on the last day of winter, my best friend drove the hour and 1/2 from chico to meet me at my folk's house, outside of redding. we made the only food we had: fried egg and soy sausage sandwiches, grabbed towels, water, the dog, and fleed from my mother's words at my back, "call if you're going to be too late...".
the mountains in front of us on highway 299 east were heavily dusted with snow, and the river on our right was going strong. but the roads were clear, having recently been plowed, and despite the forecast for overcast skies, it was sunny sunny sunny. we stopped at the gas station in round mountain. "where you gals headed today?"
the hotsprings, in big bend.
"oh yeah, seems like everyone's going there this weekend. buncha folks were headed up there last night to party."
amy and i looked at each other. greeeaaaat.
but we didn't care. our experiences at this secret spot (not so secret anymore since it was recently well published in a book) have never failed us, but have always, always delivered exactly what we need. as the glass door of the gas station store swung closed behind us, i said, lets move here, and amy replied let's do it baby...i ain't got no money honey, but i'll work real hard .
a 1/2 hour later, we parked at the bridge like we always do, and began the 10 minute walk in. leo paced the back of the truck until i lowered the gate, when he sprung out like a grasshopper and made a beeline for the field. we followed behind, and stepped through a hole in the fence. the rancher hasn't gotten round to making access difficult this early in the season. the horses in the pasture were loose, but paid us no attention, which was unusual. guess they haven't gotten round to gearing up for the season either. leo galloped ahead of us, frisky and so so happy to be out of the city. until he got caught in a very thick blackberry bramble and thrashed around...leo! stop. i'll help you. thick fur tangled in thorns...i thought of a city girl in high heels twisting her ankle on a dirt road...
our usual path down to the river was still dressed up like a creek, outfitted with snowey runoff, so we took an alternate route. we walked across the flat, sandy, miniature cliff overlooking the water, and i gained sight of the springs. amy! look! do you see that!. startled, she looked around...what? ...
there's no-one here. and we did a little victory dance.
leo refused to cross the small creek that meets the river, which is necessary to get to the shore where the small stone pools are. for a while we shouted helpful suggestions..."no...don't cross there! go behind you, where it's more shallow! yes! that's right, right there, where you're looking. no...no i'm not going to come get you. it's not that deep. good! good boy! no! no...don't sit down...oh...fine, stay there." and he did, for the next hour and a 1/2.
our favorite pool is actually further down the river, but in winter it's far too cold. sometimes the first pools are too hot, or dirty, or occupied, but this time they were goldilocks juuuussst right. as our chit chat died away and the spirit of the place took over, i felt the ice pack over my heart, my body, my soul begin to crack into pieces. i leaned my chin on the edge of the pool, and let my legs float out behind me. as i looked down river i felt relief spread into my limbs, released from the agitation in my chest, and thought that's right. this is what normal feels like. i thought of everything i have learned from this land, the air and water and stones unfolding their secret pages, revealing cellular memory. how much am i forgetting by living my life landlocked in cement and free from the life-generating chaos of wilderness?
still standing guard on the opposite side of the river, leo suddenly jumped up and walked back up to the sandy stretch. i saw a male figure emerge. i smiled at amy it's doug.
doug is a local big bend-ian, has been for several years, altho he used to be in berkeley. i met him at the springs a little over a year ago, and we immediately bonded over our fierce love and protective sensibility that we have for the area. he works at some other hotsprings up the road from my spot, where you have to pay to get in, and he always gives me the local update when we see each other. he's also keeping his eye out for property deals for me.
i haven't seen you since last summer. you're stil in san francisco, yeah? you been up here this winter at all?
i have to stop to think and am surprised when i say no. where have i been? what have i been doing?
yeah well, springs been good this winter. different part of the tub wall broke out in january, the river got so high. fixed it tho. i haven't been out much. i was snowed in two days last week. went down to vallejo to take a friend to the doctor last month. it was really crazy...i just couldn't handle it. too chaotic. too much stimulus. you get used to it up here you know...it's slow.
