News from Jules | 07.24.2025 | DRT or Bust: Part 8
We formed a community.
The day after solstice—the first official day of summer—I woke up with the sun around 5:30 a.m., excited to get back on the trail with my two REI coworkers and whoever showed up as we completed the second half of our pilgrimage—walking about 15 more miles along the Deschutes River Trail (DRT) to Tumalo, Ore. just north of Bend.
We started where we left off at Loge, a boutique motel and the midway point in our 30-mile journey, where we enjoyed tea and pastries in their lobby café before our boots and paws hit the pavement.
Yes, pavement, not trail. As we stepped out of the Loge lobby and started walking north we immediately passed a whole new housing development going up right next door that used to be mountain biking trails in a Ponderosa Pine forest a year ago—presumably to house some of the 160,000 residents anticipated by 2050. Due to private property, we had to walk along the paved Haul “Trail” before we cut through Mt. Bachelor Village where we could rejoin the DRT—this was one of the first big developments built in 1970 when Bend’s population was about 14,000 people.
I was only half listening as my two trailmates updated our other REI coworker and her dog—who also joined in last year’s DRT section-hiking project—on the previous day’s highlights because my chronic Iliotibial band (IT) syndrome in my right leg was still as stiff as when I woke up.
I hoped my leg would warm up in the first mile-and-a-half down to the river, but the dull pain in my right outer knee and hip joint was rapidly returning from the day before, and we’d barely started the day’s trek.
It was exciting to see one of my climbing partners waiting for us as we reached the river. We’d been on numerous training hikes, climbed regularly in the gym, and summited Mt. Hood in 2023. He knows I can withstand a lot and don’t give up easily, so he encouraged me to keep going and see what happened.
Our crew of four, plus pup, cruised through these very familiar sections of the river in Bend, barely pausing to take pictures along the bouldery and forested loop then back to pavement near Farewell Bend Park—known by pioneers as a fordable crossing point of the river and thus the original namesake of the town before the U.S. Postal Service shortened it to Bend when the town was incorporated in 1905, according to Wikipedia.
We stopped for a bathroom break at the park where I desperately called my neighbor to see if she could stop by the duplex and get better pain medication from my bathroom on her way to meet up with us. We pushed on along the paved path toward the three famous smoke stacks in the Old Mill District—the former hub of the town’s timber industry and now home to REI Bend—where we ran into a parade of three friends and their four kids on foot, bikes, and scooters. After quickly serenading my twin friends with Happy Birthday and a blueberry muffin, we continued through the historic neighborhoods to the next park.
I was so excited to see two more friends and REI coworkers, including the neighbor who lives three blocks from me, that I beelined through the grass and stepped in dog poo on my way over to hug her and get my meds. No surprise, the six of us coworkers cruising along the river through the heart of town was the rowdiest section of the DRT, including asking one of the protesters that day for a photo opp.
By the time we found a quiet spot to eat lunch and soak our feet and legs in the river, about seven miles in at the halfway point, it was just the three of us again, and some very feisty chipmunks.
See fun photos and videos of DRT: Day 2 on Instagram.
We put our socks and boots back on after a very quick lunch and soak in the river and continued walking downstream from the golf course and toward another newer, high-end development until we came to one of the real-time decisions on the trail that my Dad and I had anticipated as we mapped the route. Well, pavement, not trail.
In the interest of the darker clouds in the distance and making good time we took the more direct route—turning right and crossing the bridge over the river instead of turning left to hike to the DRT’s east side terminus, then having to backtrack before crossing the bridge.
From there, we used our GPS to navigate windy streets and sidewalks through a neighborhood, along a major road, and down through farmlands and deer crossings until we entered the nature reserve on the other side of the river that would have been a subdivision with hundreds of homes; however, a local land grant in 2015 saved the ecosystem for the native plants and animals, and public access.
With a rain shower drifting above us, my pain meds starting to wear off, and some fatigue setting in, we followed the trail directly toward the river and didn’t detour to look at the solstice markers on the overlook. It was such a relief to finally be back in the wild again and walk on soil after about 10 miles of pavement.
The three of us hiked while quietly observing our surroundings. The swish of the breeze through the brush, the creak of the swaying tree branches, the chirping birds bobbing from tree to tree, the pitter patter of the rain on our raincoats. The peace and quiet.
While we were happily surprised from behind by one of our coworkers and her son, who used live tracking via Strava to find us, cheer us on, and walk us to the river, before we entered the home stretch a few miles from Tumalo State Park, for most of the afternoon, we were on our own.
Between the quiet lulls in our conversation and taking pictures, we revisited the question I’d shared the day before from my personal coach—which now seemed like a month ago—What did we want to release to the river during our walk?
See funny “blooper” photos and videos on Instagram.
It was amazing how much this simple question revealed about who we were and who we are becoming. As each of us took turns sharing our answers, it felt less and less like a coincidence that we were on the trail together. Yes, we’re all nature lovers with shared interests, including a desire for outdoorsy adventures and a strong connection to the seasons—which was immediately obvious from our glee in taking “flower selfies” during the first few miles of the DRT.
