Wednesday, March 20, 2019

Steam rising over a valley: Goldbug hotsprings


My skin still smells faintly like sulphur from today's visit to Diamond Forks hotspring south of Salt Lake City, but before I can write about that I better finish the entry about Goldbug hotsprings to which we hiked a couple of days ago. I was almost finished last night when I accidentally erased it all - so frustrating when that happens! This time I'll make sure to save it. 



We had another reason to visit Salmon on our slow way south. Only about 40 km south on Hwy 93 is a hiking destination we wanted to revisit: Goldbug hot springs. Since it was the beginning of the week instead of a weekend we could reasonably hope that there would be no crowds of college students this time.



When we left Salmon the sun hadn't even made its way to the Sacajawea Inn, and for much of the drive to the trailhead only the brilliantly illuminated snow covered hills we caught sight of in the distance showed its presence. It was -8 when we started out, colder than we had expected after the previous day's +8, a beautiful morning holding the promise of a beautiful day to come. 



We arrived at the parking lot around nine, and only three vehicles were parked there; two had obviously been here overnight since the windshields were covered in ice, the third had just arrived – not many people, then, at least not yet. Unlike two years ago I wasn't too concerned with the first steep part of the trail: we had poles and crampons, and even in icy conditions it should be okay. Maybe we didn't even need the crampons? We soon were cured of that notion, however: the trail zig-zagging up the hill was solid ice, and I was glad when we could leave it behind. The trail was mostly covered in snow, and little pillows of snow separated the sagebrush along the side of the trail. It was easy walking, and while we were glad to have our mittens it was actually a nice temperature for hiking. The hills to our right, which were in the shade for much of the day were still covered in snow, but the hills to our left were completely bare. Growth is sparse, and it looks a bit like the desert already. 



To our right the little creek tumbled towards the valley, warm enough for moss and algae to flourish. The higher we climbed the warmer the water became, and on the last steep stretch of the way steam was rising into the cold morning air, and the green from the plants along its banks and on rocks in its path was luxuriant. The scent of cedars, douglas firs, pines and junipers filled the air – such a wonderful sensation after the scentless winter months! 


When we arrived at the top it was still cold, the ground still frozen. The water, however, had the perfect temperature, not too hot and not too cold, and for the next hour and a half we enjoyed it. Only one other couple was there, and their dogs. It was wonderful to sit in the warm, clear water, steam rising into the deep blue sky, taking in the magnificent view: the V-shaped valley with its dark sides opening up to the snow-clad mountains beyond, the ridges of the hills like ancient beings stretched out alongside each other. I couldn't help but wonder who had discovered these springs. How many thousands of years ago did people come here to soak in the hot water on days even colder than this, relishing the chance to warm up? I wouldn't be surprised if this place also had a strong spiritual connotation, the way it sits high on the hill.


The couple from Montana who shared the pool with us were real hot spring addicts, and we got a few suggestions where else to go. Like us, they enjoyed the hike-in ones which tend to be less crowded, though there is no guarantee, of course: Goldbug, too, is much frequented by college students on weekends and during spring break. We were lucky this time, probably since it was the beginning of the week and we were so early. We were almost ready to leave when three girls moved in with a radio blaring pop music, chips and cigarettes. The decision to leave the warm water was not so difficult to make now. The sun had moved around, too, warming the rock with our clothes. The ground was no longer frozen, and once we were dressed we had our picnic lunch above the pools, still enjoying the view. 


On the way down the snow had softened, was even mushy in spots. The little creek murmured beside us, sometimes louder, sometimes no more than a whisper when the trail moved a bit further away from it. Juncos were fluttering in the branches of the big poplar trees at the bottom – more harbingers of spring. We had no trouble walking on the trail, but for the switchbacks at the end we put on the crampons again because the sun hadn't reached there yet and it was still very slippery. What a glorious morning it had been!

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