Rhode Island hydrotherapy: A new twist on an ancient practice

Image from Bodhi Spa Facebook page

Hydrotherapy today seems divided into two distinct modalities: rehabilitative therapy used for recovering from injuries and spa treatments dedicated to relaxation and rejuvenation. The Safety Harbor Resort and Spa, once a hotspot for health treatments using water, now bills itself as a "tranquil sanctuary to relax, rejuvenate, revitalize and reconnect the mind, body and spirit to enliven the senses." But the Pinellas County resort near Clearwater is perhaps the state's best connection to a spa of the past – water from one of the the mineral springs is still utilized and the history of the facility is on display in the spa's "History Hall." 

I've written about experiencing hydrotherapy and two of the most famous watering places in the world: Hot Springs, Arkansas and Bath, England (in Florida's Healing Waters).  And in addition to the spa at Safety Harbor, I've bathed at Florida's other vestiges from the state's Golden Age of Bathing: Green Cove Springs and Warm Mineral Springs. 

When researching things to do for a recent vacation in Rhode Island I came across the Bodhi Spa in Providence and their product called the "Water Journey." So when I had the opportunity to try it, I jumped right in.

Heat Up. Cool Down. Relax. Repeat.

Hydrotherapy is the art of healing through the application of water in any form; hot, cold, steam or ice. Hydrotherapy has been used by cultures around the world for thousands of years. Many historians believe Egyptian royalty were the first to indulge in its health benefits, while others believe it dates back even earlier to Asia, where therapeutic waters were used to cleanse the body and soul of impurities. – from the Bodhi Spa website

The Water Journey is a hydrotherapeautic system consisting of the following regimens:

• Therapeutic 104˚ Epsom Salt Pool
• Mineral Rich 98˚ Dead Sea Salt Pool
• Stimulating 55˚ Cold Plunge Pool
• Aromatherapy Steam Room
• Detoxifying Infrared Sauna
• Traditional Finnish Dry Sauna
• Relaxation Area
• Outdoor Zen Garden Space

The order with which one proceeds through the Journey is printed on large sign over the Dead Sea Salt Pool. The principle is similar to the ritual seen in Scandinavian countries where after a session in a sauna, individuals jump into icy cold water. For this Floridian, jumping into the 55˚ Cold Plunge was something I pondered with great trepidation; most of our springs are a 72˚ in comparison, and that feels icy-cold. So I approached my experience with a mixture of excitement, interest, and honest-to-God fear!

Image from the Bodhi Spa Facebook page

New Age Ambiance

I made reservations the day before and we found the location in what seemed to be an up-and-coming neighborhood near Providence's Federal Hill. My wife, who took the waters with me in Hot Springs and in Bath, chose to sit this one out  – perhaps the 55˚ Cold Plunge freaked her out too!

A contemporary-looking facade fronted a waiting room decorated with rock crystals and Buddha statues – typical decor one might find at a yoga studio or new age book store. I was given a robe, flip flops, and locker and then escorted to the dressing room, which was considerably fancier than what I experienced at the vintage bathhouse in Hot Springs. I changed into my bathing suit and entered the door into the hydrotherapy area which was occupied by maybe a dozen other bathers, mostly women. I noticed quickly that I forgot to remove by glasses but I decided to keep them on in order to be able to read the sign detailing the order of the Water Journey regimens. That was a mistake.

Image from the Bodhi Spa Facebook page

Plunging Ahead

I started with the 98˚ Dead Sea Salt Pool, which looked like a large Jacuzzi and was already occupied by about four women. I observed immediately that the whisper policy stressed on the website, was not being observed and that there was a lot of talking going on. The water temperature was very comfortable and I noticed that the jets in both salt pools were stronger than what might experience in a typical hotel jacuzzi; they were strong enough to knock you out of your seat! I couldn't notice any discernible difference between the 104˚ Epsom salt pool and the  98˚ Dead Sea salt pool. But soaking in both of them were very pleasant. 

Like the powerful jets in the salt baths, spray "douches" in traditional hydrotherapy
administered powerful jets of water believed to have restorative benefits.

