All roads lead to Rome, Oregon….or do they?

Although I am a life long Oregonian I have only ever just heard of Rome, Oregon. It is a cathedral made of basalt, carved by wind and river. Lost, or mostly so, to most. A sacred city made of organic time but who would notice?

I can’t tell you the number of Roman metaphors I ran across in the 6 weeks it took me to write this article. Like when I broke my sobriety streak of 55 days someone said “It’s ok, Rome wasn’t build in a day”.

True. I had already loaded the photos into this blog. I scoffed. My algorithm was showing me chances to win a trip to Rome….someone I follow went to Rome. Some important person mentioned Rome on the news. All of a sudden, it was everywhere. Rome was building itself around me, brick by subconscious brick.

I already know that you should be very careful what you think about and write about….because it is a very fast tool for manifesting. The thing about manifesting though ….what you want isn’t always what you need.

A trip to Rome, wheres only a few roads actually access the extremely remote and rare geological wonder. Roads that require planning, offline maps, and (if you are like us) access to an electrical grid.

We are new to the EV world. I still haven’t driven the thing but that besides the point. I’m not sure an EV can stand up to adventures I like. Spontaneity! Well, as if.

Rome may not have been built in a day and getting there takes more than a day it turns out, in preparation alone.

This part of Oregon is largely looked over, unknown, impossible to inhabit. Of course, beloved by those who live there regardless.

Its one of the few places that I’ve yet to see. And its my job to know Oregon. So, on our way home from visiting family in Idaho we took a detour through Jordan Valley.

Here there is a charging station! A Rockhouse, leftover from failed homesteading days, turned into a warm and kitschy coffee shop with adorable rock art restrooms.

Next door is a historic one room school house, also from the early 1900s when settlers attempted to make a life in this remote part of the state.

This little pit stop is the jumping off point to go see Leslie Gulch, another geological feature of Oregon made popular on social media. Alongside Jordan Craters and our target- The Pillars of Rome.

It is a family affair, The Drive. I’ve perfected it over 20 years of married life and a now our 16 year old sprawled across a gratuitous back seat, a bag of snacks, earbuds, and lovie. Of course at 16, who wants to sidequest to a silent land sentinel. Rome, just the place to be.,…. Still. This is a side quest, a ceremony, and a requirement.

It’s not everyday you can drive for hours and hours through the desert, Almost miss a turn at a tiny ghost town junction,go down another dirt road, past some sketchy looking farm houses to a giant, fenced off rock face.

Oh. but…..

It was Rome.formed by volcanic ash deposits laid down millions of years ago, likely from explosive eruptions associated with the Yellowstone hotspot, which later hardened into layered rock and were slowly carved into tall columns by wind, rain, and erosion.

Not by the hands of man, but of the sunseen…..an architectural masterpiece built by the randomness of time?

As we rolled upon the basalt cliffs a crack in the cloud covered sky was torn open by a burning sun, sharp as laser light. The sky turned blue and my eyes began to water as if high beams had been flashed into my pupils.

I could barely take a picture for the brightness. The stillness. The smell of sage and powdery, fine silt. This place, which seemed huanted. devoid of a cheering crowd, no busy market, just….. a frozen monument, like a mirage across a barren desert.

My teenager stayed in the truck. My little dog had followed me as far as the fence allowed. We admired the rock cliffs, I shoved a handful of sage in my pocket.

That was it. anticlimatic…..and yet. When in Rome, you do as the Romans do….and in Rome, Oregon I had the impression it was best to be humble.

I had stood witness to what could be made in complete silence, without pretense or control. It stood, still…..beauity for no reason other than to sometimes be seen by a wayward travel blogger ….for what reverence? Who could care.

Afterward I’ll drive around my hometown Bend and see a new starbucks on top of an old church. Recycled plots of land, always rising higher in height and price. Knowing Out there…..way past convenience….is a cathedral made of volcanic rock, forgotten and unworshipped.

Will our urban sprawl ever reach as far as Rome, Oregon or will the basalt crumble before we do?

Driving back to that hometown…As we reintegrate back into a world with modern things, shaped by the hands of man, we detour to a hot spring. One last breath of natures medicine. There are rock churches. There are rock pools where you can be born again, healed, relaxed, and awoken.

I’m to where I can only go in these waters when I am ready for the purge of emotional layers within me afterwards. I am 11 weeks sober. This dip was right at 35 days and I found myself sweating and peeling off stuck energy and matter for days after. I’m thankful for these waters. They are real. They will open you and give you answers, They will soothe your soul.

These bathhouses have not lost their ways. The water, the earth, it persists. Without corruption or control, the greatest of monuments and the deepest healing sources are created, organically.

Driving across this Eastern part of Oregon, it feels like space travel. I adore the night sky and its mystery. Always, there is something to see on this road. This time I saw the International space station.

It is because there is so little here that you notice so much. An unfamiliar star, the stretch of a sunset, it all illuminates like a sparkling new product against the horizon line of road and destination.

I am fond of these drives, though they test the patience, they give birth to thoughts that require a long runway for flight.

Many roads, some lead to Rome, some lead home, some lead to beyond the unknown. Happy 2026!