i looked out over the water. i let the cracks in my personal ice open deeper. this is what normal feels like. this river. the sound of this river. this smell. this smell on my skin. suddenly inhabiting my body again, descending down from the frantic urban jungle of my mind, memories came rushing back, filling up the dry creek beds in my body, filling them up with the strength of who i am. i drag everyone i love up to see these hotsprings, because it's here where i really resonate, and it's here where i know i will see their secret selves. this is normal. this is what normal feels like.
suddenly a fuzzy head appeared above the pools....leo! you did it! good boy! you missed the sandwiches though. he spent the next 2 hours precariously rearranging himself in the most uncomfortable spots he could find.
"how are the other hotsprings, doug?"
"oh, they're ok you know. those folks that threw that party there last summer, when i last saw you, they're not coming back again." yeah, i heard the owner really wanted them back but the locals complained? doug gave a small smile, "well, that's what he told them anyway. man...that thing was over the top. the music was so loud and so non-stop. i didn't see the hawks that have their nest near the pool for at least a week after that party."
he shrugged, "i don't worry about those springs much. i heard that when the local natives were forced off the land, they put a curse on those hot springs so they could never be developed, and would always be protected. seems to be working so far."
the local news taken care of, we settled back into silence, letting the magic take hold again. after a while, amy and i took turns asking each other the same two questions, over and over,
"What kind of love do you long for?"
"And what would that really give you?"
each reply bringing us closer and closer to the truth, spiraling down, until, at the end of our individual turns, we would melt into laughter. at the absurdity of thinking that we didn't already have that love. at how ridiculous that we might need to look further than ourselves, each other, this amazing land. collapsing into giggles, we sang the hymn of the melting snow and sailed away into our hearts on our own private rickety boat.
pictures sent to me by amy
happy spring.
best friend of 17 years
...ha! let it be known to all that i am a complete dork
cold leo with a pointy rock in his side
alter your perspective
i sprout antlers when i hit the wilderness
the mountains in front of us on highway 299 east were heavily dusted with snow, and the river on our right was going strong. but the roads were clear, having recently been plowed, and despite the forecast for overcast skies, it was sunny sunny sunny. we stopped at the gas station in round mountain. "where you gals headed today?"
the hotsprings, in big bend.
"oh yeah, seems like everyone's going there this weekend. buncha folks were headed up there last night to party."
amy and i looked at each other. greeeaaaat.
but we didn't care. our experiences at this secret spot (not so secret anymore since it was recently well published in a book) have never failed us, but have always, always delivered exactly what we need. as the glass door of the gas station store swung closed behind us, i said, lets move here, and amy replied let's do it baby...i ain't got no money honey, but i'll work real hard .
a 1/2 hour later, we parked at the bridge like we always do, and began the 10 minute walk in. leo paced the back of the truck until i lowered the gate, when he sprung out like a grasshopper and made a beeline for the field. we followed behind, and stepped through a hole in the fence. the rancher hasn't gotten round to making access difficult this early in the season. the horses in the pasture were loose, but paid us no attention, which was unusual. guess they haven't gotten round to gearing up for the season either. leo galloped ahead of us, frisky and so so happy to be out of the city. until he got caught in a very thick blackberry bramble and thrashed around...leo! stop. i'll help you. thick fur tangled in thorns...i thought of a city girl in high heels twisting her ankle on a dirt road...
our usual path down to the river was still dressed up like a creek, outfitted with snowey runoff, so we took an alternate route. we walked across the flat, sandy, miniature cliff overlooking the water, and i gained sight of the springs. amy! look! do you see that!. startled, she looked around...what? ...
there's no-one here. and we did a little victory dance.
leo refused to cross the small creek that meets the river, which is necessary to get to the shore where the small stone pools are. for a while we shouted helpful suggestions..."no...don't cross there! go behind you, where it's more shallow! yes! that's right, right there, where you're looking. no...no i'm not going to come get you. it's not that deep. good! good boy! no! no...don't sit down...oh...fine, stay there." and he did, for the next hour and a 1/2.
