Where Legs Go to Die, But the Soul Takes Flight
- Michelle Eidam
- Aug 8, 2024
- 3 min read
Updated: Aug 8, 2024
Caldera? What does that even mean? Whatever it is, it sounds like an adventure. And yesterday's hike to Paulina Peak in Central Oregon was exactly that—epic, brutal, and awe-inspiring, sometimes all at once.

We set out from Paulina Lake, armed with the knowledge that it was just over three miles to the summit, with a mere 1,600 feet of elevation gain. Piece of cake, right? For the first mile and a half, maybe. A lovely stroll through a picturesque forest, a gentle tease before the real fun began.

Then the trail turned into a relentless climb, a quad-burning, lung-busting ascent that made my calves scream for mercy. There were moments when I resorted to walking backward, hoping to trick my calves into forgetting their pain. The views were stunning, but the hike itself was a testament to the stubbornness of the human spirit (or maybe just our stubbornness).

After what felt like forever (or half an hour, but who's counting?), the trail took pity on us, transitioning to a less punishing grade. As we neared the summit, we accidentally veered onto a treacherous path favored by the most intrepid (translated: crazy) hikers. Thank goodness for my hiking buddy, Ty, who noticed our error before we found ourselves hanging off the edge of a cliff. We quickly retraced our steps and returned to the safety of the real trail.
Upon reaching the summit, the view was absolutely spectacular. Well, except for the smoke and maybe the view of the parking lot at the top. But seriously? There's a road up here? We could have saved ourselves the sweat and tears. Maybe next time we'll bring a cooler and chairs and just tailgate up here, instead. Nah, who am I kidding? We'd never skip the thrill of earning that view.

Thanks to cell service, we received a crash course in geology (courtesy of the USGS and Forest Service). Turns out we were looking at the Newberry Caldera, a 4-by-5-mile wide volcanic depression, the result of an ancient eruption. It sits between two pristine lakes, Paulina Lake and East Lake. Both are fed by active hot springs heated by molten rock beneath the caldera! As if that weren't mind-blowing enough, we also had a front-row seat to the spectacular Big Obsidian Flow. Talk about some ancient history!

After refueling with trail mix and granola, we began our descent. Half a mile down, we encountered a group of weary hikers still making their way up. In a moment of pure comedic genius (or just plain meanness), I chirped, "Only two more miles to go!" The hesitant laughter that followed was priceless.
Our newfound knowledge of the area (or maybe just the lack of uphill struggle) made everything seem more interesting on the way down. We noticed obsidian rocks, surprisingly smooth and shiny, that we had completely missed on the way up. We read about the whitebark pines and their crucial role in protecting the watershed. Who knew hiking could be so educational?

The rest of the hike was a blur of laughter, conversation, and a philosophical quest for the meaning of life. Later, over a well-deserved Boneyard RPM, we toasted to the adventure, the camaraderie, and the beauty of nature.
As John Muir said, "In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks."
Cheers to that, and to our next adventure!

P.S. For those who want to nerd out on geology, here's a link to the official scoop on the Newberry National Volcanic Monument: https://pubs.usgs.gov/fs/2011/3145/fs2011-3145.pdf
Michelle Eidam is an adventure writer and storyteller with a thirst for adventure – exploring mountains, trails, breweries, and everything in between.
Comments