Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday – 03-Mar-2024, 04-Mar-2024, and 05-Mar-2024


I’ve known about Breitenbush for a long time. Maybe not as long as I’ve been in Oregon… but it’s pretty close, if I had to guess.

Now that I’ve transitioned from full-time work to full-time trip-and-move-planning, I figured that it was the perfect opportunity to disconnect from the internet, soak in the hot springs, and at least attempt to re-center myself out in a luxury version of the wilderness… and since Breitenbush has been on my radar for so long, well, now was the time.

I booked my stay, and headed out.



The drive out was absolutely perfect – with how chaotic everything had been, I hadn’t had the opportunity to take a long quiet drive in quite some time. It’s meditation for me, I’ve learned, to take long drives. Listening to music, letting the asphalt and miles pass under the wheels, and letting myself succumb to the dissociative fugue of the monotonous road… it opens up my brain to wander and think and connect dots that I wouldn’t normally be able to connect.

The drive wasn’t too long, thankfully, nor was it particularly snowy… I didn’t have to toss the chains on the car, though I did definitely slow down a bit as the Mustang and I got higher up in elevation. I stopped to appreciate a river, I took my time, and soon enough found myself checking into the welcome hutch at the resort.

For those who haven’t heard of it, Breitenbush is a hot-springs resort up in the mountains in the Jefferson Wilderness of Oregon. It’s built around a natural hotspring, which has been capped off and cooled down to human-safe temperatures with a whole resort built up around it. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from it, though what I’d heard was mostly focused on the idea of “quiet contemplation”. Which, thanks to the turmoil of recent life changes, sounded perfect for me.

In the end, though, that quiet contemplation turned out to be a bit much for where my soul was at.

Instead of “quiet contemplation”, I frankly found it to be quite isolating… Interestingly, mirroring my overall experience in Oregon. The atmosphere was partially spiritual, but mainly solitary – I didn’t go into the retreat expecting conversation, but I also didn’t go in expecting absolute isolation. When passing people on the trails, it seemed a bit taboo to acknowledge them, and in turn I was treated as if I was invisible.

I can see the draw to that, for many people, and I don’t judge anyone for it. For me, though, it wasn’t the vibe I needed at the time. As the days went on, I found myself becoming lonely and looking for interaction but was barred from seeking it thanks to the norms of the resort.



Interestingly, I did end up finding companionable conversation from an unexpected direction – I’d booked a massage for my second day, fully expecting it to be a very quiet and disconnected experience. Instead, the masseuse seemed to be in the same boat that I was, and in a place looking for some form of human connection. We clicked surprisingly well; lightly chatting through the massage, and then unexpectedly reconnecting later in the evening while sitting and reading around a fireplace in the central lodge.

I was cautious, at first, making sure not to overstep the bounds of Breitenbush and the profession of a masseuse, but we made a point to check in about those, and were able to chat about that sense of isolation and upcoming change well into the evening. It was spectacularly unexpected, and absolutely appreciated.

Then, before bed, I strolled off for an 11pm soak in one of the springs, embracing the night and watching the snow fall into the pool. It was a lovely change of pace, and a beautiful switch in the whole experience.