Day 4 -- to Crater Lake National Park

Hello, My Beauty.

Greetings from Crater Lake National Park in Oregon! We made it!

Since we left home on Monday, we’ve been driving, driving, driving. But I haven’t really felt like our road trip has started until today. Everything until now has just been set-up — getting us into place for the launch of our epic Pacific Northwest adventure, which happened today.

As we drove northwest out of Winnemucca this morning, we passed a sign that proclaimed the town to be “The Gateway to the Pacific Northwest.” A couple of thoughts: 1.) Yes! We are on the right track. The Pacific Northwest is exactly where we are heading! And 2.) How the hell can this barren wasteland — this dry, desolate desert -- be associated in any way with the Pacific Northwest and the redwood rainforests, majestic mountains and windswept coast of my mind’s eye? It’s a complete non sequitur.

We had eaten breakfast at a charming cafe called The Griddle in downtown Winnemucca. It’s been a fixture there since 1948. Charlie ordered a waffle with a glacier of ice cream on top of it. 

I ordered the steel-cut oats and kept refilling my bottomless cup of coffee. It was a rookie mistake. Because as soon as we left town and turned onto Nevada Highway 140, we passed a sign that proclaimed, “Next Services 66 miles.” I spent the next hour traversing the godforsaken Nevada desert with the focus of a freaking fire-walker, overcoming the discomfort and achieving some kind of euphoric mind-bladder zen until we came upon a blessed rest area.

I. Have. To. Peeeeeeeeeee.

We were in the car today for six hours — about 350 miles on two-lane roads. After we cut across the flat, dry desert, we ascended into the hills and crossed a series of mile-high mountain passes where the landscape was even more barren — no trees anywhere; only scrappy sagebrush half-heartedly carpeting the orange earth. I was startled to pass a “Welcome to Oregon’ sign in the midst of this. I think I imagined that we would crest a ridge and come face to face with purple mountains' majesty and a plaid-clad hipster handing me a pour-over made with batch-roasted organic beans. This was not the case.

Welcome to Oregon. No baristas or artisanal avocado toast to be seen.

An hour or so after we crossed into Oregon the trees grew back and the landscape became greener and more fertile — cattle and horse ranches set into rolling hills. But it’s hot here — in the 90s — and very, very dry. There is the sense that one errant spark could send the countryside up in a ball of flames. 

We stopped for lunch in the dusty ranch town of Lakeview, which has a view of a lake as much as Sarah Palin has a view of Russia from her back yard. I asked the gas station attendant for a lunch recommendation (it’s state law here to have an attendant pump your gas), and he pointed us to the Burger Queen, an off-brand fast food hut down the street. Clare checked it out on TripAdvisor, which gave it the rousing endorsement: “It’s better looking inside than outside.” It’s THAT kind of town — where that’s the best option for lunch.

Shortly before we arrived at the national park, the ranch land gave way to ponderosa pine forest as we quickly climbed into the Cascade Range. We checked in to the campground and circled the loops to find the best-looking campsite. Most of them are taken already — especially the nicely shaded sites. The one we chose is large, but the picnic table was in full-sun, which made Clare grumble. 

We spent about an hour getting everything set up, and carefully positioned the tent shelter over the table to block out the bright afternoon sun.  Clare made a delicious dinner, and after we ate, Charlie made a fire without using matches or a lighter — apparently he was the flint-and-steel superstar in the fire-starting clinic at Camp T last week. We made s’mores and tried to play Uno around the campfire, but the bugs drove us to bed. It’s late, anyway.

We haven’t heard much from you today, Natalie — probably because we haven’t had any cell service. Charlie said he heard at the camp store that there’s no signal for 35 miles. So it may be another day or two before we can be back in touch. I hope all is well. We miss you and love you very much.

Love, Mom

xoxoxoxoxoxo