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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