Week Seven: Meager Victories

There are misfortunes that can afflict a traveler, through no fault of his own. There are outright mistakes a traveler can make, such as brushing his or her teeth with Benadryl anti-itch cream instead of toothpaste… which regrettably happened to me this week. Unfortunately, most of my summer experiences seem to lie at the confluence of these two negative factors, so it came as no great surprise that after driving all the way out to Pemberton, British Columbia, Starling and I learned that the Forest Service had closed Meager Creek Hot Springs just one day earlier. It would seem that my most common misfortune is bad timing, coupled in this case with the mistake of inadequate verification.
The closure felt rather personal because this was our third weekend attempt at reaching the springs. The first time, 40,000 music festival attendees clogged the highway and blocked traffic for hours. The second time, a rockslide buried the highway under thirty feet of rubble. And now, unstable slopes above the road near the hot springs had prompted the authorities to seal the gate to the bridge over the Lillooet River. My chances of being able to soak my sore knees in the warm, therapeutic waters of Meager Creek Hot Springs were looking rather meager indeed.
Starling and I were stubborn souls, however, and we chose to head north regardless to see if there was any way to breach the gate. Our journey took us through a wide glacial valley filled with farms and ranches, above which perched unseen, massive icecaps that melted in the summer sun and fed the furious, silt-laden Lillooet River. Alas, at the end of a dirt road we found the bridge barred, chained and padlocked. Short of walking seven kilometers to the hot springs or paddling upriver through the rapids of Meager Creek, we were not going to be able to reach our goal. Again.
Since nightfall was imminent, we pitched our tent by the Lillooet River in a free campground that featured a profusion of blueberry bushes filled with big, tasty berries. I expected we’d be sharing our site with several hungry bears, but none appeared, allowing us to gather enough fruit for a large stack of blueberry pancakes the following morning. Clouds had thickened overnight, and a steadily escalating rainstorm forced us to eat our breakfast more quickly than expected, huddled underneath the raised back hatch of the Jeep. Rainshowers seemed likely to persist for the remainder of the day, so we decided to give up our plans for alpine hiking and trek instead past the closed gate to the isolated hot springs.
Big yellow signs warned us that “The Meager Creek area is the most geologically active area in all of Canada,” and “The high risk and frequency of debris torrents and washouts in the area may cause people to be trapped for several days or endanger their lives.” Evidence of major landslides along the road was severely lacking, however. A few rocks had come tumbling down the hillside, but there was nothing my Jeep couldn’t have driven over. I would have taken the risk in order to avoid the tedious, wet trudge along the gravel logging road.
But what we found on the banks of Meager Creek was stunning beyond what I had ever expected. Usually, primitive hot springs are a muddy assemblage of stacked rocks and algae, but this place looked like a small resort, with clean changing rooms, cobblestone terraces and aesthetically-contoured cement pools. A warm waterfall spilled down into the biggest pool, and by adjusting rocks in the hot and cold tributaries above the falls, one could achieve the perfect showering temperature. Somehow, a government agency had defied the stereotype of unimaginative architecture and designed something that looked organic and medieval. Best of all, since we had made the effort to hike in, we had the popular site all to ourselves.
The rain resumed while we were soaking in a smaller pool, striking hard against the water and turning its surface into a tableau of ephemeral concentric circles. Thunder roiled through the skies, temporarily masking the roar of coffee-colored Meager Creek, which frothed and boiled angrily in its narrow channel. The unruly stream seemed ready to breach its banks at the slightest provocation and engulf the hot spring pools, and I reluctantly conceded that temporary closures might sometimes be necessary in this unstable environment.
Nothing is harder to leave than a pool of luxurious warm water during a cold, windy rainstorm. With little enthusiasm, we dried ourselves off and returned to the road during a short-lived break in the downpour. An umbrella and borrowed rainpants kept Starling dry, and the heat I had absorbed into my blood and bones kept my temperature stable for a while. But heavy rain and cold winds gradually sapped the warmth from my body, and our vigorous pace only made my strained knee tendons hurt all the more.
My perceived discomfort was magnified tenfold, however, when not one but five vehicles suddenly passed us on the road, heading for the hot springs. How was that possible? The only route was supposedly chained and gated! Their appearance remained a mystery until we reached the Lillooet River bridge and I reexamined the barrier. The chain and padlock were there, and the chain had been passed through a slot on the huge metal bar, but the padlock was not fastened to anything on the other side! The chain could be pulled out of the slot, allowing the bar to swing aside easily.
We had hiked that interminable distance to no purpose. Mistakes and misfortunes had double-teamed me again. The misfortune of the road closure combined with the mistake of not realizing the road was effectively open resulted in a cold, dreary march that taxed my immune system and allowed some hostile bacteria to get a foothold. Now I am fighting a throat infection. But that hot natural shower sure makes a satisfying memory, and if rockslides, riots, or volcanic explosions don’t keep me away, then I’m sure I’ll see those cobblestone courtyards again sometime in the near future.
And by the way, when you brush your teeth with anti-itch cream, you end up with very relaxed gum tissue. In case you were wondering.

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