From an outside perspective, the thought of a "clothing optional" hot spring in the southern California mountainside sounded incredible. I had spent the previous few days in L.A., learning how much I hate the city of L.A. There is traffic. There is noise. There is chaos. There is the sound of my buddy snoring as I try to sleep on the floor of his 200 square foot room he rents for way too much money.
We have plans to go to the Comedy Store that night. He goes to work, and I take Onyx for a walk near Crenshaw Boulevard. Ice Cube lyrics are going through my head as I'm solicited drugs from an older black lady dressed like a bum, but wearing a nice Gucci backpack. Backwards. She smelled like she brought her whole week with her. That was the second time in two days I've been approached like this, and the first inclination that my time here is over.
So, after a brief search of places to explore in the mountains, I discover "Children of the Earth" hot spring a couple hours away, quickly pack up my things and hit the road. I probably should've told my friend I was leaving (Sorry, Eric!)
After leaving the roach infestation that is Los Angeles, I begin to feel like myself again driving through the base of the Sierra Nevadas. The drive in was absolutely beautiful, and I had a perma-grin on my face knowing I was going to be away from the hustle, and back into nature for a while.
It was pretty easy to find, but definitely download the map if you're using Google maps, as service was spotty. When I arrived, there were 4 other vehicles, 2 of which were my kinda folk. You know, obvious travelers. I set up camp under a nice tree, and after a few hours of driving, I was ready to go explore. That's when the stories just started to write themselves....
Story #1: "Thomas: the H is Silent"
I had no sooner locked the doors on Vandalf, prepared Onyx' leash for a hike, and turned around when I spotted him. I had seen the early 90's Toyota pickup when I parked roughly 20 feet away, but hadn't noticed anyone around. Fast-forward 6 minutes, and now there is this guy, probably in his early 50s sitting "criss-cross apple-sauce" next to his truck, staring directly at us. Onyx is clearly alarmed, bellowing his "WTF!?!" bark.
"What do you know about misdemeanors?" the stranger asked, jumping straight to the point of what's on his mind.
"I know how to spell it" I respond. Hoping he'll take my awkward humor as a sign to move on.
"Well, that's important. Can we talk?"
Friends, my love of living a story, and putting myself into the most questionable situations will probably get me murdered one day. I'm sure of it. But, until then, I have life-chapters to write based on these life experiences.
I tie Onyx up to our shade tree, and have a seat on the ground next to my fellow camp dweller. After a brief conversation about California's reckless driving laws, the consequences of avoiding court appearances, and whether "they" do or do not insert tracking devices while giving flu shots (WHY ELSE WOULD THEY BE FREE!?!), he finally tells me his name is Thomas, but the "H" is silent.
"Do many people try to pronounce the H in your name, Thomas?" I ask, intensely curious.
"Of course not, because I always tell them it's silent" he disdainfully responds.
When the conversation turns to him asking for help finding the judge's home address ("I'm so much better talking one on one!"), I respectfully tell him I need to take my dog on a walk before he shits himself.
Thomas is gone when we return. His "H" left with him.
FINALLY! We're ready to explore. We walk past an older hippie chick in a smaller vintage RV hanging up clothes to dry with her 2 younger girls. They're excited to pet Onyx, and she seems super normal. She gives us two options of hiking down to the spring. We choose option A.
It's a super scenic hike down the side of a relatively steep mountainside. The path changes from smooth rock surfaces, to grass switchbacks, to stone steps and dirt. About 15 minutes into it, I start to hear the sounds of flowing water. I LOVE that sound!
We discover a bathtub filled with water skillfully integrated into the mountainside, and I was worried that this was all there was. But, we kept on hiking. And, that's where we came across our first dick of the adventure.
Story #2: "Dick Webber: Insurance Provider to the Stars"
"Ahoy there! Come on over!!" I heard as we made our descent to the flowing river waters. I mean, would you expect hearing anything other than "ahoy there" upon approaching a secluded clothing optional spring? This place is pretty spectacular. It is a good sized river, plenty of greenery and trees on either side. Carved into the side of the river is an obviously man-made "pool" created from stone. It's awesome. There are 3 older dudes, and a couple of middle age women. There are 5 bags of McDonald's bags littering the edges, and I've clearly caught them at feeding time.
"Dick Webber's the name. This here's the family. Let's talk about your insurance provider". There are no clothes anywhere. Not on their person. Not on the ground. Not floating in the pool. Did they really hike all the way down here "au naturel"? I mean, that's cool and all, but there are mosquitoes, ticks, and bobcats and shit around here.
There was never even any foreplay before the insurance pitch. Dick doesn't even bother learning my name. Just a continued spewing of D-list celebrities that he insures. The others in the pool don't even speak. They just continue to stare while stuffing their faces with McFood. A piece of lettuce slowly circles the pool, caressing each bare nipple as it passes by. I decline the soak invite from Dick to give time for the special sauce to clear the pool. Besides, it looks like there are some dope spots to go hiking near the river.
Story #3: "Cracking Our Own Nuts"
After some rad adventures, a dip in the river, and some peaceful hammock time, we hiked back up to discover some new folks on the other side of our tree. It was a brand new Toyota Tundra with rental plates. There is a younger man and woman just hanging out, drinking a beer. I'm immediately taken aback as I approach, because these two people are jawdroppingly beautiful. I would learn later that they are both models from New Zealand.
It's dinner time, and I had supplies to make some delicious pork tacos. I offered to make dinner for all, and they responded that they only had a couple hours before they had to leave to fly out, but will supply the beer. And, Eve said she will "make pine nuts".
I thought something had been lost in translation. When I asked her what she meant, she showed me a pile of pine nuts sitting on the Tundra's bumper. I was curious as to why someone would dump a bag of perfectly good pine nuts on the bumper of a truck.
That's when I learned something. I mean, did you guys know that pine nuts come from pine cones? I sure as shit didn't.
Oliver shared his perfectly rolled blunt with me while his "sometimes" girlfriend demonstrated how to harvest pine nuts. This is apparently very common in their home country, and they are perplexed at my ignorance. She had already gathered some huge pine cones from the many pine trees around us, and began by plucking each individual node? from the cone. These are placed on a huge rock underneath our tree. She takes another smaller rock, and begins to smash the nodes, releasing the pine nuts inside.
Maybe it was the California-grade THC, or just the awesomeness of the day, but that just blew me away. They are delicious! And made a great crunchy topping to my tacos. I was sad to see them go. But, super happy these were the only nuts I saw on my nekked-springs adventure.
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