Burns, Oregon, the center of the great nowhere
William Least Heat Moon — remember Blue Highways? — once called the city of Burns the most remote place in the lower 48 states. That’s because, no matter which way you go, it’s at least 130 miles in any direction from Burns to get anywhere else. We’re serious.
Like much of Oregon, Burns used to have an economy held up by timber. Most of Oregon has recovered from the timber crash of the 1980s; Burns hasn’t, exactly. What nailed the coffin lid shut was the bizarre slow-motion flood of nearby Malheur and Harney lakes in the late 1980s, cutting the railroad line and causing the last mills to close forever.
Today Burns hangs on, perhaps 4,000 people in the middle of Least Heat Moon’s nowhere, functioning largely as a portal to the spectacular countryside that surrounds it, from Steens Mountain and the Alvord Desert to the south to the Strawberry Wilderness to the north. It’s got a handful of decent, cheap motels; a few restaurants; a Les Schwab tire store; and the charm of an unpretentious town.
Best time to visit is in early April, when the John Scharff Migratory Bird Festival brings birders and birds together for three days of guided tours and evening programs.