About the Site

With the pandemic initially forcing shutdown of bathhouse and subsequent management decision (likely made before even beginning their new 'absentee stewardship') to KEEP it shut and cease massage service -- and now, with the spa-indifferent repurposing detour of bathhouse use, dismantling the tubs -- the place has entered truly tragic, uber-weird territory.

Note: some of what follows was written long ago during more tranquil and tenuously alternative-culture-friendly times. Make due allowances.

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Maybe the patina of rustic historic establishment and legend of pioneer  Henry Stewart, found in dire straits by natives, rescued, and brought to the Springs and restored to life through mineral water soaks, making him a true believer in its curative powers and decades later launching a dedicated mission to 'buy' place and share it with the world the rest of his life?

Of course that indefinable attraction to Stewart Springs has been for all the above and more.

New goal became to alert public -- and mineral-spring spa aficionados in particular -- how new absentee stewards (isn't that a choice oxymoron?) legally seized the place. How they've effectively stolen it from the public, taking it even further away from the founder's original nonprofit-in-spirit, love-of-service operation that every mindful first-time visitor seemed to sense and resonate with... 

...how it heedlessly erased the old-timey, down-home cultural climate to try remaking place to suit their own conservative mindset and serve as Pneuma Institute's world headquarters and related retreat center...one seemingly hoping to become subsidized by the public on some level (lately only group-event bookings sans spa amenities). And possibly, if giving credence to the worst fears of some, eventually privatizing place outright, slamming front gates to general public after 145 years of mostly altruistic healing service and unassuming hospitality. (see new intro to Rants and Raves)...

...also, crucially, to convince mostly international 'owners' that they might be far happier -- and restore a good measure of now-tattered integrity  -- moving their Pneuma scene to a more suitable location once taking the time to find new appropriate steward(s)...ones who'd be tickled to resurrect the operation and land back to its original DNA roots:  an unassuming, nonprofit (in spirit or in fact) refuge and public trust dedicated to purification, healing and rejuvenation, merrily focused on serving the greater good of an ailing nature-loving humanity.

...one(s) who would naturally see the wisdom of bringing back the downhome service-loving spirit of the essentially nonprofit operation's first 78 years by Stewart family and a few legal stewards and/or managements since...ones who would enthusiastically rescue realm, working towards service operation reflecting the place's original spirit...updated with present-day growing holistic awareness, mindfulness, and diversity, all reflecting the emerging enlightened natural lifestyles of the fast growing, more aware segment of the public mainstream...

If enough fans visualize and pray for this -- present 'owners' at last recognizing their folly and the need to let go of a place they'd possibly only unwittingly misappropriated, unmindful of its legacy and widespread public sentiment as a treasured healing and rejuvenatory realm...then, with crucial help of the right angel 'investors' and volunteer local and regional aficionados, plus renewed visitor support by growth-minded, nature-loving public, the place can once again serve to heal and uplift humanity.

Especially with the radically shifting societal dynamics precipitated by the recent pandemic: a wracked economy and historic racial-injustice time of reckoning together creating a triple whammy meltdown obliterating former lah-de-dah business models that view visitors as little more than  'consumer units' to seduce manipulate and prodding awake former asleep-at-the-wheel mindsets...all giving way to people learning to share this strange, wondrous planet we all presently find ourselves on.

While last 'owner' held place's innate free spirit captive on certain levels for 34 years by a profit-generating focus putting the damper on any more enlightened, service-dedicated scene, two of the six post-Stewart-family legal stewardships lasted only a very short while indeed. (see History)

(Last 'owner' John Foggy's great redeeming quality was in letting long-time-locale managers run things according to their lights -- reflecting community lifestyle values that, serendipidously, more or less coincided with the venerable healing and rejuvenation tradition of place -- just so long as the money kept rolling in.)

May this become the third short-term stewardship, clearing the way for the magical SEVENTH. 

Since launching, the site's received some 100,000 visits around the world, maybe 75,000 or so from actual humans, vs. crawling search engines. Some left fast, no doubt looking for additional in-house info that dutifully did a sizzling song and dance to try to woo one's business, concluding "Well, this site's useless; obviously some lunatic fringe". (Trivia aside: the term was coined by U.S. President Teddy Roosevelt.)

Or assume writer was just going down memory lane (certainly true in part); or is just some disgruntled ex-employee with an ax to grind; or built a vanity site to bolster a fragile ego and brag how he covered himself in glory in a bygone time...more than, beyond any such human foibles, simply one of countless devoted Springs fans who appreciates how on the Spirit plane the past-present-future are all one and wants to seize the moment to catalyze positive change for the realm. So that people might once again enjoy its bountiful blessings and rendezvous with kindred nature-loving spirits in the extraordinary mystical realm.

