Hot Springs



Not looking forward to this



I really do loathe the cold.

I feel like that has to be a disclaimer to really appreciate how lovely it was to trek up to the Goldmyer Hot Springs yesterday.  I pretty much live in constant fear of potential cold and do my darnedest to prevent any from affecting my little body, so getting me out the door in the first place was a bit of a sell.

Once we got going, though, I realized that 1)  the trail riding form of mountain biking is WAY more fun and way LESS terrifying than downhill, slick-rock, and big jump mountain biking 2) there's a great sound I never knew of a bike tire slicing through the frozen layer on top of mud puddles, and 3) it is possible to continue on even as frostbite seems to be setting in to fingers and toes.



I've Arrived!



Four miles up a not too steep incline, the snow had gone from patchy to present and a little crispy on top.  We parked our bikes, checked in with the couple WHOSE JOB IT IS to man the electricity and real world access-free cabin at the Springs.  Lucky me, there was only one nakie in the hot springs (oh what, didn't I tell you it was clothing optional?) and I'm rill good at averting my eyes when man parts are sloshing about.

Goldmyer has three levels of hot pouring from the springs.  Super duper hot in the cave; hot tub hot just outside, bathtub hot just below.  I dabbled in hot tub, luxuriated in the cave.  Bathtub in the wilderness in the middle of November is a bad idea I would never consider.



On our way out, toasty on the inside and full on roast pork and PB&J Luna Bars (Porter knows how to pack a lunch), we passed a group of 12 backpackers headed up to the springs.  I'm just hoping they weren't thinking clothing optional. 



"12 naked backpackers in an enclosed bath tub!"



You win this time, Bratten.