CRATER LAKE.
ONE OF THE WORLD'S GREAT NATURAL WONDERS.
A Trip to Crater Lake is, to a lover of the grand and beautiful in nature, an important event, around which will ever cluster memories of unalloyed happiness, thoughts of little adventures and weird experiences that go to make life worth living. It is situated in the northwest portion of Klamath county, Oregon, twenty-two miles west of north of Fort Klamath, and about eighty miles northeast of Medford, which is the best point to leave the Oregon & California railroad. The Jacksonville and Fort Klamath military road passes the lake within three miles, and the road to the very walls of it is an exceptionally good one for a mountainous country, while in near proximity may be found remarkably fine camping grounds.
The Indians of Southern Oregon have known of it for ages, but until recently none have seen it, for the reason that a tradition, handed down from generation to generation, described it as the home of myriads of sea-devils, or, as they were called, Llaos; and it was considered certain death for any brave even to look upon it. This superstition still haunts the Klamaths. While a few of the tribe have visited it, they do so with a sort of mysterious dread of the consequences. It was discovered by a party of twelve prospectors on June 12th, 1853, among whom were J. W. Hillman, George Ross, James Louden, Pat McManus, Isaac Skeeters and a Mr. Dodd. These had left the main party, and were not looking for gold, but having run short of provisions, were seeking wherewithal to stay the gnawing sensations that had seized upon their stomachs. For a time hunger forsook them, as they stood in silent amazement upon the cliffs, and drank in the awe of the scene stretched before them. After partaking of the inspiration fostered by such weird grandeur, they decided to call it Mysterious, or Deep Blue Lake. It was subsequently called Lake Majesty, and by being constantly referred to as a crater lake, it gradually assumed that name, which is within itself so descriptive.
At times when gazing from the surrounding wall, the skies and cliffs are seen perfectly mirrored in the smooth and glassy surface over which the mountain breeze creates scarce a ripple, and it is with great difficulty the eye can distinguish the line dividing the cliffs from their reflected counterfeits. The lake is almost egg-shaped, ranging northeast by southwest and is seven miles long by six in width. The water's surface is six thousand two hundred and fifty-one feet above sea level, and is completely surrounded by cliffs, or walls, from one thousand to over two thousand feet high, which are scantily covered with coniferous trees. To the southwest is Wizard Island, eight hundred and forty-five feet high, circular in shape, and slightly covered with timber. In the top is a depression, or crater—the Witches' Cauldron—one hundred feet deep and four hundred and seventy-five feet in diameter. This was evidently the last smoking chimney of a once mighty volcano. The base of the island is covered with very heavy and hard rocks, with sharp and unworn edges, over which scarcely a score of human feet have trod. Farther up are deep beds of ashes, and light, spongy rocks and cinders, giving evidence of intense heat. Within the crater, as without, the surface is entirely covered with volcanic rocks, but here it forms one of the hottest places on a clear day in August, it has ever been my lot to witness. Not a breath of air seems to enter, and the hot sun pours down upon thousands of rocks and stones that reflect his rays with an intensity that seems to multiply beyond conception. Here, however, we determined to lunch—and did—but one such experience will last a long time. Directly north of the island is Llao Rock, a grand old sentinel, standing boldly out on the west side of the lake and reaching up over two thousand feet perpendicular. From the top of it you can drop a stone and it will pass down and grow smaller and smaller, until your head begins to swim and you see the stone become a mere speck, and fade entirely from view; and at last, nearly half a mile below, it strikes the unruffled surface of the water and sinks forever from sight in the depth of a bottomless lake.
There is probably no point of interest in America that so completely overcomes the ordinary Indian with fear as Crater Lake. From time immemorial, no power has been strong enough to induce him to approach within sight of it. For a paltry sum he will engage to guide you thither, but, before you reach the mountain top, will leave you to proceed alone. To the savage mind it is clothed with a deep veil of mystery, and is the abode of all manner of demons and unshapely monsters. Once inhabited by the Great Spirit, it has now become the sheol of modern times, and it is certain death for any proud savage to behold it. This feeling has, to a certain extent, instilled itself in the mind of such whites as have made it their Mecca, until every stray log that floats upon the water is imagined to possess life, and may possibly be a monster. Exaggerated accounts of different points have been given and implicitly believed without a question or reflection. It has been claimed that the crater was eight hundred feet deep, while by actual measurement we found it to be scarcely a hundred. The island was said to be fifteen hundred feet high, but an accurate measurement placed it at just eight hundred and forty-five feet.
From Allen Davey, Chief of the Klamath tribe, I gleaned the following in reference to the discovery of Crater Lake:
A long time ago, long before the white man appeared in this region to vex and drive the proud native out, a band of Klamaths, while out hunting, came suddenly upon the lake and were startled by its remarkable walls and awed by its majestic proportions. With spirits subdued and trembling with fear, they silently approached and gazed upon its face; something within told them the Great Spirit dwelt there, and they dared not remain, but passed silently down the side of the mountain and camped far away. By some unaccountable influence, however, one brave was induced to return. He went up to the very brink of the precipice and started his camp fire. Here he laid down to rest; here he slept till morn—slept till the sun was high in air, then arose and joined his tribe far down the mountain. At night he came again; again he slept till morn. Each visit bore a charm that drew him back again. Each night found him sleeping above the rocks; each night strange voices arose from the waters; mysterious noises filled the air. At last, after a great many moons, he climbed down to the lake and there he bathed and spent the night. Often he climbed down in like manner, and frequently saw wonderful animals, similar in all respects to a Klamath Indian, except that they seemed to exist entirely in the water. He suddenly became hardier and stronger than any Indian of his tribe because of his many visits to the mysterious waters. Others then began to seek its influence. Old warriors sent their sons for strength and courage to meet the conflicts awaiting them. First, they slept on the rocks above, then ventured to the water's edge, but last of all they plunged beneath the flood and the coveted strength was theirs. On one occasion, the brave who first visited the lake, killed a monster, or fish, and was at once set upon by untold numbers of excited Llaos (for such they were called), who carried him to the top of the cliffs, cut his throat with a stone knife, then tore his body in small pieces, which were thrown down to the waters far beneath, where he was devoured by the angry Llaos—and such shall be the fate of every Klamath brave, who, from that day to this, dares to look upon the lake.
My first visit to Crater Lake was in 1885, at which time the thought was suggested by Capt. C. E. Dutton, of having the lake and environs drawn from the market. Promptly acting on the suggestion, my friend, Hon. Binger Hermann, was sought and a movement started looking to the formation of a National Park. In response to a petition forwarded to Washington and ably advocated by Congressman Hermann, the United States Geological Survey, under Capt. Dutton, was ordered to examine the lake and surroundings during the summer of 1886. In this expedition it was my good fortune to have charge of the sounding, which afforded me a pleasure unsurpassed in all my mountain experience.
That an idea may be had of the difficulties to be overcome, suffice it to say, boats had to be built for the purpose in Portland, transported to Ashland, three hundred and forty-one miles by rail, and carried from there to the lake on wagons, one hundred miles into the mountains, where they were launched over cliffs one thousand feet high.