VERONICA KUFFEL

Departure Log 5:

Bathtub Hot Springs – Monroe, UT

OCTOBER 31-NOVEMBER 1, 2022

“Like a Rolling Stone” – Bob Dylan, 1965

Leave it to me to climb the more difficult trails on my route. Delicate Arch was well worth it, but… complicated. Beautiful things can be hard to reach sometimes, but I guess that’s part of it.

Shortly after Delicate Arch, I drove into town and ate lunch at Moab’s infamous Food Truck Park. I always crave noodles after long hikes, so I treated myself to a birthday bowl of lo mein with LOTS of siracha.

I spent another hour exploring downtown before packing up for the road. My next stop? Mystic Hot Springs in Monroe, UT.

I’ve been in hot tubs and the occasional warm bath. But hot springs? No experience-always heard good things, though. And the one in Monroe isn’t any old hot springs. In 1995, this guy Mike Ginsburg was heading back from a Grateful Dead Show in Vegas when he stumbled upon the resort. He fell in love and bought the place, turning it into a hippie/roadie wonderland.

He brought in white porcelain tubs and connected them to the springs with hoses. The calcification built them into the red stone of the area and gives them that signature Utah touch. Their campground is equipped with converted vehicle cabins of varying models–from buses to buggies. All is delightfully iced with an outdoor community area, equipped with free food for travelers.

I reserved a simple campsite for Walie and got there before dark. I made dinner with my headlamp–just the usual rice, chicken and vegetables. My rice bubbled quietly in the cool mountain air, but it wasn’t enough to mask the footsteps behind me. I turned and my lamp flashed upon a grey-striped cat, curled up in a bun and watching me cook.

I named them Sam, a neutral way to avoid misgendering my new friend. I threw Same some chicken every now and then and he ate gratefully. It was nice to share a meal together, a sweet moment in a new and strange place.

I cleaned up and hopped into my car for the night, my feline friend lapping at the chicken-rice water I dumped. I played Minecraft with Reilly for the rest of the night. I knew Sam was watching over the van–most likely looking for more scraps–but it made me feel protected.

I woke with a calm heart and a content mind. While I do love finessing the system with these BLM areas and free campsites, it was nice to rent a home for a night.

I sorted my van before my few hours at the hot springs. In the summer, the site is packed with people flocking to their music festivals and events. Luckily for me, no one seems to come here in early winter. So there I was–basking in the tubs and large spaces of Mystic Hot Springs entirely alone.

There is nothing like laying in warm water, guzzling down from a wall of iron deposits, and basking in the glow of snowcapped mountains. It was the perfect time in the year; only the mountains have snow, there’s still leaves on the trees and the grass is fading green.

What a wonderful gift. I awarded myself with a chocolate bar after for being so thoughtful.

I took a shower in their hippie-dippy bathroom and ate my usual sandwich in the common area. I made myself some toast with raspberry jam from the free food and watched the van cabins creak in the wind. The sun warmed the van quickly and I laid my clothes on the dash to dry while I drove.

I rolled into Zion National Park a few hours later almost in tears. During Covid, I planned a summer trip to the park that never quite worked out. I fell in love with it and had dreamed about my next opportunity to experience it.

After grabbing a few postcards from the gift shop, I talked to the guide a bit about the best trails and if the infamous Angels Landing was open. The bad news: since a few months ago, the trail became reservation only. The good news: I entered the Next Day Lottery and got in later that night.

In the meantime, I took the hour or so before sundown to walk through Pa’rus Trail. The ranger at the desk told me it translated to bubbling trail, but I couldn’t remember what language. It was a beautiful intro to the mountainscape of Zion and the river that flows through it.

But that’s definitely an understatement. The trail is the most accessible in Zion–it’s paved and merely follows the river a ways out from the visitor’s center. Even so, my walk felt like entering a portal to somewhere other. Not Wisconsin, or Minnesota, or Utah or even Earth itself.

The mountains are unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It didn’t equate to America, or the America I knew before the trip. Sure, in large social circles, parks like Zion are bragged about as a great part of the American experience. But being there among the great formations feels like an escape from the country I grew up knowing.

All of it just seems so vast and too beautiful to be a part of modern America. It makes me excited but also scared for its future. Does it fit into the building scheme of future America? From my reflection, I don’t think it does, and I don’t think it’ll fare well in the next few decades.

Still, like Angels Landing, maybe it’ll become less accessible to the public, something you have to work hard to get to see. Beautiful things can be hard to reach sometimes, but I think that’s what keeps them beautiful. It’s part of it.

I watched the river on my walk back to the car. The water was clear and a bright shade of aqua mingled with red from the sand below it. It rushed softly and echoed through the canyons around us.

I parked Walie for the night on Kolob Terrace Road, which I later discovered was a historic site in itself. Dotting the red dust and rolling hills with my fellow travelers, I settled in a VMX track site. All in all, I was just grateful to not camp at a Walmart–comparatively, the views are better.

Outside’s Spotify podcast echoed a story of the ski bum life as I boiled water for a bagged camp meal. I complimented the night with a quick read from Classic Krakauer before nuzzling into my heated blanket.

I received the good news of Angels Landing around dinner time and set out my clothes and a schedule. The next morning would welcome another difficult trail, but hey, it’s all part of it–the beauty.