During the summer of 1931, at 19 years of age, I was privileged to accompany Ansel F. Hall, senior naturalist and chief forester of the National Park Service (NPS), as his "apprentice" field assistant. He was an active Scouter, known affectionately as "Chief" by me and all the other Boy Scouts whom he befriended.¹ Our itinerary included Yosemite, Craters of the Moon, Yellowstone, Grand Teton, and Crater Lake. I had just completed my freshman year at the University of California and was contemplating what major to select. To help me decide, Chief said he would give me as many different assignments as possible while he was on duty at these parks. In return I agreed to write a book describing my experiences so that others could consider a NPS career. This paper is derived from the chapters I wrote about Crater Lake. Part one deals with interpretive activities inaugurated that summer; part two relates to geological and historical discoveries.

Part One - Interpretation

Park Naturalist Donald S. Libbey had been planning a new service for the public for quite some time.² I was happy when he and chief asked me to go along to assist with the first, personally-conducted, rim auto- caravan trip. Following the regular evening programs at the Community House³ and at the Lodge, it was announced that those desiring to participate in this new service would meet at eight o'clock the next morning at the Sinnott Memorial for orientation. They would then travel in their own cars with the naturalist's car in the lead, and stops would be made at important view points. The naturalist would point out the significant features at each of these, once those attending left their cars and assembled at a central location.

We wondered how many people would come. Great was our surprise to find 12 autos lined up and 27 people ready to go.

To the group assembled on the Sinnott Memorial's parapet, Mr. Libbey described the lake's geological history and the evidence to support it. He concluded by giving instructions about how the balance of the trip would be conducted.

Returning to the autos, we traveled around the rim in a clockwise direction following the government "pilot" car. By the time we reached The Watchman, only five miles from the start, our caravan had grown to 18 vehicles carrying 47 people. It was my duty to record the mileage to each of the 11 stops, to list the principal subjects mentioned by Mr. Libbey, and to note the length of time spent at each one. The stops averaged about 15 minutes, which allowed plenty of time for the visitors to enjoy the view and to ask questions.

Ansel F. Hall Photo courtesy of the author.

At the stops, Mr. Libbey called attention to prominent scenic features such as the perfect symmetry of Wizard island, told about the discovery of the lake, and named the wildflowers and trees. He also pointed out significant geologic formations like the Pumice Desert where volcanic ash lies fifty feet deep, glacial polish and scratches on the rocks at Hillman Peak, the vertical crack filled by the great volcanic dike called Devil's Backbone, columnar lava at the Wineglass, and the succession of flows exposed in cross-section beneath the rim. Kerr Notch, the last stop, was a fitting climax for the caravan because it afforded an inspiring view of Phantom Ship and a full-circle panorama of the lake framed by the multicolored walls of the caldera. At this point Chief addressed the group, stating that this first trip was experimental and asked for written comments so that the service could be improved. It was continued during the balance of the season with remarkable success, in part because I prepared a log book after that first trip to aid other naturalists in conducting auto caravans.

Heartened by the favorable reception accorded the rim caravans, Chief and Mr. Libbey again set to work to extend the services of the government ranger naturalists in other ways. They spent several days exploring Wizard Island and took extended boat trips on the lake. Finally they announced a thriller -- an all-day trip on Crater Lake which included exploration of Wizard Island -- all this in the constant company of a ranger naturalist! Chief told me I would be assisting seasonal naturalist Earl Homuth on the first trip.

At 9 a.m. sharp, I met the visitors at the head of the trail to the shore of Crater Lake⁴ and was very much surprised to find that Mr. Homuth had not yet arrived. We waited for several minutes expecting that he would come. (I found out later that he had taken sick at the last minute.) This put me in a quandary. Should I tell these people that the trip had been called off after they had prepared lunches and donned hiking clothes in expectation, or should I lead it myself? It seemed like an audacious thing for me to do -- to conduct the first trip inaugurating a new service. Reinforced by the fact that I was in a ranger's uniform, however, I started down the trail.

I found it easy to interpret the wonderful forest of mountain hemlock, the creeping currant, and the wildflowers that I had come to know so well two years before while writing labels for a nature trail.⁵ I was much encouraged when I discovered that the visitors were giving me credit for being a real authority. All along, however, I remembered the admonition received from my training in Yellowstone: "Don't give misinformation." Occasionally I had to say, "I don't know." At the lakeshore, I found that my party had grown considerably larger. There was no chance to back out now.

After boarding the boat, we headed for Wizard Island. The group became most enthusiastic as I shared with it some of the information I had learned from Mr. Libbey when he instructed the park's naturalist staff at the beginning of the season.

We disembarked at the landing, crossed the jumble of lava blocks, and climbed the steep trail up the cinder slope to the top of the island. We rested at the rim of its crater and ate our lunches. It seemed only natural in this location to talk about the great Mount Mazama which once lifted its summit thousands of feet above us, of the glaciers that gouged out deep valleys along its sides, the mountain's subsequent destruction, and the comparatively feeble activity which built Wizard Island and two other cones now submerged in the sparkling blue lake. We then walked around the rim of the island's crater and enjoyed wildflowers blooming within the 100-foot deep crater, as well as the changing panorama of the caldera walls.