our favorite pool is actually further down the river, but in winter it's far too cold. sometimes the first pools are too hot, or dirty, or occupied, but this time they were goldilocks juuuussst right. as our chit chat died away and the spirit of the place took over, i felt the ice pack over my heart, my body, my soul begin to crack into pieces. i leaned my chin on the edge of the pool, and let my legs float out behind me. as i looked down river i felt relief spread into my limbs, released from the agitation in my chest, and thought that's right. this is what normal feels like. i thought of everything i have learned from this land, the air and water and stones unfolding their secret pages, revealing cellular memory. how much am i forgetting by living my life landlocked in cement and free from the life-generating chaos of wilderness?
still standing guard on the opposite side of the river, leo suddenly jumped up and walked back up to the sandy stretch. i saw a male figure emerge. i smiled at amy it's doug.
doug is a local big bend-ian, has been for several years, altho he used to be in berkeley. i met him at the springs a little over a year ago, and we immediately bonded over our fierce love and protective sensibility that we have for the area. he works at some other hotsprings up the road from my spot, where you have to pay to get in, and he always gives me the local update when we see each other. he's also keeping his eye out for property deals for me.
i haven't seen you since last summer. you're stil in san francisco, yeah? you been up here this winter at all?
i have to stop to think and am surprised when i say no. where have i been? what have i been doing?
yeah well, springs been good this winter. different part of the tub wall broke out in january, the river got so high. fixed it tho. i haven't been out much. i was snowed in two days last week. went down to vallejo to take a friend to the doctor last month. it was really crazy...i just couldn't handle it. too chaotic. too much stimulus. you get used to it up here you know...it's slow.
i looked out over the water. i let the cracks in my personal ice open deeper. this is what normal feels like. this river. the sound of this river. this smell. this smell on my skin. suddenly inhabiting my body again, descending down from the frantic urban jungle of my mind, memories came rushing back, filling up the dry creek beds in my body, filling them up with the strength of who i am. i drag everyone i love up to see these hotsprings, because it's here where i really resonate, and it's here where i know i will see their secret selves. this is normal. this is what normal feels like.
suddenly a fuzzy head appeared above the pools....leo! you did it! good boy! you missed the sandwiches though. he spent the next 2 hours precariously rearranging himself in the most uncomfortable spots he could find.
"how are the other hotsprings, doug?"
"oh, they're ok you know. those folks that threw that party there last summer, when i last saw you, they're not coming back again." yeah, i heard the owner really wanted them back but the locals complained? doug gave a small smile, "well, that's what he told them anyway. man...that thing was over the top. the music was so loud and so non-stop. i didn't see the hawks that have their nest near the pool for at least a week after that party."
he shrugged, "i don't worry about those springs much. i heard that when the local natives were forced off the land, they put a curse on those hot springs so they could never be developed, and would always be protected. seems to be working so far."
the local news taken care of, we settled back into silence, letting the magic take hold again. after a while, amy and i took turns asking each other the same two questions, over and over,
"What kind of love do you long for?"
"And what would that really give you?"
each reply bringing us closer and closer to the truth, spiraling down, until, at the end of our individual turns, we would melt into laughter. at the absurdity of thinking that we didn't already have that love. at how ridiculous that we might need to look further than ourselves, each other, this amazing land. collapsing into giggles, we sang the hymn of the melting snow and sailed away into our hearts on our own private rickety boat.
pictures sent to me by amy
happy spring.
best friend of 17 years
...ha! let it be known to all that i am a complete dork
cold leo with a pointy rock in his side
alter your perspective
i sprout antlers when i hit the wilderness
VIEW 25 of 28 COMMENTS
buttercup:
thank you so much!
soft_shoulder:
ive stolen the photo of your dog with inner thoughts........ for i feel the poochs pain.