Other viewers have perhaps lingered on the site, soaking in Stewart Springs tales and re-posted comments of hundreds of visitors, perhaps sampling writer's endless ramblings -- some well-informed, some speculative, others intuitive, using cracked but still serviceable crystal ball.

Here I add full disclosure: Before 'owner' change and de facto boycott, writer got unlimited free saunas and a few free baths a year in exchange for informal volunteer cold plunge management and doing things like shoveling snow off sundeck, bringing back grounds' overgrown paths, building tent platforms, picking up litter, etc... So writer naturally felt a judicious need to pull punches and only try to tell it like it was between the lines lest forces that be got ticked off and clipped my wings and made me pay like everyone else or even banish me.

After having with grave reluctance 86ed myself from place, once becoming radicalized over the unspeakable developments, there was one positive result: I became free to fully speak my mind. I could at long last talk out of school that I self-expelled from, revealing operational secrets that discretion (and self-survival) once forbade me from sharing with the public.

Though writings might sometimes have a know-it-all vibe, that was far from the intent, for truly grokking the place involves a shared group understanding and group pool of knowledge of what made the place so great (rather than a any one person's own knowledge or experiences). That said, for better or worse I doubtless know more than most about where the bodies were buried, as the saying goes, over the place's recent history. Being able to share that here at last is a grand unburdening.

Focus of the site has always been on critical analysis, including ideas how to possibly further fine-tune place and manifest new 'owner' change (see  New Day Dawning), and, like anything or -one cherished, try to remember to see it as already perfect within its imperfection.

Admittedly that's one rough row to hoe now, with present interests pulling place ever further away from original healing spirit of founder's family, willfully ignoring its 145 year-old DNA. A public-minded DNA that forever awaits reactivation.

(Stray thought: ever tease apart the word 'realty'? It's 'reality' blinded and depersonalized without a seeing 'i'. In such property transfers, it's land that's sold, not business operation itself or any well-established ways and customs, even if steeped in the place for generations, in extreme cases like this, amounting to what one might rightly call something akin to some sort of oxymoronic legal thievery.)

Meditating on the Springs through time as a balanced whole might well enable fuller understanding of the place's lingering gnarly karma and the non-progressive energy patterns with which it's so long been plagued...patterns to be recognized, brought about, dealt with and banished in order to let realm's healing properties flow freely again, awakening place to the greatest benefit for any and all visitors who find their way up the hill again in the (hopefully) not-too-distant future.

Countless -- including writer -- years ago vowed never to set foot on property again until either 'owners'' hearts miraculously melt and they ask forgiveness of the legion of devastated former supporters after returning clothing-optional spa service and inviting sweat lodge back...or, far more likely -- finally seeing beyond obtuse disregard for the spiritual realities and altruistic heritage of the place and mustering the grace to feel duly chagrined -- give up their dubious diversionary pursuits and divest...finally redeeming selves by finding and selling to new, public-minded steward(s).

Ones who, with support of both longtime and new fans, near and far, will restore its soul to serve again as affordable, free-spirited, NONPROFIT, culturally-diverse healing and rejuvenation refuge...

...one OF, BY and FOR the people.

body-alienated mindset. It quashed any more profound enjoyment of the place for countless free-spirited and bohemian-friendly people around the world.

Second strike came in December 2017 with emptying the creekside spring gazebo's altar of years' worth of heartfelt prayer and love offerings, replaced initially with a cheery sign barking, 'No Trespassing - Violators Prosecuted'...a peoples' shrine indifferently destroyed.

Third strike: also in December 2017: scrapping the 45-year-old Native American weekly sacred sweat lodge ceremony...frosting on the cake in new 'owners'' seeming aspirations to either mainstream/upscale place or shut out public entirely to pursue their own private shtick...or some unwieldy variation thereof...which they might've been playing by ear and mostly by remote from thousands of miles away as given feedback by on-grounds management...until pandemic came along and threw a giant curve ball into the mix.

sacred sweat lodge that ostensibly caused group to have to leave in first place, unable to afford reported Hobsen's choice of covering reported $2,000/month fire/liability insurance rider clause quote if wanting to stay. (Such exorbitant amount was no doubt sparked by participant deaths in pseudo sweat lodge near Sedona, Arizona several years earlier.) Writer's later understanding was that since the new 'stewards' had their own shamans, they didn't want or need the local medicine wheel turning there anymore.

