A
Mirrored Lake of Extraordinary Purity
Chris
Bonny
In the summer before my senior year of college I was nearing the end of a six month internship with St. Jude Medical. The job was my first opportunity to apply my mechanical engineering knowledge and solve meaningful design problems. I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Throughout the last few weeks of the internship, however, I desperately wanted relief from the congestion and pollution of Los Angeles. I found that relief during a three-day vacation to Oregon, which consisted of hours spent outdoors in the endless, verdant forests of the Pacific Northwest. I visited Waldo Lake for the first time, on a canoe trip with my family, and was overwhelmed by its natural splendor. The extraordinary clarity of the rich blue water and the gorgeous mountainous backdrop made a trip across Waldo Lake a journey to remember.
We unloaded the canoe at the secluded end of the lake known as Shadow Bay. It was there that I first saw and appreciated the water’s tranquility. Morning sunlight reflected brilliantly off the glassy surface, and I wondered at the name of the bay; there were no shadows to be seen. I never learned the reason for the name, but I do know where the unfortunate name “Waldo Lake” originated. The lake was named for Judge John Breckinridge Waldo. He was a conservationist who, along with others, helped establish the Cascade Range Forest Reserve (Forest Service). I appreciate Waldo’s role in protecting Oregon’s wilderness regions, but there are certainly more fitting names for his lake. Mary Austin, in her novel “The Land of Little Rain,” presents an approach to naming that sidesteps personal tributes. “For if I love a lake known by the name of the man who discovered it, which endears itself by reason of the close-locked pines it nourishes about its borders, you make look in my account to find it so described” (Austin 1). She, if writing of Waldo Lake, would never mention the officially documented name. As a tribute to the lake’s most notable characteristic, I would bestow the name Purity Lake.
I was the last person to climb onto the canoe after delivering a firm push away from shore. My movements were restrained and tentative to keep the boat stable. We rocked about like a fishing bobber despite my precautions, with my high position magnifying the effects of my slightest shift in weight. For a moment I wobbled precariously, still kneeling on the small stern deck as the boat slipped into the shallows. The canoe settled. I regained my composure, starting to remember my previous familiarity with canoeing. My movements became sure, and I took my seat. This was it! I was excited by the closeness of water, the way it surrounded the canoe in a moving sheath, and the peacefulness of the motion. Water lapped quietly against the hull, and I looked down. The bay was two feet deep, and scattered plants were clearly visible on the sandy bottom. My eyes wandered to my right toward the rest of the lake, and the small size surprised me. We could easily circumnavigate the lake’s edge.
The immediate plan was to paddle to the opposite side while keeping the shore close on our left. We came to the lake to relax and enjoy the abundant wildlife, and our unhurried movements were a clear indication. Every paddle stroke was natural, cutting into the water’s perfectly mirrored surface without a splash. I slowly pulled the paddle back through the water and felt the canoe respond, propelled forward. Gentle meandering brought us close to the left shore where I observed fallen logs, some not quite fully submerged. I imagined that those branches were desperately holding themselves up to the air, reaching out to the terrestrial world as if afraid to die so soon, and the grim thought amused me. My gaze shifted lower. Darkly colored trout darted to and fro as we passed. Our progress went unnoticed by the fish below; we were but a gentle ripple on calm waters. We drew closer to one of the logs and it scraped the canoe’s hull, but logs pose little threat to a well-built canoe. Even so, we steered clear, seeking deeper waters.
To fully appreciate the water quality at Waldo Lake it is necessary to paddle, swim, or otherwise travel to the deepest regions and look straight down on a calm day. At places the lake depth is 427 feet, but the section we passed over was 100 feet deep. The bottom was plainly visible. Should you travel to Waldo Lake and visit the same spot, you too will easily see through a tall column of water. The high purity and blue hue tend to be associated with ideal, unspoiled habitat. In a seeming paradox, the main cause of the lake’s clarity is not the presence of, but lack of life (Buckley). Rain and melting snow feed the lake, rather than streams that would deposit water heavy in nutrients.
