A packed, long day filled with radically changing landscapes across 268 miles of driving.
I opened the morning among giant waterfalls inside a lush, green rainforest, caught a dose of nostalgia and hot springs deep in the mountains, and ended up at the sheer cliffs of central Oregon's high, dry desert.
Hiking in Silver Falls State Park – The South Loop
I woke up very early inside the quiet forest and set out directly from the park's campground.
The destination was the famous Trail of Ten Falls, and this time I chose to concentrate on the park's large South Loop.
This is a relatively easy hiking loop of about 5 miles. Marching through the damp, forested canyon in the early morning hours, while the trail was still completely empty of hikers, was an amazing experience in itself.
The path leads from the park center to some of the most impressive waterfalls Oregon has to offer.
You begin at the giant, iconic South Falls. The trail here passes right behind the roaring curtain of water inside a massive rock cavern, making for an extraordinary experience. I continued along the route, descending a series of stone steps to the base of Lower South Falls.
From there, the trail flows parallel to the beautiful creek channel, passing a succession of large, rushing waterfalls, the most impressive of which is undoubtedly Lower North Falls. Standing in front of it, I immediately recognized the giant tree trunk resting across the waterfall, exactly as I had seen it during my visit here 15 years ago.
The entire trail was simply gorgeous, even the stretches between the waterfalls.
This loop is easily one of the most impressive I have ever hiked in terms of the sheer power and concentration of waterfalls, and I highly recommend it. Unfortunately, the North Canyon section was completely closed to hiking due to the collapse of dozens of giant trees that blocked the path, so entry was forbidden.
After completing the refreshing foot loop, I returned to the jeep and began heading deeper into the Cascade Mountain Range.
Bagby Hot Springs – 30-Year Nostalgia and a Soak in the Forest
I drove northeast along the winding, isolated national forest roads, aiming for Bagby Hot Springs.
These are natural hot springs nestled in the heart of an ancient forest of giant trees. For me, this place holds deep emotional value and very special memories from 30 years ago, back when we lived in Portland.
The story behind my search for Bagby:
It all started when I watched a documentary on the Discovery Channel back then, detailing a tragic story about a family, a mother, a father, and a nursing infant, who came to hike here for the weekend. During their stay, a massive blizzard hit the area, completely blocking all access roads and trapping their vehicle in the snow. In a flawed and fateful decision, they left the safety of the vehicle to try and reach the main highway on foot, losing their way in the freezing wilderness of the forest.
After a day of them not returning home, large rescue teams set out to search for them, first locating the abandoned car. After several days of scanning the terrain, the family was found deep in the backcountry. The husband, unfortunately, had already succumbed to hypothermia and froze to death, while the mother and baby were found alive against all odds, thanks to the fact that the mother had kept nursing her baby.
This tragic and chilling story sparked an intense urge in me to visit this place with my own eyes. In those days, there was no internet or Google, so I physically went to the Portland Public Library, dug through piles of topo maps and old newspaper clippings about the event, and finally managed to pinpoint the exact location of the springs in the forest. We traveled there back then with our oldest son, who was just a 3-year-old toddler at the time, on a freezing winter day. Snow wasn't falling that day, but it was bitterly cold, and the entire forest was draped in thick layers of snow and ice.
To reach the springs, you have to hike a 1.5-mile trail from the parking lot. On that historic visit, the path was mostly covered in slick ice, making the climb a real challenge. We didn't give up, reached the springs, and it was a powerful experience carved into my memory forever.
Back then, the site featured a series of about four open rooms housing giant bathtubs hand-carved directly out of massive cedar and redwood logs. The water flowing from the spring was boiling hot, and since there were no normal faucets, we had to go outside with buckets, gather snow from the forest, and dump it into the wooden tubs to bring the water to a bearable temperature. Regulation was done via old wooden plugs and manual snow mixing. A true once-in-a-lifetime nostalgic experience.
Back to the current trip…
After a very long drive on remote, empty forest roads, I arrived at the site's organized parking lot, which now includes a campground.
Things have changed immensely in 30 years. The place is managed much more formally now, and visiting the springs requires a nominal fee of $5 per person in cash, which you place in a designated envelope and drop into a metal iron vault at the entrance.
Unfortunately, mine wasn't the only vehicle in the lot, hinting that I wouldn't be alone at the springs.
To reach the source, I hiked that same beautiful trail along the flowing channel inside the old-growth forest. It is an easy, comfortable 1.5-mile walk under the canopy, crossing two creeks over well-maintained wooden bridges.
When I reached the springs, I was disappointed to find that the nostalgic wooden tubs carved out of large logs, along with the original cabins surrounding them, were completely ruined and nearly collapsed due to weather damage, humidity, and natural wood rot over the years.
In their place, they built four brand-new, square wooden tubs in the back pavilion, and placed a massive, round wooden tub in the front area. The large tub was still in the initial stages of filling up and had people sitting around it, and in general, the entire complex was quite crowded with visitors, forcing me to wait patiently on the side for a spot to open up.