Balneotherapy is the practice of immersion into mineral water, historically originating from "hot springs, cold water springs, or other sources of water, like the Dead Sea," according to wikipedia. The ancient Greeks built temples over springs, the Romans erected elaborate baths all over their empire, cultures all over the world have been taking the waters for thousands of years. The salt pools at the Bodhi Spa are the latest version of this ancient tradition. 

The Baths of Caracalla

In Florida, the Gilded Age spas at mineral spring advertised healing a long list of ailments including consumption (tuberculosis), gout, rheumatism, dyspepsia (indigestion), skin disorders, and a wide assortment of other ailments. According to the Bodhi Spa website, their Dead Sea Salt Pool offers relief from fibromyalgia, skin conditions, and Type 2 Diabetes. The Epson Salt Pool helps sore muscles recover after work outs, reduces pain and inflammation, and reduces anxiety and depression. 

After soaking for about 10 minutes, I showered and headed for the Aromatherapy Steam Room.

Steam Room and Sauna

Steam baths origins go back to the ancient Romans; I remember seeing the remnants of the thermae in Bath, England, at the Roman baths there. According to wikipedia, a Hammam or Turkish Bath is steam bath or place for public bathing found in the Islamic world using hot dry air for cleansing and therapy. Steam baths or banya found in Russia and Finland, traditionally create steam with a wood stove.

Advertisement for the Turkish Baths at the Hotel Alcazar in St. Augustine

The Aromatherapy Steam Room at the Bodhi Spa has an overwhelming smell of eucalyptus. When I was a kid and had a cough my mom would rub Vick's VapoRub on my chest and put a humidifier in my bedroom. It was a similar sensation, but amped up quite a bit. I've been in steam baths at Hot Springs and Safety Harbor, but this one seemed hotter. I'm not sure I made it the entire eight to ten minutes on any of my circuits through the Water Journey. It was just too hot. 

The traditional sauna was hot, too, and I made the mistake of keeping my glasses on. It was hot enough to actually start melting the emulsion on the lenses and make the frames almost unbearably to wear. When people compare Florida to a sauna, they aren't even close. 

But the purported benefits of both rooms are impressive: they relieve stress, remove toxins from the skin, clear up congestion, help heart health, improve sleep and basically sweat out all the bad stuff from your system. I did find that my sinuses seemed to clear up .... until I took a hydration break and drank the icy cold infused water. It was cold enough to make me congested again. 

Plunge pool at the Roman baths in Bath, England

The Big Chill

My family has a history of bad heart health and I must admit, although I am in perfect health (aside from allergies), that I was afraid that going from extreme heat to freezing cold water might make my ticker explode. Again this notion of bathing in icy cold water goes back to the ancient Greeks and Romans who thought it was good for one's health. An expert in an article on Outside.com says that experts claim that a good cold plunge releases hormones and adrenaline and is even a good heart workout.  But other experts in the same article say that benefits are imagined at best and it could even be "potentially dangerous."

So I stepped into the frigid, icy, freezing, way-beyond-chiiiilly water, very gingerly (at best.) Did I mention that the water is 55 degrees? That's almost twenty degrees colder than a spring in Florida. Pain. That's how I describe the experience. Needles poke your muscles which begin to hurt. I tried to stay in the recommended 30 seconds but it was hard because it's human nature to avoid pain. Each circuit I tried to make it deeper into the pool and I must admit I never made it all the way in. Other bathers were able to submerge their entire bodies but I rationalized the they must be native New Englanders, used to icy-cold water. But not for this Florida boy. Nope. No way. 

Image from the Bodhi Spa Facebook page

The Water Journey

Other spas I've visited have had similar regimens, but this was the first spa I visited that had no historical connection to famous baths. In a way this was merely an updated version of what Roman senators could have experienced at the Baths of Caracalla in the year 221.  I think I expected a zen-like, restorative session, but the whole time I was thinking how I might write about the Water Journey and I never completely let down my guard. I felt relaxed, but I think it could have been a different experience if it had been quieter and more peaceful inside the spa. 

