Chronicles of the Wayward Moot

WELCOME TO THE MOOT, oh world-wanderers and word-whisperers. After two years of Peace Corps. After 2,200 miles on the Pacific Crest Trail. What. Comes. Next?

27/09/2008


The two amigos reuinited after 8 years goofing off at the Scott mountain fire lookout.


Returning to civilization (or as civilized as one can be while destroying an all you can eat buffet) we hit up a couple of lake overlooks and were greeted by the fiery electricity of light reflecting off of the rippling surface. Themajesty of this sight cannot be appreciated with a two-D photograph but hopefully these images will inspire someone to go out and see it in person. I hope that all of the hikers who just came, snapped a photo, and continued hiking here at least got to see something similar on their journey. Spending just a few days at Crater Lake has contributed greatly to a revised philosophy on thru-hiking that I may or may not get into discussing today.


The lake's lesser-known island is called the Phantom Ship, and the reson is obvious from this point of view. Believe it or not, the Phantom Ship rises from the water as high as a 16 story building. The scale is incredible.


Having a chance to see some of my photos, the ranger noticed that I have a lot of pictures of food. He claimed that this surprise breakfast was inspired by his desire to impress a thru-hiker with food to the point where I would want to take a pic of it. Well here ya go. Featured on the menu: Mandarin oranges and fresh blackberries over yogurt and banana slices, garnished with fresh-brewed coffee. Wonderful.


The following day I opted to take a boat tour of the lake since the season was almost over and there would be no chance to do it when I got back here from Canada. Glad I did it, as the weather on the water that day was unsurpassably pleasant and still. Just west of where the boat loads up at Cleetwood Cove is a rocky cliff with a twenty foot drop to the water. Since the water is so clear that you can see more than 100 feet straight down into it, the sensation of jumping out over it is yet another one of those experiences that cannot be adequately recounted in words and pictures. Only direct exprerience can suffice.

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