Solstice Magic in the Mossy Green: Forest Bathing on Steam Donkey Trail

On the longest day of the year, I found myself exactly where I needed to be—on the Steam Donkey Trail in the lush embrace of the Tillamook State Forest, just inland from the Oregon Coast. The summer solstice has always felt like a sacred pause, a hinge between what was and what will be—and this time, I honored it under a canopy of Western Hemlock and Red Alder.

Although the calendar told me it was summer, the forest whispered otherwise. Rain had bathed the trail earlier that morning, leaving behind that intoxicating, earthy perfume only a damp forest can offer. The trees smelled alive, awake—like they were exhaling with us, ready to share their stories if we only slowed down long enough to listen.

This trail traces the path of a bygone logging spur, a remnant from the 1920s and ’30s when steam donkey engines roared through these woods. The machinery is long gone now, reclaimed by moss and memory, but if you listen carefully, you can still hear the history echo beneath your feet.

Walking here wasn’t just a hike. It was a gentle ceremony.

Ferns blanketed the path like nature’s green carpet. Larkspur blossoms added flashes of purple magic. Birds sang from somewhere unseen, offering songs that sounded like protection and welcome all at once. And though I didn’t catch a glimpse, I felt the presence of forest fairies and mischief-making gnomes—playful spirits just out of sight, dancing between shadow and sunbeam.

This is a trail where you’ll find as much wonder when you look up as when you look down. Towering elders stretched to the heavens while tiny mushrooms, quiet fungi, and nurse logs hosted entire micro-worlds beneath our gaze. Even the massive stumps, some more than ten feet wide, seemed to hold stories within their rings—stories older than any of us.

Though it’s classified as an easy hike with minimal elevation, I wasn’t there to hike. I was there to receive. To breathe. To set my summer solstice intentions. To open to the whispers of the forest and let the trees speak of what’s next.

A new season is arriving. A fresh start, guided by green light and stillness.

And I am ready.