Indian Springs Nostalgia

Last weekend we took a day trip to Calistoga which you can read about here. After lunch that day, we drove another block from the downtown area so I could stop and snap a few more pictures of a place so near and dear to my heart:

Indian Springs today is a small resort of cottages, a mineral pool, mud baths and other spa services. It has been a fixture in the town since the late 1800s and has managed to evolve with the times. But let's go back to the years from about oh, say 1983-1994. The golden years.

Every single summer during this time period, my family and I would make the drive up to Calistoga from Vallejo, winding our way up Highway 29, with the windows rolled down and the wind whipping through my mom's Buick Skyhawk station wagon. We would leave in the morning with our bathing suits and towels packed, and a yellow plastic picnic basket filled to the brim with homemade lunch and snacks. We would make the 40 mile one way trip, several times throughout the summer, sometimes with the 4 of us, but mostly with just me, my mom and sister. The funny thing is, my mom was afraid to drive on the freeway and usually avoided it altogether. But somehow the road to Calistoga was different and she made the trek without reservation. We would spend the whole day swimming at the pool, pausing for lunch in the grassy picnic area, then again in the afternoon for a popsicle break.

 

Indian Springs is where my sister and I taught ourselves how to swim. It's where we took our summer guests, including our extended family. Nearly all of my first cousins on my mom's side has spent many a summer day at "Calistoga" (our blanket name for the pool), even those who live in Washington! It's where we first ventured into the deep end of a pool. It's where we held contests to see who could hold their breath underwater the longest. It's where we did handstands and somersaults, trying to outdo each other. It was our place.

Where I learned to swim

Upgraded but still the same

Then on one visit, we were informed that the resort was under new management and no longer open to the public. Only spa and hotel guests were allowed access to the pool. It was like getting slapped in the face. Disappointment is an understatement. It was losing a part of our childhood, and a place that had become so interwoven into our family's tapestry of memories. Today, I lament that I cannot take my sons to this pool and give them a tangible glimpse into my own childhood. Despite that, I recall so much happiness, laughter, and simple contentment when I remember "Calistoga", and I savor the memories. Indian Springs will always have a place in my heart.