I make a short visit to a favorite hot spring and meet up with a friend.

Note: I started this post back in March and just finished it today. My blog has been having permalink issues that made it difficult to keep it up to date. I think the problems are mostly resolved; I hope to catch up a bit and share a bunch of new content.

One of my favorite snowbirding destinations is a hot springs right off I-8 near Holtville, CA. On BLM land and maintained by the government, it’s a pair of concrete tubs beside a palm-lined pond that are all fed from a tapped natural hot spring. Although I’ve always known this place as Holtville Hot Spring, some nasty asshole has apparently renamed it on Google Maps as “Old Fogey Hot Springs,” apparently referencing the fact that most people at the spring are retirees camped out in the long term camping area across the street.

I was supposed to meet my friend Janet, who was showing and selling her artwork at a weekend show in Casa Grande, AZ, on Monday. We’d planned to do some hiking out at Borrego Springs, CA before she attended an art show there. (Sadly, although I applied I didn’t get in; too much jewelry already.) Since Casa Grande is on I-8 and the hot spring is on the way to Borrego Springs, it made sense to meet up there. I figured I’d get there a day early to enjoy the hot spring a few times before Janet arrived.

So that’s where I headed after leaving .

The Drive

I stopped in Blythe (or Blight, as we often call it) for groceries on the way, then let Google Maps guide me along mostly back roads south and west. I drove through mile after mile of farmland before leaving that behind and entering unirrigated desert with sparse vegetation and many hills.

There was little traffic going in my direction on the way — at least for a while. There were many RVs — mostly toy haulers passing me going north. That all changed when I approached Glamis.

is the site of an enormous sand dunes area that stretches northwest to southeast from Tortuga, CA to over the U.S. border with Mexico at Los Algodones. The road I was on, state route 78, cut right across it at Glamis. That’s where all the toy haulers were coming from. Glamis is a playground for dune buggies, sand rails, and other four-wheel-drive vehicles. From that point on, I was driving with departing off-roaders, who were calling it quits early on a Sunday and taking their toys home.

After crossing the dunes, I descended down out of the desert and into the irrigated farmland of the Imperial Valley. Google directed me on a zig-zag path through the farmland to my destination: the Holtville Hot Springs just off of I-8.

“Old Fogey” My Ass

The Holtville Hot Spring is adjacent to the (LTRA). This is a kind of special BLM camping area where you’re allowed to stay more than the usual 14 days — if you pay a fee. The previous year, I’d paid the fee with the idea of staying there for a while and then moving over to another LTRA near a lake in Arizona. But worries about electrical issues (which turned out to be non-issues) on my camper sent me to Quartzsite in search of repairs instead. So I’d only spent a few days there.

This was actually my third visit to the hot spring, which I’d learned about from another seasonal camper somewhere back in the winter of 2016/17.

The spring has two tubs — one large and deep and the other small and shallow — a weird shower head to rinse off before getting in, and a hose you can use to fill jugs with “clean” spring water. It’s cleaned once a week by the BLM (I believe) who drain the tubs, power wash them, add bromine (a spa chemical), and allow them to refill from the source. Access is free, dogs and glass containers are not allowed, and I think it closes at night but reopens very early. I’ve never seen it closed. It’s adjacent to a beautiful palm ringed pond where water birds can be seen swimming. I shared a photo of that back in 2017 in a postcards post.

The jerk who added the springs to Google Maps with the name “Old Fogey Hot Springs” was likely motivated by the simple fact that the vast majority of hot springs users are retirees who are living seasonally at the LTVA across the road. So yes, there are a lot of older folk in the tubs. But I’ve seen people of all ages there, including kids.

A Couple of Soaks

I parked alongside the road near the hots springs parking lot. It was midday and the outside temperature was in the low 60s. I put Penny on her leash and walked her down to the area to take a look. There were about a dozen people in and around the tubs — about my limit for a crowd. I went back to the camper, put on my bathing suit, grabbed my towel and went back. A while later, with Penny tied up at the other side of the fence, I was soaking in the big tub, standing with water right up to my chin.

