Jordan Hot Springs

After a long day dwelling at the cliffs, the people of the Mogollon culture would head to the hot springs for a soak.  They also kept parrots and liked to dance like nobody was watching.  (So, yeah, some of the volunteer docents at the Gila Cliff Dwellings National Monument like to speculate.)

No speculation below.

This is the instructor team from both courses sitting in the hot springs near the mouth of Jordan Canyon.  Our students are on small group expeditions.  And all was right with the world.  (That’s me on the far left.  The instructors from our sister course are next, and then my co-instructors.)  The white letters on the hat spell “Lifeguard” of course.

Gotta get to a soccer game now!  Send me comments.  I miss you people.

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6 Responses to Jordan Hot Springs

  1. Tika says:

    “You people” missed you too! At least this one did 🙂 Welcome back!

  2. Lisa says:

    Welcome back Liza!
    The hot springs look soooooo great. Nothing like a nice soak in nature. It sounds like you had a great trip. Want to hear lots more….

    • lizahoward says:

      I am full of stories for at least a month. It’s good to be home. I’m staying up late tonight to write up a big plan for the next month. Time for some colored markers and butcher block paper. 🙂

  3. Greg L. says:

    Welcome back to civilization. I soaked in some springs (beside the river) near Cliff Dwellings a few years ago and they were so hot we could not stand the temp. We were tampering with some rocks to let the river flow in and got in trouble by a “hippie dude” who was the self proclaimed “keeper” of the springs. He did show us how to properly regulate the springs so we could enjoy though.

    • lizahoward says:

      There is always some “hippie dude,” right? I think they must be assigned like salesmen to cover certain hot springs areas. My best hot-springs-hippie-dude encounter involved a fellow who told Eliot and me he liked to soak in the springs because he thought it was good for the open wound on his leg. He lifted his leg to show us a flesh-eating-bacteria-looking sore — at which point we exited the pool we’d all been sharing. Bleaugh.

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