I decided it was time to look for something in Savage called Boiling Springs. I had looked for it once before, without success. The first time, I gave up after about 15 minutes of following a trail because I had flip flops on and, from wearing such idiotic footwear, I hurt my left foot so bad that it took a good three months for me to be able to go on walks. (My foot still hurts a little every so often, especially when I walk. Never wear flip flops. They are miserable excuses for footwear.) So I never found the so-called Boiling Springs.
I had looked up Savage Boiling Springs on Google, but there was little said about it, and nothing on the precise location and trail one would take to get there. The websites I consulted gave a general location and terse description, terse enough to make me want to fill it out with personal knowledge. And in order to have personal knowledge, I had to find Boiling Springs myself.
So I grabbed Matt (and some sensible tennis shoes) and we went to the part of Savage that we don't go to much: a well-heeled section nearer to Shakopee than to regular Savage. I found the place I thought would give us the best access to the creek. Sure enough, there was a hint of a parking space--in fact a temporary widening of the road long enough to admit a parked car (or two) without creating an obstacle for moving traffic--suggesting that something of interest was located closeby. There were two unmarked trails, one going off to the east of the road, and one to the west. We tried the path going west for a little bit, and while we did wander through some dense undergrowth to get to the creek, we gave up and went searching on the east path, which we thought looked more promising.
|No boiling going on here|
|Matt starts out on the path going east of the road|
It looked promising for about a mile. We were in a little forest.
|Matt feels no need to stay by his mother|
Finally, we came to a little bridge.
|A little bridge WITH NO GUARDRAIL. Matt chose to tempt fate by standing on the object most likely to break off and fall into the river below and give his mother a heart attack.|
We walked for a LONG time after that, finally coming to a neighborhood and with no idea where to go to find the van. Thank goodness I had the presence of mind to take my phone with me. Thank you Telenav GPS! Our van was half a mile away. By this time, after all that walking, a half mile was no trifling distance.
On our way back to the van, Matt and I decided that this "Boiling Springs" thing is a hoax cooked up by people in the Savage City Department of Trying to Get Folks to Go Outside and Look for Things That Don't Exist So Those In the Know Can Laugh At Them (also in charge of hiding the Dan Patch Commemorative Horseshoe for the Dan Patch "Find the Commemorative Horseshoe" Contest in June, which no one I know has ever found).