Diving the Petrified Forest of Clear Lake, OR
“Petrified underwater forest’”is a misnomer.
Our itinerary was crazy, coming down from Hood Canal, we stopped in Portland, filled a couple tanks, hopped on I-5 south until 22, winding through the alpine forest until we reached the campground. It was dusk but there was just enough light to confirm our fear: the camp was full, no hotels within a 45 minute drive. We decided to drive just beyond the park property, where the national forest began, and look for a place to set up camp, just beyond a burnt out fire truck, an ominous landmark. After confirming the site would work, we went back to the parking lot. The plan to stall until darkness had totally obscured the sign that stated, “No Scuba Diving.” The family frolicking at the water edge dried off and left and the camp was suddenly still, quiet.
We opened the truck hatch and assembled our gear without saying a word. In 15 minutes we were descending into the cold oblivion. A nearly full moon traced the silhouette of the trees that lined the lake. Glances of light wrote camouflage patterns on the surface of the water and right before we had the audacity to break that imaginary scene, we broke our silence and confirmed a plan: we’d explore the north end of the lake, between the drowned logs we’d passed on our way out and the shore, an area of 50 square yards. We were floating on our backs, BCDs inflated, the moon on our faces. Johnny bumped into something, turning over and switching on his light, he let a scream out underwater, violently kicking back, pulling his face out and gasping, Oh shit, it’s a tree top, I thought it was a dead body.
Clear lake is an alpine body of water, a volcanic cone, long extinguished. Due to the elevation of 3,000 feet, the water is cold, near freezing at depth and not even 50 degrees on the surface on a scorching summer day. The cold water inhibits the propagation of microorganisms, making the water nearly invisible.
We turned our lights on from the surface and could see details on the lake floor, thirty feet below. We swept through the half dozen, upright trees, most around twenty feet high, the tops appearing gnawed off, likely eroded by careless boaters throughout the last half century of recreational use. White pillars, dotted with a dusted moss, about ten feet apart.
It wasn’t the forest we were looking for. Forest is a place you get lost in, a place where your vision is stunted from seeing the horizon and the future and you see only what’s immediately in front of you, the present. Space becomes time in a forest and because of that, without a path, we can get lost in a forest. But four stumps, twenty feet tall, ten to twenty feet apart, didn’t constitute a forest.
In the morning, we came back and tried another sweep, this time starting from the south side of the docks and taking a surface swim toward the absolute center of the lake. We’d read online that the forest was south east of some sinkholes, which were visible from the surface, but gorgeous, otherworldly contours when approached at depth. We swept the surface, descended several times beyond 70 feet and saw a solitary tree, which must have descended another forty feet, but my regulator froze and began free flowing. We swam to the shore, walked the perimeter trail, peering down into the water from every vantage point, spotting nothing that confirmed what the website described, and then randomly descended several times,
On our third dive, our final tank, we ignored the website description and returned to our site from the night before. The stumps we’d seen illuminated by torch, at the north end of the lake, comprised the only semblance of an underwater forest, and with this consolation prize, we were free to dive with other goals. Giving up on finding the forest and simply cruising over the alien landscape. Some of the most brilliant reds I’ve ever seen in my life were locked in the rosen leaves that had been attached to a branch when it fell into these waters maybe forever ago. I flew over cottony red and green algae, clouds that whisked below my fins.
The basin of Clear Lake is white ash, the settlement paid by the last eruption, sealed for an eternity by the water too cold to evaporate. On first inspection, I thrust my hand into the white mud to feel the bottom. I didn’t find the bottom, but I nearly lost my glove.
Clear Lake was one of my favorite diving destinations, in large part because I saw it in the blackness of night and the clarity of day. But the site is just cool. The white-washed floor, the visibility that seems to never end, the brilliant hues of leaves and stones underwater, all make this an awesome cold water dive.
Gear
My computer recorded 34º F, nearly freezing. You’ll want a cold-water second-stage regulator. If your reg does freeze to free flow, position it half way in and out of your mouth, on one side, so you can continue a safe ascent.
I was diving in my drysuit with a lycra layer, then a base layer, and then my 200 gram undergarment, 5mm hood and gloves, and electric socks. I was comfortable until my reg froze open.
Because motorized boats are not permitted, a dive flag is not required.
Shore Entry
The park doesn’t want you to enter through the shore access on the north side of the cafe. Instead, park in the Day Use parking and due east you’ll see a break in the shrubs where you can enter and scuba or surface swim around the docks to the north side of the petrified forest.
NotesThe below website is erroneous. https://www.oregondivesites.com/clear-lake-main-pool-sunken-forest/#:~:text=The%20main%20pool%20of%20Clear,to%20reach%20the%20sunken%20forest.
