Banbury Hot Springs: Where Dreams Come True

Dear Readers,

That special time of year is upon us once again. The sun is shining (at least it's trying), there's a perpetual smell of hamburgers and hotdogs in the air, and my patio is covered an allergy comma inducing layer of cottonwood seeds. That's right folks, it's June and the annual pilgrimage to Banbury Hot Springs in Hagerman, Idaho is about to begin.

An anthropological phenomenon, the family descendants of Calvin and Hazel Braegger each year follow the winding roads down into the Hagmerman valley, past a thousand springs, and find themselves at the green cattle gate to paradise. The dirt road that leads down a steep incline induces what may be a genetic pre disposal to excitement and squealing, and seeing the pool headquarters sparking a thrill that only heroin addicts can relate to. Keep your fancy cruises, your elite resorts, and your white sandy beaches! I prefer a campground next to the Snake River, with a canopy of Ash trees and a pool kept warm with fresh hot spring water for my vacation destination.

Correct me if I'm wrong (which I'm sure you won't hesitate to), but the Braegger's began going to Banbury Hot Springs in the summer of 1978. Year after year we've gone back (with a little hiccup during he early 2000's, we'll blame Y2K for that), and year after year little changes. The camp grounds have neither improved nor worsened. The bathrooms are still painfully white and smell of sulfur. Mr. Banbury uses the same golf cart to mind the grounds and keep the rowdiness down (his dogs have changed a few times though). Besides the dock going out to sea, everything else is the same.

Beyond the place of Banbury, it's the people that I really look forward to being with. I adore the Braegger family. Love them. Cherish them. Mostly because of the food they make. But they're pretty nice folks as well. Getting my mom's siblings together is for sure a good time. Throw my cousins into the mix, and it becomes a riot. Like any family, we've had our snags and probably aren't immune to more. But our good times surely out number our bad. There's no awkwardness, and you're liable to be made fun of at any moment. Someone's always kind of watching the kids (no harm can come from Banbury, silly!), but for them it's one of the rare times when they're allowed to roam freely. Did I mention the food? The food! During my early years, the KAASH Club (Kate, Andrea, Ana, Sarah, Heather) would live entirely on Wheat Thins with Easy Cheese (thanks Nan), Squeeze Its, small novelty size boxes of cereal, and of course S'mores. As an adult, I've learned to enjoy the culinary wonders that are the Braegger sisters; Nan, Ruth, and my mom Kristie are geniuses. Throw my cousin Tori into the mix, and a few of my own cookies, and you're looking at consuming 2,000 calories per hour around the picnic table.

In the excitement leading up to next weekend, my family has been posting memories all over Facebook. My grandma Hazel rolling down the hill when her chair crashed on her. My uncle Bob attacking the tent at the sight of a Daddy Long Leg spider. Andrea having the chicken pox and getting to choose a special prize from the vending machine that held everything from disposable swim trunks to playing cards. Staring longingly from the side of the pool at the ultra hot lifeguards when we were about 10 (I'm sure he found us to be just as attractive). Synchronized swimming. Diving contests. Giant ice cream cones. Getting held under the water by your older sister only to be called a pansy when you start to cry after catching your breath. Mosquito bites that make your eyes swell shut.

Do I expect all of you to understand the grandeur and meaning behind the word Banbury? No, of course not. Not all of you have Braegger DNA, after all. But for those of you who get it, who when they can't sleep at night they conjure images of that tree lined road in their heads, waiting to pull up to their parking spot to the cheers of their family members and are finally able to fall asleep knowing that there's a happier place waiting for them next to the Snake River, I'll see you on Thursday. Hell yes.

Sincerely,
h.