The last stop I made with my family before we had to part ways was Crater Lake (after Crater Lake on Monday, I had to return to work and my family continued up to Bend for the rest of the week). I've seen pictures, heard about it, and even have it on my license plate, but I wasn't at all prepared for how incredible Crater Lake would be. For those that aren't familiar with it, it is basically a giant lake in the crater of what was once a very active volcano. It's five miles across and six miles wide and over 1900 feet deep, the deepest lake in the US and one of the deepest in the world. Since it's in the top of a mountain, no streams flow into it (none happen to flow out, either) so the water is amazingly clear and deep blue.
We drove and hiked to different areas around the caldera to get different views of the lake (it's so big, you really do need to see it from different places). Here's a pretty good picture of my parents at our first view of the lake.
This is one of two islands in the lake, known as the phantom ship. It may look small, but it's actually 170 feet tall and 500 feet long. This picture gives you a sense of how blue the water is.
Trey, Carsten, and I hiked down from the rim to the lake (there's only one trail that goes down to the lake, about 700 vertical feet). We went for two reasons; 1) to see the lake from up close, and 2) to jump in. The water was freezing, but we wanted to be able to say we swam in Crater Lake. Here's Carsten taking the plunge.
Here's the view we had standing on the rock before we jumped in.
Check out the large version to fully appreciate it.
Because Crater Lake is in a volcano, there are many other cool geologic features around it. The Pinnacles are large, hollow columns where steam vented up through and solidified ash on the mountain. As the surround ash eroded, only the Pinnacles remained. The one in the middle of this picture is over 160 feet tall.
The rest of the pictures we took at Crater Lake are definitely worth checking out on my flickr page.
Since our rafting trip was in southern Oregon, we decided it was well worth the drive to northern California to see the redwoods. We spent a day in Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park and were absolutely in awe at the size of the trees. Trey, Carsten, and I went on a hike through an area that the park ranger told us contained the tallest trees in the world. They were impressively huge, some well over 300 feet tall and 20 feet in diameter.
We also went swimming in a tributary of Smith River, with water so clear you could see the rocks on the bottom more than 30 feet below. We didn't get a good picture of how clear the water was, but my dad got a picture of me swinging off of a rope hanging from a bridge over the water.
Below is a video of a little adventure we had in the redwood forest. My dad joined Trey, Carsten, and I for the first couple miles of our hike. He was supposed to meet up with my mom at a campground by crossing a bridge over the Smith River. When we got to the right location, though, we discovered that the seasonal bridge wasn't there. There happened to be a small raft on the beach that a family had used to cross the river then left while they went for a hike. Trey and my dad commandeered the raft to cross the river, hurrying to finish before the owners returned. My favorite part of this is how hard Trey was laughing after they got into the raft.
My mom and dad, Trey and Carsten came to Portland last week for the family's summer trip. The first stop on our trip was a four day rafting trip on the Rogue River in southern Oregon. It was an awesome trip and everyone had a lot of fun. We saw a lot of wildlife, including a mink, otters, bears, deer, and many more.
There were 19 customers in our group and five guides. We had four oar boats, where we could just sit in the front and relax while the guide rowed, and one oar boat, where customers could paddle as well, and seven duckies (individual rubber kayaks) with us, so there was a good mix of relaxing and paddling through the whitewater. I've got tons of video from the trip and I'll post more as get them edited.
We also had incredible weather for the whole trip. It was sunny and in the 80s and 90s during the day, then cooled off at night. The water felt great to swim in. Trey, Carsten, and I slept outside under the stars all three nights.
The food was also amazing. We had fresh fruit at every meal, incredible camp cooking, and delicious dutch oven deserts every evening.
I won't go into a play-by-play of the entire trip, but here are some of the highlights:
We stopped at a few jumping rocks along the river, but the first one stands out a little more than the rest. Our mother, who is terrified of heights, jumped off of it. It took a little coaxing (ok, a lot of coaxing from a lot of people), but after several minutes near the edge, she did it. We even have video proof.
I cut out the first five minutes of the video while she's nervously looking over the edge, terrified to jump.
Though the video didn't turn out great from this incident, it was one of my favorites of the trip. Carsten and I were in duckies when one of the guides told us where a large hole was in the rapids. We both headed straight for it. I watched as Carsten got tossed out of his ducky, then the wave swallowed the bow of my ducky, flipping me forward and out of it. There was enough force involved to rip the rubber strap from my sunglasses. You'll see them dangling from my neck before the water pulls them away from me and I lose them completely.
(Video to come soon. I haven't had a chance to edit it, but I wanted to get the post up, since it's been a couple weeks.)
There was also a pretty scary moment on the trip. Before we entered Mule Creek Canyon, one of the guides had warned us about a few of the rapids in it. For the first one, we were told to go to the left of two rocks that mark the entrance of the canyon, known as Jaws. We were warned several times not to go to the right of the rocks. Carsten and I were in duckies and listened closely to the instructions.
