White Rock Canyon/Arizona Hotsprings

Fortified by a good-sized, tasty breakfast at the ‘Coffee Cup’ in historic downtown Boulder City we were ready for another canyon hike. Friends had read about the Ringbolt Hot Springs, and it sounded quite intriguing. Last year we had decided against it since it would have come hard on the heels of our Grand Canyon hike and we were not ready to tackle another one the next day. 

We stopped at the Hoover Dam visitor centre to get some information; all we knew so far was that the trailhead was supposed to be at mile four south of the dam. Strangely enough, however, nobody had heard of Ringbolt Hot Springs. How could that be when it was so close? One of the rangers listed some other hot springs in the area. Her description for the most popular one matched what we had read on the internet; it simply went by a different name: Arizona Hot Springs. 

A few cars were parked in the parking lot already, and two other couples were getting ready to hike at the same time we did. A popular hike … hopefully it wouldn’t get too crowded. We weren’t really worried, however, since it was only Wednesday and most of the visitors would likely come on the weekends. We soon lost sight of the other couples on our way towards the mouth of the canyon. Even on the first sandy part of the trail it was obvious that this area was richer in blooming wildflowers than any of the other hikes we did. Bright yellow Brittle Bush flowers above pale green foliage lined our path, California poppies and desert primroses – quite fittingly named ‘yellow cups’ – continued the colour scheme closer to the ground. Already it was quite hot. 

As soon as we entered the canyon itself the temperature dropped several degrees. Enormous, the dark walls rose to both sides of the trail, admitting sunlight only from time to time. Ledges were green with fresh growth. Mesquite bushes, tenacious survivors of all kinds of adverse conditions, were thriving, the light green of their foliage matching the green of the herbaceous plants at our feet. Sometimes their roots had found a hole in a rock and grown right through: mesquite roots can grow up to 180 feet (almost 50m) deep to reach water, we had learned in Joshua Tree park. The trail descended gently, winding between the canyon walls. Sometimes moisture was dripping off the rock, and short-stemmed moss cushions had formed below. We were still walking on loose gravel and coarse sand. We had walked for a little over an hour when the walls receded and the gravel bed got wider for a little while. Were we getting close to the Colorado? I had decided I was going to wait taking pictures until we were on the way back out. Now, I was content to just enjoy what I was seeing. Again the trail entered the canyon, but it wasn’t long before we reached the Colorado. Here, it was tame and not very wide compared to Glen Canyon and Grand Canyon. This place is accessible not only through the canyon but by boat, too. 

To get to the hot springs we would have to enter the next canyon downstream. One of the other hikers pointed out the general direction the trail would take (he wasn’t quite sure himself), and when it branched off in different directions we stuck to the one that looked most used. Soon we encountered a couple of other people returning from the hot springs. ‘Yes, you are on the right way’, they assured us. One couple carried a small dog: he, too, had enjoyed a hot bath, they were happy to tell us. 

Beavertail cactus in bloom

We climbed down over some bigger boulders and had once again arrived at the Colorado. A group of young people were camping out here, and a little further on we saw the pit toilet marked in the map the ranger had given us. According to this we would have to pass the pit toilet before turning up into the canyon. The campers pointed us in a different direction, however: ‘You’ll soon see a trickle of water. Follow it upstream and you can’t miss the hot springs’.

Just a few minutes later we were on the right track. The water came indeed as only a trickle and was not yet noticeably warm, but soon that changed. The canyon was very narrow, and the water soon filled its whole width. At first we could step on bigger rocks and avoided getting our shoes wet, but when we came to a slip rock I decided it would be easier to hike barefoot. The water was only a few inches deep and had little force, and my feet thanked me for the opportunity to walk in such nice warm water.

