Yes, this morning was my appointment to soak in the mineral warm springs pools that FDR established when he was hoping to cure the effects of polio. So I left the campground this morning clad in my swimsuit covered by a shirt and shorts.
|All three pools are connected, and you can walk in the water from one to the other without having to get out.|
The two lady rangers remembered me from last week and were thrilled to see that I actually showed up for the 90 minute soak. Hey, I paid $20 in advance for this unique experience, so it would take something really dramatic for me not to show up! Considering that these pools were established to help people with polio, there is a ramp as well as stairs for entrance to the waters. I chose the ramp since stairs aren’t really my friend at the moment.
The first thing I noticed upon getting wet is that there is a reason this town is called Warm Springs and not Hot Springs. The water bubbling out of the the underground pipe is 88*, and the further you are from the bubbling, the lower the water temperature is. While I was sure to walk or float to all of the three pools, I spent most of my time near the source. I really wanted to feel the force of the water and bubbles entering the pools, but an elderly woman staked her claim to that spot, and refused to budge for the whole time. She must have been here before. These pools are only filled and open on two weekends every year. I’m thinking very few people have ever experienced using these historic mineral pools. I was thrilled to be able to do so, and think back to what it must have been like 70 some years ago when people traveled here with such high hopes for a miraculous cure. As for my aches and pains, I’ve still got them, but it certainly was a mentally therapeutic morning.
I had a couple of other things on my agenda for today, so I left the pools and headed for the top of Pine Mountain.
Dowdell’s Knob was a favorite spot that FDR enjoyed for picnicking and contemplation. During his years as President dealing with the Great Depression and World War II must have taken a great deal of contemplation.
The view of the valley below Pine Mountain. FDR had the BBQ pit on the right built so he could enjoy rather formal picnics on the mountain top. It has since been filled in with cement to preserve it.
It was here on April 10, 1945, that he came to think about the war in Germany and the Pacific. As he arrived in his car, he sent the secret service men back down the road on foot, and told them not to return until he honked the horn. He sat in the car thinking for two hours. This was just a mere two days before his death at the Little White House. I can understand why he so loved this location.
Back down the mountain I went to have what turned out to be a less than memorable lunch out. I found only one thing at the buffet at The Bullock House worth mentioning. I couldn’t seem to find the advertised fried apples, but did find what I thought was applesauce, so I put a nice scoop on my plate. As I dished a spoonful into my mouth, it was immediately apparent that it was not applesauce. I had to ask the waitress what it was… rutabagas! Ack! I’ve never had them before, and hope to never have them again.
When I drove to Warm Springs last week, I let Jack-in-the-Box figure out the way and he took me down some less often traveled roads. On the way home last week, I flew by a Union Cemetery that I was determined to stop at today on the way home. I figured since it was Memorial Day Weekend, I’d pay my respects to those Civil War Yankees that gave their lives so far from home.
Surprise! This ‘Union Cemetery’ had nothing to do with the Civil War. I hope if you click on the pic you’ll be able to read this interesting story.
Sometimes Jack leads me to places I would never have known about. I guess I’ll keep him around for a bit longer. Tonight’s post has kind of dragged on and on, but I sure enjoyed my day, and it was much better than listening to all the pounding music from my neighbors out enjoying the first long weekend of the season.
Thanks for stopping by… talk to you later, Judy