Days 21 - 24: Reba's 2026 Adventure

July 04, 2026

Volcanic Blues, Tumbleweed Highways, and Idaho's Best Kept Secret

Crater Lake: The Blue That Cannot Be Described (But We'll Try Anyway)

There are some places that photographs simply cannot do justice, and Crater Lake is firmly at the top of that list. We're talking about a shade of blue so impossibly deep and vivid that your eyes almost don't believe what they're seeing. I've seen lakes. I've seen "a lot" of lakes. This was something else entirely.

A little backstory for the geologically curious: Crater Lake was born from destruction. About 7,700 years ago, the volcanic collapse of Mount Mazama left behind a massive caldera that gradually filled with what is now the deepest lake in the United States. The water is so clear it almost looks fake:
like someone filled a giant bowl with blue Kool-Aid and said, "You're welcome, Oregon." Much of the surrounding area is still desert-like, with sparse vegetation where the first brave little pine trees are only just beginning to stake their claim.

Todd and I laced up our hiking boots and walked a stretch of the scenic rim before tackling the hike up to Watchman's Peak, where a fire-lookout tower built in 1932 still stands watch over the whole spectacular scene. The panoramic views from the top? Absolutely unbelievable. Worth every step.

Two days were both too many and not nearly enough. Crater Lake, you are a showstopper.

Crossing Oregon: Bluffs, Black Sand, and the Return of the Tumbleweed

After a bittersweet goodbye to Crater Lake, we pointed Reba east and set off across the state of Oregon. If you've never driven across southern Oregon, imagine this: sweeping bluffs, stretches of black sand, and little dust devils kicking up tumbleweeds straight into our path like the desert was putting on a show. Towns were few and far between;

it was just us, the road, and the wide open nothing for miles on end. Dramatic? Absolutely. We loved it.

We were Idaho-bound, heading for the Snake River Wine Country just over the state border. And let me tell you — the moment we crossed into Idaho, it was like someone flipped a switch. The landscape transformed almost immediately. Irrigation lines brought green pastures rolling into view, lawns appeared, trees filled in, and suddenly we felt like we'd re-entered the land of the living. Geography is wild, folks.

Idaho: The State That Has More Than Potatoes (A Lot More)

We pulled into the RV Wine Region Resort in Marsing around 5pm and were barely parked before our host pressed a map and pamphlet into our hands — 14+ wineries, right at our doorstep. Under normal circumstances I would have immediately shouted "Challenge accepted!" but between the 4th of July holiday and our timeline, we had to show some restraint. We managed three vineyards on Friday evening, each tucked into settings so peaceful and picturesque you'd think someone painted them specifically for Instagram.

But let's talk about the wine. *Delightful.* Rich, full of flavor, and a complete revelation. I had absolutely no idea Idaho was producing wine like this. I thought Idaho's claim to fame began and ended with potatoes. Consider my world officially expanded. We closed out the evening watching fireworks from beside Reba while the pups stayed safely tucked inside.

This wine region has my highest recommendation. Put it on your list. Seriously.

Boise on the 4th: A City Worth the Detour

Saturday brought most wineries to a holiday close, so we made our way to Boise to celebrate Independence Day like proper Americans. And friends — we loved this city. Clean streets, incredible art murals, a wonderful mix of shops, and a noticeably welcoming vibe all around. The city had set up a large music stage, food trucks, and vendors, and we happily wandered through all of it. We also popped into a couple of breweries along the way, because when in Boise.

The Heat Has Arrived (And It Did Not Come Quietly)

Now, let me tell you about the weather situation, because it deserves its own moment of silence. For the first 20 days of this trip, we were solidly in long-sleeve-and-pants territory. Lows in the 40s, highs barely cracking 70. We had forgotten what warmth felt like.

Then Idaho happened. Our high on the 4th of July: 96 degrees.

By late afternoon, the only acceptable activity was finding water. In Minnesota, that's easy — lakes everywhere. Idaho, as it turns out, is not known for its lakes. But we are resourceful people with a very determined attitude, and we found Lowell Lake just 20 miles away. Rocky beach and all, all four of us — humans and pups — waded in under a completely cloudless sky and let the cool water do its thing. Perfect end to a perfect holiday.