Crater Lake OR To Reno NV
Jun. 30th, 2017 09:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lupestripeWe had to get up quite early on the Tuesday morning (30 May) as we had a six hour drive to Chico ahead of us, with a detour along the way to stop off at Crater Lake National Park, the only national park in the state of Oregon. Along the way, as we gained altitude, the trees became more and more Nordic in nature, with pines predominanting. We stopped off at a layby to take in the view, as well as to use the bathroom, but one look at the shit-encrusted toilet which had frozen fecal matter stuck to it pushed us away. The scenery irself though was quite stunning, and we could see patches of snow dotted across the landscape. It was late May and thus it was still surprising that it was here, particularly as the outside temperature was above 20C, but it had been a very heavy winter in terms of precipitation and this partly explained the remaining snow.
To get to Crater Lake, you have to use rather narrow winding roads which twist their way through the forest. The North Entrance to the lake was still closed due to snow - a common situation even at this time of the year - so we had to drive around to the South Entrance. Tux had offered Wolfie the opportunity to drive along the pass, but his foot was in too much agony to be a viable solution. As we climbed higher and higher into the mountains, we could see 6ft walls of snow on either side of the road, forced there by the snow ploughs. This went on for a while, becoming higher and higher until we approached the entrance to the National Park. Here Tux bought a year family pass as we were due to go to other parks during the course of our stay, after which we turned into the modest car park outside a wooden tourist information area, which was partly obscured by the mountains of snow. We had to use the back entrance - and indeed as we were leaving another visitor suspected the place was closed until I told them about it - but inside there was a rather pleasant little store and a little information about the natural wonder we were going to see. The highlight was a twenty minute video presentation about the lake and how it was formed 7,700 years ago. The caldera is a remnant of the crater of Mount Mazama, which erupted during this time, casting ash far and wide. As the lake was created in such a manner, there are no rivers or streams entering or leaving it, meaning the water is pure snowmelt. This means that the water is amongst the purest in the world and indeed it is used as a worldwide standard for water purity. In the presentation, we also got to learn about the history of the National Park and why it was seen as being so important to preserve, which was probably more interesting than the geology itself.
After watching the show, we got back to the car and headed to Rim Village, which is really a collection of wooden chalets aimed at tourists. However, this was also to be our first view of the exquisite lake, which projected a goregous range of whites and greys due to the snow and the clouds. As the cloud parted and the sun came out, the purity of the water manifested itself as a rich azure, which was wonderfully evocative. To get the best view, we had to climb up some snow covered field and onto the lip of the caldera, which is something from which Wolfie refrained due to the poor state of his ankle. I moved further down the red ticker tape line which demarked the boundary after which we could not roam, but Wolfie at least did get to see the lake close up at our next stop a few miles around the lake, which had a car park next to a wall which afforded another breathtaking vista. At the second spot there was a rocky outcrop which technically shouldn't have been accessed by the public, but this didn't prevent a large number of people taking selfies. One of the reasons for this was the view of the small island in the centre of the lake, which was like a psyren lulling people for a closer look. The small number of trees littered almost forlornly along the caldera edge only added to the beauty of this special place and stood amongst the snow yet in a rather warm air, I just stared outwards at it for ages. The main benefit here was that it wasn't that busy - yes, there were some tourists there, but it was the Tuesday after Memorial Day and I suspect it was quite quiet because of it, meaning there was a slight air of tranquility.
These were the only two vantage points open so we drove back down the mountain and continued on our way to the city of Chico, which is where we were due to stop for the night. Before reaching the Californian border, we stopped off at the In N Out Burger at Medford, having heard good things about it from a number of my American and British friends. For the exceptionally cheap price of $7.22 it did not disappoint, even if I did forget how to put a tray on a table resulting in a good portion of my fries spilling all over my seat. They do pride themselves on quality ingredients and the lettuce was particularly crisp, with the pickles being of a good sharpness, resulting in a very pleasurable meal. I opted for the standard Double Double burger - it's always good to go with a staple when trying a new place - and I must admit that it was probably the best chain restaurant meal we had on the trip. The place was moderately busy, and I liked the white and red diner feel, and it was certainly an excellent place to stop. Before crossing the border into my 22nd state (and Wolfie's third), we also filled up with fuel, giving me the opportunity to buy yet another 32oz Big Gulp, something that is quite an essential on long road trips in the blistering heat.
