I know that most of you are making a connection in your heads now, that Randi’s nephews are just as weird as she is. But where they have the excuse of being a rambunctious three-year-old and sniffly toddler, I do not.
I spent Friday and Saturday with my sister and her family as well as her best friend from Maryland at Crater Lake, Ore. This lake wins the prize for being the deepest lake in America, in one of the most beautiful settings in America, and with the most mosquitoes in America. There was still snow on the majority of the ground and yet we were still relentlessly eaten by the nasty buggers.
I guess the beauty of the volcanically formed lake was worth the mountain range of bites now on my legs and arms. The lake was formed several thousand years ago after Mt. Mazama blew her top. After the explosions, the base of the volcano sunk down into the earth, taking the spot of the displaced magma. Because I am the least scientific person and not qualified to explain this, either look it up on wikipedia or imagine the middle of a heavy cake sinking into itself and that’s basically what you have—an enormous lava sealed cake filled with gorgeous, clear, melted snow.
Saturday we climbed down to the water. The steep trail was well kept and most likely not the same path that the Klamath Indians used to climb down to purify themselves in the water. I am pretty sure they had to scale a cliff face before they bathed in the literally icy water, and that’s only if they made it down alive. No, we took the tourist route, but also the only available (safe) pathway to the water. My brother-in-law proved his manliness by jumping in. I proved my womanliness by sticking my feet in and nothing more (sorry girls :/). Asher even got halfway in, and when his mother teased him, he stuck his face in the water for good measure, brave boy that he is. The strikingly blue water was incredible clear. If you ignored the stone-cold feeling seeping through your toes and just looked at the color of the water, you might be able to imagine that you were in the Caribbean. After defrosting my feet, we headed back up the ancient volcano, towards the comfort of our suburban, dry socks, phone service, civilization.
Back to Eugene in the Willamette Valley. I would like to correct your most likely mispronunciation of the valley that I live in. It’s not Willa-met, it’s Will-amit (rhymes with “damnit”, says my professor, ever so helpfully). Anyhow, I just thought I would help increase your day-to-day knowledge of Oregon and her topographical features.