In the last set of small rapids a few hundred yards upstream of Jaws, one of the men in our group flipped out of his ducky. I grabbed his boat and flipped it right side up for him while another duckier helped him over to where I was. The swimmer struggled to get back in his ducky and didn't get in until just above Jaws. I was the furthest down stream in the group of duckies, and by the time the man had gotten back into his ducky, I was too close to the rocks to get around to the left of them. I pointed my ducky to the right of jaws and started paddling aggressively, hoping I could power through whatever might lay beyond the first two rocks. As I passed around to the right of the two large rocks, I saw another medium sized rock about 15 yards down stream of the first two. I knew I couldn't make the sharp left turn to stay above the rock and rejoin the main flow, so I headed for a narrow channel of water (about three feet wide) to the right of the lower rock.
The strong current forced the left side of my ducky against the rock, lifting the left tube and forcing the right tube down. I threw all my weight to the high side, trying to keep the ducky upright, but the force of the water was too great. it quickly swallowed the right tube, pulling it and me under an undercut rock. The tubes of the ducky sandwiched against legs, pulling them with it under the rock. The huge amount of force from the water rushing around the rock had wrapped my ducky around the rock, beneath the water, pulling me under. I managed to keep my head above the water by grabbing onto the top of the rock.
While all this was happening, I had seen the rest of my group float by. I knew there were no good places to stop in the canyon and that the steep walls would prevent anyone from being able to make it back up stream to me. Self rescue was the only option. I pulled hard on the top of the rock and wrestled my trapped legs out of the wrapped ducky. The water flow pressed my torso hard against the rock and pulled my legs under it, but I was able to hoist myself on top of the rock and to relative safety.
I was no longer at a risk for drowning, but then came the question of what to do with the ducky. It was sandwiched and wrapped around the undercut rock, almost completely submerged. I braced my back on another rock and push with my feet against the stern of the ducky, but it wouldn't budge. The force of the water hitting it was way too high.
Carsten and another duckier, Alex, had managed to stop on a rocky beach 40 yards below where I'd been stuck. They worked their way to near where I was and Alex crossed over to the rock I was on. The two of us were able to push the back of the ducky out from the rock enough for the water to flow behind it and force it out from under the rock. Carsten stayed down stream to catch it when it floated free. My paddle was trapped under the rock by the rushing water, too, but after the ducky was freed, the paddle gradually moved downstream until Carsten was able to reach under the water and pull it out.
I paddled the rest of the mile long canyon very conservatively, avoiding any large waves and holes. I'd had enough excitement for the day.
We all managed to survive the rest of the trip with little more than lost sunglasses and sunburns and I think everyone had a great time. Check out the rest of the pictures from the trip on flickr.
Trey and I spent the last two days of our Colorado trip exploring abandoned mines. On Saturday morning, we went to the largest mine that Matt and I had explored when he was in town on the previous 4th of July (Matt's Visit Part I). Trey and I spent over an hour underground exploring all the tunnels of the two level mine. We experienced the same location of bad air that Matt and I had found the previous year. When we climbed over and down a pile of rocks, our candle went out and wouldn't re-light. We had to turn around there, but my curiosity is still piqued about what might be beyond that section of bad air. I'll have to save that for another adventure.
We spent the rest of the day searching for other mines in the area that we could explore. Unfortunately, we didn't find any. The ones that we found that hadn't collapsed had been gated by the Colorado Division of Reclamation, Mining and Safety (don't get me started on them). Next time we'll have to search a little further from the beaten path (the rental Fiesta limited us to decent roads).
We had decided to save the biggest adventure for last. Sunday morning, we woke up early to head up the mountain above the cabin. I've known about a vertical mine shaft near the ridge of the mountain for a long time now. Almost exactly one year ago, Matt and I tried to climb down into the mine using a rope ladder and safety systems that he and I had made. We made several trips up and down the mountain between the cabin and the mine over the course of the week, one of them lugging our 80 lb rope ladder to the top, before finally attempting to climb down into it. I only made it about 20 feet down into the mine before deciding that our rope ladder just wasn't a safe system for climbing down into a vertical mine shaft.
Over the past year, since failing to climb down into that mine shaft, I've thought about it almost every day. I've spent a lot of time researching and planning the right way to explore vertical mine shafts. Since moving to Portland, I've gradually been collecting the proper equipment, learning the necessary skills (part of the motivation for my mountaineering class was that some of those skills would transfer to vertical mine exploration), and practicing climbing up and down a rope from my back porch. I knew I'd finally have the opportunity to use these skills when Trey told me just a week before the trip that he was coming, too (I wasn't going to explore any mines by myself).
In the days leading up to Sunday morning, however, I questioned the sanity of my plan. Was rappelling 100 feet into an abandoned mine shaft really a good idea? Would we dislodge rotting timbers or loose rocks that would crash down on top of us, or worse, cause a collapse? If something went wrong while we were down there, would there be any hope for rescue? I certainly didn't consider it to be safe, but I couldn't make a decision until I saw the mine again.
