Crater Lake is located in Southern Oregon on the crest of the Cascade Mountains. It lies inside a caldera (a large crater formed by volcanic explosion or by collapse of a volcanic cone) created when the 12,000 foot high Mount Mazama collapsed 7,700 years ago following a large eruption. The lake, supplied by an average of 533 inches of snow per year, is 1,943 feet deep, making it the deepest lake in the United States and the seventh deepest in the world.MP3: Liz Phair - Crater Lake
In Search Of L.L. Bean
I found this book at the thrift store the other day and there's little information about it on the Internets. I haven't finished it yet, but most of what Mr. Montgomery has done thus far is set out to expose Leon Leonwood Bean for the lies in his biography, My Story. For example, L.L. claims that when he first made his Maine Hunting Shoes, he sent out a catalog for the shoes to a hunting license registration list from Augusta. The year he claims to have done this was several years before Maine required hunting licenses. Oh well.Mr. Montgomery is also hell bent on letting the public know (over and over) that people from Maine would never in a million years wear L.L. Bean clothing. Perhaps, back in 1984 when the book was written, L.L. Bean sent him a package with the wrong size shoes and he never got over it. I know it's a journalist's job to let the public know the truth, but it seems as though the author's hate for L.L. runs deep. Anyone else read this book? Am I crazy for thinking that? I have never read L.L. Bean: The Making of an American Icon, so maybe some of the issues brought up in this book have already been addressed.From In Search Of L.L. Bean, here's an excerpt from an issue of the Saturday Evening Post, December, 1946. This was included to show how dry L.L.'s humor was:
During the war, a general leaving the Pentagon Building found himself sharing a taxicab to downtown Washington with a civilian. In the casual taxicab conversation that developed, the civilian named his home town as Freeport, Maine. The general's interest brightened at once."Freeport?" he said. "That's L.L. Bean's town.""Ay-yah," the man from Maine agreed. "'Tis.""There's a man I'd sure like to meet," said the general. "L.L. Bean. I discovered him four or five years ago, and I've been buying from him ever since. By George, it's wonderful the way the man figures out just what you need for hunting and fishing. You hunt or fish?""Ay-yah," said the Freeporter, "do a lot of it. Always use Bean's things too. Now, you take Bean's duck-hunting coat --"The conversation had hit high gear, and continued, an exchange of hunting and fishing experiences, well interlarded with tributes to the equipment and clothing sold by the mail-order house of L.L. Bean, all the way to the hotel where the civilian was getting out. As he stepped from the cab, he extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, general," he said. "My name's L.L. Bean."