Day 18. Crater Lake

Day 18. Crater Lake

Crater Lake NP boundary (1814.3) to Rim Village

7/27/19

I first saw Crater Lake during a father-daughter road trip when I was on summer break in college. My dad and I stayed in the Crater Lake lodge and sat in the rocking chairs on the porch with an incredible view of the blue waters. 

As I lay in my hammock eating breakfast, I scroll through the photos I dug up of that first trip. Bringing up sweet memories.

My dad and I at Crater Lake in 1996.

On a hike near the lodge, my dad and I traversed a snow field. It was one of the scariest things I’d ever done. My legs quivered as I placed each of my steps carefully in the steps my dad kicked into the snow. But it was also one of my favorite memories because it always reminds me that I can do difficult things if I just focus on one step at a time. And it never hurts to have a good steps to follow!

That memorable hike.

These memories makes me think about the things that can inspire a life-long passion for the outdoors.

***

I’m packed up and hiking well before dawn. There is no way I’m going to miss my park ranger friend’s trolley tour and I want a full day to enjoy Crater Lake.

The first half dozen miles to Mazama Village fly by. I rush to shower and do laundry so I won’t offend the other people on the trolley tour. Then I hike another half dozen or so miles up to the rim with plenty of time to spare.

A ranger program about pikas is happening right when I arrive. I love pika and it’s so neat to learn more about them. Even though the program is for kids, I hover at the edge and try to look like I belong. I watch the game the kids play (that demonstrates the challenges pikas face from climate change) and it seems like one I can adapt for my students back home.

My friend’s trolley tour is incredible and I love playing tourist for a few hours! We ride around the whole lake and get out at several overlooks which all highlight different perspectives and geological features. We learn why the lake is blue and the geological history of how the lake was formed. A cool thing is that it only took 300 years for the lake to fill up! Another highlight is learning that the lake is home the Mazama Newt that is only found here. Later I find out that they are a genetically distinct subspecies that are closely related to the newt I saw a few days ago in the Russian Wilderness.

After the tour, I catch one last ranger program about the geologists that have studied the lake. Watching all these ranger programs makes me so happy! I'm so hungry for natural history information and for a deeper understanding of the beautiful places I'm passing through. 

I also love sitting on the same porch I sat with my dad so many years ago rocking in the rocking chairs I remember so well. I watch kids with their parents and wonder if any of these young people will grow up to hike the PCT because of trips like this one.

After my friend gets off work, she takes me down to the town of Klamath Falls where she lives and we go out to eat. We talk about our time in Montana State Parks Americorps and how the things we learned in that program helped us get our jobs with the NPS. So many memories! What a full day!

First timers to ISKY

Four of us start down off the edge of the plateau. This is M.’s first backpacking trip in Utah and C.’s first full day in Utah. Both are interns at the park.

Into the canyon

We are on the same loop I took during my first season as an SCA here. A place to make you fall in love with canyon country. At least it did for me. The expansive views still take my breath away. Seeing it through their eyes adds an extra dose of wonder.

Still there are surprises for all of us. The first few blossoms of spring.

Paintbrush

Mags and C. join us for the first part of the day. Enough time to plunge deeply into the canyon and see the water striders gliding across pools of water.

We joke about the relative pack sizes in our group-- the difference between backpackers and dayhikers.

And we wonder what other people must think as they walk by and see M. carrying so much and Mags with his tiny pack.

C. and Mags decide to turn around to allow extra time for the climb back out. I wish they could stay but they have to work tomorrow. At least we could hang out for most of the day!

Where we parts ways.

M. and I continue on. Down to the Green River where minnows dance in the shallow backwaters.

Water near the Green River.

Not as bad after the sediment settles overnight.

We make it much further up our return canyon than I’d expected. And finally pick a spot in a side canyon.

View from our campsite.

While moving rocks to hold down my ground cloth, a scorpion surprises me.

It seemed much larger.

I relocate the scorpion up the canyon. But are there other scorpions lurking under other rocks? I figure there is only one way to find out! And proceed to turn over all the rocks in the area. But how far do scorpions roam? I widen my circle as the sun goes down. As M. set us her tent. A tent with a full zipper and netting. Scorpion-proof. Oh why did I opt for a tarp with no bug netting?!

As I turn over more rocks, suddenly, I feel something tickle my arm. Later, M. says that she’s never seen anyone rip of clothes so fast. I toss my hoodie and shirt to the ground and examine every inch of my arm. Nothing. Nothing on my clothes either. Then I notice the metal snaps on my shirt. Ah the power of the imagination to turn a snap into a scorpion.

Just like a scorpion welcome-mat.

M. points up and says, “Look at the bats!” And we joke about how they are certainly the types of bats that eat scorpions (i.e. pallid bats). Even though I don’t really know how to distinguish bat species. And somehow the idea of protective bats flying about lets me sleep deeply without fear of scorpions in the night.

Rain arrives the next morning.

The ever-changing weather of springtime.

