May 15 Pagosa Springs

We woke up to the rush of the San Juan River after a night during which we had had to use one of the portable heaters every now and then. 

After coffee and Jimmy Dean breakfast bowls, we drove to Walmart for products that could offer additional organizing and storage opportunities in the motorhome. 

We were at downtown Pagosa Springs about 15 minutes too early for the Overlook Hot Springs to be open, so we explored the Riverwalk. 

All across town, there were plumes of scalding steam gushing from "The deepest hot springs in the world." This also makes Pagoda the most hard-boiled egg-smelliest place on earth. 

We had some great choices for indulging in the healing waters, but chose the Overlook Hot Springs spa because "It's where the locals go" and it offers a view of the town from the rooftop tubs. The place was perfect. With military discount, we got in for $32! The attendant, Michelle, was super cool and great at her job. For example, she needed to let us know that silver jewelry gets tarnished from the minerals in the water. Instead of just saying that, she started by complimenting me on my silver Turtle necklace and then said advice us on how to keep it pretty and safe. Brilliant!

The building was from 1906 and the decor was inspired. I am now in love with thin wall paneling, tall wall molding, mini honeycomb floor tiles, and swirly corbels in every opening all in white. Treasure Hill will probably see some of these elements in the future.

The entire building was full of rooms for showering, soaking, and spa treatments. We headed straight for the Overlook via Sulphur-stained stairs and steaming hot hallways. That we did not see mold or even stalagtites hanging from the ceiling is a testimony to their cleaning service.

The view from the roof was spectacular. 

And the water was HOT, enough for Gary to question the possibility of his getting all in. He braved the steam only to find colder temps at the bottom of the tub. 

The healing properties of this water is truly magical. Over the course of the rest of the day, various issues with my skin almost resolved. I need to dig a hot spring in Florida!

After the soak, we had 45 minutes to enjoy the town prior to check-out at the campground. We knew that few stores would be open early on a Monday, but we took our chance. The first stop was a jewelry store. The wares were beautiful silver and turquoise rings, bracelets, and necklaces and ceramics by local artists. Too bad it is so hard to find an opportunity to wear this gorgeous stuff. 

The shop owner engaged us in conversation by asking where we were from. When we said, "Florida. Pensacola." He hung his shoulders in laughter and said, "I'm from Pensacola, born and bred." His parents had moved from Pensacola to Pagosa 30 years earlier because of the 4Hs: Heat, Humidity, Hurricanes, and Humans. The son has followed 13 years ago.

We left the store empty handed but tickled about the coincidence. What are the odds that we'd find a Pensacolian in Pagosa Springs, Colorado? Out on the street, we saw a bunch of "closed" signs, but also one hopeful one that said, "More shopping keep walking," so we did.

We found Memory Lane, a thrift store. At first, we were not too impressed with this store. Gary saw an old-fashioned metallic aqua camping lantern for a very reasonably $24, but when he turned it over to see if he could convert it to electricity, we saw the "made in China" sticker. So much for authenticity.

As we continued to explore the shop, we confirmed that the pricing was indeed cheap and that were some great finds, especially antique furniture. For example, there was a desk from a railroad station that was so cool that I could have decorated an entire house based on it alone. It was only $135. Gary and I looked around a few feet apart from each other. At one point, we converged on a pretty unremarkable display. Gary had found an aqua vintage glass chalise he liked. It was fun and perfect for hard candies. With the chalise in hand, he also pointed at something else and said, "Is that one of those Swedish candelabras?"

As soon as I saw what he was looking at, I immediately said, "No, that is German."

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Here's the backstory to how come I knew that detail so definitively:

My paternal grandparents come from East Germany. Specifically, my paternal grandmother comes from the small village in Talheim. The two coal miners, the whittler, and the lady making lace in the candelabra represent the trades of the region she's from. My grandmother brought one of these from Talheim when she migrated first to Holland and later to Sweden. My parents have it now.

My parents also has another arc that was handmade by a neighbor of my grandparents who was from a village over from Talheim. The specific symbols in the Talheim arc was unique to my grandmother's village so the arc from his village would look somewhat different. That is how special this particular design is. 

A few years ago, my mother gave me a wooden arc to represent my paternal heritage. This arc broke during transport to America. The candleholders did not make it and some of the carefully sawed details in the scene broke off. Nevertheless, I keep what is left in the curio cabinet at Treasure Hill.

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I now have an authentic Arc of Light from my grandmother's little village in East Germany in metal. Gary found it on sale in a thrift store in Pagosa Springs, Colorado. What are the odds?