'Never go with a hippy to a second location'

We should have known we'd made a mistake when we arrived in town. The first thing we saw was a house with a sign in the window saying 'OBAMA LIES. LIBERTY DIES'.

Uh oh.

We had left Portland and the luxury of good times, good bars and a ton of funny (thanks x 1000 to Jordan and Jimmy and the Alberta Pub). And set off down Highway 39 towards Sierraville, right on the cusp of California and Nevada.  It was an amazing drive, it was all sunshine, scenery, winding mountain roads and snow covered fir forests.

Eagle Lake

We saw hawks chasing rabbits and deer darting about with their massive ears and bad ideas (they lurk by the side of the road until you pass them in your car and then they spack out and run right in front of you, giggling and pretending to be Bambi).

I didn't take this so I have no idea why it looks so bananas.

We stopped in a town called Adin to get a sandwich in the most quintessentially rural American general store that sold a bunch of everything and terrible coffee and it was run by an old friendly couple who cared where we came from; ‘Hey Baaaarb, get out here, these guys arrr frum Laaarndarn, they’s on thur honeymoooon’. It was well cinematic.

 We were driving south because we're heading to LA but we thought we'd stop off in Sierraville on the recommendation of the guy we met in Hawaii. He’s a fire dancer at Burning Man if you get my drift. He suggested the Sierraville Hot Springs resort and it sounded awful nice. You probably know that we're not exactly outdoorsy, but we both like a festival and think of it this way, you hear 'hot springs' you picture this: 

Fantasy

 Right? I mean, I can deal with a bit of spiritual gubbins it if means hanging out in heaven. To me 'spiritual stuff' is just people trying to get happy. Hot springs sounds like the sort of thing that will make me happy, so to hell with my hippy hang ups, let's go. 

Reality

So, for the rest of this story you will likely rest in one of two camps, you will either be a member of team chortle, or you will sit on the side of shut up whining. You might think me ungrateful and know that, if it had been you, you would have enjoyed it because it looks idyllic and beautiful and not to be missed. To you I say, yeah well, it wasn't you, it was us, and we tried to enjoy it, we really did, honest.

Before I go on have a look at the website.  Have a good look at it. It wasn’t until way too late in the plan that Josh noticed a few choice details that might have put us off the 8 hour drive to get to a place that might very likely be not our kind of thing. Seriously, no booze? Pfft.

I really should have done more research, where the holy hell is Semi when you need her? WHERE WERE YOU? Since Semi wasn’t with us we didn't know the 'town' was just an array of badly laid out shut stuff with one bad restaurant and no bar whatsoever.  

So 28 hours after Portland we pulled into a snowy side path a couple of moments after the ‘Liberty dies’ sign with furrowed brows. As we trundled up the path the place came into view and the feeling of dread grew, Josh’s relief that this was not his idea was palpable.  We pulled up to the lodge and walked in. The couple in the lobby were about our age and seemed reasonable enough. They asked a bunch of questions while we waited, hanging out and reading signs. There were adverts for a wide variety of Yoga sessions (standard), a warning about alcohol, a list of prices for various types of massage, a few notices for lost jewellery, prices for renting towels, instructions for the kitchen, strict rules on nudity (allowed everywhere except in plain view of the main road) and a brief but poignant welcome to The Divine Church of Human Spiritualism.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Uh Oh.

The pop sitting behind the (bullet proof?) glass reception desk had a bolo tie and long grey hair. He was the same guy I spoke to the morning before but he didn’t remember me. He said curtly ‘a lot has happened between then and now’. I wondered how much could have happened in a place at least a thousand miles from anything but didn’t want to rile the old man.  He gave us a map of the place, a key to our room and a stern warning about towels and where they should be stored between uses. He also said we could use any of the equipment in the kitchen at the hotel but would need to clearly label our food if we didn’t want it chucked out by the cleaner.  Tense and disappointed that this was essentially a brick house next to some puddles wrapped in tarpaulin, we headed back to the hotel about a mile down the path. I got to drive there though, which was probably the highlight of the trip.

We had booked for 2 nights because it’s 2 for 1 in the winter, with membership to the pools it came to $93, which is pretty standard. The guy actually asked if we wanted annual membership for an extra $10. We did not. The hotel looked pretty cool from the outside, especially with 2 feet of snow all over it. We were vaguely optimistic. 

Optimism

We entered the kitchen through the back door using a code the bolo dude had given us. There was a sign saying ‘SHOE FREE ZONE’ which made me want to turn around and walk out, my socks are nobody’s business man, just buy a hoover and deal with it. We took off our shoes and said hello to a couple sat in the lounge who completely ignored us except for a sneer from the girl, charmed I’m sure.  We tried to find our room but instead found a giant black poodle, he seemed friendly enough if you like that sort of thing (I have become remarkably accustomed to it).

Friendliest guy in town

Our room smelled of rotten lemons and was only big enough for the bed. It was supposed to be Mexican themed so they’d painted it mustard colour and put 2 paintings of Matadors and a Flamenco dancer up. There was also what I guess was a poncho but looked like a knitted Space Invader character. Near enough I guess…

We sat there for a little while, Josh trying not to apportion blame and me trying to convince myself that I wanted to head straight back up to the pools for a dip. In the end we watched a movie until we realised, at 7.45, that if we didn’t hit Los Dos Hermanos in the next 15 minutes we’d have nothing to eat bar an old banana and some pepper jack cheese from the journey.

