Look, But Don’t Touch - Two Years of Longing at Crater Lake

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but Crater Lake is off-limits for the next two years. No swimming, no boat rides, no leaping from the rocky ledge like you’re in an indie film about personal growth. And apparently, it’s all because the trail—Cleetwood Cove Trail—is in desperate need of repair. Which is fair. The last time I hiked it, I felt like I owed it an apology afterward.

Starting in 2026, they’re shutting it all down. Two years. That’s one presidential election cycle or approximately one and a half Kanye controversies. And while yes, the lake is still visible from the rim—congratulations, you can still look at it—there’s a certain cruelty in being told: “You may admire the sapphire from afar, but you may not touch.”

I’ve been in relationships like that.

There’s something sacred about swimming in Crater Lake. That water is cleaner than my internet search history and twice as mysterious. I once saw a man weep softly just floating in it. Could’ve been the altitude. Could’ve been the mushrooms. Who’s to say?

But now it’s just… a distant jewel. A screensaver. A wish you can’t make.

And I get it. Safety. Erosion. Liability. Bureaucracy with its clipboard of doom.

Still, I’ll be here. Watching. Waiting. Counting the days like a prisoner scratching tallies on a cell wall.

The lake and I—we’ll meet again.

And when we do, I’m bringing floaties and emotional baggage.