But any the least bit sensitive and intuitive among even uninformed newbies might've easily sensed murky, disruptive energetic undercurrents, ones mindlessly bent on erasing place's former vibrant bohemian culture and replacing it with a restrictive, bland, "more refined" culture.

stories and missing puzzle pieces...like late springs aficionado Jonathan Wolfe, who shared a fond memory of 1970's co-owner Carole Goodpasture greeting him at the far end of the walking bridge with a cup of mineral water to drink and begin his spa treatment.

I'd gone from growing up in the most densely populated spot in State to one of sparsest (until 2015 discovery by growers ). Burned out on city living and always a nature boy at heart plus bit of a recluse, I happily embraced living in the middle of nowhere, hoping for a circle of kindred spirits to share the realm over time.

A sporadic duty freak, I felt blessed to become Spring's resident volunteer groundskeeper and man Friday to late general manager Mary Hildebrand during the historic turning point in the place's evolution from late 1999 through early 2002. The place was going year-round, clothing-optional, the restaurant reopening, bathhouse hours increasing, majorly upgraded hot-water system installed, the place booking a flurry of new workshops, concerts, and group retreats... It began to feel more down-home and happening (if still lame around the edges for management's off-putting rigid profit preoccupation) than anytime since the momentous Goodpasture stewardship during the 1970s. see History

Also, I did two runs as paid bathhouse attendant, in 2002 and 2005. Joy of service buoyed efforts there as well, unalloyed by any gnawing financial needs for having a small inheritance, growing a small home-biz, and living simply on my own land, no always-looming rent or mortgage or utility bills to sweat (just an annual property tax bite).

Not that I didn't cause management headaches; of course I did. Over time I got fired not once but twice. Long stories, but essentially for high -- okay, borderline quixotic -- service standards inextricably tangled up with with romantic fantasies and delusions over various co-workers, both interfering with business as usual.

In light of the triple whammy inflicted on genuine spring lovers by the current, woefully misguided 'owners' -- apparently tone deaf to the extraordinary public-minded healing tradition of the realm, unwilling to tune in to and continue supporting resort's unassuming public-benefit heritage -- writer could no longer aid and abet the heartbreaking scene.

Suddenly not able to skinnydip in the very plunge I built and often worked on in the buff, sometimes along with others, in annual volunteer work parties, was galling beyond measure; it took irony to a whole new level. I actually got busted for skinnydipping for all of five seconds on New Year's Day, 2017, in the low-key manner that had long been allowed by last' owner' even before his liberalizing clothing-optional policy change in 2000. No one was even around to possibly take offense...except a new dutiful underling, who of course happened to come down right then to re-fill a foot-dip basin in the creek and so promptly reported me. I was called into inner office for a surreal, deeply unsettling reprimand.

THEN junking the sweatlodge ceremony -- so crucial in helping erase the place's severe karmic blot of the slaughter of indigenous peoples in 1870s who had long revered the land as sacred (see History) on and around very lands -- plus tearing down the prayer and love altar in spring gazebo. It finally made unplugging from the place a no-brainer years before the bathhouse ever shut.

An acquaintance once called me, not unkindly, "the ghost of Stewart Springs." Whatever influence I once had is nonexistent now beyond serving as historian, chronicler, and analyst...and perhaps playing Jimminy Cricket, haunting 'ownership's' ostensible conscience for having foolishly turned their backs on the revered realm's time-honored, public-minded dedication to affordable purification, healing and rejuvenation. BOO!!!

Fun fact: Park Creek's coldplunge temperature varies widely over the year...from too-chilly-for-words 30 degrees F. during major winter cold snaps (flowing water freezes at lower temp.) to a thoroughly pleasant and linger-able 70 degrees F. during summertime's 100 degree F. heat waves.

Long released from day to day operational cares, writer supplies a perspective integrating 16 years volunteering, 30 months of that living on the grounds as custodian and groundskeeper, plus weekly or better use of spa for over a quarter century...along with diligent research of the buried past, a now-sketchy acquaintance with the present, and elusive psychic glimpses of a possible, unborn future.

Never being dependent on the place for income always has always kept my perspective crystal clear, being free of any monetary interest whatsoever.

Main story thread continues after another long rambling sidebar

Sidebar

Take this job...

on employee burnout

Sadly, no more than few of countless former employees -- it seems everyone and their uncle worked at Stewart Springs sometime or another -- still visited before the momentous December 2017 sea change. More than once in a blue moon, anyhow.

Some got so involved hustling for the paltry paycheck that they forgot to enjoy the amenities (or never bothered to learn how) and refresh their spirit, the place becoming just another time-punching gig until something better came along...or work pressures got so gnarly they ran off screaming.

over minimum wage on an undersized staff. Wages were reportedly raised first thing by new 2016 owners, the given reason for prices going up, supposedly to cover more decent worker pay, but reportedly only for upper-level positions...serving perhaps as incentive to follow strict orders no matter how outrageous...work becoming almost purely for pay than out of any abiding affection for the place and desire to turn others on to it.