After scrambling down the island's outer cinder slope, we met the boat at the landing and boarded it again for an hour's voyage on the smooth, azure lake. It was a delightful experience to go around Wizard Island and pass through the "shallows" of Skell Channel before heading northward towards the Devil's Backbone. Here we paused to gaze at this immense, cleaver-like dike before crossing the lake to Phantom Ship. The time it took to do this helped to impress upon my party that a huge cataclysm caused the destruction of Mount Mazama, and an immense caldera resulted.

At Phantom Ship, the launch pilot called our attention to a vertical cliff which dropped to a depth of more than seventy feet under water. Then we circled this large rock formation with its slender "masts" towering as high as a fourteen-story building. This first trip concluded in the shadow of thousand-foot cliffs as the boat followed the shoreline back to the boat landing. I felt a little guilty about leading the first trip, but Mr. Libbey assured me that I had done a splendid job.

Part Two - Discovery

On July 10, 1931, Park Ranger Ike Davidson discovered a machine on Wizard Island which he loaded onto a government boat and took to the dock at the foot of the caldera wall. With the aid of a pack horse, Ranger Ferdie Hubbard and I carried this machine up the trail to Rim Village the next day. We thought it would be something that W. G. (Will) Steel could identify. He had been hired by the U.S. Geological Survey to measure the depth of the lake in July end august 1886, and he was now serving as the U.S. commissioner.⁶ He recognized the machine immediately as the one he had built and used for that purpose. Mr. Steel told us, "After the survey was completed, the sounding apparatus was removed from the Cleetwood and cached among the lava blocks on Wizard Island; the boat was sunk in an inlet."

This sounding apparatus held a special interest to me, especially the two wooden spools or drums mounted on a square axle turned by a hand crank. The square shaft prevented the spools from turning independently of the axle. A leather strap laid across the narrower spool served as a brake while the weighted sounding wire was being raised or lowered in the water. The larger spool was still wound with wire. Mr. Steel showed us the leather tags attached to it at fifty-foot intervals to track the depth of the lake. The sounding apparatus is now part of a permanent exhibit in the Sinnott Memorial Museum, where visitors may see it each summer season when the building is open.

On July 18, Chief and I, with bundles of stakes and a surveying instrument, embarked for Wizard Island. We laid out a new trail to the top on an eight percent grade to replace the steeper trail that the visitors and I had struggled to climb on the first guided boat trip.

Chief wished to do some exploring after we used up our supply of stakes, so he asked me to go back to the landing and bring the rowboat around to West Cape where he would meet me. While skirting the shore, I heard a shout from Chief calling from somewhere on the lava flow: "Drew, come here!" After tying the boat to a rock at the shoreline, I scurried over the lava and found Chief kneeling beside some rusty objects. Upon close examination, we determined that they were window weights made of cast iron. Who had left these on Wizard Island, I wondered. "These could be some of the plummets," Chief was thinking out loud, "that Mr. Steel used while sounding the lake in 1886."

Now that Chief had found the plummets, hopefully the Cleetwood would be nearby. We looked around, and over a ridge, was a depression partly filled with water. Several pieces of wood, bleached white by the sun, lay beside the pool. The black lava blocks around the pool were coated with a light-colored substance suggesting that this might have been an inlet six feet deeper when the lake was at a higher level. Looking into the water, we saw what appeared to be a rowboat flattened against the rocky bottom and covered with a thick layer of slime.

Author with transom, flanked by Will Steel and Ansel Hall.

With the handle of an oar laying alongside the pool, I poked around in the water looking for something unique that would provide positive identification. Sure enough, deep in the pool and wedged between two rocks, I could make out the form of the transom or stern portion of a rowboat. Barely discernible in the half light were the letters "US." Now this was a prize worth recovering!

The oar broke while prying and I looked around for a stronger stick, but there were not any to be had. This left only one alternative. After removing my shoes and stockings, I rolled up my breeches and sleeves as far as possible. Upon wading in, I found that I had to stand on a slimy, sloping rock. I reached down into the water, saying to myself, "Gee, it's deeper than I thought. If I lean over any farther I shall lose my balance. How can I retrieve it?"

I called Chief, who had been busy with the camera during this performance, and he came to my assistance. He set the automatic timer hoping to get a picture. Bracing himself on the rocks, he grabbed my belt while I loosened my prize, raised it out of the water intact, and deposited it onshore. It was well worth it, for all of the letters, forming the initials of the United States Geological Survey, could now be read. This was evidence that we had actually found the hull of the Cleetwood sunk in this cove nearly 45 years ago. A heavy iron ring for mooring was bolted to the transom and it was well preserved, too.

After putting my shoes on again, I shouldered the heavy, slimy, waterlogged transom. Chief carried the window weights. Once these objects had been placed safely in our boat, we rowed across the lake to the foot of the trail to Rim Village. The next day, Mr. Steel confirmed what we had found: the transom is the stern of the Cleetwood and the window weights are the plummets he used when sounding the depth of the lake.

Both the sounding apparatus and the transom are now treasured parts of the park's museum collection. If Will Steel had not purposely scuttled his "ship," in 1886, nothing would have survived. For this we owe him a debt of gratitude. Without Ansel Hall's faith in me, this paper could not have been written. I have tried to convey through its text the feeling of adventure I felt as I participated in these and other learning experiences under Chief's direction.⁷

W. Drew Chick, Jr. retired after a career with the National Park Service and now resides in Lakewood, Colorado.