Off the highway, I turned onto the road leading to Crater Lake, a flicker of worry igniting within me. The snow lining the road grew deeper, an unexpected sight but thankfully without any impending storms. The signs warning of tire chains heightened my concerns. If conditions worsened, I resolved to turn back. And if further snowfall ensued, I was prepared to wait for a week.
Soon, upon entering the park, a sign dashed my hopes. Not a single ranger crossed my path during my entire stay; it seemed they had all fled to Florida. The park remained open, but their absence hung in the air.
Behold, a photo revealing the astonishing depth of the snow. That towering snow bank? A flat field replaces it in summer. The reality surpassed the image. Stepping out of the vehicle, I traversed the road and ascended what I mistook for a hill—a colossal snowbank unveiled itself. I, ill-prepared in shorts, turned around only to find one leg plunging into the snow, swallowed up to my belt. The other leg quickly followed suit. The biting cold enveloped me, yet I managed to free myself with minimal effort.
Despite the adversities, the sight of Crater Lake proved nothing short of awe-inspiring. As always, photographs failed to capture its true splendor.
