It's been a weekend of cinder cones, fumaroles, pumice and bubbling mud as we spent a few nights camping with the Singers in Lassen Volcanic National Park.
I still make the mistake of thinking of California as SF and LA, disregarding the hundreds of miles east filled with forests, mountains, farming and, it turns out, volcanoes. Lassen is about four hours north-east of us, and even the Berkeley-centric-urban-liberal politics has no place around here ("Obama bin lyin" and "Control your children, not my guns" being the best bumper stickers we saw). The nearest Starbucks is 45 minutes from the park entrance. Yep, remote.
We drove up on Friday morning, pitched our tents, then wandered out into places with wonderful names like Chaos Jumbles, Bumpass's Hell, and the economic but evocative Devastated Area. There is lots of cooled, grey lava on the ground, punctuated by giant black rocks projected thousands of feet from the last eruption. That was about 100 years ago, but volcanologists don't like to talk about volcanoes as being dormant any more. They're either alive or extinct, and these ones aren't extinct. I didn't sleep much.
On Saturday we hiked up to the aforementioned Bumpass's Hell, through thick ponderosa pines looking down into secluded valleys. Mr Kendall Vanhook Bumpass had an unfortunate name and a more unfortunate life, as his foot fell through a thin crust of rock and into a pool of searing mud. He lost the leg but the place kept his name so, you know, silver lining. They've put up a walkway now, and steam hisses out of the ground around you with the sound of a jet engine. There's a lot of sulphur - I won't be wanting egg sandwiches for a while.
Having gone up, on Sunday we descended into the extinct lava tube of Subway Cave. It's a leftover from an eruption 2000 years ago, when the outside of a lava flow hardened while the inside drained out. Then the top fell in, and now it's a tourist attraction. Native Americans didn't like it much, and it still has areas known as Lucifer's Cul-de-Sac and Devil's Doorway. Luckily we had four-year-old Sofia with us, and everything is scared of her.
Lassen is one of the more empty National Parks we've been too, and is often only open June - October due to a 40ft+ snow covering most winters. Our weekend was certainly over far too quickly, although it is nice to once again be far from a potential river of molten rock (and near a Starbucks).
A final feed at the Black Bear Diner before heading into the unknown.
Hannah directs operations in the tent.
Elliot struggles to secure everything in the bear locker (because bears are particularly partial to Sauvignon Blanc).
Our first volcano!
Chaos Jumbles.
Hannah, no stranger to chaos, is impressed by the pine cones hereabouts.
Roasting marshmallows. I wonder how long that would take over hot lava.
Starting the next morning with hot chocolate.
One of the Hot Rocks, plonked here by the last eruption.
Most of the devastation was actually due to snow and mud avalanches, displaced by all the heat. Things are quiet...for now.
The Davies Family.
The Singer Family. All our children look remarkably similar.
Snow, in July, but every season's good for a snowball fight.
One of the less forested area.
Maya on the moon.
Lassen Peak volcano over Lake Helen.
A fine view. Hopefully it doesn't explode while we're here.
Awe, majesty, and me.
The local wildlife isn't the wildest. This chipmunk harassed us at lunchtime until he found a dropped crisp.
Savage beasts.
Welcome to Hell.
My favourite notice.
Stinky.
Steamy.
Lemmings.
We were greeted by this crazy bug back at camp. And it could fly. The only problem with the great outdoors is that it's outdoors.
Sofia and Hannah map out our journey downwards.
Maya knocks on the Devil's Doorway.
Entering the darkness.
Inside. With flash.
And without.
On our way home...via a latte.
