As of September 11th, I officially became a resident of Portland, Oregon. I was born in Rhode Island and lived there until I was 18-years-old. At that time I boarded a plane and flew to Los Angeles to attend Occidental College and had remained there for the past 5 years. Recently, I felt ready for another big change -- and the ensuing adventure that only comes when taking a risk that one can't turn back from.
I was about as excited to be in Portland as I was to actually drive up there. I had my trip planned loosely and had given myself a gracious five days to make it up the coast. My plan was to camp out under the stars in the wilderness. It was just me, the car and the open road. I was ready to explore America's West while driving up through California and Oregon. I was prepared to survive my road trip and camp solo at Crater Lake and Shasta National Forest.
I began my journey in Los Angeles on September 7th at 5:00 A.M. with a rented car. I packed up all my belongings in the trunk, said good-bye to my roommates and took off. As I reached the spectacular Pacific Coast Highway near Big Sur, I rolled the windows down, turned up the music, and smelled the ocean breeze. I made it up to Oakland for my first night where I stayed with a friend before he left for his own adventure to London.
The next morning I was back on the highway singing loudly to my mix tape and ready for my first camping stop on the journey - destination: Shasta Nation Forest in northern California. I drove down a 10 mile winding mountain road surrounded on each side by misty trees and brush, almost struck a frightened deer lingering behind a long curve but made it safely to the Hirz Bay campground. A man with a handle bar mustache and reading glasses resting on his sharp nose was up in his large camping trailer with a book. He stopped reading for a moment to give me directions to an available camp site where I parked, laid the green tarp on the ground and started to assemble my tent.
With home base set up, I went exploring. I found a trail head close by camp leading to the clear mountain water. The slope was steep and was lined with poison oak and other plant life. The dirt path connected with another that ran perpendicular, and I followed the new one until I came to another downward path. I took small, quick steps down the slope, leaped over a muddy creek and scaled the steep lake shore on all fours. Up higher the bank reminded me of a large staircase with steps of clay. The blue lake lined with orange, and red clay slopes, all enclosed in forest green pine trees, was a beautiful sight in the early afternoon.
As I walked down toward the water, the uniformity of the banks began to crumble. The rocks became more jagged and could be broken off with my bare hands leaving a colorful stain in my palm. I found a flat surface to sit and watched a few boats cruise by on the lake. Their wake took several minutes to reach my location and then rhythmically fanned across the shoreline.
Down by the water, I tested the temperature and found it to be pleasant. I took off my clothes and dove head first into the mountain lake. The water was refreshing and cool. It felt great. I saw a school of little fish watching me with curiosity near the shore.
As I got dressed, rain started to drizzle. I took this as a sign to head back towards camp. I made it back over the river and then ran the trail back to the tent. I ate a quick snack, and brought my book and head lamp inside where I settled into my sleeping back. Within a few minutes, the rain became more powerful. I put the book down and listened to the droplets puttering against the rain guard and drifted asleep to nature's music.
I awoke to a wet landscape consumed in a mountain mist, shook off my tent and packed it in, and set back down the winding mountain road for Highway 5. I enjoyed the last few melancholy miles of California as I remembered friends and adventures from Los Angeles. But soon I broke through the Oregon border energized with a new excitement for the unknown that awaited me. My next stop would be camping solo at Crater Lake National Park.
When I entered the park, it had started to rain again, and the car's thermometer was reading 42 Fahrenheit. I parked and quickly put on some layers and my raincoat. After setting up my tent in the drizzle, I walked around the campground. My site was close to a canyon. The sound of water running came as a brisk trickle a few hundred feet below. I hiked down the switch-backs to reach a crystal clear creek that ran off from Crater Lake. The hiking trail followed along the water's flow and crossed over it on broken bridges several times. I heard unique bird calls one only hears at higher elevations and felt the natural sacredness that surrounded me. The path turned back up the steep slope, and when I made it back to my tent, the sun had come out.
That night while camping solo at Crater Lake the temperature fell below freezing. I was not prepared. I stayed wrapped in my summer sleeping bag wearing not much more than pajamas. It was difficult to sleep, the cold ground absorbed my body heat and the air escaped into the darkness of the night. I yearned for the morning sun to heat up the mountain campground.
I survived through the night. That morning, my tent was frosted over. At over 6000 feet, I was humbled by the mountain's cold. I stepped out into the frosted morning and did some jumping jacks and rubbed my hands together. A small bird hopped onto the bear-proof locker and slipped on the icy top. I learned from The Survivors Club that a sugary drink will raise your body temperature more than a hot drink. So that morning I drank my coffee with extra sugar.
My road trip continued around the rim of Crater Lake - 33 miles of pure beauty. The scenic views look out onto the pure blue ancient caldera that once harbored a volcanic blast 50 times more powerful than Mount St Helens. I took the boat tour across the lake's surface guided by a ranger who knowledgeably answered all our questions about the geology and history of Crater Lake. He shared with us the local Native American tribe's creation myth that centered around the great mountain. Looking down over the railing, I could see over 100 feet down into the clear blue snow melt lake. Wizard Island, which resembles a sorcerer's hat, resides in the middle of the lake and the boat cruised by as we all took photos.
When I got back to shore and ate lunch, I parked at the trail head for Garfield Peak. This point, over 8,000 feet above sea level, offers 360 degree views of the lake and the surrounding Oregonian wilderness. Trees are seen for miles in every direction. On top of that peak, I sat in awe of the greatness of the American West - just one observer of a grander beauty.
That night, I layered up determined to sleep comfortably. Before I cocooned myself up with a blanket inside my sleeping bag, I gazed at the billions of stars piercing the sky like pinholes until my neck hurt. I could see the 'milky' in the Milky Way in that forest of light above my head. That night I experience a more restful sleep camping solo at Crater Lake and awoke at least somewhat warm blooded.
For the last leg of my road trip, I left Crater Lake going north. I took two-lane forested highways headed west towards Eugene until they connected with I-5 North. When Portland was only miles away, I both wanted to get there as quickly as possible and slow down to savor the anticipation. As my adventure was drawing to a close, I reflected on how this experience was a wonderful way for me to start building a new life in a new city. My road trip was exciting and offered many beautiful sights. Camping solo at Crater Lake National Park and Shasta National Forest challenged me to adapt to difficult situations like the freezing night near the lake and learn to rely on myself to handle problems. The trip gave me perspective on the American West and energized me for future adventures. I arrived refreshed and ready to undertake my new urban encounter in Portland, Oregon.
