Crater Lake Part Two: Reflections
In my last entry, I wrote about the events that led me through Crater Lake National Park. If you have not read my most recent writing, feel free to look now for rolling clarity in this one.
If you did read, you may have noticed that a lot happened in a short period of time. Too much to have been able to process it all at the moment. But after re reading it over and over, I recognized countless lessons in the experience. I tend to be the kind of person that likes to find the deeper meaning in things. Typically without even realizing it.
I love that about me. I can turn mundanity into art. I can make simple moments, suddenly sophisticated reflections. Just by thinking in a different lens.
So let me show you a few moments that stood out to me the most.
The detour as the destination:
My whole entry is structured around detours. Around what happens when things do not go according to plan. Despite that, every deviation led to something better than I could have ever expected.
The raging Emigrant Fire led to an extra day to slow down. It bought us time. If we had continued on with the same momentum we grew over the days prior, Crater Lake would have only been a 3-4 hour side trail. Instead, it was a solid 25+ hour mission impossible. If we didn’t detour, we may not have gotten to see the lake, the old man log, or experience teleportation trail magic. I may not have met the Paris woman or saw the fire blade. Disruption happens more often than we realize, but it holds a lot of beauty.
Strangers are kinder than we assume:
There are multiple strangers who gave without being asked and with no expectation to be rewarded. The trail angel offered us a ride, and spontaneously took us to the lake with him. The Paris woman stopped me, prayed over me, hugged me. Michael drove us all the way to Bend OR, from Highway 138, a two hour drive. None of them had to do that. But they did. They genuinely invited the experience.
Trail life teaches you about the generosity of strangers, if you're vulnerable enough to accept it. Not just from trail angels, but other hikers too. And the person staring at you in the grocery store, wondering why you probably stink so bad. Only, their curiosity is so compelling that they come over and question why we are carrying 30 pounds on our backs, and calling it fun.
I say yes:
Over and over.
Trail angel offered us a ride: “Hell yes”
Extra suggests sleeping on the fire watch tower: “Naturally I said yes”
Paris woman wants to pray: “I happily said yes”
It is quite literally the main dialogue that shifts the plot. The quantum web. I didn’t hesitate when life offered me something I felt safe enough to receive. I said yes.
I am comfortable being alone in a group:
I remember that when I got to Highway 138 first, I just sat against a tree, tucked away from the road and ate pizza with my shoes off. And while I waited for the homies to meet up for our ride, I even napped.
Yet my whole entry shows how deeply belonging in a group can imprint on you. I love my people, but I don’t have to dissolve without them.
Leadership gravitates toward me:
I never asked for it, but somehow it finds me anyway. I grabbed our breakfast table without thinking twice. I made the arrangements for Bend. When it came time to decide on the lake, I made the final call. Still, I waited for Jukebox's opinion on Extra's side quest to the fire watch tower before anyone moved — we believed in democracy as a group. Everybody had a say.
As the trail went on, more of these moments fell into my lap, small and unasked for. I'm still learning what to do with that.
So much can happen in so little time. As Ferris Bueller says “"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."
