Is it even an Alliance weekend if there wasn’t any serious suffering?
To say we compulsively indulge in Type 3 fun would be accurate. As Rocklicker likes to put it, “I’m training for my next vacation.” Or in Semi-Rad’s description of his throw downs, “My best vacation is your worst nightmare.” We like to suffer or it might just be that the best stuff out there isn’t easily accessible and you sure as shit can’t just drive up in your car (the thought of that made me throw up a little in my mouth).
However, sometime in January, every year since Mama Bear and I became a thing, there has been a weekend reserved for her. She gets to pick the place, the activity, the people and even the restaurants. It’s the Befday Bear Weekend and it’s been going on since 2008.
Before we get into all the fun, Gramlife stuff that you are about to be subject to, let’s be honest about a couple of things. Just because I didn’t suffer doesn’t mean that you can drive here. This required 10 +/- miles of trekking through sandy canyons that included scrambling down/over rocks that required handlines all with everything on our backs including our boats. Someone even lost most of the skin on their big toe, but no suffering happened.
Saunas are nice. Caves can go either way. Some hate them, others enjoy the mystery they provide. Combine the two?
The Sauna Cave is a 50-foot tunnel that was cut into the rock wall and ended up tapping into a hot spring. The water pooled at the entrance is warm, but as you make your way to the back of the dark corridor, the water gets cooler and the air gets hotter. Sit down and cool off, stand up and your head will start to boil.
To get to this particular sauna, we paddle upstream, find the entrance and climb in. We never seem to remember to grab a headlamp so our light is from a cell phone and we make our way into its depths until we feel the temperature is to our liking and we soak.
Even for those who don’t love caves, this one is kinda nice.
Seeing that we were now at the top of the canyon, we decided to look for the hot springs we had missed or couldn’t find the last time we all ventured into this canyon.
A little downstream from the canyon we used to access the river, there is a waterfall dropping out of a side canyon. I had stopped last year and the water was warm but we hadn’t done any exploring to see if there was a hotspring or how to get to it.
We drag the boats up on shore and take a few minutes to find the trail that goes up through the native palm trees, over a steep ridge and drops into the top of the waterfall where a pool has been dammed and the water is about knee-deep. It’s warm, but not hot enough for anyone to want to soak.
Knowing that there was hot water somewhere, I head upstream thinking that everyone is following me. About 200 yards up, I come to another small waterfall and at the top is a pool that is perfect albeit a little small. I soak for a few minutes still thinking that the group is coming. No dice. I hop out and head back to find them almost back to the boats.
The sun was starting to set and the food and booze waiting for us back at camp began to beckon. Besides, we had purposefully camped at the mouth of a canyon with high hopes that we could have an evening/morning soak without having to paddle anywhere.
As we glide up to camp, we find Marla perched about 50 feet about the edge of the water watching the sunset. She descends with good news. The hot spring we had failed to find in this canyon a year prior is about as good as they get. It’s a bit of a trek, but more than worth it.
Mama Bear and I grab a beer each and start walking following her through the slot canyon. Had we paid a bit more attention to her description, we probably wouldn’t have opened said beers for the hike, but passing open cans up handlines while climbing waterfalls made it just that much more interesting.
After a 15-minuteish walk, we see the sandbags and the 3-foot deep pool dammed behind them. The water is the perfect temperature. 108 at the hot end and 3-5 degrees cooler on the other side (yes, I had a thermometer with me. I happen to have one on my wrist at almost all times.).
The rest of the crew starts showing up and the pool is big enough for everyone.
It’s perfect.
The sun starts to fade, our skin is beyond wrinkled and everyone is content. We retreat back to our campsite snagging wood along the way.
The cool night air begins to sneak into camp as the last rays of sunshine are extinguished by the tall canyon walls. We eat dinner, enjoy some adult recovery drinks and sit around the fire discussing the things that you do when drinking adult beverages around a fire. I’m pretty sure we solved the world’s problems and possibly made a plan to live at this spot if we ever needed to.
The melatonin takes effect, the fire dies down and we find our way to the safety of our down cacoons.
There were plans made to get up before the sun, hike back to the pool and make coffee there. It seemed like a good idea, but when the morning came I couldn’t remember why. I hear the Planner ready his stuff and walk past. No one else stirs.
The sun comes up. We eat some breakfast, do morning things and then head up the canyon for another soak. I mean, this is why we are here.
We pack up our gear, stuff it into our boats and paddle toward our takeout.
Without much hurry, we glide along the flat water enjoying the soft light the morning is still providing. The beach where we will exit almost comes too quickly and we find ourselves deflating our boats and switching to bipedal mode. The canyon we use to exit has the possibility of hot springs, but at this point the group is more or less content with the soaking we have had.
The hike out doesn’t take long. We find ourselves at Casazen Mobile and beers are quickly in our hands. Some of us stretch, some of us groan, but all of us agree, it was a damn fine weekend even without the suffering.
P. L. and R.
