Day 19: Diamond Lake, just outside of Crater Lake, Oregon

 

Distance traveled: 546.3 km

Cumulative distance: 4,814.8 km

Maximum speed: 125 kph

Moving average: 79 kph

Temperature range: 5.4 – 20.4

All over are these old cinder cones.

Woke up early, so packed early and on the road early. 7:10 am and I was out of Red Bluff. It’s Sunday morning and minimal traffic and the first roads are back roads to get me to Hwy 44, which will lead me north, connect to Hwy 97, The Volcanic Scenic Byway. Ironically, this is the same Hwy 97 that passes by our house by 2 km. We can see it from our balcony. Maybe Mt. Boucherie is part of the same tectonics that caused all the volcanoes down in Oregon. We have all heard about Mt. St. Helens. Same dastardly chain. And there are little cinder cones everywhere.

After an hour of riding, stopped for gas and I was behind another vehicle at the pump so I thought I was obliged to take the one available pump. Turns out, that was not a puddle of water on the ground in front of the pump but oil. I didn’t realize it until I was getting on the bike after filling up and my foot slipped off the peg. I grabbed a large wad of paper towels and wiped off my boots and peg. Fortunately, my bike tires were not smeared with it but I nearly had a mishap getting the bike off the stand and it made me nervous for the first few kilometres. I was happy to have to stop the bike and put on another layer as the temperature was dropping down to single digits. I walked around in the gravel and the grass to try to get a little more friction on the bottom of my boots and I made a point of riding around in the gravel on the side of the road in hopes of getting any oil on the tires off.

I rode till about 11:00 am before stopping in McCloud for breakfast. It was a popular spot but I am sad to say that coffee was not their strong suit. There was actually an espresso shop in the same building but they only served a few baked items and I was looking for something more substantial. I had contemplated not drinking any more coffee at the restaurant and then going to the espresso shop to get a latte but when I wasn’t looking, my coffee cup got filled at the restaurant. Aside from which, two pancakes, two eggs and two house-made sausage patties pretty much precluded me from consuming anything more.

I later rode through the town of Mt. Shasta, on the doorstep of the retired volcano Mt. Shasta. The town reminded me of what I saw in Nevada City: little shops of occult stuff, tarot cards and little restaurants and coffee bars.

The mountain itself is quite dramatic and I rode an extra several kms trying to get a good picture, though frequently, there were obstructions in the way. Usually power lines. I offer you what I have.

I had the distinction of riding through Weed, just north of Mt. Shasta. When I saw road mileage signs for Weed, I wondered if it was some kind of dispensary or... a joke. Well, I get to weed and there are stores selling t-shirts that say "I heart Weed!" But the best thing was seeing a police officer with a car pulled over and the side of the cruiser said "Weed Police". You can't make this stuff up.

Shortly after riding through Mt. Shasta, the winds picked up with a vengeance. At times I would ride in the right hand side of the lane in order to avoid being blown into the oncoming traffic. Along with the wind eventually came rain. Lightly at first and since I basically achieved my target area of Chiloquin mid-afternoon, I thought I may as well just keep riding because I sure wasn’t going to sit around in a campground in this weather. On a lark, I turned off Hwy 97 to ride up to Crater Lake.

Nan and I had driven by it a long time ago. I don’t think we had even been married a year at that point and I thought it would be nice to see it again. In the rain this time. And the wind, as it turned out.

There is actually a little traffic in the park, despite the weather. And notwithstanding, there are actually

some pretty good views. I was riding around the East Rim, which offered some pretty amazing views but again, the winds were horrendous. At one lookout, I stopped and parked the bike to get off and take some pictures. Let me just say after my little mishap last October where the bike tipped over waiting for a ferry, I am always really conscious of the angle of the bike when I park and I will always go out of my way to make sure that the bike is leaning sufficiently on its stand. In this case, it didn’t matter. I took some pictures and when I turned around, I saw the bike laying on its right side. Down again. I cursed. I ran over and tried to grip it but the dry bags prevented me from getting a good grip so I ripped them out of their straps, got a good grip on the pillion’s handle and with my back to the bike, hoisted it upright. With the panniers, top case packed and the tank bag, the bike would be approaching 800 lbs. Nothing like a little adrenalin to give a boost. Because the kickstand was already down I didn’t have to worry about pushing the bike over the other side. Another mirror housing obliterated. But the mirror survived. This time, I had the wherewithal to keep all the housing pieces. I moved the bike to be better positioned against the wind and got off to collect the dry bags and water bottles etc. and DOWN AGAIN. This time, though, the top case is open because I was putting bits of

mirror housing in there so now that stuff is flying all over the place in the wind. The only GOOD thing is that the wind is swirling as opposed to just blowing over the bluff. But I had to pick up the bike again. The second time, it was a little harder. I was worried my feet were going to slip out from under me but fortunately, that did not happen. My “winter” riding gloves, my jacket, bags from the top case, they are flying all over the place and once I got the bike up and moved again, I was running around trying to grab this stuff before it flew over the rock railing and down 1000 feet into the lake. It would have looked comical to an outside observer but it was a humiliating experience. I have heart palpitations just writing this.  If you can believe it, I still stopped for a couple of more pictures but without getting off the bike.

I'll just let you speculate what that is about.
"Always an adventure".

 

Once out of the park, I was looking for gas. I stopped at a little out-of-the-way gas station and the owner was asking me if I was camping. “Not in this weather” (or humiliation), I remarked. He suggested I drive a little further down his side road to the Daimond Lake “Resort” (my emphasis). That’s what it is called. “Resort”. I think it must be a resort for hillbillies. I sincerely apologize to any hillbillies that might be reading this because I mean no offense. The room clearly hasn’t been vacuumed in some time – I did NOT eat popcorn in here, walls are dirty and the doorknob is barely hanging onto the door. As always, I check for bedbugs and even though there is no bedbug mattress cover, there are no signs of the little varmints. Nonetheless, I keep all my clothing in Ziploc-styled bags in order to compress the items and they are staying in the bags tonight zipped tight. On top of the stainless steel pedestal table.