A point to keep in mind: Contrary to standard American conservatism, it is generally custom, even if informally, to bathe in full nudity at natural hot springs deep in US nature. Wearing a swimsuit is of course an option and there is no problem with it, but most people on-site skip it. Keep this in mind if you plan to travel in the area with kids.
After a short wait, one of the new square wooden tubs opened up. I drained the water from the previous bathers and opened the system to fill it with warm, clean water. This time, there were no wooden plugs or buckets of snow, but modern faucets with plastic hoses that pipe hot and cold water at the push of a button. The water was pure bliss for the body.
Admittedly, sitting inside a wooden structure in the absolute nude with four strange men isn't exactly the same romantic experience as being there alone with my wife inside the hand-carved log tubs of the past, but it is still a highly unique hot spring site in the middle of the wilderness.
After about half an hour of a relaxing soak in the hot water, it was time to move on. I got out of the water, got dressed, and marched back along the trail to the parking lot.
The Mountain Pass to the Town of Detroit and the Clear Lake
From the springs area, I turned the wheel south, crossed the ridge's mountain pass, and drove toward the small town of Detroit, which sits on the shore of a large artificial reservoir, Detroit Lake.
I stopped there briefly for refreshment and supplies, and from there continued driving east on the main Highway 22, deeper into the eastern slopes of the Cascade Mountains toward the interior of the state.
I arrived at the Clear Lake Resort, situated on the shores of the stunning Clear Lake.
This lake was formed thousands of years ago when a volcanic lava flow blocked the existing river channel. The water filling it comes from snowmelt, and it is so phenomenally cold and clear that you can look from the bank or a boat and see through it perfectly, as if looking through glass, ancient giant tree trunks standing completely upright on the lake floor for centuries without rotting.
I continued on a short drive along the scenic route and pulled into the parking area for the Sahalie Falls Viewpoint.
This is an exceptionally powerful, massive, and roaring waterfall, where the McKenzie River plunges all at once about 100 feet over a black basalt ledge into a boiling pool of white foam.
The up-close view of it is simply mesmerizing and breathtaking. There is a lovely, organized walking path stretching along the waterfalls and the river, and it is well worth taking advantage of it to walk a bit and enjoy the dramatic views of the water rushing down the canyon inside the thick forest.
A Dip in Bigelow Hot Springs and Mount Washington Viewpoint
Not far from there, I stopped for a quick side trip and another soak, this time at Bigelow Hot Springs (also known as Deer Creek Hot Springs).
These are small, wild, and completely natural hot springs located right on the bank of the flowing river under a shaded canopy of trees.
The hot water wells up from a small rock cave at the water's edge and mixes directly with the cool river water. This time, luck was on my side and I was completely alone. This quiet soak inside the natural spring, surrounded only by the rustling of the water and the forest, was the perfect ending to the green portion of the day.
Unfortunately, when I visited here in mid-May 2026, the narrow, beautiful Highway 242 (McKenzie Pass) was still completely blocked and closed to traffic due to the heavy snow loads remaining in the high area of the mountain pass, forcing me to make a detour and continue east via the main road, Highway 20.
I got back behind the wheel and kept driving east.
As I moved along and crossed the Cascade ridgeline, the landscape began to change drastically, and within a few miles, it transformed from a lush, damp rainforest into a high, dry, sun-scorched, and yellowish desert.
I stopped at the Mt. Washington Viewpoint, an impressive roadside pullout that offers a spectacular, exposed panoramic view toward the sharp, volcanic, and snow-capped peak of Mount Washington, surrounded by rugged, ancient black lava fields stretching in every direction.
Ending the Day and the Tent Surprise at Smith Rock
From this viewpoint, I continued on a continuous, fast drive into the high desert region of central Oregon until I reached the finish line of this long day, Smith Rock State Park.
This park is famous worldwide for its towering, vertical tufa and basalt cliffs that jut at a sharp angle over the picturesque bend of the Crooked River, making it one of the official rock-climbing capitals of the United States.
When I pulled off the access road and entered the park's campground, the sun had already set completely and it was getting dark. I paid the $15 parking and camping fee at the automated machine, and only after I parked and went to inspect the terrain did I understand the local rules and hit a major bummer: as it turns out, sleeping inside vehicles or RVs is strictly prohibited in this camping area, and anyone staying the night is required to sleep in a tent only, in a designated zone located about 100 yards away from the parking lot.
Luckily, for exactly these kinds of unexpected scenarios, I always keep a tent and full camping gear permanently in the vehicle.
I got organized with a good, quick dinner next to the jeep in the parking lot, and afterward, I loaded up all my night gear, marched out to the remote tent area, and pitched my tent under the clear desert skies.
I climbed into my sleeping bag tired but incredibly satisfied, ready and looking forward to tomorrow morning's hike among the massive rock walls of the canyon.
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