March 11, 2007

Seduced by the Sulfur

This is going to sound much worse than it actually is. And, if you endure the rather unpleasant first few sentences, you will realize that my opinion of the place I am about to introduce you to, is actually glowing…

You know that pungent smell, the one that is reminiscent of rotten eggs and instantly induces the gag reflex as your face puckers, your eyes squint and you frantically search for an emergency exit into fresh, stench-less air?

After weeks of anticipation, I pulled up to Sycamore Mineral Springs in Central California with my bathing suit already on so that I didn’t have to waste one unnecessary second before I plunged into the healing mineral pools that this resort was recognized for. The six hour drive from Los Angeles, culminating in car-sick inciting winding roads, prompted me to propel out of the passenger seat as soon as my boyfriend pulled up to the place, and take (what I had expected to be) a deep cleansing breath. Instead, I was assaulted by the stomach-turning scent of sulfur emanating from the spa. And this was supposed to heal me? After a few minutes, the smell subsided (in other words, I got used to it), but I still wasn’t quite ready to cannon ball into the sulfur-filled spring.

It was almost dinnertime and this minor glitch was nothing that a good meal and bottle of wine couldn’t fix. Besides, the studies that back sulfur’s therapeutic effects (including detoxification, acting as an antibacterial agent, stimulating the body’s mucus membranes- which apparently is a good thing - soothing the joints and respiratory system, calming the skin, and promoting a general sense of well-being), far outweigh the noxious fumes that it emits.

My boyfriend (a through and through foodie and wine snob- almost to a fault) and I ordered the chef’s tasting and wine pairing that would lube us up enough to seduce us into the mineral water-filled tubs dotting the landscape. One bottle down and we were ready to be submerged in the sulfur…well, almost. Just in case the fumes were too much to endure, and since glass wasn’t permitted in the Jacuzzi, we uncorked a bottle of one of Central California’s finest reds and poured it into an empty Evian bottle.

Bathing suit-clad, we stumbled up the tree-canopied path in search of the perfect redwood mineral spring spa tub. At the very top of the meandering path we found our oasis, completely secluded from the surrounding world. So our sanctuary wasn’t festooned with chaise lounges, flower-filled vases or even a table to place our belongings on, but we were ready for an adventure.

We removed the slightly slimy tub cover as the sulfuric steam billowed up into our face. To save our swimsuits and avoid staining them with the pungent scent,
we opted out of them, slipping into the hot water in the buff. My muscles slowly surrendered to the penetrating heat as my mind simultaneously submitted to the calm. I felt high. There must have been something in the water...like lithium! The heat was a bit overwhelming so I sat up on the side of the tub to get a hit of fresh air. I sat there, naked, and got to thinking: good wine, good lighting from the glow of the exposed moon and stars, mineral water hot tubs, my boyfriend…why not explore!

Come on, who doesn’t want to be Adam and Eve? You get to frolic through the forest with nothing but a leaf (if that) concealing your nether land. You feast on foraged food and suck the sweet nectar from the honeysuckle bushes that surround your secret garden. It’s so raw, so feral, so real. We scampered along the path, then retreated back to our suite and, in a state that was a little exhausted, a little drunk, and unbelievably relaxed, we passed out on top of the sheets, still wrapped in our wet towels.

The sun stared me down in the morning, forcing my eyes to open as I tried to figure out where the stench that filled the room was coming from. Oh, me. I felt a little icky, queasy feeling that was probably thanks to a combination of the scent that stuck to my skin, falling asleep without brushing my teeth, and the slight hangover that hung over my head. Still, I was addicted. Desperate to again get my sulfur spring high, I called the spa and reserved a tub for the night. Who knew that the scent of rotten eggs could be so appealing. Sycamore Mineral Springs Resort (805) 595-7302 www.smsr.com