doctorhotsprings

[doctorhotsprings]

Fosslaug Hot Pot

My mother spent her last two years of high school living at the Keflavik Naval Base outside of Reykjavik in the late 1960s. Growing up, all I heard about Iceland was how cold and dark and awful it was. Leave it to a heart-broken teenager to hate a place as grand and glorious as Iceland, am I right? In my mother's defense, the Ring Road hadn't been built yet, so it wasn't exactly obvious that Iceland was a wonderland of geothermal fun. When I took my first trip to Iceland in 2017, I spent a lot of time researching primitive hot pots in the country and came across one near the village of Varmahlíð. Armed with some GPS coordinates, we parked on the side of the road and trekked through some farming fields along a narrow path that skirted a fence. After about a mile of hiking, we came upon a massive waterfall with a built-up stone hot pot located upstream. The water was hot - probably 101 or so - and right next to a cold, Icelandic river. Although it is no Retreat Spa, Fosslaug is probably my favorite primitive hot spring in Iceland. I'm wearing a swimsuit here, but this is a great one in which to be naked in nature. GPS coordinates: 65°29'44.6"N 19°22'55.6"W

[doctorhotsprings]

Rico Hot Springs

I went to Rico Hot Springs in the fall of 2020 during a trip to Telluride. The springs are now closed to the public unless you are a Rico resident -- which might SEEM disappointing, but given what it would be like to live in Rico, I think it's an acceptable trade-off. As luck would have it, I actually went to the springs with a Rico resident on a date. My date grew up in Rico -- a REAL place to be from -- and then returned early in the pandemic to enjoy cheap rent and his parents' company. Needless to say, I was VERY curious about what it was like to grow up in an old mining town of 195 people. I was also curious about growing up with a hot spring in your backyard. If it were me, I would have been there ALL of the time. Strangely, when he was a kid, he only went to the hot springs once -- wherein he saw his first set of boobs. (I would have thought that would have made him regular, but it did not!) This story was the first hint I had that Rico was a clothing-optional hot spring. Clothing-optional just means that the really hippie people go nude and everyone else wears a bathing suit. It never occurred to me that anyone would soak in the nude on a first date, but low and behold, that is exactly what happened. To get to the hot springs, you have to take a trail down to the river by a mining facility. It's not obvious from the road, so I was glad to be with a local. There are technically two hot springs at Rico - one is a tub installed in the 1970s that has been covered over with calcium to look like it is made of some kind of wax-resin, and the other is a 2.5-foot hole in the ground that is also covered in mineral deposits that make the water source look a bit like Jaba the Hut. The water sort of comes out of Jaba's armpit. Anyway, when we got to the springs, there was a large family there who were taking up most of the room. There were also a couple of family members sitting on the benches and watching the children play in the spring. It was tight, and I made a passing joke to my date that he should jump in nude to make everyone uncomfortable... which he proceeded to do. Amazing, right? Except I soon realized that he had been planning on soaking in the buff the whole time. To my surprise, a naked man was not much of a deterrent, so we spent the next half hour awkwardly whispering to one another and smiling at the 7-year-old who was definitely looking at his junk. (What goes around comes around!) After a half-hour of soaking, we got out, dried off, and hiked the half-mile back to his car. Somehow, on the drive between the springs and where my car was parked, one of my crocs and my bikini top fell out into his vehicle. Unfortunately, I didn't realize they were gone until I got back to my place in Telluride. I spent the next six weeks trying to get this guy to mail me my bikini and shoe. And I know that might seem thirsty or that I was intentionally leaving something behind to stay in touch, but I assure you, that was not the case. The bikini top was already a replacement for one I had left at Devil's Tower the summer before, and I was not about to lose it again without putting up a fight. Over the next six weeks, I continued to text this guy, and each time he promised to mail back both items, which never happened. So -- we are left with a question: what does a man who lives in Rico do with one croc and a bikini top?