My last day had come, and I had a lot of travel ahead of me. After a quick scare of thinking I lost my wallet and ability to buy fuel was over, I planned to head over to the hot spring for one more soak. As I was packing up, I was greeted by a friendly pilot as he flew overhead waving. I was only halfway through my soak when I noticed how fast the wind had picked up and that the clouds rolling in were quite intense. Then overhead I heard some of the loudest thunder I'd ever heard in my life and thought it might be a good idea to get moving.
Like my drive out to the Steens, I wanted to add a destination to visit on my way home. So I set a course to the Painted Hills and got moving. I'd never been to the painted Hills before so I was pretty excited. I only learned that they were in Oregon a few years ago, though I had seen pictures before that, I always thought it was somewhere else. By the time I got there, five hours later, and driving through a rather large storm system, I was greeted with a punch in the face 108-degree dry heat that stopped me in my tracks. It felt like I was perspiring every drop of water I drank before it had the chance to hit my belly. Doing my best, I pushed through hiking most of the trails in the park. With a little energy left over and not wanting to go home just yet, I decided to swing by Smith Rock to photograph the sunset.
