It was well below freezing when Tad and I finally bundled up and stepped out for our morning walk. overnight, the parking area at Crane Hot Springs had completely filled up, yet the crisp morning air was surprisingly quiet, with very few people moving about just yet. Wanting a peaceful stretch where we wouldn’t bother anyone, we headed toward the overflow parking area.
With binoculars draped around my neck and Tad's leash in hand, it didn't take long to wonder if I had made a mistake by leaving my gloves behind. But, as any birdwatcher knows, it’s incredibly difficult to focus binoculars with gloves on, so I opted to endure the bite of the cold. I walked with both hands tucked into the front pocket of my sweatshirt, clasping the leash end where my hands met in the middle for warmth. Along the way, we passed a man out walking his own small dog; we exchanged a silent, knowing nod—a mutual understanding of the cold-weather sacrifices we gladly make for our furry companions.
I recalled there being a pond nearby and began heading toward the access point. Stopping for a moment, I turned back to see how far we’d wandered from the motorhome, watching the thick, ghostly steam from the hot springs rise and dissipate into the freezing air behind it.
As we climbed a small incline, we were suddenly treated to an entirely different world. In the soft, early morning light, the natural pond was incredibly peaceful, dotted with ducks, coots, and shovelers paddling lazily through the water. The rising sun caught the perfectly still surface, reflecting a quiet beauty that made the freezing walk entirely worth it.
The steam and stillness of this high-desert oasis carry a storied history that stretches back long before it became the popular retreat it is today. Officially known as Crane Hot Springs—having recently returned to its original moniker in 2019 after years as Crystal Crane Hot Springs—the site was first used by early homesteaders and local ranchers in the early 1900s for laundry, watering stock, and basic bathing.
Its first commercial era began in the 1920s when a local physician and an entrepreneur built a massive 30-by-60-foot concrete pool to tap into the therapeutic waters. However, because the geothermal source wells natural water outputs at nearly 180 degrees Fahrenheit, and they lacked a cold-water source, guests originally had to wait days for the pool to air-cool to a safe temperature! To keep waiting patrons entertained, the owners built a popular restaurant and dance hall, transforming the site into the bustling "I & C Hot Springs Resort."
Tragedy struck around 1930 when a disastrous fire leveled the dance hall and restaurant. The structures were never rebuilt during the Great Depression, and the property spent the next six decades changing hands, remaining minimal and rugged. It wasn’t until 1997, when Dan and Denise Kryger purchased the property, that the springs were truly revitalized. They excavated and lined the centerpiece 9,700-square-foot soaking pond—allowing the thermal water to continuously mix and cool to a comfortable 103 degrees Fahrenheit—and added the private cedar bathhouses, cabins, and RV sites we see today.
Walking back toward the steaming RV park, with the sun finally catching the frost, it was easy to see why this resilient little pocket of Harney County has remained a cherished sanctuary for over a century.
Coffee was available in the commons area so I grabbed our cups to take advantage of our hosts offerings. It was early so there was no one in the warm gathering room. The spacious area offered kitchen, TV, games, and music options.
The three-hour drive to Jim and Pat’s house went smoothly, and we pulled in right on schedule at 2:00 PM. It felt fitting to spend the very final night of our cross-country trip catching up with good friends. Kasey and Jim noticed they were wearing almost identical shirts. It must be a Minnesota thing!
Jim and Pat’s long-time friend, John, arrived to join the gathering, and the stories and conversation carried us well into the night. We were treated to a pot of Jim's delicious homemade chili, which hit the spot on a chilly evening. Tad was allowed to come inside and be part of the party for a bit, though he eventually decided the adult chatter wasn't nearly as interesting as a good night's sleep and happily retired for the evening in the motorhome.
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