CODY, Wy. — I turned 50 recently and found that sobering fact a
grand excuse for a visit to the metropolis of Thermopolis, Wyoming,
80 miles south of Cody. “Thermop” sits at the mouth of Wind River
Canyon, and is one of those typical western towns where elevation
number is higher than its population (4,326 vs. 3,071).
It has some interesting history. Butch Cassidy frequented the
place in the 1890s, drinking in the now-defunct “Hole-in-the-Wall”
Saloon, and practicing horse thievery, one of his local sidelines;
a generation later Milward Simpson began an illustrious career in
public service as a young attorney there. Nowadays, Thermop is
primarily known for its close proximity to Hot Springs State Park,
offering welcome respite to geezers and even pre-geezers like me,
what with arthritis in my neck and right knee showing up long
before those idiotic mailings from the AARP.
“Thermopolis” is from the Greek for “City of Hot Water.” The
State Park encompasses ten square miles. Its natural “Big Spring”
originates in the nearby Owl Creek Mountains, and is heated by
passing through porous rock above a deep volcanic caldera. The Big
Spring is 127 degrees Fahrenheit, and is tempered for the State
Park spa facilities. The bubbling waters contain 27 minerals,
including Hydrogen Sulfide, Calcium and Iron, and are quite
therapeutic. There’s Flouride, so a rinse of your mouth while
swimming is good for your teeth. Got heartburn? There’s
Bicarbonate.
In 1896, a ten-square-mile parcel of the Wind River Reservation
bordering the Big Horn River (the Wind River becomes the Big Horn
after it issues from the canyon) was purchased from the Shoshone
and Arapaho tribes (co-residents at Wind River) by the United
States government for $60,000 worth of cattle and other food
supplies. Shoshone Chief Washakie and Arapaho Chief Sharp Nose
negotiated the deal.
In 1899, the Wyoming State Legislature designated the portion
containing the Big Spring near the river as Hot Springs State Park,
and over the years spa facilities have been built on the site. The
State Bath House is free to the public, but is small and has a time
limit on its use. There are two all-day general admission ticket
spas: The Teepee Spa, and — my favorite — the Star Plunge, with
its outdoor summertime 500 feet water slide popular with kids, but
in winter closed, thus not a temptation to
thrill-seeking-but-quietly-soaking pre-geezers.
THERMOPOLIS ITSELF HAS SEEN better days. On a cold, sunny afternoon
I wandered through its tiny downtown with its views of nearby
snow-mottled red sandstone buttes, and counted a half-dozen empty
storefronts. Thermopolis is emblematic of a Wyoming energy
industry-dependent boom-bust local economy, currently on the skids,
but slowly recovering due to the Bush administration’s pro-energy
development policies. Hot Springs County economic numbers annually
rank near the bottom of Wyoming’s 23 counties.
I stopped at “The Sideboard” for coffee. You can always tell if
a town is New West or Old by its main coffeeshop. I read the Casper
paper and shared the counter and nearby tables with ranchers,
truckers and oilfield guys, the air full of cigarette smoke. An
attentive chewing gum-snapping waitress (definitely pre-geezer)
kept coffee cups full, and called me “Honey,” as in: “Want some
more coffee, honey?” “Yes ma’am,” I said. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Meanwhile, back at the spa, my second visit in two frigid days
showed me skylights casting shimmering sunlight on the heated pool
(96 degrees). I swam under a thick canopy of green plants in
baskets hanging from the rafters. I felt like Johnny Weissmuller in
a Tarzan movie. Luckily, there were no crocodiles around. The
nearby “Lobster Pot” — a hotter (104 degrees), bubbling natural
Jacuzzi — made me forget my arthritis. In a small, intimate sauna
called the “Vapor Cave” (118 degrees), I oozed sweat until I felt
euphorically lightheaded. It was a weekday, and I had the sauna to
myself, so could only speculate on its possibilities, as a sign
posted on the wall by the Star Plunge management ordered the patron
— maybe only half-humorously — to: “PLEASE DO YOUR LOVING AT
HOME”.
After braving a snowy path barefooted (Sign: “Walkway Icy”), I
swam in the tepid (92 degrees) outdoor pool with the air
temperature about ten above zero. Ephemeral, gauzy vapor curtains
rose into the blue sky. Another swimmer startled me as he passed by
in the fog. A vigorous jet of hot water fed the pool on one side,
and I lingered near it because there the water was warmest. I
floated on my back like a stoned oversized sea otter.
Walking back inside through the cold made my skin tighten and my
hair freeze. Through the drifting steam the soft, rounded ridges of
the Owl Creek Mountains shone bright white on the horizon south of
Thermop. Inside, I eased myself back into the Lobster Pot with one
more long sigh.
When I got back to Cody the next day, the son of a friend — the
kid one of those X-treme sports rock and ice climbing enthusiasts
asked me if while visiting Thermop, I’d enjoyed any cliff climbing
in Wind River Canyon.
Yeah, right.