Having crossed the border into California earlier, we were bemused by being stopped by their department of agriculture, who asked us whether we were carrying any fruit with us. The fruit industry is huge in California and any outside pests could significantly harm it, but all it took was a simple 'No' for us to be sent on our way. As a check it wasn't overly stringent and it would have been very easy to lie (we didn't), which made me wonder about the point of it. A few miles further beyond, we stopped at a rest area which was situated right next to a gentle river in a towering valley, where our friend Smokey the Bear was telling everyone about all the different types of snake there are in the state. It was on a sign but even seeing pictures of the slithering fucks made me feel somewhat queasy, so I opted for a quick trip to the toilet before getting out of there.
As we drove towards Chico, we ended up listening to public service radio, which was debating a range of political issues. We spied the towering snowy peak of Mount Shasta as we drove down I5 before we turned off the freeway and headed back into the mountains towards our destination. The mountains were quite dusty, after which we saw significant amounts of farmland, with the odd Trump Pence banner situated in a number of front yards. Apparently, some poeple in southern Oregon and northern California are trying to form their own state of Jefferson because they are sick of being outvoted by the metropolitian liberals in the state. Indeed in this area we saw a number of Trump fans, including a guy in a white pickup truck who had the biggest American flag ever flying off the back of it. The fact that we were in redneck country was highlighting by a billboard we saw for a 'Huge Party' which featured Firearms, Food and Fun, whch sadly we had missed as it had been on the preceding Saturday.
Chico is a liberal oasis in the midst of all this, being something of a college town. We were staying on the outskirts, which was a shame as the only chance we got to see of Chico was the next morning. After such a long drive, we decided to have food in the hotel restaurant, which was distinctly average, while I struggled to do a full gym session in the heat. Wolfie decided to go in the hottub to try and rest his foot while we took advantage of the laundry facilities in the hotel. We had forgotten that most American hotels have laundry services, meaning we packed far too many clothes in relation to what we actually needed. This was a huge shame as it meant we hadn't needed to sacrifice quite so much fetish gear for the two cons. Still, you live and learn. The hotel was just in the middle of a retail park so there was little to do, meaning we ended up having a sober and early night, which was just as well as we needed to be at the Sierra Nevada Brewery for 11am the next morning.
We actually got to downtown Chico an hour early, largely because we needed to call off at a bank, which we did. With a little time to kill, we decided to have a walk around this charming little town, with a large number of hippie and hipster independent shops. The Elrey Theatre was another example of a building built in a golden age while we were a little disappointed to find that Chico Museum wasn't open on Wednesdays. Wolfie's foot was still bothering him a little so we couldn't walk far, and by 10:40am we had driven the few blocks to the brewery, where we spent a little time wandering around the extensive gift shop ahead of the tour. Taneli said he wanted a Sierra Nevada T-shirt, which we bought for him, while we noticed a number of individual beers as well as the 12 pack 'Beer Camp' limited edition release which we just had to have. With us needing to get to BLFC in Reno, which was three hours away, swiftly after the tour, we decided to do all our souvenir shopping before the tour began.
Indeed, we were quite lucky to get on the tour at all as Tux had booked it the night before upon noticing that such a thing was possible. In the end, there were about fifteen of us in total, and as we sat in the holding area before going into the main building, we were given a sample of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and were shown a video presentation of the history of the brewery. The lady who was guiding us was fantastic and answered all our questions as we walked around, including mine about how they ensure the exact same water consistency here and in their sister brewery in North Carolina. The tour was more extensive than the Deschutes one, as befits a bigger brewery, and we even got to taste the saccahrin sweetness of the liquor before the yeast is added to it. The highlight for me though was the visit to the hop room, which smelled like a floral bouquet in terms of richness. There were about ten different hop types all in big white vats, and we were allowed to rub them into our hands and smell the wonderful aroma of the yellow lupulin. The Brewery is large and airy, with some beautiful artwork on some of the walls. We had always wanted to visit the Sierra Nevada Brewery as it was one of THE first craft breweries, plus they brew some of the earliest craft beer you could get in the UK. Some of their beer is quite ubiquitous but a lot of their range is unavailable here, which made the visit even more worth it.