We also discovered we’re all Virgos, born between August 23 and September 22, sharing many of our Zodiac sign’s signature traits such as striving for excellence in all we do and needing to learn how to balance our high standards with self-compassion and flexibility.
So maybe it wasn’t surprising to learn about our similar challenges and burdens with family connections and a sense of belonging that drives our desire to be in deep community—giving and receiving care through mutual support and shared experience rooted in shared faith, hardship, and the desire for growth. Something we each knew well because we’d experienced it before through a trailrunning group in one gal’s Ohio hometown, at the other gal’s first REI store in California, and within my spiritual women’s group in Portland, Ore.
Hence, saying heck yeah to doing the whole DRT with me.
And so, it seemed that what we wanted to release to the river during our walk was our fears—of attachment, of failure, of expectations—that were holding us back from fully living into our truest selves.
After walking one of the more rugged and beautiful stretches of the river, we arrived at Tumalo State Park and located a special boulder by the river where one of the gals sat a year ago while on vacation and courageously decided to leave her hometown in Ohio and move to Bend, Ore. It was the perfect spot for our closing ritual at the end of the trail.
We pulled the pinecones out of our backpacks and each took turns reading “For Now,” the solstice song I received via email the day before on June 20, 2025, from poet Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer before tossing our pinecones and releasing our fears into the river.
After our ritual, we made our way over to the Tumalo State Park Campground sign for an official completion photo. Still live tracking our progress via Strava, I walked toward the sign, then off at an angle, did one loop back and then another loop back, forming the shape of a heart.
Our feet hurt, my right leg still throbbed, and we were a little dehydrated and hungry, thus starting to get loopy, but our hearts were full.
When I saw the message that we didn't have a ride into Tumalo as anticipated, thus necessitating another real-time route change that added another mile and a half, we all sighed and shrugged, “So be it,” and just kept walking.
Guess we’d see how far the DRT really goes!
See our route on Day 2 via Strava tracking.
The path kept going downstream alongside the slowly flowing river, under the Highway 20 overpass, all the way into a rural neighborhood on the other side. After a couple of left turns, the gals ran the final few blocks into Tumalo for our celebratory food and beers at The Bite with a couple more friends who joined us later.
We arrived at 3:45 p.m. and victoriously finished our respective Strava tracking at the same moment, somehow clocking in at 15.82 miles, 16.01 miles, and 16.85 miles, respectively. Perhaps my mileage was the highest due to my frequent side quests for photos?
It didn’t matter. This wasn’t just about hiking anymore.
This was a pilgrimage. A long journey of devotion, not to a holy place but in a holy place the entire way, after which the pilgrims return to their daily lives slightly changed. We had learned so much.
I realized from the very beginning: This river was not a place you visit once. This is a sacred place. By walking all 30+ miles straight through end-to-end over a couple of days, I set out to experience the river as a whole—all of its unique, but integrated ecosystems—and better understand how we relate to it.
A place that I now know very well.
The biggest aha was how the wildness of Day 1 was so much gentler on our bodies and spirits, compared to the domesticated, urban development of Day 2 being so much harder. No wonder we are disconnected, seeing the river as a resource or as recreation here for our use, not for our kinship.
But, I also noticed how intimately knowing where we live helps us feel a strong sense of place in the world—no matter how long we live there—so we can be at home in ourselves, especially as we relate to others, and thus able to form deeper relationships with all the other living beings—the plants, animals, minerals, and water that are essential to life on Earth—who also call this place home.
Over a year since my first time, I was back on the DRT celebrating summer solstice on Friday and Saturday, June 20-21 2025, by hiking 30+ miles from the north end of Sunriver through Bend up to Tumalo, and joined by 13 friends, seven kids, and two dogs, including two REI coworkers who went the whole way with me.
There was so much trail magic and so many trail angels along the way—including the donated bandanas, new insoles, route mapping, rides, cookies, candy, hot tubs, aloe vera, pain meds, loaner phone charger, bubbles refill, pre- and post-hike physical therapy, and encouraging text messages of moral support.
They each set out to support me, but in doing so, we supported each other.
What all started as a wild idea grew into a community.
A web of caring people with a common bond of shared values united by a shared experience and connection to this sacred place, including everyone wearing an REI bandana on the trail this year and everyone who section-hiked with me last year, as well as anyone who’s been walking the river with me on the second Tuesday of each month this year.
In a way, this community also includes everyone I’ve ever walked the DRT with—such as my late mentor who took me there for the first time when I visited after she moved to Bend in 2013.
And it includes you: Everyone who’s been reading and scrolling along on the journey since I moved to Bend in spring of 2023, and beyond.
Thank you for being here with me.
May you feel needed this week.
Love,
Jules
P.S. See the whole DRT hike in Google Photos. Photo Credits: Susannah Gingo, Melanie Mitchell, Becky Grebosky, Joe Marquez, and Yung Hae Cho.
Read all posts in the “DRT or Bust” series: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 & Part 8