The Long Awaited LIADVp.24: Snow Days; Sappy Goodbye to Boatops

September 23, 2004 continued.

The next day, the whole park was coated in a thick layer of snow. It was beautiful. The weather was anticipated to be so bad that boats were cancelled. Casey, Stan, Dru and I decided to go to Klamath Falls instead of Ashland, since we drank all night and slept until the afternoon. We stopped at a couple of dives on the way into K Falls and made it into the big city with enough time to meet Tim at that amazing Vietnamese place on Sixth. We had a great time, and it was good to see Stan and Dru having a pleasant interaction with me and other people. I joked that the company should ship in people from off the mountain because of the way it makes everyone around feel so much better. Just a new person, outside contact is so easing. We stayed long after the bill laughing about the season and whatever else we needed to laugh about. Us all with our uneasiness about the future and fond memories about where we've been so far. Hugs. Tim went home and the rest of us went to a bar on Main. A fun little dive I'd come to like in my few times visiting alone in KFalls. We had a few rounds and came home and drank some more, then passed out. Again, I opted not to go to work. This time without permission necessarily, just Tim saying he’d understand if I didn’t show up.

Casey and I went to Ashland on Sunday. Hit the co-op for lunch, then a winery. The comic book store and then a great afternoon at the Creek bar and grill, the one with the tiered deck over the creek. The sun and rain were alternating all afternoon and evening. Then we got some sushi at KatWok and headed home for a pretty calm night at the dorm. The next day I went in hours later than normal, because fuck it, I figured. The park was covered in snow from steady dumping all weekend. The Rim Drive had been closed by NPS for safety. We were supposed to do an employee tour, but it was cancelled for weather. The afternoon was beautiful and there was a general consensus that the company fucked us over. So instead of working boats, I wandered into the lodge around nine or so where I got set up with management to transfer over to front desk. I spent the day training and made 40 bucks in bellhop tips. Bellhopping is actually really fun. People are super nice to you. They're happy to be at Crater Lake, happy to talk to a young man and happy they don't have to carry all the shit they overpacked for a one night stay. All in all I enjoy working at the lodge. It's nice being a liason, between this beatiful, historic, calming wilderness getaway and these poor people who work like sardines in cans (I think I stole that from Abbey) all year to have these few days, or few years at the end of their lives to exist in a state they probably wished they had their whole time on Earth. No TV, no phone, gorgeous views of one of the most beautiful places on the planet. At least I get to be here to help them enjoy it. We'll see how I feel in a month.

Casey went home that day, and that night I forced a trip to the Vietnamese place with some of the boat crew and 425s, Jane and Kevin. The guy who runs the restaurant loves Crater Lake people so much that he was slashing prices left and right for us. Bringing us more and more beer and sake and a coconut/mango/rice dessert on the house. We stayed there too late, almost an hour after closing, talking again about our fondest memories (almost always of George) speculating on our futures and how we can all stay in touch. It was sad, but a great evening. Nobody wanted it to end. We stood around in a circle after paying at the register. We stood around in a circle in the parking lot and finally went separate ways. We exchanged information, as I am doing with everyone, but in all reality probably won't stay in touch with most. It's sad but true. Still, it's nice having the option. Like we never truly said goodbye, just see you later next time we meet.

The last day of boats for me was a similar love fest, but even better since we were all together, out on the lake. Started out I was in a shitty shitty mood, fed up with all the hurry up and wait bullshit that was plaguing the boat ops breakdown. It was an off and on clusterfuck and Roger was frantic. Earlier that week, in his rush to lower a huge, track-mounted boat cradle to the surface, he ended up sinking it to the bottom of the lake, to be hauled to the surface later by scuba divers. This was one of a few such goofs by Captain Roger, who is really a great guy and a good manager, but sometimes makes errors in judgement that haunt him. Like the time he was towing the skiff behind a tour boat and capsized it, sending its contents sinking. Or when he was doing a drill with an inflatable emergency raft, and ended up catching the tow rope around the propellor, reeling the raft and its passengers in toward the boat engine.

The day turned out alright though. We all took the Rogue out to Wizard Island. We ate lunch on the boat, all giddy from that great calming joy that comes from being out on Crater Lake. It's like going through two hours of meditation. Your sadness and frustrations just dissolve as you skate across the glassy surface, the calm, peaceful half of the battle of Llao and Skell. The truce between the over and under worlds. Enough of the shore, the rim, the human chaos and winter deadlines. We're the only people out here, let's enjoy this time. Who knows if there will be another.

We pulled into Wizard Island's dock and everyone spent the afternoon half working half playing around and joking and laughing. Toward the end of the afternoon, Stan and I scrambled up to the top of the island to check out the cinder cone's crater that is the lake's namesake. Wizard Island is a tiny volcano sprouting out of the remains of Mount Mazama, the huge volcano that made the lake when it erupted and collapsed. It sticks up in one corner of the lake, rocky with black/purple lava and some scattered pines, surrounded with blue-green shallow waters of its many coves, and shallow Skell channel toward the rim's edge. Wizard is the underworld god Llao's head, according to myth, chopped off by overworld god Skell and tossed into the big hole to settle the battle for now. White guys named it such because it looks sort of like a Wizard's conical hat. The hike to the top was a bit anti-climactic, but a beautiful view from the edge of the 300-foot wide crater, and from inside. Often tourists think the top of Wiz to be the only real thing to do in the park, but the hike that day proved that to take a driveby tourist's view of such a complex chunk of the country is stupid and sad. It's just one chapter of the centuries-old battle.

We practically ran down to avoid pissing off the others, and took the Rogue back to the shore. We sat in a row on the back edge of the boat, joking and singing Cole Porter from the middle of the lake, the cruise all to ourselves for once. The lake as it really ought to be seen, without price or time limits or park service supervision. Just friends on the deep blue waters, feeling the splash of that snowmelt. We swung by the Old Man so Stacey and Stefanie could get a last look at the floating log before leaving the following day. Roger softened up with a big goofy Roger grin and said it was alright if they stood on his head. As Stan stumbled out to stand on the head, the old guy swayed heavily, at about a 10-degree angle. We all got a llittle spooked. We cruised in and packed up, eager to get to the dorms and go back into Klamath for another nostalgic send off.

We went to this Asian place on Main Street. Psueudo city bar, with lots of great beers on tap, thumping bass music. Strange but a lot of fun. We went around and told our favorite lake stories, and favorite stupid tourist questions. We told a toast to absent members, including our missing leader Dan who never made it down to see the lake again before it was all over, still in bed fighting cancer. Roger said this was the best year he had ever had at the lake, because of all of us. He had that huge Roger grin. He's a lonely guy, so when he's happy it shows double than for most people. Tim made a long toast to the whole party present.

Another sad goodbye and another largely ceremonial exchange of contact info. I do think I'll get in touch with a lot of these folks though. You can't go through something as wacky as this and not. Something as intense and bizarre as this experience seems to fuse people together like heat. It's a good thing. Something that makes memories and friends who will always be sticking around back there even if you're not sending each other Christmas cards.