Go up on the mountain where the waters come from glaciers blue
Go up on the mountain
Build a little shack just over the line
—David Lowery
Every diabetic knows that their condition has its own macabre senses of humor and irony. It’s a dynamic you just get used to, so when I finally made it to one of my bucket list items – my own white travel whale – at Crater Lake National Park in southern Oregon, it was during one of worst blood sugar days in weeks and I had to enjoy it anyway.
So fascinated was I by the lake, luckily, that I didn’t allow the shadow of T1D to diminish my enjoyment of Day 76 of this mighty road trip. Well, not too much, anyway.
Masayo and I just crossed into Oregon yesterday from northern California, and it was a milestone for me: shockingly, it’s the first (and I think will be the only) time on this trip that I’ve personally entered a state for the first time. Every other one so far I’ve been to before. And Oregon has always had a mythical, elevated stature for me.
I don’t know why; I used to imagine what Crater Lake must be like ever since I read about it when I was a kid. I even sent away to the Klamath Falls Chamber of Commerce when I was about 20 to ask about life there; they sent me some pamphlets and a local newspaper. But I never actually went. Until now.
So, finally being in my own land of Oz, I was annoyed this morning when I woke up to a BG of 252. Last night’s pizza did its usual thing overnight. Breakfast, however, was excellent, since we had a full kitchen at Townhouse Motel. But I know that pizza dough likes to screw up most of the next day, not just the sleeping part, so I hoped my Humalog would be sufficient.
And then it was time finally – after dreaming so long – to go see … Crater Lake (angel choir here ♪)!
We drove through the town of Klamath Falls – which turns out to be pleasant enough but not the fir tree-festooned alpine wonderland I’d envisioned, just buildings and traffic lights like everywhere – and headed up some small roads to the National Park.
I’d already learned that the circular road that leads around the lake was mostly closed due to snow. It may be late June but only the visitor center and a very short section of the road is open for tourists. But no matter; the sense of excitement grew as we neared the legendary blue waters of Crater Lake.
It was 7,700 years ago that – as Native Americans watched in horror – a large volcano blew its top, eventually collapsing and hollowing out the basin that would go on to collect pure snow melt and become a pristine lake. The top of the volcano settled in the bowl and is now the famous island in the middle of the lake.
With no water sources leading to or from its waters, Crater Lake is pure and stunningly blue. Here, as Masayo left the visitor center and continued to the sparkling rim of the crater, that I finally found what I’ve been imagining all my life. Oregon came through for me in the end.
For Crater Lake has everything you could possibly want in a landscape: the deep azure water and sky of course, but also large white patches of snow, green and yellow fir trees lined up on hillsides in their zillions, and the mirror image of the grey rocky mountains that surround the lake. We breathed clean, fresh air, felt the energizing chill of the cool spring-like weather, and edged closer to precipices to peer down slopes that fell sharply to the water far below.
And the roads were indeed closed: a touristy lodge had a large parking lot full of passenger vehicles and large buses, but you could only drive a half mile or so before reaching a large gate across the lanes.
Part of the road beyond the gate was cleared and dry and open to pedestrians, so we got out and walked a little bit in the shadow of giant snowbanks. I tried to write a message of diabetic hope in one; the snow was dirty which made the photo less satisfying but also more readable.
The bad which doesn’t negate the good – just like my blood sugars themselves.
While at the rim I checked again and was dispirited to find I was still 260, so I had some Humalog and ate a small lunch in the car: leftover pizza. Some guys never learn. The BG was irritating but the beauty of the nearby lake was still the main focus of the afternoon.
Having gazed at this amazing landmark for a while and exhausted the limited driving possibilities, we left the park and headed to the coast, following an especially lovely drive and arriving in the town of Reedsport at dusk.
At a small restaurant across the street, where we were the only two diners, a quick under-the-table BG check with my One Drop meter revealed that I was down to 66. A tad low but better than those stupid sticky highs. Unfortunately before bed and an ill-advised 24-ounce beer and cookie after dinner (which I did shoot up for) I was 329.
Another wrinkle of the brow, another dialup of the Humalog pen, and another playing of music on the iPhone next to my head to drown out the noisy people in the parking lot all night. Diabetes and small-town Oregon were trying to give me a bad night – after a day in which zero of my BG checks were between 70 and 130 – but the magic of Crater Lake National Park hadn’t worn off.
What an amazing place. What an actual wonderland of nature. Whatever else you think is going on in your life, go see it. Nothing – not even sluggish veins full of pizza crust – can take away from the experience.
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