Mr. P had been dying all summer to explore the Lava Beds National Monument of Northern California, me, I took some convincing. But work gave me an unexpected long weekend so I agreed to crawl through volcanic caves for a two days.

We were supposed to leave at 10 pm from Oakland to get to Klamath Falls by 8 am the next day. When we arrived at the station we were told that the train might be in by 2 am and that last night it had pulled in seven hours late.

So we went home.

But after much confusion between the official Amtrak line and the local station we decided to go back around 11:30 p.m. just to see, the train pulled in at 12:15 a.m. By the time we got into Klamath Falls it was almost noon. And the couch seats they're not so good for sleeping. By the time we got to our hotel we were both exhausted but managed to drive down for a quick look at the caves.

The next day we woke up to explore the many caves that had been created molten lava retreated from the area. Some were small enclaves and others were pretty expansive. I am petrified of enclosed spaces, especially small spaces that are covered by tons of rock in a geologically volatile area but I braved most of the routes.

Klamath Falls had weird sort of wood spirit vibe like I get in Seattle or any rain-foresty area - very Wendigo. Under no circumstances would Mr. P allowed me to talk about the origins of Skull cave or anything related to the bones, skull or otherwise.

While Mr. P was exploring a cave too small for my taste I turned out my headlamp just to see how dark dark gets in a cave. It gets pretty freaking dark and completely and utterly quiet. Although I did turn my light back on when I heard people coming as not appear as if I were a complete psychopath.

The ancient Modoc Indians left a series of pictographs and petroglyphs that modern peoples improved by adding "suck it" and "Jim + Betty '85" before rangers put of fencing.

The area around the petroghys was very arid except for a building I feared photographing. It was built in the style of a 50's ranch house and was surrounded by a white brick and iron fence, there was a hand painted wooden sign that said Calzyme - Manufacturers of Enzymes and Coenzymes and it had a grass lawn that was being constantly watered by sprinklers placed every five inches. It was right next to a huge sunflower field which I fully expected to fold up and sink into a giant metal structure before government officials took us into custody. What type of covert operation has a lawn in the desert? A very, very evil covert operation, an operation so evil it doesn't even have to work that hard at being all that covert. Think about it.

Anyway, at the end of the day we had a few hours before the train left so we drove about an hour up to see Crater Lake. Which to my surprise contained a island, Wizard's Island much to Mr. P's delight because he still harbors fond memories of D&D.

On the way back to the train station we stopped to fill up the rental car and an attendant came running at Mr. P, screaming at him to drop the pump. Evidently, it's illegal for people to pump their own gas in Oregon. Who knew? Living in San Francisco we can't tell if gas prices are inflated to pay an army of people to work in gas stations across the state -- we're just so used to being gouged we can't tell the difference. I don't know why it's a law but the fines are pretty hefty so we let them have their way.

Amtrak on the way back was only 2.5 hours late this time, practically on time. Although Mr. P did escape without one Wendigo spirit encounter and I didn't have a panic attack at the bottom of some God-forsaken lava hole so we were lucky on the whole.