Photo by Catherine Jasper / for The BulletinThe calm surface of Lucky Lake on a windless day reveals rocks, logs and more.

Lucky Lake lived up to its name Sunday.

After leaving home a little later than we had intended, my wife, Catherine, and I drove up Cascade Lakes Highway under darkening skies and dimming hopes. A parade of trucks and SUVs hauling trailers and boats descended as we headed the opposite direction to Lucky Lake trailhead, 38 miles west of Bend.

Catherine took the exodus as a sign people were heading home because of rain. Why else would anyone be heading to town on a Sunday at 10:45ish in the morning?

“They were just camping. It’s Sunday. They’re going home,” I speculated. “It’ll be fine.”

Even once it started raining, my hope for sunnier skies refused to budge, partly because I was overdue for a good swim, and partly because I had nothing else to write about in this space. No one would want to read about the power nap I intended to take later. (It was exquisite, by the way.)

Still, even I didn’t want to swim if there was lightning, so once it began to rain, we brainstormed replacement outings — a hike at Soda Creek? The loop up and around Devil’s Garden?

Without a poncho or rain jacket between us, rain would still be problematic. Despite the healthy number of vehicles heading the opposite way, we soon found ourselves mired in westbound traffic. Plenty of folks were as determined as we were to get a little adventure, exercise, fun — maybe even all three — threat of rain be darned.

By the time we passed Elk Lake, the rain had stopped, and it was a normal post-recession Sunday in Central Oregon: really, really crowded.

I love Elk Lake as much as the next Central Oregonian, but only insofar as I kind of love swimming in lakes.

Loving swimming doesn’t mean I want to sandwich myself in among throngs of people at Cultus, Elk and Sparks lakes, all of which are convenient for those who like to drive instead of hike to the water.

So whether you’re a misanthrope or just dislike obnoxious people stepping on your towel — I’m telling you, put on your sturdiest sandals and get thee to Lucky Lake and find your own slice of heaven.

Granted, you won’t be able to sail or paddle, but if you like peace and quiet and don’t mind hiking 1.4 miles each way to earn that peaceful, quiet swim, it’s the place to go. (Different sources will tell you it’s a 1-mile hike, but trust someone who’s hiked there with children of questionable constitution, it’s closer to 1.4)

That distance, coupled with the fact that it’s uphill, is just far enough for you to leave behind those who need to take half their worldly possessions with them for a day at the lake.

The proof is in the trailhead. When Catherine and I pulled in, there was a lone Jeep in the parking area.

Before we set out, Kaloo, our trusty mutt, conducted some personal business right at the edge of the tree line, darn him. It’s a long story, but in my responsible attempt to dispose of it, I somehow ended up with a little catapulting onto my leg. Gross! As Catherine discussed … something, I don’t know what. I tuned her out as I obsessively scoured that tiny patch of filthy leg.

I needed a swim more now than ever.

We encountered a couple of friendly fishermen who told us we were the fifth group of hikers that they’d encountered. We speculated as to why, but the mystery was explained later when we returned and drove around a little more. Lucky Lake has two separate parking areas and trailheads, probably not 100 yards apart but separated by thick forest.

Anyway, we hiked on, stopping here and there to take photos of frogs, lupine and Indian paintbrush.

Unsure what to expect given what the fishermen said, we arrived to find just two groups, a couple soaking on the south shore, and a group camping at the north end. The nice thing about Lucky Lake is that there’s plenty of room to have a slice of it for yourself.

We steered clear of the other folks, opting for a nice spot with a couple of perching rocks on the southeast corner of the lake.

Though the rain had stopped. The sun never came out, and the air temp wasn’t what you’d call hot. According to my car, it was just 64 degrees when we pulled into the trailhead. Fortunately, the water temp in the lake is balmy compared to, say, the Deschutes River. Lucky Lake is one body of water with no springs, so it warms up more as summer progresses, according to author Scott Cook’s guidebook, “Bend, Overall.”

The water was warm enough that my extremely cold-averse wife managed to swim while I was still gingerly tiptoeing out. That may have been a first.

There was virtually no wind most of the hour we were there, leaving the water clear enough you could see your feet, not to mention submerged logs and rocks. That was lucky.

Also lucky: the one time we remembered mosquito repellent, we didn’t need it.

The hike back was largely uneventful, but we did pass several groups en route to the lake. We were glad to have beaten even this small crowd, another way we got lucky.

Yes, word is out about Lucky Lake, too, and as Bend continues to grow, it’s probably going to get more crowded.

There is hope: Have you seen a map of Deschutes National Forest? If not, go to Google Maps, do a search for “Mt. Bachelor,” pan out and look at all those blue dots to the west. And northwest. And southwest.

Get the picture? Depending how much time you have, and how far you’re willing to hike, there are dozens and dozens of hike-in lakes peppering Central Oregon, with trails leading right to them. So outfit yourself with the right gear — including a forest map, cell phone and GPS device — for a safe trip, and get hiking.

— Reporter: 541-383-0349, djasper@bendbulletin.com