The end of the tour, like all good brewery tours, was the tasting room where we got to try seven beers. Six of them were from the Beer Camp, which made us regret slightly that we had bought the whole crate, but they were so good that they were definitely worth having again. Just before we had started the tour, we noticed a group of friends drinking in this bar and were wondering whether they had special access, suffice to say I was quite relieved when we were taken there at the end. In our group, I got chatting to a friendly retired couple who I think were from Texas, and who had an extensive knowledge of the craft beer scene in the western United States. They even recommended a few places to try in Reno, and it was great chatting with them for a good quarter of an hour or so. There was one table in the centre of the bar and we had all congregated around there, making meeting people quite straightforward. Tuxedo wasn't drinking because he was driving, but he did want to have a sip of all of them to try, meaning that Wolfie and I split his sample between us. The result of this at noon on a Wednesday was that by the time we had left, we were quite drunk, which didn't bode well for a three hour journey. Indeed, about forty-five minutes into the journey, we needed a pee so we stopped at a lay-by overlooking a plunging river valley which was covered in vegetation, with the water meandering beneath us. With the sun beating down, it was probably the most beautiful view I have ever seen while having a pee. We had stopped off at the world's most quiet Burger King before we set off for Reno, where we discovered that they do average hot dogs along with average burgers, but even that toilet break wasn't enough.
The road to Reno followed a river valley, with the train tracks taking the same route. Indeed in various places wraught iron bridges criss-crossed each other as the topography allowed, enabling road, river and rail to make unheeded progress. There were a number of reststops along the way, so we stopped off at a number to take pictures, with the crystal clear water always being a top draw. As befits a mountainous terrain, there were a number of tunnels dotting the route, including one or two where there was engineering work taking place. This saw us stuck behind a work lady (it was usually ladies for some reason) with a Stop sign while we waited for the guide truck to guide us through, and this enabled us to marvel at the engineering involved in cutting these tunnels out of the hard rock. The landscape shifted towards the California/Nevada border into one of total desolation, with barren scrubland and jagged hills the only features. It didn't feel like it was thirty miles or so from a pretty major city, but it felt like the American equivalent of Saddleworth Moor or some such place. Tux had been here before of course - he had been to most places on this trip - and as we crossed into Nevada and state number 23 (and Wolfie's number four) we could see the casinos waiting for us. Reno is only fifteen miles into Nevada so getting there was straightforward, and as we descended into the valley, we could see the cityscape ahead of us. Our hotel, the GSR, was clearly visible, a white obelisk on the horizon which grew larger and larger as we approached. As we turned in, we saw a number of furs in ears and tails waiting for the go karts while yet more were unpacking and getting ready for the con. The big LCD screen outside had a banner welcoming us to the convention and as we pulled into our parking space, we knew we would be in for one hell of a time.
To get to Crater Lake, you have to use rather narrow winding roads which twist their way through the forest. The North Entrance to the lake was still closed due to snow - a common situation even at this time of the year - so we had to drive around to the South Entrance. Tux had offered Wolfie the opportunity to drive along the pass, but his foot was in too much agony to be a viable solution. As we climbed higher and higher into the mountains, we could see 6ft walls of snow on either side of the road, forced there by the snow ploughs. This went on for a while, becoming higher and higher until we approached the entrance to the National Park. Here Tux bought a year family pass as we were due to go to other parks during the course of our stay, after which we turned into the modest car park outside a wooden tourist information area, which was partly obscured by the mountains of snow. We had to use the back entrance - and indeed as we were leaving another visitor suspected the place was closed until I told them about it - but inside there was a rather pleasant little store and a little information about the natural wonder we were going to see. The highlight was a twenty minute video presentation about the lake and how it was formed 7,700 years ago. The caldera is a remnant of the crater of Mount Mazama, which erupted during this time, casting ash far and wide. As the lake was created in such a manner, there are no rivers or streams entering or leaving it, meaning the water is pure snowmelt. This means that the water is amongst the purest in the world and indeed it is used as a worldwide standard for water purity. In the presentation, we also got to learn about the history of the National Park and why it was seen as being so important to preserve, which was probably more interesting than the geology itself.