That said, the former two-bits-over-minimum-wage reality often made it all but impossible for those hoping to cover rent or mortgage to experience anything remotely approaching that ennobling feeling of toiling in the vineyards in service of fellow man.

of his life playing working class hero. I wanted to stay welcome, not become persona non grata for having joined the outraged whistle-blowers over then-managers' owner-father's dubious labor practices. Not so much noble as practical.

The place could be one super-demanding juggernaut of operation regardless of pay -- especially during former peak seasons and any holiday weekend. Every employee aware and hoping to last soon learned to work double-time when need be, sometimes even triple-time -- hopefully while keeping positive attitude locked in service mode. The only alternative was being left wanting the number of the truck.

Writer was spared such burnout or getting thrown under the bus only for being volunteer work-trader first and foremost and having the ability to mobilize energies when needed. It was the only way I could keep my enjoyment and veneration of place intact. (One big exception: things got so gnarly at the front desk in summer 2015 with an over-her-head, control-freak employee that I completely detached from place, taking this then mostly tribute-focused site offline for a full year, feeling ZERO tribute was merited at that point, and staying away for four months until hearing the person was gone. Turns out it was during the stressful period of property-transfer negotiations wrapping up PLUS the final throes of co-manager Ted's terminal illness, he dying a short two months later.    (see Management in More Rants & Raves)

Tawdry but True Dept:

Own second firing

While sauna-ing one night in 2005, hoping to unwind off-duty, writer spotted a roving young sexual predator who'd years earlier been banned for life. He'd just begun molesting a fellow off-duty female employee alone in sauna at night before someone came in and he aborted efforts; he was nearly arrested. Ages had passed since the incident. With all-new workers and managers, no one recognized him -- except me, of course, being a springs dinosaur. I shifted gears in a heartbeat. Managers were by then gone for day, so, only the recourse was to alert the office.

Alas, at moment it was run by man with a long history of sticky-finger proclivities who would soon get caught and imprisoned for plying his shadowy trade at Stewart's. Earlier I'd cautioned co-manager Astra from keeping him the second I learned he'd been hired, but to no avail. As scrambling newbie managers, they were hard-pressed for help -- any help -- at the start of a super-busy peak season that would often completely overwhelm them.

Indifferent to what might prove a notorious incident giving  the Springs a black eye, he acted as if there was no problem at all, saying dismissively, "Hey, he paid his admission." Bit then he hatched a diabolically clever revenge plan on me, as earlier he'd learned how I'd blown the whistle on him once manager confronted him with sticky-fingers allegation (they didn't see fit to protect my anonymity). He'd acted all chagrined, humbly professed to have mended his ways, become a better person, ad naseum.

Now, totally ignoring the red alert of a banned sexual predator on the loose around vulnerable nude patrons, he instead fabricated his OWN red alert, delivered to manager later that night after I'd gone, of receiving a heated desk complaint of ME egregiously misbehaving in the sauna.

was soon thereafter caught pocketing restaurant receipts and sentenced to three years in state prison, obviously proving himself a liar as well as a thief. That's how crazy and dispirited things got.

I received a miserable bit of consolation soon after when in town he gleefully bragged to a casual girlfriend of mine -- whom he also knew and who'd in fact been the one alerting me of his past job thievery -- how "I just got Stuart fired!" He had underestimated her regard for me and no doubt forgotten her part-Cherokee hair-trigger temper. She up and punched him in the mouth.

It seems some actually preferred staying mad at place, enjoying the piss-and-vinegar rush of righteous indignation they got raking the place over the coals. Before the pandemic, when the new 'owners' upped the ante to insufferable levels for many former fans, one could either give up on the place in sad resignation, suffer the sorry changes and go into denial while still trying to cop another long-accustomed soak and sauna now and then, or shun place altogether and spread the word on the tragic developments, while at same time envisioning a more positive future for the treasured realm.

Then the plague hit, and bathhouse operation closed down by state mandate and soon 'owners' announced the intention to scrap spa service completely. Now one can either visualize the (unlikely) miracle of current 'owners'' hearts melting...OR the manifestation of new, appropriate stewardship resurrecting the scene. One ambitious. resourceful and visionary enough to, perhaps, even build a new, thoughtfully laid-out bathhouse (and separate office), especially since the current 'owners' have already gutted the tubs to repurpose the building.

