Crater Lake

Leaving Crescent City, the Redwood Highway took me deep into giant forest country where California eventually became Oregon. Unanimously lauded as one of the most beautiful states in the country, it's the sort of place that makes you actually want to listen to country western music. Mind you, there wasn't really a whole lot of choice as the only alternative on the radio seemed to be this awful genre of American rock that makes you understand why so many kids are now choosing to do 'meth', a dangerously self-destructive habit. Occasionally, though, an absolute gem would come on but these tumultuous moments of audio pleasure were few and far between.

It's a lake. No, it's a tree...

Once you cross states, the people are noticeably different. Whether it was the waitress at the cafe or the seemingly homeless guy near the service station, the sense I got from talking to them was that they had never gone further than the 5 miles radius from where we were standing. Even the 'I've come all the way from Hong Kong and just been to South America' chestnut didn't seem to impress much on them - probably because they had no idea what either of these places was. They were quite content just to talk about the current heat wave that had struck the region and tell me to visit the Oregon Caves.

The decision to follow their advice took me on a 45-degree angle away from my intended course and into another of these time warps which have now become all too familiar. Once inside, it is at least another 4 hours before you find yourself back at the same spot. The guided tour, which consisted of myself and twenty 10-year old school children was a bit uncomfortable at first - one of those where at every point the ranger is asking questions and kids raise their hands while yelling out the answers. From beginning to end it lasted for an hour and a half. Well, at least I learned something but all the while I was checking my watch, mindful of not making it to Crater Lake in time for sunset. By the end of the tour I would have been quite prepared to eat the children.

As many of you know, I am a smooth, safe and uncompetitive driver, until circumstances push me too far and I become the F1 equivalent of the Incredible Hulk. The speed limit in these parts is 60mph. I spent the next few hours driving at Mach 3 through the Oregon countryside, all the while observing the setting sun and wondering if I would make it in time for that all-important twilight photo. As it turns out, this was summer solstice, and even at 8:30pm, the floating egg yolk just kept lingering above the treetops, enough to give me hope that it was meant to be.

Crater Lake is the remains of what was once a giant volanco called Mount Mazama. About 7,000 years ago it erupted and collapsed into its own lava chamber, leaving a gargantuan hole 6 miles wide that, over the years, just kept accumulating rain water and snowmelt.

As I pushed up the mountain, the first sighting of snow came much quicker than expected. Before long, the snow on the roadsides was four feet deep.There is a small road that runs around the edge of the crater, and as chance would have it, the park itself is free on summer solstice. Don't ask me why, but there was only one other person there when I reached the precipice of the crater. A photographer, who had also timed his arrival to perfection.