After watching the show, we got back to the car and headed to Rim Village, which is really a collection of wooden chalets aimed at tourists. However, this was also to be our first view of the exquisite lake, which projected a goregous range of whites and greys due to the snow and the clouds. As the cloud parted and the sun came out, the purity of the water manifested itself as a rich azure, which was wonderfully evocative. To get the best view, we had to climb up some snow covered field and onto the lip of the caldera, which is something from which Wolfie refrained due to the poor state of his ankle. I moved further down the red ticker tape line which demarked the boundary after which we could not roam, but Wolfie at least did get to see the lake close up at our next stop a few miles around the lake, which had a car park next to a wall which afforded another breathtaking vista. At the second spot there was a rocky outcrop which technically shouldn't have been accessed by the public, but this didn't prevent a large number of people taking selfies. One of the reasons for this was the view of the small island in the centre of the lake, which was like a psyren lulling people for a closer look. The small number of trees littered almost forlornly along the caldera edge only added to the beauty of this special place and stood amongst the snow yet in a rather warm air, I just stared outwards at it for ages. The main benefit here was that it wasn't that busy - yes, there were some tourists there, but it was the Tuesday after Memorial Day and I suspect it was quite quiet because of it, meaning there was a slight air of tranquility.
These were the only two vantage points open so we drove back down the mountain and continued on our way to the city of Chico, which is where we were due to stop for the night. Before reaching the Californian border, we stopped off at the In N Out Burger at Medford, having heard good things about it from a number of my American and British friends. For the exceptionally cheap price of $7.22 it did not disappoint, even if I did forget how to put a tray on a table resulting in a good portion of my fries spilling all over my seat. They do pride themselves on quality ingredients and the lettuce was particularly crisp, with the pickles being of a good sharpness, resulting in a very pleasurable meal. I opted for the standard Double Double burger - it's always good to go with a staple when trying a new place - and I must admit that it was probably the best chain restaurant meal we had on the trip. The place was moderately busy, and I liked the white and red diner feel, and it was certainly an excellent place to stop. Before crossing the border into my 22nd state (and Wolfie's third), we also filled up with fuel, giving me the opportunity to buy yet another 32oz Big Gulp, something that is quite an essential on long road trips in the blistering heat.
Having crossed the border into California earlier, we were bemused by being stopped by their department of agriculture, who asked us whether we were carrying any fruit with us. The fruit industry is huge in California and any outside pests could significantly harm it, but all it took was a simple 'No' for us to be sent on our way. As a check it wasn't overly stringent and it would have been very easy to lie (we didn't), which made me wonder about the point of it. A few miles further beyond, we stopped at a rest area which was situated right next to a gentle river in a towering valley, where our friend Smokey the Bear was telling everyone about all the different types of snake there are in the state. It was on a sign but even seeing pictures of the slithering fucks made me feel somewhat queasy, so I opted for a quick trip to the toilet before getting out of there.
As we drove towards Chico, we ended up listening to public service radio, which was debating a range of political issues. We spied the towering snowy peak of Mount Shasta as we drove down I5 before we turned off the freeway and headed back into the mountains towards our destination. The mountains were quite dusty, after which we saw significant amounts of farmland, with the odd Trump Pence banner situated in a number of front yards. Apparently, some poeple in southern Oregon and northern California are trying to form their own state of Jefferson because they are sick of being outvoted by the metropolitian liberals in the state. Indeed in this area we saw a number of Trump fans, including a guy in a white pickup truck who had the biggest American flag ever flying off the back of it. The fact that we were in redneck country was highlighting by a billboard we saw for a 'Huge Party' which featured Firearms, Food and Fun, whch sadly we had missed as it had been on the preceding Saturday.
Chico is a liberal oasis in the midst of all this, being something of a college town. We were staying on the outskirts, which was a shame as the only chance we got to see of Chico was the next morning. After such a long drive, we decided to have food in the hotel restaurant, which was distinctly average, while I struggled to do a full gym session in the heat. Wolfie decided to go in the hottub to try and rest his foot while we took advantage of the laundry facilities in the hotel. We had forgotten that most American hotels have laundry services, meaning we packed far too many clothes in relation to what we actually needed. This was a huge shame as it meant we hadn't needed to sacrifice quite so much fetish gear for the two cons. Still, you live and learn. The hotel was just in the middle of a retail park so there was little to do, meaning we ended up having a sober and early night, which was just as well as we needed to be at the Sierra Nevada Brewery for 11am the next morning.
