Oregon Road Trip: A Story About Mindfulness, Minimalism, Letting Go, and Roughing It

I’m a big believer in running away into the wilderness to reconnect with yourself and find peace. My boyfriend, Nino, and I embarked on an 8-day Oregon road trip to enjoy a break from routine, explore new, beautiful places, and immerse ourselves in summertime outdoor adventures like hiking, trail running, biking, and camping.

We also entered this journey on the road with questions. The answers were lurking somewhere in the dirty, red gravel of Bend’s roads or the mossy green canopies of Oregon’s coastal forests; we were sure of it.

For many of us, vacations serve a deeper purpose than exploring the world and taking a break. A trip away from the normal routine of life is an opportunity to play like a child. When you play, you summon the purest, most creative piece of you to the surface. And you discover that the fearless, curious, imaginative inner child has all the answers.

Trips outside the norm and into uncertainty allow you to observe the world from a fresh perspective that will mold you into a more beautiful version of yourself. In Oregon, Nino and I explored the art of letting go, the beauty of roughing it with less, and how embracing the present moment can heal us from anxiety and depression.

Now, buckle up for peaceful, inspiring Oregon road trip stories! You’ll be packing your bags by the end. :)

The Drive from Salt Lake City, Utah to Bend, Oregon | Days 1-2

Mindfulness in Nature: Embrace the Present Moment

The drive from Salt Lake City, through Idaho, and into eastern Oregon is dry, dusty, and brown. But with a mirage of mountains in the distance, you know the seemingly empty desert has beautiful, mysterious secrets.

One desert secret is that you can’t rely on weather forecasts, apparently. Nino and I were initially going to drive the entire distance from Salt Lake City to Bend through all the brown. But with thunderstorms suddenly predicted in the area we planned on camping that night, we switched the route to a more scenic one with national forests and predictions of sunny skies.

Phillips Lake outside of Baker City, Oregon was our new first stop. After snagging a first come, first serve campsite that looked out over the lake, Nino hopped on his mountain bike to roll around the sparkling body of water while I filled up on dry white wine, wandered through a field, scribbled stories of gratitude in my journal, and cooked turkey burgers, veggies, and rice over the camp stove.

The lake, pines, and evening were gorgeous, and there was nothing for me to do except be grateful for that beautiful moment in time. People with anxiety (people like me) are forward thinkers. So much of my time is spent thinking about what could happen in the future, and I forget to focus on what is real and solid and right in front of me.

It’s much easier to embrace the present moment when I’m surrounded by Ponderosa pines and the chirps of crickets in tall grass. And that’s what makes road trips, tent camping, and outdoor adventures so beautiful. In nature, I live for the now.

Eventually, the predicted clear skies darkened. Flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder interrupted our sleep in the tent. We counted the seconds between the flashes and grumbles, knowing the lightning strikes were many miles away. With that peace of mind, distant thunder mixed with sprinkles of rain droplets on a tent rainfly is the coziest way to sleep under the trees.

Gratitude Journal Entries

Rainbow Hills and Red Dirt Roads

We are grateful we changed our route to Bend to US-26 through the Malheur and Ochoco National Forests. The evergreen forests grew taller and denser as we headed west and passed through tiny Oregon towns sprinkled with rustic signs for goat roping and fresh farm eggs.

The Painted Hills lie in a remote patch of desert, north of US-26 and the Ochoco National Forest. Fossil beds and rolling dirt hills striped with scarlet, deep purples, whites, and tans popped out of the dry landscape, making for the perfect lunch stop of canned meat, hot sauce, Triscuits, and canned fruit. Quick and easy; a camper’s delight.

The city of Bend was a shocking smack of civilization compared to the remote highways of eastern Oregon. It’s a charming town for wealthy people, we concluded, with the Deschutes River roaring through the center and into the Three Sisters Wilderness. Towering over the city are massive mountain peaks: North Sister, South Sister, Broken Top, and Mt. Bachelor. And off in the distance, Mt. Hood stands proudly. That volcano is so big that it looked like it could stoop down and eat us whole, even though it was over 100 miles away. 

The first thing we did in Bend was find a quiet dispersed campsite outside of town, down a red dirt road lined with pines. Drained of energy from the last two days of driving, we reenergized by hitting the trails, Nino biking and me running. Nino found a bike park and got some air on his mountain bike. The rest of the night was full of wine and cider giggles around a campfire.

Bend, Oregon | Day 3

Day 3 of our trip was the Fourth of July. We didn’t spend this holiday watching fireworks; those are banned in the dry, wildfire-prone desert of the west. Instead, we celebrated our independence by adventuring freely into the mountains alone. Nino mountain biked 27 miles, and I trail ran 6.5 miles along Tumalo Creek. I managed to faceplant twice, tripping over roots and covering my hands and shins in red dust and blood. I laughed at the dirt and pain because it reminded me of childhood: running through my family's wooded backyard and coming home with proud proof of adventure in the form of scrapes, bruises, and mosquito bites.

