our limited visibility.
We travelled clockwise around. On day two we crossed one other group of 5 heading the opposite direction, the only other people we would see until back in the parking lot (only to find out after we had finished that they needed the assistance of a satellite phone and the ski patrol to find their way home).
Later that day during a break from slogging along I sat on top of my pack with no shirt on. The sun was lowering but still powerful and warm and my sweaty shoulders and back were thankful. That night we set up camp while the sun was still out to dry our tent and bags, and Bill and I sat around the pot of melting snow writing in our journals and stretching our legs, ski bootless (felt so nice!).
We fell asleep that night with a slight fear of an expectant cold because of the clear evening. However we opened our eyes to snow and somewhat high winds. Or so we thought high winds, turns out the breeze at camp was nothing compared to the gusts along exposed areas of the eastern rim that we would cross later in the day.
When the Rim Drive isn't running directly along the upper contour of the caldera (like it does on the north side) it does a fairly good job of meandering back to overlook the rim whenever features allow. Such was the case on the east side and it was at these points that Bill and I braced ourselves against some of the highest winds I've ever had to endure on skis and with a pack. At points I would just stop in a four point stance and simply try to maintain my position.
It came in waves, and made me feel like an awkward drunk. I had little control, except when short lulls allowed for hasty movement forward towards anything that blocked the full force of mother nature building strength across the entire openness of Crater Lake. It blew me over twice. I screamed into it, my voice lost in the noise from the moment it left my lips.
Visibility was so poor from there on out that when we reached a point where we knew the road existed we decided to hole up for the night on the solace of knowing the road would indeed be near us in the morning. We were right at the base of Mount Scott. No turns for us.
The next two days were blue, sunny, and warm. More stunning views and landscapes. More slogging along with skins on. More triumph at each days end. More delicious hot dinners. More time for journal writing. More avalanche bypass routes. And more miles to put under our belt.
The last, from the park Headquarters back up to the Rim Village where we had parked was probably the toughest. Because we knew it was the last and because it was getting hot and the trees were literally raining down on us with widow-maker residue.
Waiting for us in the parking lot was the van with two 24oz PBR's and a half bag of crackers. Again, warm sun on our bare shoulders and conversation, we relished in the accomplishment of the previous five days. I had managed to lose a head cold in the backcountry. We had managed not to have an epic, though the trip will rank high in my book of adventure.
For some really amazing pictures from this trip, check out Bill's postjock blog. He does some good work with the camera and keyboard alike.
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