Riding the Rim

A Scenic Adventure Around Crater Lake

Crater Lake had been calling me back for years. The last time I visited, my knees were still pre-surgery, and all I could manage was a slow drive around the rim, hopping out at overlooks to snap photos. Hiking? Not a chance. Biking? A distant dream.

But dreams evolve. And this year, I finally answered the call.

The Dream Ride

Ever since I started riding long distances, I’d fantasized about joining Crater Lake’s annual Ride The Rim event. For two Saturdays in September, three-quarters of the rim road is closed to cars, giving cyclists a rare chance to soak in the views without the hum of traffic. This year, I made it happen—with my trusty bike buddy Donna in tow.

To keep things budget-friendly, we camped at Union Creek, nestled along the Rogue River about 30 miles from the lake. Rustic, scenic, and just quirky enough to suit us.

The Journey South

We hit the road from Seattle at 7am, ready for the 450-mile trek. What should’ve been a 7.5-hour drive stretched closer to nine thanks to traffic and snack stops. But once we veered off the interstate south of Portland, the scenery transformed—winding roads, mountain passes, rivers, and lakes. It felt like the adventure had already begun.

Campfire Peaches and Bear Dreams

We reached Union Creek with just 40 minutes of daylight to spare. Tents up, dinner down, and then—out of nowhere—a young man named Taylor appeared beside our picnic table. He offered us peaches from his tree back home, shared stories of growing up in the area, and gave us each a warm hug before disappearing into the night. A hugger, like me. Instant camp magic.

That night, I slept well… until I screamed in my sleep. Apparently, I dreamt a bear tore through my tent. Donna found it hilarious. I found it mildly terrifying.

Ride Day: Doubts, Descents, and Determination

We arrived at Crater Lake around 7:30am, just in time for the 8am start. I parked near the lodge—less official, but easier—and we began the ride with the traffic-open section while it was still quiet.

As I pedaled into the first few miles, doubt crept in. Nearly 5,000 feet of elevation gain, no gears on my bike, and this was my first long ride since a July accident. I almost turned back at mile 10. But I reminded myself: I’ve faced harder things. I’ve pushed through before. I could do this.

And I did.

The climbs weren’t as brutal as I feared. The descents were exhilarating. The lake, though less saturated in the morning light, was still breathtaking. I didn’t walk a single hill. Thirty miles later, I rolled into the finish by 10:30am, legs humming with pride.

French Fries and Rocking Chairs

Donna was still out on the course, so I wandered into the gift shop to find WiFi and sent her a message to meet me at the lodge. I parked my bike, settled into a rocking chair on the overlook porch, and soaked in the view until lunch started at 11:30.

Just as my fries arrived, so did Donna. She’d found the WiFi and my message. We swapped stories over greasy goodness, both buzzing from the ride.

Rogue River Ramble

Back at camp, I still had energy to burn. I told Donna I’d be back in 30 minutes and set off for a short ride east to the Rogue River Overlook. A quick hike, a few photos, then west past the campground to another overlook. Just over five miles, but pure joy.

Donna later rode to the overlook herself while I circled the campground and found Taylor again—this time joined by his parents. Camp friendships are the best kind.

Dinner was pie. Literally. We rode to a nearby diner known for its legendary pies. Locals streamed in just to buy whole ones to take home. We opted for slices and smiles.

Rain, Rude Neighbors, and a Muddy Goodbye

Forecast said rain for Sunday’s drive home. I didn’t mind—our ride had stayed dry. But the night? Not so peaceful.

At 10pm, a group arrived at the site next to us. Loud, oblivious, and apparently nocturnal. They chopped wood, shouted, and cooked dinner over a fire at 11pm. I barely slept.

Rain started at 3:30am. They were still up. By 5:30, my tent was leaking—pitched over a slight depression that had turned into a puddle. I gave up on sleep, packed up our soggy gear, and woke Donna. We were leaving early.

We tossed sleeping bags into the back seat, muddy tents into the trunk, and hit the road. Rain chased us the whole way. One last diner stop for breakfast gave us the fuel to make it home.

Conclusion: From Rim to Resilience

This trip was more than a scenic ride—it was a full-circle moment. From the days I could only drive the rim to conquering it on two wheels, it reminded me how far I’ve come. The climbs, the campfire peaches, the bear dreams, the rain-soaked goodbye—all of it stitched together a story of grit, joy, and unexpected connection.

Crater Lake didn’t just offer views. It offered proof that healing, adventure, and a little bit of pie can go a long way.