After the hike, the soak - Arizona Hotsprings (Ringbolt Hotsprings)

It was late afternoon by the time we drove down the mountain from Red Rock Canyon towards Las Vegas again. Slowly it got warmer, and by the time we had reached the city outskirts it was +17, just like in the morning. It’s amazing what a role altitude plays. When we hiked down into the Grand Canyon three years ago we had read that the difference between top and bottom – 1500 m - was eleven degrees Celsius, about the same as from the Canadian to the Mexican border. In any case, I was grateful for the warm sun pouring through the car window. 

Our next destination was Boulder City, right on the border to Arizona, where we were hoping to stay for a few days and do some hikes. The map seemed clear as to which route we had to take to not be taken back into Las Vegas, but for some strange reason we couldn’t get off I 15 at the exit we had chosen to get onto Hwy. 215, so had an unnecessary detour. Finally, however, the traffic thinned out, we passed Henderson and reached Boulder City, which still seemed much busier than we remembered. We chose the same motel as the other two times we stayed here, the Nevada Inn, located conveniently at the west side of town, once the manager had assured us the room we were getting had good internet. 

It was terribly windy and very unpleasant, and the forecast for the next few days left us not very hopeful for the success of our plan to hike down to the Arizona hotsprings and tent there for one night. Cold was one thing; we have good sleeping bags, and the hotsprings would warm us up nicely. But to have wind, too, when the expected high was +12, that was not really what we had come south for. We looked for alternatives, found that Phoenix or Huma were warmer – but of course this would mean another 400km of driving one way, something we had hoped to avoid. We decided to make our decision the next morning; forecasts change, after all.

The wind calmed down somewhat when we went to bed, but during the night it started whistling through the crack under the door again, and when I looked out I could see the palm fronds waving frantically in the glow of the street light. In the morning, it hadn’t much improved, but the forecast promised much calmer conditions for the afternoon.  We went for breakfast at the ‘Koffee Kup’ restaurant, a locally famous and very popular place where we’ve had breakfast before, and already it felt a lot more like spring when we walked down main street. Maybe there was hope yet. By the time breakfast was over we had made up our minds: we would stay here and do our hike.

Since we were going to stay the night we were in no big hurry: if we left by four we still had plenty of time to get to the hotsprings in the daylight. We stopped at the NP Lake Mead visitor centre to get a bit more information about hikes in the area and were extremely lucky: the ranger who helped us was an avid back country hiker and climber herself and had some good ideas for trails we could do. Moreover, she told us where she spends the night when she goes down to the hotsprings, which turned out to be a really good tip. 

Thus we packed our backpacks with tent, sleeping pads, sleeping bags, our ‘pocket rocket’ with a small gas bottle, some food, enough water, and wine, plus some warm clothes in case we needed them, and made our way to the trailhead shortly after mile marker four on the Arizona side of the Hoover Dam. Ours was by far not the only car in the parking lot. Did all these people hike down to the hotsprings? We hadn’t quite dared to hope we’d be alone there, but this looked like what we’d have expected on a weekend. 

The other two times we were here we hiked down White Rock Canyon to the Colorado, then up to the hotsprings (using the ladder, as described in previous posts), and hiked out through Hotspring Canyon. It’s nice to do the loop since the scenery is different each way, but with our heavier packs it was much easier to avoid the steeper sections between canyons and the ladder and come in the same way we’d leave. We also took the hiking poles because the descent is pretty steep, and they would give us some extra stability. They felt a bit awkward since we were still not used to them, and of course they prevented us from slipping a hand under the shoulder belts to relieve the pressure from time to time. 

It was about four when we hiked down to the wash from the parking lot, the wind now not a big issue anymore, the sun pleasantly warm, so that we soon took off the top layer of clothing. The first part of the hike is not the most interesting, the wide wash seeming longer than it is, but after about a mile the trail branches off to the left and climbs up to a ridge. From here, it is a steep descent on a narrow path switchbacking down the mountain side. A spectacular view spread out before us, the canyon landscape with its many layers of rocks and valleys. Before, returning this way, we could only enjoy it when we stopped to catch our breath (or consciously turned around simply to have this view), but now we could take it in to our heart’s content – as long as we carefully watched where we stepped. It is a different story, hiking with a heavy pack compared to a daypack, but after a while the load seems to settle and it is no longer such a burden. Our poles turned out to be very helpful. 

We had met two girls at the parking lot who were unsure where to go, but wanted to get down to the hotsprings and back that same night, and we could point them into the right direction. Two more were taking pictures of each other at the top of the ridge, claiming to also plan going down and back that night. We reminded them that it was still about three quarters of an hour to go down, and the way up is steep, but they were in no particular hurry, nor did they seem to be prepared for an overnight stay. We looked back from time to time on the way down, but they didn’t make much headway. Maybe they’d turn around and not even attempt it; that would be the safer choice for sure. 

We were quite glad to reach the end of the steep part of the trail and enter the wash leading into the canyon. Shadows were lengthening, and the light was beautiful, casting the rocks in a golden glow. A few people were on their way home, but for the most part we were alone. 

