Mischa slowly opened her eyes to see the bright morning sun creeping his way over the top of the mountain looming in front of her. Cool autumn air pushed through and past the truck as it turned off the lonely road onto an even lonelier dirt path that meandered into the hills. She took one last deep breath of the cool mountain air as Darius closed the windows to keep the dust out. Laboriously, she uncurled from her current position balled up in the passenger seat and stretched her legs out in front of her as well as she could. The long drive to their weekend destination was almost over.
She finished stretching and lightly placed her hand atop her husband's as he slowed the car and pulled into an empty gravel lot at the base of their climb. The mountain loomed over them, shadowing their truck from the rising sun. They stood at the base of the trail and shouldered their light packs. The hill didn't bother them, the ascent only climbed steeply for around eight hundred feet before tapering off to a calmly sloping 8 miles to their destination. With a silent nod, they stepped off up the trail.
Their destination was the Bare Springs, a location aptly named by the prospectors who discovered it late in the gold rush. A man named John Wye had uprooted his family from their home in Pennsylvania in search of fortune and, like the majority of those westward-bound, had found only dirt, sweat, and tears. His wife died shortly after they made it to the California Trail, and he was left to care for his ten year old son and five year old daughter while he fruitlessly searched. By the time they reached the springs, they were all two years older and famished to the brink of death. Their oxen died at the base of this range and John drove his family higher into the mountains in attempt to gain a commanding view of the terrain to plot their final attempt for life.
He identified a large rock at the end of a trail, rumored to be the very same trail Mischa's feet now plodded along, and made straight for it. As they approached, they heard the sounds of a Native American village. However unwise to amble up to an unknown village in this area, John and his children were at the end of their rope and had found potential for salvation. Cresting the final hilltop before the spire, John was almost run over by two naked children sprinting across the trail in a game of tag. They seemed to not even take notice of him as they angled back toward the rock and continued the pursuit. He followed their line of movement and saw a tiny village of no more than ten small grass huts styled similarly to those of other indigenous tribes in the region.
What struck him here was that all the villagers were naked. Not bare-chested, not covered with tiny loincloths, just naked. He called out to them and they took him and his children in, hurriedly giving them water and food. It wasn't long before he'd eaten his fill and passed out.
On waking to chill evening air, he'd found his clothes were gone and saw his children were naked as well. Some of the local youths had engaged them in a game of tag and they were all playing joyously. A beautiful woman roused him and led him around the village, which he now realized was arranged in a semi-circle facing a rather large pool with steam rising from it. At one end was the large spire he'd been using as a landmark and a small fountain of hot water bubbled out at its base. The woman led him into the warm water and bathed him. The sun set and the world was momentarily dark, lit only by the myriad stars overhead. The woman continued to bathe him tenderly and thoroughly, caressing him softly under the water. She spoke a few words he didn't understand softly into his ear and the water came alive. Bright green light suffused through it, allowing him to see the bottom clearly and illuminating the beautiful naked woman whose firm breasts were now pressed against his arm as she massaged his thigh under the water. The pool was unlike anything he'd ever seen and he was convinced she had spoken magic words in his ear.
Over the course of the following week, the natives fed and nurtured him, bathing him daily. When he'd regained his strength, they returned the family's clothing, gave them a knapsack of food, and pointed them in the direction of the nearest town.
When John arrived in the town, he gave up prospecting in favor of running the local saloon. He told tales to any who would listen of the small village, playing up the beauty and kindness of its inhabitants and the majesty of the hot springs. The stories always began with the tale of his first night there where the beautiful girl massaged him. He described her as a nymph for he felt she'd worked some form of magic on him. He named the spring and called the villagers the People of the Bare Springs. Some years later, he had enough money from his business to lead a supply train up the mountain to repay their kindness. Unfortunately, his telling of wild stories of beauty and kindness and magic water did not have his expected effect.
Missionaries had moved into the village, looking to cure the inhabitants of their naked savagery. Instead, they brought pestilence and in a few short months, the village was wiped out. Looters came later, defiling the homes in search of anything worth selling. Finding nothing, they eventually settled for burying the bodies and levelling the huts to make the springs a monetary attraction. They proved too difficult to travel to and eventually the profiteers packed up shop and left too. All John Wye found was an empty space where once there was life and happiness. He wouldn't even hear the tale of the village's demise as it wasn't discovered until a team of anthropologists rediscovered the springs' location nearly a century later.
Mischa shook off the sad tale and stretched her neck skyward, allowing the sun to warm her skin. They had summited the first hill and the air atop the ridge was the perfect temperature to regulate heat, allowing the sun to provide warmth and a light breeze to keep the body cool. Up ahead, her husband was pulling away from her. He always had problems with pacing himself, looking only to get to his destination with a single-minded determination.
"Darius, let's take a break. You're forgetting we're on a vacation hike again."
He turned with a roguish smile and took a seat on a rock just to the side of the trail. "You're right, I just figured we'd get the hard part over quickly and forgot to throttle back after we crested the hill. I wasn't even looking around. I really do love this view."
Mischa dropped her pack and sat in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. They sat for some moments, catching their breath and drinking in the view before they set out again, at a more leisurely pace this time with Mischa in the lead.
They had been to the springs six times in their last two years of living nearby and even though the state puts the site in the same category as its nude beaches, Mischa and Darius had never seen anyone actually take the springs up on their name. The crowd that came up seemed to be a tasteful bunch of late 20s professionals with a smattering of young families thrown in. Still, visiting a place known for its ancient community of nudists drove the mind to wonder what it would be like to live in such an open and accepting environment.
Mischa was still wondering at these things as they drew up to the base of the large spire and the edge of the hot springs. Steam was rising from the clear waters as always and there was not a soul in sight. If anyone else was coming to the pool, they usually got there before the couple, having the opportunity to drive up Friday night instead of Saturday morning. Mischa was feeling adventurous and, if they continued to have the pool to themselves, she thought she might strip down for a soak later.
They continued on past the pool another hundred yards to the lone tree they'd discovered on their second trip up and made to set up camp. They didn't carry much with them, just some food for the night and morning, some sleeping and hygiene gear, and a portable shower they could hang from the tree to get clean before entering the springs. In their usual fashion, Darius put in his headphones and leaned against the tree to adjust the laces of his shoes while Mischa laid out her sleeping mat and removed her shirt, keeping her sports bra and shorts on as she settled into a yoga routine. Darius waited for her to get settled and planted a quick kiss on her forehead before disappearing over the lip of the hill and off on a run in the wilderness.