Nino and I crossed paths on our journey at the roaring Tumalo Falls before we parted ways again back into the pines. Later, we dragged our dirty, sore bodies to the Deschutes River, where we ate Oreos because why not? And then we strolled through the adorable town of Bend, full of touristy shops, cute cafes, and the coolest breweries. Our favorite brewery was one with a food truck and outdoor seating overlooking the river. With our bellies full of yummy food and IPAs, we left the brewery in high spirits, back to our red and green campsite.

The Oregon Coast from Pacific City to Yachats | Days 4-6

Magical Ocean Water

The journey from Bend to the Oregon coast was misty, green, eerie, and calm. Rain droplets dotted my windshield and fog hovered over the thick evergreen treeline. On road trips, we often drive in silence to just be. Sometimes we listen to soft music. That day, our music was the rain.

The west coast is pure magic. As we drove closer to the sea, I could feel the magic filling my eager heart. Once I finally saw the ocean and inhaled salty air, my shoulders relaxed and a soft smile lit up my face.

Our campsite was in between Cape Kiwanda and Cape Lookout. After setting up our tent, we walked to the beach under melancholy skies and shivered against the cold air and the haunting feeling that envelops the coast when it’s cloudy. Our minds and bodies felt heavy and sluggish after the trail workouts in Bend and hours in the car. I told Nino I felt shitty. He replied, “I know what we have to do.”

In 65-degree weather, we stripped into our bathing suits and walked our toes to the 52-degree ocean water that lapped Pacific City Beach. All the surfers were wearing wetsuits and gloves. The kiddos in the sand didn’t dare emerge more than their legs.

I took off running first, and Nino splashed behind me. Suddenly, we were submerged from head to toe in freezing ocean waves that tossed us around and filled our suits with sand. It only took one minute before the stabbing pings of cold water numbed our skin. After a few minutes of pure mindfulness of the painful cold and smooth water, our bodies started to numb deeper than our skin. So, we floated back to shore. The cold water therapy worked its magic in minutes, and we felt alive and rejuvenated. Then, we rinsed off with biodegradable camp soap underneath the foot rinsing station in the parking lot. It was our first shower in four days.

There is a massive sand dune at Cape Kiwanda, and people like to trudge slowly up the 30% grade and then run or tumble down. But I challenged Nino to race to the top. We took off across the sand and pumped our legs as hard as we could up the giant, steep dune. With burning muscles and heavy breaths, Nino pulled away from me and reached the top first. I don’t enjoy losing foot races, so I challenged him to a race back down. He looked at me skeptically before I took off and plunged as hard as I could, without falling, downwards. Sprinting turns into flying when you're moving down a grade that steep. When I reached the bottom and turned around, Nino was still halfway up the dune.

Magical Coastal Cliffsides and Forests

The magic on the west coast doesn’t end at the shoreline. The salty air carries it up the cliffsides and through the mossy forests that look over the ocean hundreds of feet above the beach. Cape Lookout Trail was a muddy 5.5-mile hike in sprinkly weather amidst lush green growth and cliffsides that overlook the Pacific.

During that rainy hike, I wore a shirt and cap with the logo of a mental health brand called Day By Day, which joins the American Psychiatric Association in promoting universal and equitable care to people with mental illness. This brand was built on the notion that we are all doing our best to take each day one at a time. This theme grounds me and reminds me to live in the present moment instead of in an anxious state focused on future “what ifs.”

It’s a beautiful life theme to take the joys and hardships of life day by day. When we focus on today, right now, this moment, we’re removing ourselves from the depression of yesterday and the anxiety of tomorrow. When we live for the moment, we can fully embrace all of life’s gifts. In that coastal forest of evergreen trees and ocean wave crashes far below the trail, I lived for the present moment.

The Art of Letting Go

After that hike, Nino and I spent a slow afternoon on the beach with books in our hands. He read about fantasy and magic while I read empowering poetry by Rupi Kaur. I love how poems' meanings and takeaways can change each time you read them. 

On that beach day, as I gazed at ocean waves and absorbed the words typed on paper, my thoughts turned to the concept of letting go and how profoundly this theme has affected my life recently. I let go of a job that brought me money and security because I hated the work and felt trapped. I let go of a home that brought me low expenses and kept me close to family because it kept me far away from the places my heart truly belonged. I let go of a close friend who brought me love and support because she also weighed me down with anxiety, confusion, and hurt.

When you let something or someone go, it’s never a black or white situation. Nothing is all good or all bad, which makes letting go so hard. Letting go of what no longer belongs is vital for growth, but it’s a gray situation. When you let go of something bad, you’re also letting go of the good things that came with it. But this complicated, gray problem begs for an unfortunately black and white solution. Can you fully let something go while still holding on to pieces? Do you have to let go of all of it?

Through the art of letting go, I’ve found that the best way to answer these questions is to love myself first. If you love yourself too much to let negativity weigh you down, you will choose the right answer for you and embark on a path that makes your heart feel warm. It’s simpler when you turn inward, shut out the external noise, and choose yourself. You can’t please everyone. You’ll never be perfect because you’re human. But you can do your best to love yourself. And if you love yourself first, the people in your life, including you, will receive the most loved and most beautiful version of you.