Finally we arrived at the little waterfall pouring down from the lip of the hot spring – and with it the very thing I had been a little anxious about ever since we set out: the twenty-foot high ladder one has to climb to enter the hot springs area itself. I was not so worried about climbing up; it is the first step on the way down I don’t really like. My somewhat uneasy relationship with ladders reaches back a long time. When I was maybe four or five my dad had to ‘rescue’ me during one of our regular forest walks in Germany: I had climbed up the ladder to one of the raised blinds hunters use to wait for game, happy to be able to have a great view from up there. When it came to getting down, however, I was stuck, not knowing how to take that first step back onto the ladder. 

Now, I knew I would get back down; six metres is not so high, after all, and the ladder was well anchored in the rock. Resolutely I put the question of how I would do it out of my mind for the time being and climbed up. Stepping over the ledge I first saw a small pool to my right, dammed by the rock on one side and sand bags on the other. The water was crystal clear. Candles on a ledge indicated that this was a favourite spot for night-time soaking. It would be wonderful to sit here under the stars. 

The next pool had been dammed with another wall of sand bags. It was enclosed by curved walls, bigger than the first and slightly warmer, its temperature perfect. Here, we met a few other people who had come through this canyon from the top. They strongly advised us to hike back out that way; not only was it the shorter hike, they said, but the views were spectacular. I couldn’t warm up to the idea at first: hadn’t I delayed taking canyon pictures on the way down because I knew I could do it on the way back? ‘But there’s a canyon on this hike as well’, they told us, ‘and it’s even more dramatic since it’s narrower. And the view …’ More canyon – that was okay, then. And no ladder to climb down! I waded through the nice, warm pool, following the other hikers up another slip rock through the third pool which would have been way too hot for me to sit in for any length of time, and out through the running water to where it came out of the rock. Here, it was so hot that it felt as if my feet were being scalded, and I was happy to step on dry ground again. What a marvellous place, however! Wouldn’t it be great to have something like that here in the Rockies for one of our summer hikes? We decided to do a bit of research when we were home again. 

 We knew the way back to the parking lot would be uphill all the way, and since this route was shorter than the one we had taken on the way down it would be steeper, too. For the first part, however, the grade was easy. Again we followed the twists of a canyon, the walls not towering as high as the other one. As soon as we found a suitable spot we ate our lunch. We had plenty of water: by now we knew how much to take. It was quiet and very peaceful. A barely noticeable breeze stirred the branches of the mesquite trees, birds were singing from somewhere up in the rocks. 

Here, too, wildflowers were blooming everywhere.

Desert Primrose

California Poppy

We had been told that the trail would split up again at some point and knew to take the one furthest to the left. It left the sandy canyon bottom and led up into rugged higher terrain. We quickly gained elevation now. Every once in a while I stopped to catch my breath and turned around. The view was indeed spectacular, and ever more so the higher we got. Looking back the trail was hardly visible between the rocks. I remembered the warning I had read once again at the trailhead: always be aware where you put your hands and feet. You don’t want to surprise a rattler. The only reptiles we saw, however, were the by now familiar small lizards that darted across the trail.

About an hour after we had left the hot springs we had reached the plateau. In the distance we could already see the highway, although it would be some time until we arrived at the parking lot. 

We had almost arrived when, turning around, we noticed somebody behind us walking quite fast. 'He must be in good shape', I thought, but when he caught up with us I saw that he looked exhausted. He asked if we had some water, by any chance, and told us that he had been camping with his friends down in the canyon and had run out of water. Thankfully we had enough water left over in the car that we could help him out. He flopped down in the shade of the trail map, and after a few minutes I brought him another bottle, noticing with relief that he already looked a little better. Soon a couple of his friends arrived, too. It once again drove home the importance of bringing enough water in this climate. On the other hand, I think I would have risked drinking river water if I had been in danger of getting so dehydrated that it would endanger my life. Anyway, I'm glad we were able to help this young man.

One last time I let my gaze sweep over the magnificent country we were leaving behind. As always there was a bit of sadness now: it was time to say goodbye. Funny, I thought, how I, a forest person, have come to love this sparse, at times even forbidding landscape. I have a feeling we haven’t been here for the last time.