But there is something to recreating an ancient ritual performed by different cultures across the globe. In other parts of the world, many still believe that water in all its forms has the power to heal. I am fortunate to live in Florida, with largest array of first magnitude springs on the planet and the opportunity for a dip in a cold spring is just a short car ride away. And it's a glorious 72 degrees year round. 

Ginnie Springs

A Winter Eden for Victorian-era Visitors

Twenty-first century Florida is a casual place – flip flops, tank tops, and shorts are accepted as appropriate attire for almost any situation. The amount of skin revealed at the beach is quite generous and thongs are considered adequate bathing attire. I have observed that when images of Victorian tourists in outdoor situations in Florida are posted on social media, invariably comments are made regarding the significant amount of clothing worn by these visitors. A typical comment is "how did they not pass out wearing stuff like that?" or "I would be miserable wearing that in the heat humidity." See comments on the image above. 

State Archives of Florida

State Archives of Florida

State Archives of Florida

Travelers to our state in the Gilded Age were restricted by rigid, judicious standards of dress (and long sleeves were added protection against the ever-present mosquitoes.) Plus pale skin was considered desirable as those with tans generally were outdoor laborers and freckles were unwelcome for proper Victorian ladies. Another factor in the inordinate amount of clothing was that initially, many of the visitors to the state were not in robust health, as many came to the Sunshine State as invalids, and they dressed like it.

But the main reason that so many early visitors to Florida were covered in clothing, from the top of their head to bottom of their heals, was that the overwhelming majority of visitors to the state came during the winter months.

A Place for Consumptives

Tuberculosis, what Victorians called consumption, was the plague of the nineteenth century, and although Robert Koch identified the bacteria that caused the disease in 1882, it was not effectively diminished until the 1950s. In Europe during the nineteenth century, one in four deaths were attributed to tuberculosis and the sanatorium movement emerged because people believed fresh air and taking the waters could bring relief from this disabling disease. Many of Florida's first visitors were sent south by doctors who thought Florida's sunshine and healing waters might help their patients. As early as 1823, just a couple years after Florida was transferred to the United States from Spain, a book called "Observations Upon the Floridas" touted that the climate was good for patients of "consumptive habit" and the physicians should send invalids to Florida in winter rather than "an expensive journey to the south of France and Italy." Eventually, the percentage of invalid travelers diminished and the amount of leisure visitors increased, but the state was originally perceived as America's sanatorium. 

America's Winter Resort

The Florida winter travel business began before the Civil War as hostilities between the U.S. Government and the Seminoles diminished, and advancements in travel made to easier for leisure travelers to get to Florida. Steamers began to travel to North Florida from New York in the 1840s. From Jacksonville, riverboats could take visitors as far south as Enterprise in present-day Volusia County. The Civil War temporarily suspended travel, but when peace came so did the visitors from the north. In the 1870s, the railroad made its way to the state, and according to Floyd and Marion Rinhart, authors of "Victorian Florida: America's Last Frontier," the 1880s brought an intense rivalry between rail and ship routes to Florida.

According to the Rinharts, the last two weeks of February and the first two weeks of March were initially the most popular times of the year, but eventually, the season expanded to include most of the winter and much of spring. But even as people came for the favorable climate and salubrious sunshine, there were plenty of cold days. And much of the travel around the turn of the century was in the northern part of the state, which is considerably cooler than the central and southern Florida. On February 13, 1899, temperatures dipped to 2 degrees below zero in Tallahassee. Jacksonville chronicler T. Frederick Davis wrote that the lowest temperature ever recorded in Jacksonville was on February 8, 1835 when it fell to 8 degrees and “scarcely a winter passes without a temperature at some time as low as freezing.”

Freeze in Melbourne, Feb. 8, 1890

The Great Freeze

Another great example of just how cold it could be in Florida was the state's "Great Freeze" – actually two separate freezes in the winter of 1894-95. When the first freeze hit on December 29, 1894 – temperatures of 18 degrees in Orlando killed the citrus. Many of the mature orange trees survived, however, but a second freeze on February 7, 1895 wiped out groves across the state. It took decades for the citrus industry to rebound and large scale citrus production never returned to North Florida.