At the Mexican place we saw a Walter Mathou, a real life county sheriff who tipped his hat at me (big grin) and a couple I assumed were also staying in the Springs, because the old lady had damp straggles for hair and they both ordered fish salads and drank water. We ordered two different things that turned out to be the same thing folded in slightly different ways (standard). We ate a bit a put the rest in a takeaway box so as not to imply ‘this is f*cking gross but thanks anyway’.

Back at the hotel we tried to be positive despite the unnatural dampness of the room, the bangy ramblings of the other guests and the frightening communal bathroom (no locks) at the other end of the house. It’s all fun and games after all.

The next morning we lay still for ages. We can’t just leave right? We have to give it a bash? we’ll regret if we don’t at least try.  We put our PE kits on (me - vest and pants, Josh – massive shorts over slightly less massive trunks) and jumped in the car to the springs. If it hadn’t been raining insanely hard we might have been less apprehensive. I was trying to persuade the boy to bosh some shrooms and have a revel in the nature with me. But when we saw how cold and crap the day was we put operation fun on hold in favour of ‘let’s just f*cking do this’. 

hot spring face

At the lodge we debated which bath to try, most of the good ones at the top of the hill were closed for winter so we could choose from two. The meditation pool, which isn’t really a natural spring, it’s a fake one that they keep at about 100˚, and the obligatory silent geothermal dome, which is really hot water and has an outdoor pool next to it. Both had been cleaned that morning (allegedly) and were supplied direct from the mountains above with water rich in minerals and all that. We started up the hill towards the dome, judgement well and truly reserved.

We trudged along the icy path to the dome. We encountered an old couple with long hair and tumbleweed smiles and they said it was lovely in the dome and had just been cleaned and was super-warm and full to the top and really wonderful. We were a bit dubious about the number of shoes in the communal changing room. So many shoes, such a little dome.

There was a naked man in the changing room who bounced off to the pool with two kids. The shower was cold. The outdoor pool had the two kids, two women, an old man and naked dude. We hesitated before deciding to skip it and go straight into the dome.

The thing is, everything was just a bit shoddy, you know? Like there wasn’t a door on the dome just some sheets of plastic over the opening that you had to scrabble through like a shower curtain. Naked dude #1 had already depressed the hell out of me but naked dude # 2 was also a bit sore on the eyes. He clambered out of the bath when we got in, and went and sat in the cold plunge thing groaning and grunting all the while. 

Man gazpacho

Also in the tub were a Spanish couple sitting on each other and a hairy angry looking chap. They all had clothes on, the couple chatted in Spanish despite the rule of silence (least of our worries).

This is probably the right time to describe the smell. The water from the springs is full of sulphur. Hot bubbling sulphur. You probably know that sulphur stinks. Breathing inside the dome was like getting a big egg belch right in your face. Yummers.

Trying not to look disgusted we got in the super hot pool and sat there, in the stinky egg water. Listening to the couple chatting, the water filter farting, and quite amazingly, at that moment, some dickhead using a power washer to get the verrucas off the pool mats right outside the dome’s ‘inspiring, beautiful, unique’ stained glass window.  Groan with me would you?

We managed to sit there for ten minutes. Josh even tried to close his eyes and enjoy it. Good luck with that champ.  I wanted to have a shout about the bits of human skin and hair floating atop the water. I wondered why these fucking hippies had taken the awesome natural occurrence that is a piping hot spring in the middle of a snowy forest and surrounded it with tatty crap, then had the audacity to charge a hundred bucks a night to sit in it in the name of the Devine Spiritual whatever.  Fucking nonsense.com

We decided we’d had (more than) enough and got out leaving the couple to grope each other, just as naked dude#1 decided to join the party. Cock soup anyone?

We stood outside the dome looking doubtfully at the pool. There were still a bunch of kids in it, a few old people and a couple of women shouting at the kids for shouting at each other.  It seemed like we should give it a bash for the sake of not wasting a 15 hour drive. Just as Josh said ‘do you want to go?’ I glanced up at a massive old guy leaving the dressing room, most of him was obscured by the gate but just as I opened my mouth to reply to Josh the gate afforded me a full frontal of fat old man cock. I said ‘yes, let’s please get the hell out of here.’ Images like that stay with you for a really long time, There’s a story of a tramp taking a piss at my friend and I that lives on in my mind’s eye despite 10 years of trying to erase it. That image is now joined by geothermal dude and his wrinkly little friends, in my head, forever.  I don't want it. You have it.

Sorry*

As we trudged back down the icy path towards freedom, we tried to figure out what people find relaxing about sitting in a (much too) hot fart bath with a bunch of naked strangers. 
The mystery remains.

Despite having a room until the following day we decided to evacuate the area, partly because it was forecast to snow heavily the next day and we didn’t want to get stuck, and partly because it was an epic pile of shit. We drove away at top speed, trying to think of things we would rather do than go back there. Top of the list; have mild flu.

2,567 people like the springs on Facebook (check it out, have a scroll down, enjoy). I am emphatically not one of them. I guess it's me, but that’s fine, because I am happier at home.

*not an image search I enjoyed.