Umpqua Magic: Waterfalls, Cabins & a Sapphire Lake
Bessie—our trusty van, our rolling home, our sometimes high-maintenance sidekick—has carried us over mountain passes, through thick forests, across roaring rivers… but lately she’s been giving us a little extra drama. First, back in Olympic National Park, the sofa-to-bed switch gave up on us until Alan got on the phone with ABC Upfitters and performed a roadside fuse swap surgery. Then came the cracked windshield in Beaverton, followed by a mysterious diesel leak that turned out to be a fuel line for the Truma heater, not the actual fuel system (thanks, Mercedes dealer). And just when we thought we were good—bam!—a bumpy forest road knocked the sink loose. But instead of being frustrated, we keep repeating our mantra: it’s always about the journey. These bumps are just chapters in the adventure.
The Backroads to Waterfalls Highway
With a Junction City service appointment finally on the books, we turned inland from the coast, leaving behind Bandon and Face Rock. Instead of the straight shot, we followed a little squiggle of a road—42S—across the landscape. And wow… what a “skirt road” it was!
Picture this: winding lanes past red barns with peeling paint, cows grazing lazily in golden meadows, apple trees dangling fruit like roadside gifts, and wildflowers nodding in late-summer breezes. The air smelled faintly of hay and woodsmoke, and the leaves were already flirting with fall, splashing pink and orange in the treetops. It felt like we had stepped into a pastoral painting just before it turned into Route 138, a road famous enough to have earned the name “the Waterfalls Highway.”
Steamboat Inn: A Hidden Treasure
Rolling along, the river beside us sparkling in and out of view, we spotted a small sign: Vacancy & Fine Dining – Steamboat Inn. That’s how we find our gems—by chance, or maybe by grace. We pulled in, asked at the desk, and luck was with us. They had a cabin ready.
Spencer Cabin was tucked away up a dirt path, rustic yet cozy, with a front porch where you could practically feel the heartbeat of the river below. After washing the road dust from our faces, we wandered back down for dinner. Imagine this: fairy-lights strung through the branches of an enormous tree, a lush garden glowing in twilight, and the steady swoosh of the Umpqua River as background music. Heaven, pure and simple.
The menu was short, handwritten, and perfect: just three entrées, a few dips, and a chef’s special. I ordered the steelhead trout—delicate, like salmon’s lighter cousin—with a Crater Lake Northwest Berry Vodka cocktail. Alan went classic: diet Coke and a tenderloin with chimichurri sauce. Every bite was spot-on. We clinked glasses, Kodi at our feet, and knew this was one of those “remember forever” nights.
Waterfalls on the Map
In the morning, coffee in hand, we grabbed the Waterfalls Highway map; 25 cascades in all, eleven nearby. First stop: Toketee Falls. The guidebook promised a “moderate quarter-mile hike,” but let’s be honest—it was closer to 40 minutes of stairs, platforms, and photo stops. The payoff, though, was jaw-dropping. A powerful twin drop spilling into a turquoise pool framed by ancient basalt columns—it felt like walking into a fantasy film set. Alan and Kodi nailed it, and I was already ready for more.
We knocked out three more falls before our energy dipped, but we pushed onward toward Lemolo Lake. Fire crews had just closed the Lemolo Falls trailhead (wildfire season is never far away in Oregon), so instead we lingered at the Lemolo Lake Dam, taking photos of its glassy water reflecting the sky.
Crater Lake, Take Two
Last year, on our Wild West tour, Crater Lake had been the farthest northwest we reached, so this time we entered from the north for a fresh perspective. It’s hard to describe the first sight of it: a sapphire bowl of water, impossibly blue, so pure it looks unreal. That color comes from sunlight penetrating rainwater with no sediment or runoff—it’s as if the earth made a gemstone and forgot to put it in a crown.
At Crater Lake Lodge, guests lounged in Adirondack chairs on the back patio, cocktails in hand, waiting for the legendary sunset. I filmed the moment, the anticipation as golden light slid down the caldera walls. I wanted to stay and soak it in, but nightfall on mountain roads is no friend of Bessie, so we reluctantly turned back.
And where else to end the night but back at Steamboat Inn? Another dinner under the lights, another toast to the river. Sometimes, the best days are the ones where the detours lead you to magic.
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