Rockledge grove of Alfred Trafford after the freeze (State Archives of Florida)

Winter Cities in a Summer Land
Despite these occasional cold temperatures, Florida's reputation as the go-to place for those seeking solace from northern winters only increased as the state developed. In the summertime, well-to-do Victorians flocked to northern vacation spots like Cape May, Atlantic City, Martha's Vineyard, and Newport. In winter Palm Beach and Miami were popular, thanks in large part to Henry Flagler. Advertising for his Florida East Coast Railway helped create an image of Florida as a tropical paradise, especially in winter.

Marketing has always been a big part of luring people to the Sunshine State in winter, so what better way to get people to come to your town, than have winter right in your town's name? Central Florida has Winter Park, Winter Garden, Winter Springs, and Winter Haven. The Interlachen Winter Resort Company promoted "winter homes in a summer land" in efforts to sell real estate in Interlachen, Florida in 1887. A pamphlet from the same era created by the Fort George Island Company bragged that despite a few chilly days in December, the winter was mostly "mellow, golden days" and that their island climate was far more invigorating than that of the mainland.

State Archives of Florida

Bathing in Winter

Many of the images of Victorians in Florida that receive Facebook comments about our "over-dressed" visitors show people at the beach. One of the biggest draws for visitors to our state in winter was its waters. Our beaches attracted sea bathers and springs, which seem freezing to us today at 72 degrees, were actually considered hot springs! But if you consider the air temperature outside was much colder, the water might actually feel comfortable. 

So the next time you see an image of Gilded Age travelers in the Sunshine State clad in far too many clothes, note that these are individuals following the fashions of the day and it might actually be a chilly winter day at the beach! 

This ad for the Clarendon House refers to the "Green Cove Warm Sulphur Spring"

You can learn more about the Gilded Age in Florida in my second book, Florida's Healing Waters. You can pre-order the book from the publisher's website; it will likely ship sometime in August.

Revisiting Warm Mineral Springs

I have a mental wish list of ideal places where I’d like to give presentations and Warm Mineral Springs is at the top of my list. My reasoning is that the North Port, FL spring incorporates two aspects of Florida history that interest me the most – the myth of the fountain of youth and the practice of taking the water at mineral springs. Florida has over 1,000 freshwater springs, all of which are unique and have their own magic. But there is nothing quite like Warm Mineral Springs. The spring's geology and archeology separate it from other Florida springs, but it has an interesting history and exciting future as well.

The spring's remote location, in southwest Florida, meant it missed Florida's Golden Age of Bathing in the late 19th century. Much of that part of the state was considered dangerous Indian territory at the same time steamboats were traveling up and down the St. Johns River delivering patrons to elegant spring-based spas. Englishman F. Trench Townsend visited the spring on a hunting and fishing trip and published an account of his journey called "Wild Life in Florida" in 1875. His rustic camp along the Myakka River is a dramatic contrast to the Victorian splendor of the accommodations at springs on the opposite side of the state. He wrote of the spring “To the taste, the water was salt and sulphurous, peculiarly nasty and offering a strong contrast to its marvelously clear and tempting appearance.” The author attempted to bathe in the spring but spied "the scaly body" of an alligator on the opposite bank, and changed his mind.

The spring was utilized by settlers in the area for years and a 1922 ad claims it to be the best place in Florida for the "right man to build a hotel, sanitarium, and city," noting that its medical waters were especially potent for curing skin diseases. The "right man", turned out to be the right woman, when Philadelphia millionaire George K. Brown purchased the spring for his wife Lillian in 1923. It is likely that the Browns knew of the property because of George's brother, Franklin Quimby Brown, who at the age of 29 became president of the Florida Southern Railroad. Brown's railroad was absorbed by tycoon Henry Plant in 1896, and after Plant's death in 1899, it was Brown who arranged for Plant's luxurious Tampa Bay Hotel to be sold to the City of Tampa. Despite Lillian Brown's wish to develop the property surrounding the spring, as evidenced by a classified ad she placed in 1924 soliciting investors, she did little to enhance the site during her ownership. 

