Lassen Volcanic NP: Bumpass Hell and Dark Skies
We really did not want to leave Mt. Shasta. That peak had wrapped its snow-capped magic around us, but the itinerary I’d drafted months earlier still had a dozen more pins before we looped east toward home. Alan was already thinking ahead: “San Juan Scenic Byway before the snow shuts it down. End of September, mid-October tops.” That meant trimming a few stops from the list, and I was feeling it—47 days on the road, Tuesday September 16th, and I was…let’s just say a tad frazzled.
The consolation prize? The road itself. Route 89, the Lassen Volcanic Legacy Scenic Byway, winds straight out of Shasta country and into another world. This drive doesn’t just get you from one park to the next—it stitches two volcano legends together. Shasta looms in your rear-view like a cosmic guardian, while Lassen rises ahead, its steaming vents reminding you the earth here is very much alive.
First Impressions & Dark Skies Dreams
As we climbed toward Lassen, Alan’s buddy AW texted: “Best thing about that park? Camp overnight. Dark skies.” He wasn’t wrong. Roughly 75% of Lassen is designated wilderness. Translation: fewer crowds, fewer lights, more stars. The kind of Milky Way explosion you only see on a screensaver if you live in a city.
I was all in—until reality checked us. No cell signal, no lodge, no services, no visitor center (closed when we rolled up), and reservations online only. I did manage to get my passport book stamped at a scrappy little camp store, but Alan wasn’t about to risk a stealth camp and wake up to a ranger tapping on the window.
So we kept rolling through the 30 mile park drive, windows down, our Guide Along app narrating volcano science like it was bedtime storytelling: all four types of volcanoes exist here (shield, composite, plug dome, cinder cone). Plus geyser-like hydrothermal features—mudpots, hot springs, and fumaroles that literally hiss and belch like the earth’s digestive system. I was already plotting reels and video clips.
The Stops Along the Way
First, a meadow stop. Then Lake Helen—glacier-fed, ridiculously turquoise, and shimmering under alpine light. A few clicks of the shutter and we moved on, maybe Sulphur Works, maybe Hot Springs—it was a blur. My focus was locked on one destination: Bumpass Hell.
Yes, that’s the name. No, I’m not making it up. It’s a hydrothermal basin reached by a 1.5-mile trail, with boardwalks winding through steaming vents, boiling pools, and mudpots that sound like a witch’s cauldron. The hike was perfect for the first hour—alpine air, great views—but then the signs started pointing in different directions down toward the boardwalk. I got turned around, looping the same stretch, snapping the same photo three times before it dawned on me.
Alan, of course, was tracking me on “Find My Phone.” I get a text: “You okay? You’re way off the path.” Busted. Frazzled. And without water or my bear-blaster whistle. A couple of friendly hikers pointed me the right way, and I finally hit the boardwalk, inhaled the sulfur-steam experience, then hustled back out.
By the time I made it to the van, my legs were jelly, my nerves fried. Beautiful park, next time we’ll book a camping site ahead to see the dark skies!
Exit Strategy: Beds & Beverages
At that point, I needed exactly two things: a bed and an alcoholic beverage. We pointed Bessie toward the next town on the way to Lake Tahoe and found a no-frills hotel, soft pillows, and something stronger than soda. Civilization felt like luxury after the volcanic chaos.
Lassen was a blur of steaming earth, starry-sky dreams, and my own comic misadventures on the trail. Not as polished as Shasta, but absolutely book-worthy. The road keeps pushing us forward—more parks, more peaks, more stories to come.
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