Conscious Choice: Enchanted Pools

March 2008 | Escape the Pace

Enchanted Pools

Soak up some magic at Harrison Hot Springs, B.C.

By Crai S. Bower

Hot springs, any hot springs, are mythical. Many of us have crawled by headlamp along some forest path to a secret pool, or wandered from the hot pool to the really hot pool in a clothing-optional, funky environment. While British Columbia’s Harrison Hot Springs isn’t funky and you won’t need a headlamp to navigate, it does offer the same, essential environment to ease one’s aches, slow one’s mind and if you’re lucky, disappear for a bit.

The mythical draw of naturally clean water heated by geothermal alchemy serves as enticement enough to suggest we take a March visit north of the border for a weekend soak.

I’ve been eager for years to check out Harrison Hot Springs. However, unlike most locations—that I research endlessly—I didn’t want to know too much about this destination, as I had visions of tracing a snail’s course among cedar kiosks covering a pod of natural pools nestled among the river stones. My fantasy was a bit off. Harrison offers three traditionally tiled pools outside and two indoors. It feels like another mid-level resort, except for the water, that glorious water.

The Coast Salish nation made regular migrations here to take advantage of the “healing place.” The first Europeans to “discover” the hot springs were gold diggers panning along the Douglas Trail 160 years ago. In the rush to find British Columbian gold (a different, less flaky leaf than many associate with the “BC Gold” of today), the 49ers discovered Kwals, the aboriginal’s name for boiling water. (The two main springs produce water exceeding 135 degrees Fahrenheit.) European settlers didn’t establish a community here until 1858; the healing baths were constructed 27 years later.

Pausing at Harrison offers a great opportunity to slow down from our usual frenetic, “stake-our-claim” pace. Today, the Springs feel more akin to an Arkansas “healing place” than northern California’s holistic Harbin Hot Springs or Orcas’ Doe Bay. The vista of the 46-mile-long Harrison Lake—an unspoiled, sparsely developed indigo gem—and the surrounding Coast Range Mountains is sadly lost on the soakers due to the surrounding buildings, the price paid for privacy.

Still, walks along the sandy beach beneath the peaks prove almost as soothing as the soaks. (A bracing, pre-spring plunge may also have the power to unblock some chakras.) A stroll west along the beach leads to the hot springs’ source.

There are also plenty of arboreal hikes into the wilderness, including the Campbell Lake Trail, a 10k trek with about a 1,800-foot elevation gain, which leads to a little plateau lake and a great vista of the Harrison Lake valley.

We return to the pools and soak our hike-tired legs. Nestled in among tall cedars, the outdoor waters are just deep enough for full-body immersion. A bamboo bridge separates the adults-only pool from the larger family water. The fact that the air temperature is below freezing hardly matters. At each pool I breathe in the steam and work on locating my oft-
elusive center.

The resort recognizes the popularity of the springs, so pools stay open until well past midnight; the covered pool and spa close later than many Seattle taverns. At Harrison, late-night soaking can mean simultaneous star gazing, too. One luminous evening while covered in hot, healing water, I spotted among others, Ursa Major, Cassiopeia and Pegasus.

The stars also brought me back to a midnight soak I took years ago in western Colorado. Wandering down through the sagebrush one July day after a relaxing dip, I picked my way along a trail by the full moon’s silver radiance. The memory remains a precious snapshot of my insouciant days. Until, that is, I lost my way and stepped onto a cactus.

Whether in Colorado, California or British Columbia, hot springs should simmer to steady one’s tempo, but I was still surprised to hear Aodhan and Malcolm, ages seven and four, whispering, a decibel level usually reserved for covert operations like looting chocolate chips or hiding in the closet to avoid donning pajamas. I would love to think their murmurs had something to do with respect for the adults, contently sequestered beyond a gentle waterfall in their private environs, but these lads are
Seattle-raised extroverts.

I believe their whispers were natural accompaniments to the vapor-veiled adagio, in misty harmony with the Kwals. Even though the springs have developed into a full-service resort in what is now a kind of kitschy resort town, I could easily envision the Coast Salish families enveloping themselves in the
Kwals a millennium ago, their children playing quietly, their view of the glacial peaks and of Pegasus undisturbed by the presence of others.

Crai Bower is a Seattle-based writer. Check out his work at FlowingStreamWriting.net

Recommend this page to a friend

Top Ten pages recommended to friends: