I guess that celebratory hot chocolate was a little premature! It’s just as well—I would do it again, just for kicks. And the rain kept the temperature from dropping into the freezer range – or was it the other way around?
I think I know the reason why my original choice for a camping site, Tree of Heaven, was closed before I arrived here: I spotted the road that takes you from the highway to the site into the valley carved out by the Klamath River.
With rain for mud or snow for ice, most vehicles would be hard pressed to make it back up to the main road once you had driven down to the river.
Still at large!
Suspected murderess Tabitha Lee hasn’t been apprehended yet. I’m not worried—I would simply offer to buy her another tattoo for the other side of her neck, with some headphones or a CD player or other boom box accessory.
I did a little research yesterday and mapped out some next steps when I leave here tomorrow—I’m heading to Medford, Oregon! Everything I could possibly need is there.
A big movie theater for the big Star Wars date, an InN’Out (I’m having withdrawals), the headquarters of Harry & David, makers of delicious Holiday treats (surely they have a tour of the place replete with samples) and, of course, a Walmart!
Crater Lake is just east of Medford. It’s not a meteor crater, like the one I visited on my Route 66 excursion heading out west. It’s a massive maul of a venerable volcano that once scared the bejesus out of the forest fauna!
The now silent volcano—reached by the Volcano View Highway—had a much hotter blanket than any of mine! I’m going to be on the lookout for evidence of its reach from the moment I leave my current locale—more than one hundred miles away. Ohh yeah!
A climber’s siren that beckons with danger—and many times death—has long been in news stories I’ve reported over the years as those who attempt to conquer her have, repeatedly, wound up lost, stuck, snowed in, fallen several thousand feet or have been frozen to death.
You might think it mondo macabre of me to want to see this mind numbing nemesis of sanity but, I would like to have some closure for those doomed climbers in my own mind.
For some crrrazy reason, there have been way too many Texans that have met their maker on that summit. And, while I was a journalist in Dallas, I did stories that covered them all – and that includes meeting with and listening to the grieving family members left behind.
I won’t be climbing—just looking for a reason for the unreasonable.
Happy trails my friend!