When looking back at the map of the massive loop route that stretches along the West Coast and remote deserts, it is hard to believe how many memories, trails, and obstacles can be packed into 16 days of a single independent journey.
This journey was born out of a desire to disconnect, test limits, and dive into the wildest, most isolated nature this continent has to offer. According to the trip map and pinned points along the entire axis, my route moved like a living organism that shifted its skin almost every single day.
It started with a climb north from Las Vegas toward the empty, isolated regions of the state of Nevada. From there, I turned west, crossing the high deserts of Oregon toward the volcanic ridgeline of the Cascade Range, getting to view the deep, snowy crater of Crater Lake. From there, I continued for a few wonderful days along the wild coastline of the Pacific Ocean, enjoying the pleasant humidity and the sight of cliffs hugging the water, before returning inland into the thick forests of Oregon, morning hikes next to rushing waterfalls, alpine lakes, and massive volcanic calderas
I explored dark, isolated underground lava tubes in the belly of the earth, and spent wild, remote nights camping on the edge of hidden volcanic cinder cones on the Deschutes plateau.
In its final leg, the journey cut south and completely altered its character: crossing three states in one day, passing through remote Modoc County in California, and entering the rugged, fascinating world of Nevada and the infinite Black Rock Desert
I flew across the white, flat salt surfaces of the playa, experienced absolute solitude under some of the blackest, cleanest skies in the world, visited Wild West boomtowns standing frozen in time, and contended with the forces of nature, from pouring rains and blizzards in the high mountains to extreme heat of 106°F in the deep, low basins of Death Valley.
The Journey in Numbers: Road Statistics
To comprehend the intensity of the experience and the crazy distances I devoured, it is enough to look at the dry data summary accumulated on the display screens in the jeep and on my wristwatch:
Total Driving Distance: 4,700 miles of intensive driving, combining a few freeways, tons of narrow side roads, and hundreds of miles of rugged dirt roads in the field.
Accumulated Fuel Cost: $1,400 fed directly into the fuel tank at remote stations along the axis.
Accumulated Step Count: 300,000 steps of walking on foot, ranging from demanding sand climbs on dunes to shaded canyon hikes and marches on muddy alpine trails.
Four States, Four National Parks
The route was designed to pass through some of the most protected and impressive tracts of land in North America. During the trip, I crossed 4 states (Nevada, Oregon, Washington, and California) and visited 4 national parks and monuments with completely different characteristics:
Crater Lake National Park (Oregon): The deepest lake in the United States, nestled inside the caldera of an ancient volcano, showcasing a mesmerizing blue water unseen anywhere else.
Redwood National and State Parks (California): Forests of the oldest and tallest giant trees in the world, hugging the Pacific coastline and instilling a prehistoric, ancient atmosphere.
Mount St. Helens National Volcanic Monument (Washington): A living, unbelievable testament to the destructive power of nature, with the volcano that lost its summit in the massive explosion of 1980.
Death Valley National Park (California/Nevada): The lowest, hottest, and driest place on the continent, which yielded the isolated Eureka Dunes and the arid expanses of Saline Valley.
The Hot Springs Map: The Holy Trinity of the Backcountry
If there was a recurring, comforting motif that accompanied this journey across all states and landscapes, it was undoubtedly the natural thermal pools and hot springs.
They served as critical refreshment stations for body and soul after grueling days of driving and hiking.
Looking at the integrated map, I managed to visit and soak in an impressive chain of 12 unique hot springs, each holding its own character, scenery, and culture
Lund Hot Springs Creek (Nevada) – The natural, clear turquoise thermal creek flowing through high-desert wetlands.
Spencer Hot Springs (Nevada) – The makeshift livestock-tub pools in the middle of central Nevada's vast wilderness.
Mickey Hot Springs (Oregon) – The boiling, bubbling vents and mud pots at the edge of the Alvord Desert.
Willow Creek Hot Springs (Oregon) – The isolated rock pools in the heart of a quiet, white cattle valley.
Umpqua Hot Springs (Oregon) – The cascading mineral terraces terraced precariously above a rushing river in a dense forest.
Bagby Hot Springs (Oregon) – The hand-carved cedar logs housed inside wooden pavilions deep in the old-growth rainforest.
Bigelow Hot Springs (Oregon) – The tiny riverside pool nestled right on the bank of the gorgeous McKenzie River.
Paulina Lake Hot Springs (Oregon) – The wild geothermal beach pools inside the Newberry Caldera that required a long lakeside trek.
Soldier Meadows Hot Springs (Nevada) – The clear, warm rock-lined streams in a remote basin beneath the Calico Range.
Trego Hot Springs (Nevada) – The long, muddy thermal ditch right next to the railroad tracks at the edge of the Black Rock Playa.
Shepherd Hot Springs (California) – The developed, open concrete tub framing panoramic views of the Eastern Sierra in Long Valley.
Saline Valley Warm Springs (California) – The ultimate surreal, off-grid oasis complete with palm trees and a culture of pure freedom deep in Death Valley.
Personal Reflection: Leaving the Ego at Home
This journey significantly expanded the boundaries of my travels. It taught me, perhaps more than any past journey, the immense importance of setting the ego aside. The desert, the snow, the slick mud, and the dangerous side cambers in isolated canyons demanded time and again that I make balanced, calculated decisions in front of nature's obstacles, and know exactly when it is right to turn around to return home safely.
I return home to the driveway in Las Vegas with a dusty jeep, a rear bumper tied with rope (a small souvenir from an unyielding backcountry), and memory cards completely full of phenomenal landscape photographs capturing rare moments of light and sunrises. But beyond the gear and the numbers, I return primarily with a deep inner peace and a renewed strength, the kind that can only be born from long hours of concentrated driving, absolute wild solitude, and a pure, unmediated connection to the infinite, free expanses of nature.
The jeep will be repaired, the tires will be aired up, and the maps are already starting to open up again.
Until the next journey!
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