Rob & Leesa Kickoff: Volcanic Trails to Klamath Falls

Our first official stop was the Oregon High Desert Museum. Naturally, the place was crawling with construction. Capitalizing on the chaos, we decided to take a highly unauthorized, completely “non-Mom-approved” tour through the restricted zones. Unfortunately, our thrilling life of crime was cut short, so this particular breakout attempt will have to wait for a later date. So we headed on down the road.

Our next stop was the Newberry National Volcanic Monument.

This place is legally protected to ensure future generations can also marvel at a massive volcano packed with lava flows, cinder cones, and two giant caldera lakes named Paulina and East Lake.

Naturally, we experienced all this geological majesty from the premium comfort of the visitor center parking lot.

While Leesa bravely stepped outside to snap photos of the lava beds, I chose the grueling task of guarding the passenger seat. According to Leesa’s field report, the lava fields are “large and overwhelming.” I wouldn’t know, because I was absolutely not willing to break the air-conditioned seal of the vehicle to experience them firsthand. We still had a massive itinerary ahead of us, and I needed to pace myself. Putting wheelchair tire onto actual volcanic rock? Absolutely not. It was going to be a long day, and my internal battery was already at critical levels.

Lava Cast Forest Road

Our next destination was completely spontaneous, which is travel-speak for “we had no plan and immediately regretted it.” We found ourselves on a Forest Service gravel road that stretched on for nine agonizing miles. It provided a bone-rattling, teeth-shattering ride that I’m certain re-aligned my spine at least three separate times.

We finally rattled our way into the Lava Cast Forest, which greeted us with a plot twist: a beautifully paved trail, a few actual parking spots, and a restroom.

The real comedic highlight, however, was a sign explicitly designated for “Bus Parking.” I can say with absolute certainty that any bus driver attempting to navigate that nine-mile gauntlet of tire-shredding gravel would have faced a mutiny. It was a brutally bumpy ride, but hey, at least the paved trail at the end ensured Leesa’s feet and my Firefly and wheelchair tires wouldn’t have to suffer like our suspension did.

Lava Cast Forest

After surviving nine miles of a spine-rattling Forest Service road that felt like a trial at the Hague, we finally made it to the Lava Cast Forest. For the uninitiated, this is a “unique geologic site” in the Deschutes National Forest, about 25 miles south of Bend. Some 6,000 to 7,000 years ago, a lava flow swallowed an old-growth forest, cooled around the trunks, and left behind hollow stone casts after the trees disintegrated into dust.

To witness this ancient graveyard, they provide a one-mile paved loop trail. Leesa got out and scouted some of the trail and convinced me it was doable. After all my spine had already paid the price of admission on the journey up and this trip would not be wasted. Naturally, Leesa locked and loaded my Firefly attachment onto my wheelchair and we took off down the trail.

We successfully rolled past several tree molds, marveling at the exact spots where liquid hot magma realized it couldn’t defeat a tree trunk. But then, we hit a roadblock: a sign boldly stating “End of Accessible Trail.”

As a certified rebel, I decided no inanimate piece of metal was going to dictate my life choices. We pushed on for another tenth of a mile, high on our own defiance.

Then we met the final boss.

The path ahead seemingly plummeted down a winding hill at what looked like a 33-degree angle. It became immediately clear that if I proceeded down this path, neither the Firefly, the wheelchair, nor my physical corporeal form would survive the descent. Accepting that gravity always wins, we finally called it quits, turned our bruised egos around, and headed back. But the sights were still amazing.

Crater Lake National Park

Crater Lake National Park is technically open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, just in case you ever get a midnight urge to stare into a massive volcanic abyss. It boasts the deepest, most pristine water in the United States, formed 7,700 years ago when Mount Mazama had a catastrophic existential crisis and collapsed in on itself. Because it is fed entirely by rain and snowmelt, the water has an iconic, almost aggressive deep blue clarity.

When we visit, we genuinely love soaking in the breathtaking beauty of God’s Earth—it really is absolutely amazing.

To fully appreciate this divine masterpiece, we decided to drive along the East Rim Road. We faithfully stopped at nearly every single viewpoint to deeply absorb nature’s grandeur for the grand total of 15 miles that were actually open.

Right on cue, our spiritual connection with nature was interrupted by a massive, sprawling road construction project. Instead of completing the loop, the park service essentially told us to turn right around and drive the exact same 15 miles all the way back to the entrance. Because nothing caps off a majestic viewing of a geological wonder quite like an forced, multi-mile U-turn, although there was a parking area and a magnificent viewpoint.

On to our final destination, WorldMark Running Y Resort in Klamath Falls.

WorldMark Running Y Resort in Klamath Falls

We finally rolled into our final destination for the next two nights: the WorldMark Running Y in Klamath Falls, checking in at the fashionably late hour of 5:30 PM.

We were blessed with a ground-floor, two-bedroom unit packed to the gills with every luxury WorldMark could muster, including a full kitchen and a washer and dryer—because nothing screams “vacation” like doing your own laundry.

Since we struck out on booking an actual accessible room, the resort staff scrambled to rig up a DIY modification kit to make it as accessible as humanly possible. Maintenance had proactively installed a handheld showerhead and a transfer bench in the tub for us. It wasn’t exactly a custom-built accessible suite, but it meant I could wash off the dust of the road without fracturing a hip, so we chalked it up as a massive victory. We do travel with our own mobility aids for cases just like this, including a bed rail and bars for the toilet.