The day, the weather, the view—everything was inviting us to enjoy a day on the water. Other people were just as inclined to accept the invitation. A campground north of Shadow Bay was alive with activity. To the west I could see a group of three kayaks navigating the shallows. Toward the middle of the lake was a fishing boat. Waldo Lake is a recreation destination in Oregon, and proper management is an ongoing controversy. Should the lake be kept pure, in its natural state, or should it be developed for public recreation? A battle between the two ideologies has dominated the recent history of Waldo Lake. Advocates of recreational use wanted to turn the lake into the “Tahoe of Oregon” (Forest Service). Around the lake there are 205 developed sites that include flushed toilets, running water, and other luxuries. Part of the development included the introduction of 20 million fish at an ever increasing rate between 1912 and 1990 (Bliss). A headgate and tunnel structure called Klovdahl Dam was built to power and irrigate the Willamette Valley (Forest Service). Environmentalists fought the lake’s mismanagement, and were successful in many respects. Waldo Lake never experienced development of Tahoe-like proportions. The introduction of fish, an unnatural alternation to the lake and a contributor to decreasing water clarity, was halted in 1990. The Klavdahl Dam was never used, but remains in place today as a historic structure (Forest Service). National forest management is a careful balance between recreational, corporate, and environmental interests. With advocates like Judge John Waldo, and growing environmental awareness in the general population, Waldo Lake may be able to forever retain its unique, natural beauty.
Eventually we came to the other side of the lake. The straight-line distance we traveled was one and a quarter miles, but the lake is over six miles long in one direction. Shadow Bay, where we started, was sheltered from most of the lake by a hilly, rocky peninsula. As we reached the opposite shore I realized that we had been traveling transverse to the longest length of the lake, and my perspective changed instantaneously. We explored but a fraction of the vast body of water. The canoe ran aground, rising up and grinding a halt on a bed of pebbles. After a break we climbed back into the canoe to continue our journey.
Then the winds came. In stark contrast to the peaceful morning, the winds ripped across the lake surface, transforming its glassy calm into an unpredictable field of undulating waves. The day, weather, and view were no longer inviting. The canoe rocked vigorously, but the motion did not yet present any danger to the three of us. We needed to hurry. At times the bow of the canoe dropped suddenly as we crested a wave, sending up sprays of water upon impact. I could smell the crisp, clean wetness as the mist lingered momentarily in the air. In light of the changed circumstances, we headed straight across the open waters toward Shadow Bay. I was stunned by the rapid reversal of the day’s mood. Adrenaline started flowing, and we fought to cross the lake before winds increased. The waters of Waldo Lake seemed to yield and dance in response to the wind. In Walden, Henry David Thoreau found an eloquent way to describe the interaction. “A field of water betrays the spirit that is in the air. It is continually receiving new life and motion from above. It is intermediate in its nature between land and sky. On land only the grass and trees wave, but the water itself is rippled by the wind” (178). The whole of the lake was alive with the movement of the wind. It was a dramatic sight, and a testament to the natural forces at work.
The lake let us pass unscathed, and it was with relief that we drifted into the calm waters of Shadow Bay. Our journey was over. Yet my relief could not mask the feeling of reluctance I experienced as I stepped from the canoe. The lake has much to offer, and has managed to endure the destructive works of a sometimes misguided society. Waldo Lake remains to this day a lake of extraordinary purity.
References:
Austin, Mary. The Land of Little Rain. New York: Dover, 1996.
Bliss, Jessica. “Implications of Fish Stocking at Waldo Lake, Oregon.” University of Oregon. 2004. 21 May 2007. <http://darkwing.uoregon.edu/~dtodd/WilRiver/Bliss.pdf>
Buckley, Tim. “Discover Waldo Lake.”<http://www.sunset.com/sunset/travel/article/0,20633,688082,00.html>
Forest Service. “Willamette National Forest.” U.S. Department of Agriculture. 21 May 2007.
<http://www.fs.fed.us/r6/willamette/manage/waldolake/index.html>
Thoreau, Henry David. Walden. Boston: Beacon, 1997.