But then the sky clears again.

Nearly there.

Back at the top, M. remarks how much her perspective of the canyon has changed after experiencing the full depth of the canyon on foot and seeing what it looks like from down below. I am reminded how many people don't have all the time to see more than the overlooks. And I am once again grateful for my extended time here and for the joys of sharing this place with friends.

Back to the high point.

Seven dayhikes in Arches

For the first seven days of the government shutdown, the park remains open thanks to funding from the state of Utah.

I’m still glowing from accepting my first “permanent” position with the NPS after being a seasonal for so long. Even though the shutdown has halted my paperwork from going through and I’m in that weird in-between place of having accepted their offer letter but not officially hired back yet. I still feel a deep peace at finally having some stability. And deep joy at having work that is meaningful and feels valuable.

I’m not supposed to start working for a few more weeks anyway. Once the students are back in school from the winter holiday.

So I celebrate. Seven days of dayhiking in "my" park. Venturing into the familiar but overlooked. Finding the surprising and the new-to-me.

Most people don’t think of Arches when they go looking for solitude and wildness. Most visitors concentrate on the instagram-worthy iconic sites. I know I did when I first started volunteering here three years ago.

Before I learned how to follow washes and slickrock. How to travel without leaving any lasting footprints.

Just following the slickrock.

Along the washes.

I go in search of perspectives I’ve never had before.

Though I've driven that road down below countless times.

Relics of the past that are tucked away.

Stumbling upon water in unlikely places.

Perched up high.

I find the delightful contrast between the expansiveness of seeing miles in all directions and the narrowness where you can’t even turn your head as you squeeze between the fins.

I love squeezing through and not knowing what will be on the other side.

Listening to the sounds of ravens. Not seeing anyone else.

I stumble on an arch that’s not on my maps. Get a taste of discovery. (Even though it’s just re-discovery.)

Another not-so-famous arch.

One day, Mags’ friends come to town. He has to work but I enjoy a wonderful morning exploring the Fiery Furnace with them. One of my favorite field trips that I do for my job is our 3rd grade field trip to the Fiery Furnace. And their youngest son happens to be in 3rd grade! Perfect! It makes me so happy to share it with them!

Going with some new friends to the Fiery Furnace.

A wonderful week.

Lower Muley Twist in Capitol Reef

“Jan, I might turn around if it gets bad,” I reluctantly admit.

It’s the third day of our trip. I'm tired and frustrated by how sore my body feels. It’s been two and a half months since the surgery and my body isn't used to carrying a 30 lb pack (due to 6 L of water). The trail description of “steep exposure” up ahead sounds intimidating.

Grumpy Joan trudging uphill (Photo by Jan)

“We could just take a few trips with our stuff over the sketchy part,” Jan coaxes, “Let’s wait and see how bad it is.”

When we get to a false summit, I whine, “I’ll bet we aren’t even a quarter of the way there.”

Jan pulls out her map, "We are more than halfway there. You're already past the exposed section."

I realize I'm being an idiot.

Biscuitroot (Lomatium)

Jan shouts “Biscuitroot!” and I run over and leap about excitedly. My energy has miraculously returned when when plants are involved. Or maybe my overactive imagination was getting the better of me thinking I was in worse off shape than I actually was. Thank goodness Jan is so unfailingly positive.

Dwarfed by massive alcoves

Lower Muley Twist Canyon is known for the massive alcoves that envelop you. The Mormon pioneers said this canyon was so narrow and windy it could "twist a mule" which gives the name Muley Twist. We twist our way through miles of canyon and check out the cowboy graffiti from the 1920's.

A few weeks ago, I found rusted out tobacco tins north of Moab, so it's neat to see one with the print still on it in the shelter of an alcove.

We set up camp within a huge rock bowl that seems like a giant amphitheater.

Extended testing of the suitability of this site for camping AKA napping(Photo by Jan)

This spot is relatively protected from the ever-present wind, though we still get some gusts.

After dinner, we scramble up slickrock to giant pools of water teeming with water boatmen. Then, we chase sunset, which eludes us in the twists of the canyon.

How'd you manage to get up there, Jan?

The sweet song of canyon wrens wakes me before dawn. As we take our first steps down the canyon, first light hits the highest rocks behind us, glowing orange.

The side-trip to Hamburger Rocks isn't marked. We re-trace our steps three times to find a way up  that won't damage the biological soil crust. The "Hamburgers" are hoodoos in the Navajo Sandstone. I immediately climb up and start jumping from the top of one hoodoo to the next in a long arc.

Hamburger Rock Challenge (Photo by Jan)

Those of you who have hiked long trails may know of traditions such as the ice cream challenge or 4-state challenge. I decide to invent my own challenge that involves making a loop of the hoodoos without touching the ground. The reward is an imaginary root-beer float. Jan and I make slurping noises as we pantomime sipping them from imaginary straws. Benefit: less calories than a real float!

