Originally published in The Nome Nugget, Summer 1995
It was a cool summer evening in the valley of Serpentine Hot Springs Creek as the 402 Cessna dropped us onto the dirt strip near the National Park Service cabin and bathhouse. We’d planned this trip even before we arrived in Nome last spring. Looking at the map of the Seward Peninsula back in Texas, we’d noticed “Serpentine Hot Springs” in the Bering Land Bridge National Preserve and decided we’d go there on our first vacation opportunity. Four months later, this was it.
Five of us carried huge duffles of gear through the clouds of mosquitos to the 50-year-old three-room cabin. As we passed the outhouse on the way down the hill from the airstrip, we could see steam wafting off the pools of hot water next to the cabin. After throwing our sleeping bags onto the cots, we got ready to change into our swimsuits and enter the bathhouse, built by the villagers of Shishmaref in the 1970s, to take the waters.
My husband checked the hot tub (a 7’x9′ wooden box) and adjusted the temperature with broom handle tamps wrapped in washcloths in the four different pipes flowing into the tub. As the rest of my family took off down the wooden path, my attention was taken by the words around me. I was prepared for the hot springs, the bathhouse, and the extremely hot water of the pools (140-170 degrees F). What I wasn’t ready for was the hundreds of signatures, sketches, descriptions, dates, and poetry scrawled on every single mustard-colored cabin wall. This was history! There were Shishmaref High School senior and junior trips, hunting and snowmachine trip descriptions, and notations from different expeditions. The “Pan Arctic Flora Expedition,” “The Roof of the Americas Expedition,” “The North American Divide Expedition,” “NPS Archaeology, “The 23rd Intergalactic Exercise,” and “UAF Ethnoarchaeology” trips were noted. Drawings of ice block igloos, roses, dinosaurs, hearts, faces, huskies, houses, and butterflies graced the walls. Tracings of hands and feet were everywhere. Several people had drawn their dog sled teams, carefully writing the names of each dog in proper position on the traces. The names of Mumpy, Beep, JJ, Tina, Derek, Paul, Harry, Ray, Sally, Chuck, Lloyd, Jennifer, and Nancy were painstakingly applied to the plywood-section ceiling with spots of candle soot. Although my parents were very stern with me about my name appearing in public places, I found all these wall inscriptions to be real folk art.
The following poem called “Serpentine Hot Springs” was written by “Al of Anchorage” in one corner of one of the rooms. I leave you with its words of wisdom and its relevance perhaps reaching out beyond the valley of the Serpentine.
“Here at Serpentine Hot Springs,
You’ve come to do a lot of things;
So don’t just get into a rut
And sit in there and soak your butt;
Get out and climb up to a spire;
It’s not far, you’ll not tire;
Fill the lantern, wash the dishes, sweep the floor:
Leave this better than before;
Then, with conscience bright and clear,
You can smile into the mirror;
But, if you leave a hellacious mess,
Of yourself you’ll think much less.”
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