After lunch we descended the trail leading from the Lodge to Eagle Cove and took the motor-launch trip around the lake. The descent is more than a thousand feet straight down and by the exceedingly devious trail must be many times that distance. The downward trek was strenuous and the return still more so; burros are to be employed later for guests who dislike to undertake the trip on foot. In many places the trail was covered by huge snowbanks which had lingered during the whole summer, and these, with the mud and water, often made considerable detours necessary. Time will come, no doubt, when the trail will be improved and made easier, but we found it an exceedingly hard scramble for people unused to strenuous effort.
From the launch one sees many aspects of the lake not to be had from any viewpoint on the rim. In the first place you become aware of the marvelous clearness of the water, despite its almost solid blue appearance from the shore. They told us that a white object, such as an ordinary dinner plate, for instance, could be plainly seen at a depth of one hundred and fifty feet. Fishermen can see the gamy rainbow trout, the only variety found in the lake, sport about the bait in the crystal water. One imagines from the rim that a tumbler of the water dipped from the lake would show a cerulean tint, but it proves as colorless and clear as the air itself. It follows that the contour of the bottom may be seen in many places, though the great depth of the water generally makes this impossible. The deepest sounding made so far, 1996 feet, is declared by authorities to be the record for any body of fresh water.
SHIP ROCK, CRATER LAKE
From painting by H. H. Bagg
The surface was as placid as a mill pond save for occasional ripples from the slight breeze. Above us towered the steep cliffs and as we drew nearer to them dashes of bright color—brilliant yellows and reds—came out in the glowing sunlight. Far above us the rugged outlines loomed against the pale azure skies and only from beneath can one get an adequate idea of the stupendous height and expanse of these mighty walls. From Eagle Cove we followed the southern shore past Castle Crest, Garfield Peak and Vidal Crest—the latter rising 1958 feet above the lake, the highest point on the rim and corresponding strangely to the greatest known depth of the water. Beyond these rises the sheer wall of Dutton Cliff and just in front of it, cut off by a deep but narrow channel, the weird outlines of the Phantom Ship. The name does not seem especially applicable to the solid, rocky pinnacles that tower a hundred feet above the blue water, roughly suggesting the outlines of an old double-masted sailing ship, but they told us that under certain conditions of light and shadow the rock seemed to fade from sight against the background of Dutton Cliff—a fact responsible for its ghostly name. Though the rugged spires seem almost vertical, they have been scaled by adventurous climbers, a feat not likely to tempt the average tourist.
Perhaps a mile farther brought us opposite Kerr Notch, the lowest point on the rim, and some distance beyond this rose the stern outlines of Sentinel Rock. Cloud Cap Bay lies almost beneath the mountain of the same name, which was later to afford us a vantage point for a panorama of the whole lake and surrounding country. The Wine Glass, which next engaged our attention, is a queer slide of red sandstone shaped like a huge goblet against the walls of Grotto Cove. Round Top is a dome-shaped rock rising above the Palisades, a precipice extending from Grotto Cove to Cleetwood Cove, a distance of nearly two miles. Near the latter point, geologists declare, the last great flow of lava occurred, evidenced by vast masses of black volcanic rock.
Pumice Point, projecting sharply into the lake, cuts Cleetwood Cove from Steel Bay, over which towers the legend-haunted peak of Llao Rock, rising nearly two thousand feet above the water. Even to-day many Indians of the vicinity regard Crater Lake with superstitious fears and in olden times only their conjurors and medicine men dared approach the silent shores of the strange blue water. So it is not surprising that some of their legends linger about it still and that Llao Rock was reputed the home of a powerful fiend who once held mysterious sway over the region about the lake. His subjects were giant crawfish whose practice was to seize in their cruel claws any stranger who approached their haunts and to drag him under the bottomless waters. Llao and his retainers did not have everything their own way, however, for Skell, a powerful rival demon, dwelt in the fastnesses of Klamath marshes far to the south and he waged deadly and unrelenting war against the guardian of Crater Lake. Llao, however, after ages of struggle, marked by mighty feats of prowess and enchantment, finally gained the advantage and tore Skell’s heart from his body. To celebrate his victory he gave the reeking heart to his followers, who played a savage ball game with it, hurling it from mountain to mountain in their glee. But Skell’s swift eagles seized their master’s heart in mid-air and carried it to his antelopes, who, with the speed of the wind, bore it over the mountain ridges to his old haunts in the Klamath marsh. There, wonderful to relate, Skell’s body grew about the heart again and, stronger than ever, he planned vengeance against his victorious enemy. Lying in wait, he captured Llao and to prevent any miraculous reincarnation of his rival, the cunning Skell cut him into shreds which he cast into the mysterious cauldron of Crater Lake. The gluttonous crawfish imagined that their master had demolished his rival and feasted joyously upon the remains, only to learn, when a few days later the head of Llao was cast into the lake, that they had devoured their chieftain. Perhaps they died of grief for their unwitting offense, but be that as it may, there are none of them to-day in the blue waters of Crater Lake. But the head of Llao, the Indians assert, is still in evidence to prove their legend, though white men may call it Wizard Island. Llao’s soul dwells in the rock bearing his name and sometimes he ventures forth to stir up a storm on the placid waters which were once his own.
But here is Wizard Island just before us, a symmetrical cinder cone rising seven hundred and sixty-three feet above the lake and covered with a sparse growth of stunted pines. Geologists tell a different story of its origin from the wild legend we have just related, but surely it is quite as wonderful. They say that ages ago expiring volcanic forces pushed the island up from the floor of the crater—and it was only one of many miniature crater-mountains thus formed, though all the others are hidden by the waters of the lake. One may scramble up the steep slope of the island and descend into the crater—a depression one hundred feet deep by five hundred in width. At its base the island is perhaps two-thirds of a mile in diameter and it is separated from the rim by a narrow channel which bears the name of the victorious Skell of the Indian legend. On the landward side of the island is a black, rough lava bed and in one of its hollows is a dark, sinister-looking tarn with the weird name of Witches’ Pool. As some one has remarked, we therefore have a crater within a crater and a lake within a lake. Just opposite the island rise the Watchman and Glacier Peak, both of which exceed eight thousand feet in height, and whose sides slope at a very sharp angle down to the surface of the lake.
Our starting point, just below the Lodge, is only a mile or two from Wizard Island, and the entire round which we have described can be made in from two to four hours, according to the desire of the tourist. It is indeed a wonderful trip and if I have written of it in only a matter-of-fact way, it is because the temptation to dwell on the exhaustless theme of its weird beauty is likely to lead one to monotonous repetition. No one can satisfactorily describe Crater Lake or adequately express in words the subtle atmosphere of mystery and romance that hovers about it; one can only hope to convey enough of these things to his reader to induce him to make a personal pilgrimage to this strange and inspiring phenomenon of nature.