The temperature of the water in the big tub can be pretty hot. I’m guessing at least 105°F. It’s common for people to soak for a while, then get out and sit at the edge of the tub or on one of the block stools nearby. That’s what I did. Then another hot soak. Then I decided to give the smaller tub, which is fed from the large one and is usually much cooler, a try. In that one, I sat on the bottom to get the water halfway up my chest. It’s a lot shallower.

While I was there, I chatted with the folks around me. I’ve come to realize that the best way to learn about new destinations is to talk to other travelers. While I was in the small tub, I chatted with a woman who was staying in the LTVA area with her husband in a small motorhome. They were full-timers — people who don’t have a regular home and travel all the time. They spend half the year on the road in the motorhome and half the year on their 47-foot sailboat, which is moored at San Diego. We got to talking about my upcoming cruise up the inside passage from Bellingham, WA to Ketchikan, AK and the boat I’m thinking of buying when I sell my helicopter.

Eventually, she asked what I considered an odd question: “Is your husband as adventurous as you are?” It never ceases to amaze me that people assume I’m traveling with a spouse even though I don’t wear a wedding ring. “No,” I told her. “One of the reasons my husband is my ex-husband is because he isn’t adventurous at all. In fact, I’ll bet that at this very moment he’s sitting on a sofa somewhere watching television.” We both had a good laugh about that and then she started telling me about how great cruising the inside passage in a small boat is.

After a while, I’d had enough soaking. I rinsed off at the funky shower, wrapped my towel around me, and headed back to my camper with Penny. I dried off, had some lunch, and spent some time catching up on email and other tablet things. Then I took a short nap.

At about 4:30 PM, the parking lot looked pretty empty. I figured I’d go for another soak. I wrapped my damp towel around my bathing suited body and walked down with Penny, parking her outside the fence on her leash again. I’d obviously underestimated the crowd, most of whom probably walked over from the LTVA. Although there weren’t many people, a lot of those people were kids.

I soaked in the big tub. I got into a conversation with the man who was there with his wife and three kids. They were full-timers — they lived on the road in a bumper-pull trailer and home schooled their kids. Then I got into a conversation with a man who happened to be a pilot. He turned out to be the husband of the woman I’d chatted with earlier in the day. We talked about flying and why he stopped: his twin engine plane burned 25 gallons per hour of fuel. Ouch.

After about an hour, I’d had enough soaking. I showered off again, wrapped the towel around me, and headed back to the camper with Penny.

First Night Campsite

I knew the area pretty well. I knew that if I camped north of the road, I’d have to pay for a long term spot, even if I just stayed a day or two. If I camped south of the road within about a half mile of the hot spring, the story was the same. But if I went beyond that half mile, I’d be out of the LTVA and I could camp for free for up to 14 days.

I had already scouted out the area on Google Maps satellite view. I realized that if I followed a canal road south and turned at a certain place, I would probably find a decent site for the night. I wasn’t picky. All I wanted was a place to park that was easy to get in and out of and wasn’t close to anyone likely to run a generator.

Google Maps got me there. I made the turn and found the spot I’d seen in satellite view empty. It was good enough for me, despite the fact that there was a motorhome parked a few hundred yards away. I pulled in and killed the engine, then climbed back into the camper to put on some dry clothes and start thinking about dinner.

The spot turned out to be so quiet that all I could hear was the occasional bee flying by and my tinnitus.

I enjoyed a great Internet connection that evening for the first time in a while. I also slept great. I think the hot springs really sucks a lot of energy out of me.

In the morning, after breakfast, Penny and I went for a walk. That’s when I found a better campsite about a half mile farther down the road. I thought it would make a good site for that night when my friend Janet would be joining us in her camper.

Movie Matinee

After the walk, we left the camping area and headed west on I-8. My destination was a movie theater in a mall in El Centro where I planned to see Captain Marvel. Oddly, I’d been to that theater the previous year, although I can’t remember what I saw.