When Trey and I reached the ridge of the mountain Sunday morning and examined the entrance to the mine (there was a short horizontal tunnel before the vertical shaft) and the collar of the vertical shaft, I still had doubts about whether we should rappel down into it. I decided that if I didn't, I would regret it as soon as I left Colorado and I would continue to think about it every day until I actually did it.
So, Trey and I began to set up our anchor system, tying lengths of rope and webbing to two different trees outside of the mine (unfortunately, I forgot to take pictures of our anchor setup). We then divided the climbing rope into two sections, one about 150' long to drop down into the shaft and rappel on and a second about 50' long as a safety rope for the person at the top of the shaft to attach to (we'd decided that we shouldn't both be in the mine at the same time, that someone should remain at the top, in case something did go wrong). Both sections of rope were attached independently to the power point of our anchor system. Here's a view of our climbing ropes going out the entrance of the mine to our anchors.
After double checking each other's harnesses, the rope, and the anchor system, I slowly lowered myself over the edge of the collar, into the vertical shaft. I took my time lowering myself down, examining the collar and the top of the shaft as I went. About 20 feet down, the shaft opened up, into a large cavern, following a vein to my left and right (I was expecting this, having gotten this far the previous year). I continued to lower myself another 20 feet, until I meet the steeply sloping wall (the first 40 or so feet of the shaft were vertical until it met the angle of the vein, which was at about an 85° slope). By this point, it was clear that we weren't really in a shaft, which would have been used simply as a secondary entrance or air shaft, but that we were in what appeared to be a stope. The cavern continued further than I could see in either direction and there was much more rock missing from underground than could be found in any of the nearby tailings.
Using my feet and knees to keep myself away from the wall, I continued to lower myself and in another 30 feet was out of sight of the top of the shaft. From there, I could see what appeared to be the bottom of the shaft 30 to 40 feet below me. I lowered myself the remaining 30 feet to a point where I could take my weight off the rope, where the angle of the rock had decreases to 60-70°. About 15 feet below me was the bottom of the shaft, full of rock and wood. To my left, the stope continued further than I could see and to my right, a small horizontal shaft ran beneath the stope. I disconnected from the rope and climbed into the shaft.
The shaft only traveled about 20 feet before it looked like it had been back filled with small rocks (they were too level to have been a collapse). I left the small candle that I had with me burning at the end of the shaft (more on that later) and returned to the rope. I didn't spend long looking around the bottom of the vertical shaft before I decided it didn't go anywhere and started my climb up the rope. Climbing up the rope at altitude, pressing against a slick rock wall was much more difficult than hanging from my porch, but after ten minutes, I'd made the 100 foot climb back to the top of the shaft.
After climbing out of the mine and back to safety, I told Trey that it had been both the "dumbest and scariest" thing that I had ever done (even more so than skydiving) and that I didn't think he should do it. Of course, the decision was his, and he decided the adventure was worth it. I helped him attach the descender to the rope and climb down over the edge of the collar, then watched as he slowly lowered himself into the darkness. I took lots of pictures.
Here you can just see his light about 70 feet down, just before he disappeared below the sloping roof of rock. There's still another 30 feet to the bottom of the shaft.
We had been communicating during his entire descent, but when he explored the small horizontal shaft near the bottom, I called his name several times with no response. I had a brief moment of dread, fearing the worst might have happened, and started planning my rescue.
Luckily, a louder yell from me elicited a response, and I relaxed, knowing that he was back at the vertical shaft, ready to make his way back up the rope. Apparently, I took enough pictures of him climbing up to animate:
Now that we'd both been able to explore the mine and made it out safely, we had to hustle down to the cabin to get it cleaned and pack for our flights that evening. Our trip to Colorado had proven very successful, and I'd accomplished a year long goal. And I have new plans for my next trip...
For those still curious about why I left the candle burning in the horizontal shaft at the bottom of the mine:
There is another abandoned mine with a horizontal shaft almost exactly 100 feet directly below the entrance to the vertical shaft. When Matt and I explored that mine the previous year, we discovered that at the furthest point back, there is a collapse. However, there is a small gap in the rocks through which you can see that on the other side of the collapse is a large opening (Trey reminded me that this might simple be the void left by the collapsed rock). There is also a strong breeze blowing through the gap, both of which add up to convince me that the horizontal shaft connects to the vertical shaft.
Trey and I went into the horizontal shaft on our way down from the vertical shaft we'd just explored and turned our headlamps off when we reached the collapse, hoping to see the soft glow of a burning candle through the gap in the rocks. We didn't. I'm still convinced that the two shafts were part of the same mine. I might not have placed the candle at the right opening. There was much more space in the vertical shaft than we could see or safely explore.
Update: I finally had time to go through my GoPro footage. It's not great because it was way too dark in the mine for the camera. I wish I had brought a still camera down with me.
