I’ve seen rainbows in the sky, in the mists of city fountains, and among the spray of waterfalls, but only once have I seen a rainbow in the middle of a lake. Everybody was in awe at the Crater Lake Lodge. Drink and meal service stopped as guests and employees came out to the back porch with their smartphones and cameras. The rainbow was a short, pale arc emerging from cobalt-blue water and dissolving into the wintry air. There had been snow, rain, and hail that day, marking the end of autumn in the mountains of southern Oregon, and we felt this was a reward bestowed by a temporarily clear sky. It was too cold to stay and gaze at it for long. We, mostly strangers, smiled at each other and filed back inside to enjoy our hot drinks.
I had been on the other side of that rainbow a couple hours earlier, on the rim of Crater Lake, riding my bike on an empty road with my friend Fiona. Park administrators had closed the road to motor vehicles for the weekend to give cyclists a rare opportunity to enjoy it without the fear and stress of car traffic. They, and we, had expected nicer weather and a much larger crowd of visitors. I had helped to lead a caravan from Portland the night before, transporting about 13 people. Most of us had ratcheted down our cycling ambitions after we’d arrived and found ourselves pitching tents under freezing rain. Many people wanted to ride the entire car-free portion of Rim Drive, which was about 26 miles. A handful of them followed through, starting early in anticipation of a snowstorm. Some went a few miles before heading to the lodge or back to the campsite. One didn’t even leave the campground. Fiona and I biked about seven miles before encountering a few friends who were going the opposite direction, and reversed course. They told us it had begun to snow at some of the higher points of the rim. So far, we had gotten no worse than an interruption of sleet against the persistent chill of the air. Continue reading