The Out of Doors: Hot Springs

I was raised in the dry and desolate Treasure Valley, which hugs the Snake River, in the area where that twisted waterway forms Oregon's easternmost nipple. At first glance the land appears to have little to offer outside of farming. Scattered small towns exist under the scented clouds of local food processing plants- onions and potatoes from Dickinson Frozen Foods in Payette and Heinz in Ontario, sugar beets from the Amalgamated Sugar plant in Nyssa, and hot chicken shit which fertilizes mushrooms and perfumes the morning air in Vale.

The population of towns on the western side of the Snake haven't budged in decades. Land use laws and property taxes have played a part in my hometown's demise, but the absence of a sales tax in Oregon keeps the consumers rolling in to Wal-Mart and Home Depot during daylight hours. The towns out there dot the map like moles on a newborn baby's back. Too small and scattered to concern yourself with.

The endless expanses between towns don't offer much at first glimpse either. Commonly, commuters driving eastward from the coast comment on how the beauty of Oregon stops just past Bend. This is precisely the way local residents prefer they think. True eastern Oregonians understand that the sparsely populated, forgotten land is an outdoorsman's paradise.

Canadian honkers rest just off the side of the highway. Flocks of hundreds hunkered down for a short break from their thousand mile journey. Off in the distance white chested pronghorn blend in with livestock amongst the jade colored sagebrush desert. Elk and mule deer roam the same juniper laced hills as fleet footed quail and chuckar partridges. Gray-brown ground squirrels and coyotes are difficult to spot against the dusty habitat, and yet so are mallard ducks and rooster pheasants, despite their flamboyant plumage.

I would like to consider myself an outdoorsman, but in good faith, I cannot. "Nature Lover" would be a more accurate label, but even this self-realization came later in life than it should have, given the circumstances of my upbringing.

My dad is and always has been an avid hunter and fisherman. His dad, my grandfather, is the same way. Given their druthers, these men would spend the bulk of their days out of doors scaring up ducks or casting for crappie.

Of course, they brought my brother and me along with them on numerous excursions, but I never really had the passion for it. I was involved in sports in high school, so that took away my Saturdays, but on Sundays I was more content to skip the cold hikes in favor of NFL on TV and a warm Hot Pocket (little has changed in 15 or so years, just add beer to that equation). Plus, I was a terrible shot and the fish seemed to stop biting when I was around.

In college, my dorm was filled with young men from large cities: Phoenix, Los Angeles, San Francisco. The fraternity I joined was ninety percent Portlander. I became the resident redneck. I was expected to tell tales of my life as a yokel on the farm and, having none, I made them up. For the first time, I felt how big the world was (and I hadn't even traveled outside of the country yet!) and how insignificant me and my hometown were.

Luckily, I was hired on as a seasonal wildland firefighter for the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) in Malheur County during the summer after my Freshman year at U of O. My love and appreciation for the outdoors came from that experience.

Some of my best memories from my time with the BLM were when we weren't on a fire. We fished for trout in the deep Owyhee River canyon just outside of tiny Rome, hunted for jack rabbits with spotlights, and even trekked to desolate natural hot springs- one in Juntura that was easy to find, one somewhere around Burns Junction that we didn't find, and one off the side of the road that we wish we hadn't found. Snively is the natural hot springs I refer to in the latter. It is a popular spot on the way to Owyhee Reservoir, well marked and easy to find. The problem was that we drove up at the same time as the springs was being occupied by a few naked hippies- which might not have been so bad if they weren't actual hippies from the 1960s.

I had Snively in mind when Sami suggested we visit a hot springs during our vacation in McCall, Idaho.  The two of us, along with my brother Steve and his fiancee Maryanne drove north to New Meadows and Zim's Hotsprings.

 

Inside had on old-fashioned pool hall feel. Maybe I am just saying that because there is a pool table.

We were proud of ourselves for finding the turnoff and wondered how a place could stay in business in such a remote area. Inside the place had an air of old western saloon/arcade. The country art, carved and painted plaques of cowboy wisdom and decades-old vending machines inside charmed me. This smoky, single floor space with its low ceilings, was something completely unlike what I had experienced during the past year in Korea.

I mean, even the bench area outside, the rustic wood columns, skull and antlers on the wall. Classic Americana.

Outside there were two large pools. This confused me immensely as I had naively assumed that all hot springs were set out in the country amongst the rocks.

The water was brought in from a natural source. There were two pools and-this being the middle of the week- a few simple, local families. The big pool (the colder one at 93 degrees) had a basketball hoop on the shallow end. I asked Steve to throw me a few alley-oops, but couldn't jump high enough out of the water for anything other than a Shaquille O'Neal two handed throwdown.

A little dirty and beaten up. The pool doesn't look so hot either. Hiyo!

There is that hoop I dunked on.

If I hadn't come from a year overseas, I might say that it was too far out of the way, too dirty and too expensive ($7 a person). However, my traveling experiences have taught me to look at everything with new eyes and soak it in. We soaked it in until our feet were wrinkled and I loved it.

A few days later, we went to Gold Fork Hot Springs near Donnely with Sami's family. This hot springs is very well taken care of- the woman at the desk even inspected our sunscreen to ensure it didn't contain any disallowed oils.

Gold Fork Hot Springs

I don't think the parents liked me taking pictures of their half naked kids. Sorry! Gotta blog!

Sami's family

 There were six square pools carved into the side of a granite hill. As you descend each pool's temperature falls. Gold Fork is a truly tremendous facility and, as evidenced by the litany of high-income families present, quite popular. I absolutely recommend it if you are ever in McCall. However, as time passes, I find myself thinking more of Zim's, its hidden charms and uniquely American ambiance.

Much like the countryside I grew up around, sometimes you have to look a little closer into a place to discover its beauty.