 

Sliding down one of the sliprock sections in the canyon- fun!

We got closer to our destination and kept our eyes open for a possible tenting spot, all the while having in mind where we wanted to camp if there was enough room for our tent, and the surface was suitable, i.e. not too rocky or hard. We were lucky: the spot we had envisaged was just like we had hoped to find it. The wall of the canyon rises steeply right beside it, a few trees make it pleasant (except that these were, for the most part, mesquite trees (some call them 'Devil Trees') with long, pointed thorns, so one has to be careful not to get ‘hooked’. The puncture wounds are painful.

We pitched the tent, prepared everything for the night, had a bite to eat and, loaded with peanuts, candles, matches, wine, water and our hiking wine glasses, walked down around the corner to the hotsprings. It was just bright enough to see without the headlamps. We had heard laughter and loud voices from the hotspring area while we were getting ready, and shortly after a group of young men walked by on their way out, apologizing for making so much noise. They obviously had been partying. Now, however, it was quiet. We changed into our bathing suits – not sure what would expect us we couldn’t be sure how much the ‘clothing optional’ policy applied – and slid down into the uppermost, hottest pool. We found that a single guy, probably in his seventies, was enjoying the middle pool, somewhat cooler than the top one which is hard to even walk through because of its temperature. We ourselves ended up in the lowest pool, the coolest, still at least as warm as a nice bathtub. Things looked a bit different than last year and the year before, sandbags neatly piled, everything looking in good repair. The pool right beside the ladder, however, where we had soaked with our German friends a year ago, was pretty much gone. 

It was a magical place, even more so than in the daylight. Venus was glowing brightly, like a lantern, in the narrow opening between the high rocks surrounding the pool, and bit by bit more stars appeared. We watched Venus disappear below the horizon, a while later Mars, and then the Pleiades, little cluster of light, moved into our field of view. Once Venus was gone it became noticeably darker, but not completely so, and it didn’t matter that our attempts to keep the candles burning in spite of the wind were doomed. The temperature of the pool was high enough that the cooler night air didn’t have a big effect; on the contrary: from time to time we had to sit up on the sandbags because it got too hot. After a while the guy in the other pool waded through. He had come by kayak and was camped down by the river, thus had to get down the ladder and through the somewhat more difficult sections of sliprock by the light of his headlamp. Johann lit the way for him down the ladder, which likely would have been a bit dangerous had he been on his own. 

It was about ten o’clock when we crawled into our sleeping bags, still nicely warmed up from the hot water, so that we didn’t even feel the cool night air. I sat on a big rock at the edge of the draw for a while and looked at the stars. Here, the Seven Sisters were joined with the rest of Taurus, followed closely by Orion with lifted bow, Sirius behind him. It was quiet, even though air traffic was busy even now. Back in the tent I wondered briefly about scorpions and spiders, but decided that this was no concern when it was as cold as this. 

I slept well; Johann less so because he found to his dismay that his sleeping pad was leaking air, so that he had to blow it up twice during the night. I hardly noticed. By six (Nevada time, which is Pacific time), it started to get light, even though it would be a long while till the sun would make its appearance over the high walls in the east. Once again we walked down to the pools, and this time we heard voices. Our fellow soaker from the night before was there again, plus another man around the same age. The second one turned out to be the self-appointed caretaker of the pools. He told us that he spends winters here in Boulder City and comes down every morning to shovel out the gravel, pile sandbags when needed, keep the water clear and everything in good repair. This way he gets his exercise and can enjoy the beautiful desert landscape. He, too, gave us some tips where to hike in the area. 

A new group of people, two kayakers with a guide, arrived, and we moved out. The small, crunchy gravel still bit into my feet, so that they felt as if they had been treated with sandpaper after I finished getting dressed, and nicely warmed by the hot water and the first rays of morning sun I had a cup of coffee before our breakfast, consisting of a cup of chicken noodle soup, bread with ham and cheese, and an orange. Our tent was totally dry, so there was no need to spread it out anywhere before we packed it up. More and more groups of people came down to enjoy the hotsprings. We could hardly believe our luck: how likely was it that we were pretty much alone there? It could have been quite different – and that, too, would have been fine. 

The ranger at the visitor centre had pointed out a short hike branching off before the steep part. There, she said, we would be able to see petroglyphs. Since we had enough time we set our packs down behind a rock and hiked up another draw and into a canyon for maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. There they were, some at eye level, some a bit higher: witness to a culture, to people, who lived here centuries ago. We tried to identify some of the rock carvings, but of course couldn’t be sure. There seemed to be turtles and snakes, for sure, also possibly a river, but most of the symbols would have made sense only to the people for whom they were meant. It is special to be in a place that has such spiritual significance, and I, too, felt calm and at ease there, as in this landscape in general. The clear air, the sparseness of vegetation that makes every plant so very special, the colours and textures of the rocks – a place to be close to the Earth. 

With less difficulty than expected we climbed up to the ridge again, sat there for a little while to enjoy one more time the magnificent view, and hiked up the draw. How glad we were that we hadn’t given in to the temptation to move on too quickly.