136 Degrees Of Separation

[June 25th, 2008]

It was 10 pm on a Saturday when we arrived at Bagby Hot Springs. The World of Warcraft crazies were there, but the drunk high-schoolers were still an hour away.

After hiking through the dark to reach the springs, there were just two tubs large enough to hold our party of seven people. One was already taken by a group of four naked folks shouting out slogans from the computer game.

The other tub, fortunately, was completely unpopulated. So we stripped off our clothes, dipped into the piping-hot 136-degree water, lit four candles and proceeded to melt, the sounds of our voices bouncing off the trunks of old-growth cedars and Douglas firs.

Rumored to have served as a sacred healing spot to Native Americans, Bagby Hot Springs today plays host to a ragtag crew of Clackamas County locals, curious tourists and visiting Portlanders who come to soak in its nine wooden tubs fed by two natural springs.

Getting to the site 45 miles southeast of Estacada means driving on remote mountain roads to the Bagby Hot Springs trailhead, where there’s a $5 parking fee. Then it’s a mile-and-a-half hike up a marked trail to the springs, housed in a group of wooden buildings served by primitive plumbing and maintained by a group of local volunteers.

Once you arrive, few rules apply. No soap allowed. Clothing is optional. Booze is banned, but nobody seems to notice. You should expect crowds, especially in the summer, but with a limit of one hour per soak the line should keep moving.

There are four public tubs that seat six to 10 bathers, as well as five private rooms with hollowed-out logs for more intimate soaks, including one dubbed the “Honeymoon Tub.” Each is fed by hot water released through a metal faucet or by pulling a wooden plug. Cold water’s also available, and you’ll need it to make the bath bearable.

Soon overwhelmed by the heat of the water, we extended our endurance by taking a dip in a glacier-fed stream then dashing back to the tub. Others, we’re told, use a nearby waterfall for a cold shock. If you’re too enamored to leave, the trail past the springs leads to several campsites.

The springs are still a reasonably well-kept secret in Portland, but Bagby nonetheless draws its share of daytrippers. Just as we were ready to leave, a group of high-schoolers showed up to take our tub. We left them our candles and picked up the empty beer cans they’d left scattered outside, pleased to have had the place to ourselves for an hour.