I left Penny locked up in the camper where she had food, water, and her bed.

The 9:40 AM matinee cost just $5 and there were only eight of us in the theater — just three days after this record-breaking movie was released. My popcorn cost more than the movie ticket.

And it was a good movie, although I can’t understand how a superhero can be that powerful.

I made a few other stops in the area: Michael’s, a craft supply store, where I picked up a texture plate for the precious metal clay work I plan to do when I get home, and Best Buy, where I picked up a 4-port 12 volt USB recharger for my truck or camper. I was tired of dealing with 1 amp rechargers; this one had four 2 amp rechargers so I could charge four devices at once.

Trailer Trouble

Getting Penny out of the trailer, I accidentally knocked the crank handle on my trailer jack. Just my luck: the handle fell off.

I picked up the handle and the screw that secured it. The nut was nowhere in sight. I couldn’t see how to fix it then and there so I just stowed it in the truck. I’d deal with it later in the day.

The trailer had other ideas. I was about 200 feet short of my parking spot back in front of the hot spring when I went over a bump and the hitch jack leg dropped and started dragging. I stopped in the middle of the road to check it out and realized immediately what was happening. Shit.

I managed to pull the hitch jack leg up enough to continue driving and secured it with a bungee cord. Then I eased into my parking spot.

The jack leg was bent and could no longer be cranked back into its sleeve, even if I was able to secure the handle. This meant two things: (1) I’d have to remove the jack since I couldn’t drive on the highway with the leg only inches from the ground and (2) I would not be able to unhitch the trailer from my truck until the jack was replaced.

Okay.

I put Penny on a leash and let her stretch out in the sun. Then I got out my toolbox. Miraculously, I had all the tools I needed to remove the hitch jack. It took about 45 minutes, mostly because one of the three bolts was tough to get out. I tossed the jack into the back of my truck.

That done, I had lunch.

Another Soak

I changed back into my bathing suit, grabbed a towel, and walked down to the tubs. I tied Penny up to the outside of the fence, as I’d done quite a few times before, and went in. After a shower under that funky shower head, I was back in the hot tub, soaking with a few other people.

More conversation, although at this point I can’t remember what it was about. (I’m finishing this blog post two months after the fact. Oops.) I do recall that the hotter tub was super hot and I’d decided to soak in the smaller tub, which was cooler but not crowded. A while later, Janet walked up in a bathing suit and towel, went through the shower ritual, and joined us in the tubs.

I think we soaked for another 30 minutes or so. By that time, it was late afternoon. Janet had spent the day packing up from her show in Casa Grande and driving in on-again, off-again rain. We were both ready to find a campsite for the night.

Another Night, Another Campsite

Janet followed me back down the canal road to the spot I’d observed that morning on my walk. After some discussion, we decided that I’d back in and she’d nose in. That accomplished, we went about setting up camp and making dinner. She put out her awning, which turned out to be a good thing because it started raining.

We called it a night early; we had a relatively long drive ahead of us the next day and were hoping to get another soak in the tubs before we left the area.

Cleaning Day

We had a nice walk along the canal in the morning. Janet really wanted to cast a line into it — she loves to fish — but she didn’t have a California fishing license.

As I suspected, the soak was not going to happen. Tuesday is cleaning day. Although we arrived back at the tubs after the BLM cleaning guy had done his thing, the big tub was only half filled. There were a few people soaking in it anyway. My first year out there, I’d been one of those people and had walked around with the stench of bromine or chlorine all day. We could smell it in the air. Neither of us were interested in soaking in chemicals.

So we left.

I led the way out of town, following Google’s directions to an RV supply shop in Brawley. I still needed a jack for my trailer. Once I had that on board, Janet took the lead. I’d follow her through empty dessert into the Anzo-Borrego State Park, where a superbloom was in progress.

More on that in another blog post. Maybe.