We actually got to downtown Chico an hour early, largely because we needed to call off at a bank, which we did. With a little time to kill, we decided to have a walk around this charming little town, with a large number of hippie and hipster independent shops. The Elrey Theatre was another example of a building built in a golden age while we were a little disappointed to find that Chico Museum wasn't open on Wednesdays. Wolfie's foot was still bothering him a little so we couldn't walk far, and by 10:40am we had driven the few blocks to the brewery, where we spent a little time wandering around the extensive gift shop ahead of the tour. Taneli said he wanted a Sierra Nevada T-shirt, which we bought for him, while we noticed a number of individual beers as well as the 12 pack 'Beer Camp' limited edition release which we just had to have. With us needing to get to BLFC in Reno, which was three hours away, swiftly after the tour, we decided to do all our souvenir shopping before the tour began.
Indeed, we were quite lucky to get on the tour at all as Tux had booked it the night before upon noticing that such a thing was possible. In the end, there were about fifteen of us in total, and as we sat in the holding area before going into the main building, we were given a sample of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and were shown a video presentation of the history of the brewery. The lady who was guiding us was fantastic and answered all our questions as we walked around, including mine about how they ensure the exact same water consistency here and in their sister brewery in North Carolina. The tour was more extensive than the Deschutes one, as befits a bigger brewery, and we even got to taste the saccahrin sweetness of the liquor before the yeast is added to it. The highlight for me though was the visit to the hop room, which smelled like a floral bouquet in terms of richness. There were about ten different hop types all in big white vats, and we were allowed to rub them into our hands and smell the wonderful aroma of the yellow lupulin. The Brewery is large and airy, with some beautiful artwork on some of the walls. We had always wanted to visit the Sierra Nevada Brewery as it was one of THE first craft breweries, plus they brew some of the earliest craft beer you could get in the UK. Some of their beer is quite ubiquitous but a lot of their range is unavailable here, which made the visit even more worth it.
The end of the tour, like all good brewery tours, was the tasting room where we got to try seven beers. Six of them were from the Beer Camp, which made us regret slightly that we had bought the whole crate, but they were so good that they were definitely worth having again. Just before we had started the tour, we noticed a group of friends drinking in this bar and were wondering whether they had special access, suffice to say I was quite relieved when we were taken there at the end. In our group, I got chatting to a friendly retired couple who I think were from Texas, and who had an extensive knowledge of the craft beer scene in the western United States. They even recommended a few places to try in Reno, and it was great chatting with them for a good quarter of an hour or so. There was one table in the centre of the bar and we had all congregated around there, making meeting people quite straightforward. Tuxedo wasn't drinking because he was driving, but he did want to have a sip of all of them to try, meaning that Wolfie and I split his sample between us. The result of this at noon on a Wednesday was that by the time we had left, we were quite drunk, which didn't bode well for a three hour journey. Indeed, about forty-five minutes into the journey, we needed a pee so we stopped at a lay-by overlooking a plunging river valley which was covered in vegetation, with the water meandering beneath us. With the sun beating down, it was probably the most beautiful view I have ever seen while having a pee. We had stopped off at the world's most quiet Burger King before we set off for Reno, where we discovered that they do average hot dogs along with average burgers, but even that toilet break wasn't enough.
The road to Reno followed a river valley, with the train tracks taking the same route. Indeed in various places wraught iron bridges criss-crossed each other as the topography allowed, enabling road, river and rail to make unheeded progress. There were a number of reststops along the way, so we stopped off at a number to take pictures, with the crystal clear water always being a top draw. As befits a mountainous terrain, there were a number of tunnels dotting the route, including one or two where there was engineering work taking place. This saw us stuck behind a work lady (it was usually ladies for some reason) with a Stop sign while we waited for the guide truck to guide us through, and this enabled us to marvel at the engineering involved in cutting these tunnels out of the hard rock. The landscape shifted towards the California/Nevada border into one of total desolation, with barren scrubland and jagged hills the only features. It didn't feel like it was thirty miles or so from a pretty major city, but it felt like the American equivalent of Saddleworth Moor or some such place. Tux had been here before of course - he had been to most places on this trip - and as we crossed into Nevada and state number 23 (and Wolfie's number four) we could see the casinos waiting for us. Reno is only fifteen miles into Nevada so getting there was straightforward, and as we descended into the valley, we could see the cityscape ahead of us. Our hotel, the GSR, was clearly visible, a white obelisk on the horizon which grew larger and larger as we approached. As we turned in, we saw a number of furs in ears and tails waiting for the go karts while yet more were unpacking and getting ready for the con. The big LCD screen outside had a banner welcoming us to the convention and as we pulled into our parking space, we knew we would be in for one hell of a time.