Muley Tanks are the next destination. We weren't sure what kind of tanks we'd find- Sherman tanks or tall metal tanks with ladders like on the Arizona Trail? These tanks are natural rock pools of water made by flowing water. An oasis.

Muley Tanks

The wind picks up on the hike back to the trailhead. I notice rock outcrops that look exactly like Entrada sandstone, which is the layer of rock that forms arches at Arches National Park. Only these rocks seem out of place- everything is so topsey-turvey here along the Waterpocket Fold.

Final couple of miles through the Strike Valley

Then back at the trailhead, we meet a group of geology enthusiasts and they confirm that it is in fact Entrada and show us a geology book that helps us understand all the layers out here.

In the evening, we are tired so we decide to go find a FS road to disperse camp. As we drive through washes, Jan decides we can take imaginary “washes” (like in a shower) and it will make us clean. So, we pantomime doing our hair and scrubbing our pits whenever the car dips down to a wash. This way we don’t have to waste time actually going to town for a shower. Works just as well as our imaginary root-beer floats. In that it makes us laugh.

Jan sleeps in her car while I set up my tent in a wash for protection from the wind.

Jan has a pretty sweet setup for sleeping in her car. So cozy for watching the sunset after another great backpacking trip.

The luxury of car camping with Jan: fresh veggies from the cooler to add to our hot soup and hot cocoa for dessert.

Jan is a pro at lining up her car to make a sheltered spot from the wind for sunset-viewing.

The view of the Henry Mountains with the moon

More Information

Muley Twist Canyon (NPS)

Permits are required for all backcountry camping in Capitol Reef National Park. Be sure to pack out all your trash and toilet paper.

Astragalus with pollinator friend

Using my degree

Someone recently made a comment about “not using your degree.” As if getting a PhD was just about jumping through some hoops to get a piece of paper to get a certain job. Rather than a process that changes you and how you see the world.

Seeing.

Up close. Tiny yet exquisite, Draba cuneifolia.

The only part of my degree I don’t use anymore is the title.

But the problem-solving skills, the grit, the ability to learn— those I use everyday. Even out here, while hiking on my days off.

Trying to figure out how to get way over there from way up here.

I understand that what they are saying is that I’m not in a job that requires my degree. It’s true I’m not a research scientist. I'm a Park Ranger and I teach elementary school kids.

I suppose people don’t understand what it’s about. Or they assume getting a PhD is just like going to college for a few more years.

Instead, a PhD is about doing something entirely new. You problem-solve like your life depends on it and tackle projects that take years to complete. Because it’s never been done before. You learn to teach yourself all the skills and any topic you need to know (often from many disciplines). It takes perseverance and resourcefulness. You learn to keep going despite failure after failure. Step by step, you become the world expert on something incredibly small and minuscule, but still you know more about it than anyone else.

Then you assemble the five smartest people you know to ask you any question about ANYTHING. They can literally ask you what a black hole is or who invented the microscope. Even if your topic is ecology. Which I guess is sort of like being a Park Ranger giving an interpretive talk. Except that your thesis committee can fail you.

Not a black hole. Though it looks dark inside.

 I feel like I use my degree when I problem solve and whenever I tackle big problems and when I teach.

And even when I hike. I think the reason I keep coming back to this place is because I want to know it inside out. As if I'm working towards becomming the world-expert. At least trying to get to the bottom of things.

Can't get to the bottom of it here. Must backtrack.

After having walked each drainage, section by section, now I’m following along the rim, bit by bit. Attacking hurdles from all different angles. Stewing over points in my mind for days, checking geologic maps, then leaping up well before my alarm and going out to try the new idea. Keeping notes, methodical, persistent. “Ah ha” moments are few and far between, but when they come there isn’t time to celebrate, just moving on to the next thing.

97% of good hikes involve crossing over barbed wire fences.

Ah ha! I think I've found the swimming pool sized waterhole.

Maybe you are bored with of all these photos that look the same month after month. But I don't tire of them because I can tell that they are slightly different.

Something new here.

This is called "West Boundary Arch." I decided to try to find this arch because I thought the name had a nice ring to it.

Yesterday I was teaching my first and second graders about dodo birds. (They’d been requesting this topic for literally months but it took me this long to think up a suitable lesson). We talked about why they went extinct, how they were well-adapted to their island habitat, why “dodo” is a misnomer and what “misnomer” means, and how they weren’t really stupid. It was just the island they lived on had no predators and they were curious creatures.

I asked them about what “stupid” means and if there are different types of intelligence for different situiations. And they got really into it so I also snuck in some ecological concepts that normally you don’t learn until college but I figured out ways to explain then without technical language. And I could tell from their questions that they were putting really complex ideas together.

Then my students made dodo masks out of cardboard and stapled feathers to them. One kid's mask had blood-red marks on it that he said were scars from the bird getting attacked but then escaping. And then they all ran outside with their masks on and waddled around in a little flock, wildly, joyfully.

 “Not using my degree- ha!,” I think, “What nonsense!”

Leaping along the rim.