Our drive took us through some of the more rural parts of Southern Oregon. The state has a rather granola reputation, and some of that is deserved, but it's mostly just Portland. The rest of the state is has a decent proportion of...let's call them mountain folk. I don't think I'd be going out on a limb to say that a non-trivial number of them have more guns than teeth. I've never seen more gun shops than I did in Medford, OR. And I live in Arizona.
As we continued north, the sky took on a distinctly orange-grey tone that anyone from the southwest could identify as a wildfire. We had heard that there were some fires burning in the area, but it looked worse than we were imagining. We were taking a major detour (intended, for once) to Crater Lake, and I was starting to get a bit concerned about whether or not we'd be able to see anything.
Crater Lake was formed inside the peak of a caved-in volcano, and as we were driving further and further up to the top, I was getting more and more worried that we took a detour to a smokestack. We started seeing US Forest Service fire crews along the side of the road, and my thoughts went from "Will we see anything?" to "Are we even allowed to be here right now?"
But as we reached the top, the smoke managed to clear a bit. And really, there's probably no amount of smoke that could make Crater Lake not look amazing.
If you look closely, the sign by Aimee shows what that view normally looks like.
But the point of the trip wasn't just to see Crater Lake, it was to have a Mirror Pond pale ale while seeing Crater Lake. And the smoke didn't get in the way of that.
Like most national parks, Crater Lake has a nice little lodge in the middle of it. But I think you'd be hard pressed to find one with better beers or a better view.
With that box checked on our trip to-do list, it was time to head back to our car and continue north. I think I mentioned our fun little Chevy Spark in the last post, but here's a shot of it in the Crater Lake parking lot. We fit inside better than you might think.
By that point, it was about 5:00, and we were long overdue in Eugene. So the rest of the drive was more direct. Still pretty stunning, though.
When we got into Eugene, I wanted to fill up the tank before returning the rental car. So I did what I always do: I pulled into the gas station and swiped my credit card. As I was putting the gas pump into the car, a station attendant came running out, yelling, "Stop! Stop!" While I looked around for the open fire that I was apparently about to douse with gasoline, the attendant told me that we both could get in a lot of trouble if I went any further, and one of us could go to jail.
And at that point, I realized what anybody who has driven in Oregon already knows. You can't pump your own gas here. It's probably just a well-intentioned program to add a few more jobs in the state, but it does make things a bit awkward for out of state visitors. After I apologized to the attendant, I got in the car while he did the rest. But he was back in the store when the pump stopped. So I sat there wondering if I was supposed to take the gas pump out. And did I need to tip him? Siri, what are the social norms for pumping gas in Eugene, Oregon?
And with that more-eventful-than-it-should-have-been trip to the gas station behind us, I was very happy to pull into our friends' house in Eugene. It was a long drive, and it was good to see them. Plus, this was going to be our first real bed of the trip, and we needed it!
