Well, after reading an article in the Everett Herald, I got the bright idea of going to take the waters at a hot springs in Mount Baker National Park.Ruth also thought it would be a fun adventure also.

I was quite relieved to learn from the Herald that skinny-dipping was forbidden at the hot springs,and that it was just a short hike up to the hot springs from the parking area.

Last Sunday was of course, a beautiful May day. We had a delightful 70 mile drive to Mt. Baker. The mountain vistas that opened up before us, as we drove along were truly breathtaking. I was out of my wrist brace,life was good, and Ruth wasn't complaining about any aches or pains either.

When we got within 3.2 miles of the parking turnaround, we had to turn off onto a logging road.It was full of potholes so it took us about half an hour to get to the turnaround.. Ofcourse the other vehicles on the road were jeeps, motor bikes and various types of 4 wheel vehicles,while Ruth and I bounced along in her old Plymouth sedan.

"Ruth" I chortled merrily,"If there's a lot of motorcycles in the parking lot-turn around and get us out of here fast." "You always mention the cheeriest things",replied Ruth dryly. Unfortunately, all the bouncing around had activated Ruth's painful back condition, and I prayed mighty hard that her back condition would quickly heal.

Anyway,we made it to the turnaround in one piece.The news article had mentioned that there was a path to climb up to get to the hot springs, which was still 1/3 of a mile away.That's not bd, unless you have to scale a cliff first like we did.I managed to get up it, but Ruth said she wouldn't even try to scale it,because of her bad back. I reminded her that I had made it even though I'm ten years older than her.She said she would try if I would help her, and her 20 pound ditty bag, up the hill.I foolishly agreed.

I actually got that heavy bag, plus my own stuff up to the top, and gavwe Ruth a hand up too, without fracturing any major vertabrae. What a fun excursion! But we had made it, hot, dirty, and sweaty-and ahead of us lay a trail winding up to the hot springs only 1/3 of a mile to go!

The only problem now was that there were four or five massive fallen trees blocking the trail. We had to clmb over them (there was no way around them) to get to the hot springs. We made it accross them somehow, Ruth requiring frequent boosts. We even got all our luggage over those tree trunks.

At last we were in sight of the hot springs, and more in need of a hot shower than a hot soak. I was really looking forward to getting into that hot springs no matter what. We could see there were about five or six people sitting in a dug out area.The water was murky from sulpher, but still appealing to me after our arduous hike.

Just then, through some tree branches, I caught a glimpse of fat white male buttocks,emerging from the hot springs."Oh no," I cried out to Ruth," A skinny-dipper." Only, he sure wasn't skinny."Yikes!" replied Ruth. This was not a titalating sight.Then, mercifully, the offender grabbed his towel, and we were spared further revelations. The other people still in the springs, were trying in vain to squelch their laughter.The Dipper was a lone nature boy,it turned out.

A few minutes later, we saw the last of the Dipper. He was, by then, fully clad, and bouncing back down the trail, towards civilization. He did not look back.

By now Ruth was completely fed up. She refused to get into the hot springs, content instead to sit on a muddy bank and pick twigs and and dried leaves out of her clothes and hair. I was undaunted, and took a therapeutic hot soak,and had lots of fun,talking to the others in the hot springs.One of them said that the nude bather had been in the water hours ago, when the they first arrived. He had probably been waiting for them to leave,so he could get out of the springs, but was finally forced to make his untimely exit.

Today, Ruth and I are still wondering how many hours, the perhaps diminished Dipper had spent in that pool.

(C) Janet Bishop 1997,1998. All Rights Reserved.