Episode summary:
I sat on the edge of a mighty crater which houses the deepest lake in the United States. It was a truly magical experience to witness this natural phenomenon in south Oregon, watching a September sunset silhouette the spooky Phantom Ship and turn the water to molten gold.
If you are wondering ‘why is Crater Lake so famous’, ‘how did Crater lake get so deep’ and ‘is Crater Lake still an active volcano’ this podcast might give you a few clues.
Listen to a podcast about watching a September sunset over mighty Crater Lake.
Transcript – S4 E9: An American geological treasure
This week we’re sitting on the edge of a mighty crater which houses the deepest lake in the United States.
I can’t believe that a few hours ago I was poo-pooing the idea of coming here, moaning to my American friend Michael that any beauty and relaxation might be negated by the place being too touristy – I’m all about getting away from crowds rather than joining them.
Crikey, was I wrong!!
A true natural beauty
The view from my high vantage point is nothing short of breathtaking. In front of me is a lake so big it looks more like an inland sea. I can see almost its entire circumference from here and 8km (or 5 miles) straight across the aquamarine water to the far side.
This vista is framed by Mountain Hemlock and Lodgepole Pine trees just a few feet away, and shear, rocky outcrops from which scree slopes fall steeply down to the water.
This is the mighty Crater Lake in Oregon, in America’s Pacific Northwest. It’s one of the most popular tourist attractions in this naturally-blessed state but even though I have seen lines of cars and buses en route, it’s quiet here at my viewpoint. A few vehicles turn up while I am drinking in the beauty of it all. Couples get out and photograph each other, then drive on, seemingly more interested in telling their friends where they are than actually experiencing the natural wonder and peace of the place.
Fine by me… I’d rather be surrounded by trees than humans any day.
Pure and blue
A helpful sign tells me why the lake water is so blue. No rivers or streams empty into it so it is saved the dirt and debris that pollute stream-fed bodies of water. Crater Lake is filled by rain and snow only and it is this purity that makes it so blue. And with an average of around 12 metres, or 40 feet, of snow here per year, there’s plenty of fresh water to keep it topped up.
Crater Lake occupies the shell of Mount Mazama, a huge volcano that blew itself to bits about 7,700 years ago. So cataclysmic was the eruption that it gouged out a deep and wide crater. Today the lake’s maximum depth is 592 metres or 1,943 feet – that’s almost two London Shards, or 12 New York Statues of Liberty stacked on top of each other. It is the deepest lake in the United States and the second deepest in the North American continent after Great Slave Lake in Canada.
The lake has two small islands – Wizard Island, located near the western shore, is the top of more recent mini-volcano – that’s “recent” in geological terms – and, in case you are wondering, some geothermal activity has been detected down on the lake floor, so the crater could become active again in years to come.
Beware the ghost ship
The other island is a natural rock pillar off the south east shore, which is very appropriately called Phantom Ship. In certain lights and from certain angles it looks uncannily like the ragged remains of the ghost ship the Black Pearl from Pirates of the Caribbean, recently re-emerged from the ocean depths.
From my second viewpoint of the day, along the East Rim Drive, I get a stunning view down to Phantom Ship as it floats unmoving on the dead-flat water. It’s late afternoon now and I’m looking west into the sun so Phantom Ship is silhouetted, making it look spookier than ever against the molten gold of the lake surface.
There’s yet another phenomenon here: a 9 metre (or 30ft) long, 450-year-old Mountain Hemlock log called the Old Man of the Lake, which has been immersed in the water and bobbing around for more than 100 years. It doesn’t float horizontally, as we might expect, but vertically. Back in 1938 scientists monitored its bobbing and found it travelled a staggering 100km (or 62 miles) during a three-month period. Quite the wanderer.
It may float vertically because its submerged end is more dense than the end that rises above the water… but nobody knows for sure, adding to the mystery of this magical lake.
Sunset on the lake
Cool shadows of tall firs are creeping across the fine, grey volcanic sand of the rim now as the sun weakens in the west. I sit on a fallen tree and crack open a flask of hot tea. Down on the surface of the lake the Phantom Ship has been overtaken by the shadows of the crater’s west rim and is so hard to see I wonder if its undead crew have submerged the cursed vessel once more.
I have a long drive ahead – at least 150 miles north – and I should be hitting the road but I’m captivated by this place. I wish I was camping here tonight so I could rug up in my fleece and beanie by an outdoor fire, listen to the forest’s nocturnal stirrings and wake to a hazy dawn and explore the lake all over again.
A small fan-tailed bird hops near me chirruping as if to say “stay… we’re fun”!
But, reluctantly I must leave. I take mental snapshot images of this glorious sunset between the trees and breathe deeply to fill my lungs with the scent of a million pine needles.
© copyright Matthew Brace