More Magical Coastal Cliffsides and Forests

After two nights camping north of Pacific City, we drove south on the Pacific Coast Highway through quaint beach towns home to local shops boasting quirky names like Chubby Little Mermaid Bakery. The faded pastel beach town of Yachats and its perfect little campground sat waiting for us amidst firs, cedars, spruces, and dramatic shoreline.

We left on foot from our campsite and ran the most gorgeous trail run of our lives. For the first mile, we trotted up switchbacks. 800’ of elevation gain over a mile led to absolutely stunning views of the sparkling Pacific Ocean, views that make you stop in your tracks to just breathe and feast with your eyes. I was squealing with joy during the whole 4.5 miles of ocean views and lush evergreen forests.

Drinking seltzers while cooking pasta on the beach as the sun sets is delightful. It’s especially enjoyable when you have no cell service, you find your own little hidden rocky cove, and you’re with your absolute best friend and favorite person. We explored our cove barefoot over rocks and sand and salt water.

Nino announced that walking barefoot across the rocks changed him. He said, “I’m building foot strength for trail running and embracing mindfulness with every step. Every step is intentional. Perhaps, we’re meant to be hobbits and feel the ground with our feet.” He pointed to the sandy footprints for emphasis. “Those footprints are our past, and the other footprints in the sand are other people’s pasts, and they are all intertwined. But then the water will wash them away, just like our memories of small moments get washed away. Unless we’re mindful. Then, we can remember.”

That night, after the sun had set over the ocean and the night was dark against the trees that towered over our campsite, I stripped butt naked and scrubbed my dirty body out in the open. A $10 camp shower sprinkled chilly water from a bag that sat on the picnic table. I think only the bugs and animals and Nino could see my bare skin since it was so dark. But when you become one with nature, you simply don’t care if another human were to see you naked and exposed. Why would you?

Crater Lake National Park | Day 7

We drove through so much green to get to Crater Lake National Park. But when we arrived at this massive volcanic-eruption-turned-crater that dives 1,943 feet deep into Earth’s crust, everything suddenly turned blue. The boldest, most stunning blue I’ve ever seen is Crater Lake, a blanket of nature that looks like solid painted glass. You don’t even have to try to practice mindfulness in nature that is so sapphire blue. It just happens naturally, like it’s supposed to.

The Drive from Crater Lake to Salt Lake City, Utah | Day 8

Nothingness

After our last night of dispersed camping in the Oregon wilderness, we set off on a 10.5-hour drive through the high desert of Oregon and Nevada. Aside from the occasional cattle ranch, the high desert feels like an empty echo. We’d just been surrounded by lush green, bold blue, and deep scarlet, but the high desert is composed of brown, gray, and the most faded color green found in the shrubs that dust the ground.

Most of the trip home was driven in silence to match the nothingness. With the passenger drifting in and out of sleep and the driver staring into flat, gray desert with blurry mountains in the distance, nothing makes this drive go by any faster. You just embrace the nothingness, the utter lack of cell service, and the sporadic signs that say the next town is over 200 miles away.

The nothingness might seem scary, but it’s oddly refreshing. Thank goodness there still exists so much untouched landscape. We live in a society that tells us to buy more, be more, and do more to feel happier. But more is not going to make you happier. More will bring you temporary pleasure that vanishes in an instant and tricks you into never being satisfied.

Lasting joy is found with less. Living out of your car and in the woods on a camping trip for eight days teaches you a lot about living with less. You don’t need to shower more than twice in eight days. You don’t need more than a tiny bottle of biodegradable camp soap to wash your dishes and bodies. You don’t need more than a tent, sleeping pad, sleeping bag, and a pillow for shelter. You don’t need more money to buy more materials that pollute the earth and teach you that you aren’t enough.

You don’t need more of anything. Perhaps you need less of everything.

This reminder helped answer the questions Nino and I each had before we set off in our cars into the unknown.

Our Home is on Fire, but There is Hope

At the border of Nevada and Utah exists the Salt Flats, thousands of acres of hardened salt crust coating the earth like dirty snow. It’s a beautiful spot for photography and filming, with winds that blow your hair just right and a unique scenic backdrop. But it’s a scary place to be when the nearby land is on fire.

The last two hours of our drive home were smothered in brown and orange smoke. In the distance, puffy gray clouds billowed above a wildfire near Salt Lake Valley. It’s wildfire season out west, and we’re all in danger of running out of water, choking on smoke, and burning in flames.

It’s a dismal way to end a beautiful trip. But it’s eye-opening to live amidst climate disasters and witness the devastation in person. I feel even more propelled to take action in the fight against climate change.

If we all lived with less, we’d be on a beautiful path toward healing Earth. Maybe we should all go camping (responsibly) and never come back.

Mental Health Blog Disclaimer

I am not a medical professional, therapist, or mental healthcare professional. The information provided on this website is for informational purposes only, comes from my own personal experiences, and may be read, interpreted, and practiced at your own risk. Do not rely on this information as a substitute to medical advice or treatment from a healthcare professional.