Hot Tubbin' on the Rio Grande

It’s been a tough couple of days on the job: endless tire pounding in the rain, snow and wind. By the time we interns get home from work each evening, it’s getting dark— and at this time of year, it’s always cold in Taos. So, with the weekend upon us and the clouds breaking, we’re all jumping at the chance to relax and explore while the sun shines. Today, six of us piled into a couple of trucks and headed out to Manby Hot Springs, in the Rio Grande Gorge.

The Gorge is a huge canyon running just outside of Taos— and yes, that is the Rio Grande river at the bottom. The gorge wasn’t dug out by the river, but formed by plate tectonics and volcanic activity thousands of years ago. It’s hundreds of feet deep and over a thousand feet wide, an awe-inspiring sight to be sure. Whenever we cross the Gorge Bridge (usually on the way to and from work), the car falls silent as we all stare out the windows. It’ll take a while before I get used to this sight.

The river is actually fairly small here, maybe ten yards across when it’s running high. Further south it picks up tributaries and gets a whole bunch bigger; here it’s skinny, fast, and COLD.

We drive out to the end of a long dirt road on the east side of the gorge, and find the Manby trailhead leading down toward the river. The wind is frigid, and gets stronger as we enter the gorge— but by all accounts there’s a hot tub awaiting us somewhere down there.

Even from the top of the mesa we can see that the water is high, and we speculate whether the spring will still be hot. When the river gets high enough, its cold waters mix with the hot pool; we all hope our hike down into the gorge will pay off with some more-than-warm water.

Only one way to find out.

It gets colder, fast: we step over bits of snow as the trail plunges into the gorge, where sunlight doesn’t quite reach. The path is easy to walk, but descends quickly; within minutes we’re halfway down. The river runs swift and green below us.

There are a few ruins down here at the bottom of the path, signs of its long history. The springs are called Wa-pu-mee (water of long life) by the Taos Pueblo people, and you can still see petroglyphs on some rocks. In the 1800s, this spot was taken over by white businessmen. At one time there was a stagecoach route through here, crossing a bridge to the other side of the gorge.

Later, around 1900, one Arthur Manby decided that he owned this place, along with 66,000 acres of surrounding land. He set up a bathhouse at the spring, and advertised its supposed healing powers. His goal was to create a resort here, but he never could find investors and was eventually driven off the springs (which, as it turned out, he’d never actually owned). He was found decapitated in his home in 1929, and it’s unknown whether he was murdered, or eaten by his own dog.

Even though Manby is long gone, the springs still bear his name. The hike is easy and the view unbeatable, so this is a well-known spot. During the summer and even sunny winter days, these springs get a lot of visitors— but today is so cold, we’ve got the place to ourselves.

The biggest of the warm pools is maybe two feet deep, and a few yards across. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s warm! I stick my feet in, while Sol and Patty decline exposing any unneccessary skin to this bitter wind— but all three guys jump right in the pool and sit grinning happily. The water is just warm enough to be perfectly comfortable: body temperature. As long as you stay under the surface and don’t let the icy wind touch your wet skin, you can sit here for a long time.

But the sun is setting, and we ladies just can’t hang with the cold. So we head back up the ridge, stopping partway up to take photos of the brave bathers, and of each other:

Up on top of the mesa, it’s magic hour and clouds are pooling over the Sangre de Cristo mountains. Tomorrow will be a perfect ski day in the Taos Valley; for today, though, we’ve all had enough cold wind and are ready to head indoors for the night.