When we pulled into the overlook, a blue unlike any other was spread before me, still and glassy, set in a dizzyingly deep bowl surrounded by sheer rock cliffs. I couldn't speak, or so I thought. Perhaps the truth is that I babbled incoherently, unable to find words worthy of describing the glorious scene in front of me. My brother tells me that I couldn't stop saying "Oh, my gosh!" Based on how I felt, that certainly sounds credible.

We had traveled two hours east from rural Roseburg, Oregon along State Highway 138 to get to the lake. The route was wonderfully scenic, a gradual climb that wound through the Umpqua National Forest along the path of the similarly named river, and time passed quickly because of the natural beauty around us.

At one point, my brother spotted an osprey nest (or possibly that of an eagle) resting atop a dead tree leaning precariously over the river and we stopped to take a closer look. It was good to hear the rush of water that met my ears as I stepped out. The Umpqua ran fast and wide, tumbling jade green over boulders in the shallow canyon below us as it made its way west.

When we encountered Diamond Lake, which lies just 20 miles north of Crater Lake, the snow resting atop Mount Bailey was a testament to the elevation we had attained. The surface of Diamond Lake is just over 5,000 feet, and Mount Bailey tops 8,300. We would climb another 1,500 feet above Diamond Lake before arriving at our destination.

My brother entertained me with facts about the lake as we drove, and I found the story of its creation fascinating.

Crater Lake lies within the Cascade Mountains, which are, geologically speaking, a relatively young range stretching from British Columbia to Northern California. The caldera that holds the waters of Crater Lake was once Mount Mazama, a towering volcano more than 12,000 feet high, which, incidentally, is about 1,000 feet taller than Mount Hood, Oregon's current highest peak.

Some 7,700 years ago, layers of bubbling magma burst violently from the sides of the mountain, explosions that spewed out 75 times more material than the 1980 eruption of Mt. St. Helens. The eruption is considered one of the largest of any in the Cascades, and to give an idea of its scope, layers of ash from the exploding mountain can be found across much of North America... and even on the other side of the Atlantic in England.

The area around what was to become Crater Lake was populated at the time, and stories of the event as witnessed by ancestors of the Klamath tribe of Native Americans are still extant in their oral history.

With its magma chamber nearly empty, the structural integrity of Mount Mazama was compromised, and eventually its upper half collapsed into the voided space, leaving behind a crater that over time was filled by rain and melting snow.

At a maximum depth of more than 1,900 feet, Crater Lake is the deepest in the United States and the tenth deepest in the world. No rivers flow into the lake bringing sediment or other debris (nor do any flow out), and as a result, the water is clear and pristine. Perhaps this, along with its depth, is the reason for its unmatched shade of blue.

As we got closer to the park, Mt. Thielsen, a Matterhorn-like cinder cone and a precursor to a change in the landscape, was visible ahead of us. Forest soon became ashen plains dotted with cinder cones and only the hardiest of pines.

Once in the park, we took East Rim Drive with the intention of circling the lake entirely, though we later learned that road work prevented that. Snow covered the ground in large patches, a surprise, as the temperature was well into the 90s when we left Roseburg. As we climbed, cliffs to our right prevented our seeing the lake until, suddenly, it burst into magnificent view. I was stunned at the sight, and it was all I could do to commandeer the vehicle to the first pullout.

After a long time of staring silently at the lake, we sat on the pullout's low stone wall and ate the leftover pizza that my brother had packed for our lunch. The act of enjoying such basic fare against the backdrop of the lake's breathtaking beauty was a strange juxtaposition, but, somehow, it felt like a celebration.

Like any good landmark, Crater Lake has its legends. Could there be a Crater Lake monster? Do the fire spirits of evil men reside on the lake's Wizard Island? There are such stories told by indigenous peoples, as well as by early settlers. In 2002, the Fort Meyers (Florida) News-Star newspaper relayed a modern tale, one of a Georgia woman who claims to have seen a monster in the lake as a child. I would imagine that the experience makes her shudder even now.

As told by Mattie Hatcher of Albany, Georgia, she was out on the lake with friends when something swam underneath their rowboat, which she described as "a block long." She said her friends saw it, too, and that it gave them all a good fright.

"I have never been so scared in my life," she said. "What we saw that day was a monster. To me, it looked like a dragon. I know why the Indians call that place Lost Lake. They say monsters live in it. I believe them. I know, because I saw one there."

And what of the ghosts of Wizard Island? Native American legends tell of fire spirits that haunt the island, and I've heard it said that park rangers have observed campfires there and have boated out only to find no traces of flame or smoke.

Whether or not these tales are true (and I don't discount the experiences of others), one thing is certain. Crater Lake is an amazing place. If you ever get the chance to see it, please don't pass up the opportunity to encounter this natural wonder.

"To say that this wonderful lake is grand, beyond description, is to give an idea of its magnificence. Everyone gazes at it in almost tearful astonishment." - Jim Sutton, Editor, Oregon Sentinel newspaper, 1869