Don’t Embarrass Yourself in Front of the Cool Teens
This one starts with snow in the weather report. For those of you who are not familiar with Utah’s snow forecasts, the weather man likes to drastically overestimate how much snow we will get. Often you’ll hear 8 - 12 inches in the forecast, and we’ll receive a measly 2 inches. On this cold February day we were forecasted to receive 2 inches in the mountains – this could mean we’d barely hit half an inch in the valley. Rather surprisingly, it snowed all day long and we hit about 9 inches in the mountains. For a snowboarding regular, this is the kind of incorrectness I appreciate from the weather man.
This snowy, winter day brought on a desire to play in the snow. After getting multiple notifications from every ski resort that their parking lots were full thirty minutes after opening, I needed to find an alternative activity from snowboarding. I thought to myself, “I have never been to a hot spring before and they look nice in the winter.'“ To Google I went and found a list of hot springs around Utah. I came across Fifth Water Hot Springs. It was a two and a half mile hike into Spanish Fork canyon, in a snow storm. Worth it. I packed my car with hard cider, beef jerky, granola bars, an orange, and a fully loaded camel back. I plugged the trail head into my GPS and off I drove for the next hour and a half. I passed the time with dance parties, road rage, and the sound of my horrendous singing. I peeled an orange into my lap as I casually drove through white out on the freeway until I finally come across my turn off with a sign saying, “rough road” ahead. I, determined to make the most of my day, continued on in the MINI. I drove for about a quarter mile, where I came across a gate and a sign that said, “ROAD CLOSED”. I half expected this with it being winter time, a lot of “backcountry” Utah roads are closed in the off season.
So I opened Google Maps to see how far away I was from the trail head.
11 miles.
I was 11 miles from the hot spring trail head. Determined to not give up, my ridiculous ass wanted to see how long it would take to get there. 4 hours and 35 mins is what Google Maps had claimed. It was already 1 in the afternoon. I wasn’t ready to hike four and a half hours to get to a trail, so that I could hike another hour and a half to get to some hot springs. I felt defeated and unmotivated. At this point, my day was ruined. I thought, there HAS to be another way. So I opened Google Maps again, and zoomed, scrolled, and explored other options. To my luck, I found a second trail head, 25 minutes away. I plugged the address in and went on my way. To my surprise, I came across another “ROAD CLOSED” gate and sign. This time it was only one mile from the hot springs. I dawned my gloves, wind breaker, green hipster beanie, and passed the threshold of this treacherous gate. I hiked for about a mile along a windy, snow covered road until I came upon a set of restrooms, and a trail head that said “Fifth Water Hot Springs” in bold letters.
Thankful that I had finally come across this mildly hilarious sign, I snapped a picture and carried on my quest to some hot springs. I was hiking in Vans® “running” shoes so I was somewhat equipped for hiking, but definitely not snow hiking. I made my way, trudging over hills and zig zagging through trees. A very steep section of the trail laid ahead, for which some rather young teenagers were struggling to get passed. they too were wearing Vans®, but these were your typical, skater style shoes that had virtually no grip in the ice and snow. I watched patiently as all of them whimsically slid down the ice and eventually crawled on their hands and knees to reach the peak of the small hill in which we were all destined to climb. It took everything I had to hold in my laughter, but now it was my turn. I began my climb, and with my limited knowledge of snow, knew that if you walked in the fresh powder that you would have better traction than the sheet of ice.
”damn, this guy knows what he’s doing, he’s a G.”
Exclaimed one of the teenagers, as I gently walked up the hill, all while thinking,
”Don’t embarrass yourself in front of the cool teenagers!”
To my surprise, I made it up the slippery hill without sliding and passed the teens. It was at this point where I thought, maybe if I had some Crocks®, could I put them in “four wheel drive” and have better luck in this slippery disaster. My journey to the hot springs continued with a few more obstacles ahead. I followed a river that eventually changed color to a milky teal, and wisps of steam rose from the surface. I was getting closer. This is where I came across a bridge that had graffiti saying,
”Clothing optional at springs, nudity is natural.”
Now, I strongly agree with this statement, but I couldn’t help but think that a lowly teen wrote this in hopes of catching a nip slip at some steamy pools in the Utah wilderness. Across the bridge I went with a chuckle in my head as the water increased in milkiness and the smell of eggs became increasingly more present.
A split in the trail presented itself. History, and movies told me that the high road was the more dangerous route, so, like every other mildly intelligent person, I took the low path.
Oof.
I came across three girls, one had slowly crawled across an incredibly narrow portion of the trail. Another, had crawled and paused in the middle of a cliff laden section. The third, rockin the Crocks in four wheel drive, slowly crawled up the icy hill and slid down a 20 foot cliff.
I am not good in dire situations like this.
My mind went blank and all I could see was an innocent girl, panicking, with no way out, on the verge of a breakdown. Masculine urges set in and I took off my camel back, and looked around for the best solution to get this poor girl unstuck. A visible trail laid hidden in the snow, almost as though many others had slid down this cliff in the past and climbed their way out. I quickly pointed out the path and lended a hand to this severely unprepared, girl. She was able to easily climb the side of the cliff and immediately told her friends she was done. I honestly can’t imagine why she thought it was a good idea to hike 3 miles in the snow… in Crocks. I guess it wasn’t a good idea after all. They sadly but understandable decided to turn around together and headed back to their car. I, still dedicated to my mission of having a cold cider in a winter hot spring, continued on my way, wishing them safety and luck. This time I took the high road (pun intended). I came across a couple – the man with incredible joy in his eyes happily slid down a natural ice slide – and I asked them how much further the springs were. This is one of the strange things about hiking culture. We all know going down is so much faster than going up. You come across a dilemma of either telling people the amount of time it took you to get there, or the rough milage. All estimates are fruitless at the end of the day, and it’s best to keep one foot in front of the other until you get to your destination.
”You’re about point four miles from the springs.” the man giggled.
A new found motivation came over me and I high tailed it down the trail. The closer I got the more I caught the whiff of sulphur. This is where I thought to myself,
”Is a hot spring the only place you can fart in a large group of people without anyone noticing?” I’ll leave that up to you to decide.
At any rate, I eventually came across the steaming hot springs. I found a secluded pool and undressed to some rather short swim trunks that I had purchased the year previous. I popped the tab on a surprisingly cold marionberry hard cider from Incline Cider Company® and stepped into the 115° hot spring for which the following illustration is inspired by.
This is one of the many times where I take the time to appreciate the little things in life. Here I am, sitting in a hot spring with snow slowly falling from the sky, delicious beverage in hand, surrounded by the stillness of a Utah forest, far away from the corruption of city life and crowded ski lifts. I felt at peace.
After I had my moment, it was time for me to make my way back down the mountain. I dried myself off and put my hiking clothes back on. In my infinite wisdom, I thought this snow/ice covered trail would be a great place to train for a half marathon with some casual trail running. Vans® and snow do not work well together… I slipped and fell my way down the mountain. And, though a lot of laughs came out of it, so did a lot of bruises and scratches.
Remember those natural ice slides I mentioned earlier? I was now able to take advantage of those like a much needed playground for adults and angsty teens. I sat down and slid my way down the mountain, a joyous cackle echoed the forest with every slide. Eventually I made my way back to the MINI and drove home.
In the words of Incline Cider Co® this is your sign to, “Grab a cold one and get outside!