Place has life of its own

Anyone the least bit aware soon learned to appreciate how the Springs, rare earth phenomenon that it is, is worlds more than any 'owner', manager, staff member, person, or operation overlay.

It has a life of its own. One saddened by those who don't recognize or appreciate its extraordinary healing properties and gladdened by those who do...enough to want to work in harmony with its gifts to freely share it with as many others as possible in lighthearted service.

Given a future enlightened stewardship, everyone setting foot on the land with mindfulness would serve as a handmaiden helping redeem place from over-worldly focus and diversionary use, aiding and abetting the rebirthing of the sacred healing and rejuvenation grounds for a greater humanity.

my story, cont'd

time capsule project

Sporadic writing freak, I'd long felt pulled to cobble together a book on the extraordinary place. The idea first took hold in 2000 at the start of a two-year groundskeeper stay in the little abode above the Cottage and the apartments #1-6 row.

It was then called the shed; it's now called Henry's -- for good reason.

Last flash before abandoning project was to cobble together a book of everyone's written experiences with the place, ala Studs Terkel's shared-bio collection approach on a given experienced subject. It also went nowhere. Perhaps it was my then at times off-putting manic

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Contact

Over time the site has, by default of de writer, become blogcentric. It wasn't capable (or the starter desirous) of enabling instant posting ala Facebook in order to attract others to contribute their takes on the place or share a noteworthy experience. Besides not liking the appearance of the nuts-and-bolts platform structure required to allow such a feature, I didn't want to get into the all too common devolution of  snarky, uninformed comments that too often come to plague such sites. 

That said, the original site vision WAS of the place's fans doing at least a version of just that by contributing their own, well considered perspective and unique stories 

If anyone ever feels pulled to add their own write-up on the place -- or contact me for any reason, here's an email link:

e-mail

One offbeat story heard in January 2020 from a woman who visited her first (and only) time around 2012: Apparently some gay men's group had swooped in for a retreat, bacchanal or some such, and had taken over the bathhouse, chasing each other about in naked glee. She assumed the place was always that way!

mystical realm

The Springs seems to be natural mystical realm everyone adopts as their own medicine grounds. At it's best, deeply personal, inward -- sometimes even celestial -- experiences can be had there, ones which elude being verbalized, let alone being put into print and read by unknown others. 

Trivia: Restaurant building in Mt. Shasta now known as Lalo's was built in 1970s by then Springs owners Carole and Winston Goodpasture and family. It briefly served as town compliment to the thriving natural food restaurant on grounds, which they also built. The latter was deemed by many the best restaurant in the entire county at the time.

After dedicated resistance to pursuing any online creation -- being a die-hard book lover and preferring the physicality of inked words immortalized on dead trees -- I was finally won over. (Losing a small fortune in self-publishing ventures helped.)

1953. see History...also, alas, with the earlier tragic Native American massacre taking place about grounds before family purchase -- but, saving grace, before that with the earliest, peaceful, harmonizing energies of indigenous peoples revering land as sacred healing ground for time untold. That being the earliest imprint keeps it the dominant one, no matter what subsequent overlays might obscure it.

THAT'S a deeper understanding of the place, lending hope that it can indeed be restored in the future to a nonprofit, community-active stewardship...resurrecting it as much as modern times allow -- with current, growing state-of-consciousness twist and teeming lifestyle diversity -- to its peaceful, pre-historic healing sanctuary lands vibration.

All, mostly vintage, nudist pictures are from the site nudistfun.com (caution: it's a non-secure site and now, sadly, apparently connected to video marketeers clearly catering to pedophiles).

Thanks to all who have contributed or given permission to re-post/reprint writings; they anchor the site. Springs aficionados appreciate hearing diverse takes on place. The more unique takes are shared, the better the chance of building a critical mass to manifest a grand turnaround of the realm.  

As the writer keeps hammering and yammering, it's CRUCIAL since draconian changes that true-blue fans visualize the place gaining new stewardship and re-harmonized energies if ever hoping to enjoy the place again.

Now more than ever, with global energies shifting so radically. May current 'owners' realize they'd be FAR happier doing their thing elsewhere, seeing the light and redeeming themselves by seeking out appropriate stewards, ones who'd be stoked to meet the creative challenge of resurrecting the place as (ideally) a legal nonprofit healing/cultural center...maybe even build a brand new spa compound of inspired design.

In any event, think mini Breitenbush, Harbin or Jackson Wellsprings. 

One must never assume it's inevitable that the treasured place is doomed to forever devolve into some conventional, semi-private, watered-down resort or worse fate.

Demand a miracle. Great spirit could have other plans IF hearing a big enough chorus of heartsongs from all who have loved and cherished the realm.