278 THE OREGON SPORTSMAN 

JUST ONE BIG ONE OUT OF CRATER LAKE 
By A. Wuisnant, Bend, Oregon. 
It was late in the afternoon on that perfect August day over at 
Bend, Oregon, that paradise of sportsmen, the little city which alone 
has contributed to the fund of the Oregon Fish and Game Commission 
this year $1,200 in fishing licenses, when I found that the four suc- 
ceeding days were without purpose in life. The business I had come 
on was at status quo. There was little to hold a roving spirit at 
Bend when just a few miles away great large trout lay lurking in 
deep pools only waiting the fly to emerge with a rush and do battle. 
The call was in my blood. Where should it be? Lake Odell, high 
in the fastness of the Cascades was offering inducements. Near it 
Lake Crescent rumored big catches. Lake Pauline’s big ones were 
the talk of the town. All day long automobiles, dust laden, and 
packed with camping outfits had been passing through the city. South 
bound parties bound for Crater Lake. North bound “coming from 
Crater Lake.” Crater Lake! That mystic name began to weave its 
subtle influence through my nerves and into my blood until all I 
thought was “Crater Lake.” 
About noon the following day I met Clyde McKay, the game 
warden, on the street and I said, “Clyde, how can I get to Crater 
Lake?” The general opinion is in Central Oregon that Clyde made 
the mountains over there—if he did not make them it was certainly 
he that finished them off by supplying the trout that people their 
splashing streams. His reply was characteristic—‘Telephone your 
wife to come over from Portland on the evening train and we will 
make a party with Mrs. McKay and the kiddies and go to the lake 
in the morning.” Kiddies! I had two. “Can mine go, too?” “Sure 
thing!” Clyde does not believe in race suicide and he does not con- 
sider the necessaries troubles. “Bring them along.” The long dis- 
tance to Portland. ‘Hello! Grace, come over to Bend on the evening 
train with the kiddies and we will go to Crater Lake in the morning.” 
Just like that. Try it on your wife some time and see how it affects 
them. You will not find any long argument about things to wear or 
not to wear. They will be there. They were. 
The drive from Bend to Crater Lake is all the tourist could 
wish. Leaving early in the morning with the car piled high with 
wives, kidds and eatables we set out for the lake. For the first few 
miles the roads were not as.good as the Columbia Highway, but every 
