Journalist By Nature: Taking the Waters at St. Martin's

Details

Not every adventure is in the woods or on the road or has a destination as its goal. It can be the little details that make the journey interesting and the unexpected that make it memorable. Such was the hike to Trapper Creek Wilderness, a network of trails out of Carson, Washington in the Gifford Pinchot National Forest. With many trails to choose from, we decided to follow the lower trail along Trapper Creek this time. It is a trail with no particular destination or view but a very pleasant march through stands of second growth evergreens mingling with remnants of an earlier era of logging. On this low traffic trail we met only one other hiker and her dog so we were free to walk quietly on the needle-padded trail and take in the smell of cool fresh air, clean from a recent downpour and lightly scented with a whiff of sweet cedar.

There was little undergrowth to carpet the forest floor so downed logs

False Solomon's seal berries

sprouting new seedlings, fan-shaped ferns and various mosses were the visual interest. Bunchberry plants looking like upside down parasols offered their green covering in places and the occasional tiarella or foamflower daintily held tiny white flower stalks high above its pale green leaves. A false Solomon's seal sporting a huge bunch of bright red berries and the plentiful Oregon grape with its deep blue berries were the seasonal colors of this hike. Inky blue-black salal berries were drying in place, overlooked by the creatures of this place.

Wispy moss

The bark of the various evergreens and deciduous trees was
intriguing as each has a unique texture and form, Douglas firs with their gnarly bark and soldier-straight trunks, cedar with its shaggy bark, alder splotched grey and white and hemlock twisting in place, boughs sweeping downward in wing-like form. A collection of different mosses coated the lower trunk of a centenarian fir, giving a Rip Van Winkle-like appearance of bearded age to this elder. Splitting the party, some hikers lunched at fallen logs with time to inspect our surroundings in greater detail and engage in lengthy conversation while others forged ahead in search of a previous hike's distant signage, taking it as a mark of accomplishment for the day. Sighing breezes passing through the timber's arms high overhead, twitting and calling birds racing through the maze of branches and sounds of woodsy things falling gently to the earth set the scene for contemplative thoughts while we waited for our exploring companions to return.

Refreshed from our time in the quiet forest we headed for the reward of this excursion: Carson Hot Springs mineral baths and public soaking pools to take the waters. Discovered in 1876 by Isadore St. Martin while on a hunting expedition and subsequently used by his ailing wife to relieve her neuralgia pain, this became one of several hot springs developed for commercial use in the Columbia River Gorge. Touring the oldest of the facilities was like stepping back in time: rows of cast iron bathtubs encircled with privacy curtains and a room of iron frame beds where patrons lay in towel-wrapped repose, succumbing completely to the pleasures of a hot mineral soak followed by a deep tissue massage.

We, on the other hand and due to time constraints, chose to don bathing suits and slip into the 104 degree modern pool where surrounding picture windows channeled the late afternoon sunlight into the blue-tiled tank vaguely reminiscent of the elaborately decorated Hearst Castle indoor pool. Relinquishing ourselves to the heat of the soak, conversation gradually fell away as we each found a pool jet to soothe individual aches.

A smaller pool adjoining the hot one supplied 65 degree water for a bracing, breath-stealing plunge to the brave. Thankful for the shallow steps, I first planted my soles in two inches of what felt like icy water. Gripping the hand rail I continued descending into the chill, considering backing out by mentally arguing with myself along the lines of "what are you doing here?" and "you won't know what you missed if you don't try it". Having rolled in a snow bank right outside a sauna in my earlier years of adventure I knew this would be momentarily unpleasant yet not necessarily fatal. I boldly clenched the hand rail as I would a life preserver tossed to a drowning swimmer and purposed to submerge completely.

That first moment or two or three of sudden temperature change did indeed cause me to gasp and suspend my breathing. Gulping air I continued to hold myself in the frigid water, noticing a slight acclimation beginning to occur as more regular breathing returned. Releasing the handrail I floated freely albeit somewhat stiffly until a pleasantness began to wash over me. Enlivened out of my hot spring stupor I began to thoroughly enjoy this chilling experience. It could be a delightful daily occurrence were the facilities in my backyard. Seeing my friends begin to gradually leave the hot pool I lingered as long as was socially acceptable and reluctantly departed to dress for the next stop on our agenda.

Hiking and soaking and plunging naturally heighten the appetite so we headed for the local Backwoods Brewery and pizza pub to fortify ourselves for the rush hour traffic-cross town drive home. Deliciously amazing and creative would be the first descriptive words about this restaurant's salads, pizzas and sandwiches. Set behind a storefront near the rim of the Gorge and amid the golden and red autumn leaves of ash and maples, an upward rolling garage door opens to allow inside or outside dining. Merry fresh-faced servers happily supply menu information and speedy service to hungry patrons. What better way to cap a day in the woods and hot tubs than to enjoy freshly made food with the locals. It was a fitting ending to a journey through ancient woods and a hundred year old health establishment to a modern eatery, all in a shared experience with friends. Make a date with Carson Hot Springs and see what taking the waters can do for you!