By 1950, it was apparent new owners had big plans for the springs, now dubbed the "original Fountain of Youth," and by 1954 lots surrounding the spring could be purchased for just $25 down and $7.50 per month! The facilities that are present today were developed in 1959 in time for the state's Quadricentennial celebration and they were recently added to the National Historic Register of Places due to the outstanding architectural design by Jack West. The spring was added to the register in 1977.

The Warm Minerals Springs/Little Salt Spring Archeological Society graciously paid for me to stay in the Warm Mineral Springs Motel, (future post coming), so I had the opportunity to visit the spring early the next morning after my presentation. The spring didn't open until 9 a.m., so after breakfast, I walked the road between the motel in the spring for exercise. It was misty and damp, and the fog-obscured road helped create a mysterious atmosphere. On the walk back I noticed kids waiting by the road for the school bus, each with their own electronic devices, in their own introverted bubbles that prevented any social interaction with each other.

By the time I got to the spring shortly after nine, the regulars were streaming in, and the steaming spring was peaceful and serene. I waded into the water, circling the ancient cenote in the shallow, wading portion of the spring and made a clockwise circuit, taking photos and observing the other bathers. Like on my first visit, I observed that many of the visitors to the spring spoke Russian, Polish, or some other Eastern European dialect. In stark comparison to the children waiting silently for the school buses, there was a great deal of verbal interaction between the mostly-elderly bathers, and it was clear that the social aspect is an important part of the bathing tradition. After about an hour, I left the water, changed clothes and returned to Orlando.

The facilities were, for the most part, unchanged since my first visit in 2011. There was a refreshing absence of branding and marketing, a sharp contrast from my visit eight years earlier. The space occupied by the Evergreen Cafe is now headquarters for lifeguards and some of the new-age artwork has been removed from the park. The gift shop was sparsely stocked and I saw no bottled spring water for sale this time. The price to take the waters, $20 for a non-resident, seemed consistent with the price I paid to bathe on my first visit.

I learned a great deal about the spring from my new friends in the Archeological Society, and I gathered that there was a sense of cautious optimism with the master plan to upgrade the facilities there. The plans include a trail system and an outdoor amphitheater. The City of Northport also paid for a survey of the architecture and have seemed to decide it is worth preserving. It is possible the Cyclorama may even be restored, a subject which I'll delve into in a future post. 

When I think of Florida's springs, I picture amazing pristine natural resources – cerulean jewels hidden deep in the woods of north Florida. Many springs are better known as recreational resources – county and state parks that attract swimmers, divers, picnickers, and fun-loving Floridians. A few are historical sites such as Suwannee and White springs in North Florida. But beyond the one-of-a-kind archeology, geology, and architecture, Warm Mineral Springs is a cultural resource, the closest thing we have in Florida to taking the waters at a mineral spring in Europe. I imagine that the conversations and rituals that occur in Budapest's famed Széchenyi Thermal Baths are not all that different from the ones that occur on a daily basis in North Port. Studies have shown that one of the most important components of longevity and happiness is social interaction. From what I've seen the folks taking the waters at Warm Mineral Springs get as much from connecting with each other as they do from the minerals in the water. Perhaps it is the Real Fountain of Youth.

Note: I will explore Warm Mineral Springs history in my book "Florida's Healing Waters" to be released in Fall 2020. Stay tuned for details. 

Hunting for Relics of a Golden Age

Union County Historical Society

Five years after "Finding the Fountain of Youth" was published, I am fortunate enough to still have speaking events, most recently at the Matheson History Museum in Gainesville. Since this talk coincided with the start of Spring Break, it seemed like an excellent opportunity for some spring hunting. Lately I'm not hunting for beautiful cerulean swimming holes, but rather the vestiges of what I call "Florida's Golden Age of Bathing." That refers to the era after the Civil War when invalids and tourists poured into the state looking for restoration and relaxation in dozens of spring-side spas.

Union County Historical Society

The first stop on my tour of forgotten springs was Worthington Springs, about a half hour north of Gainesville. I knew from Jane Keeler's excellent post on the Desolation Florida blog that there was not much to see from the Union County spring's glory days as a destination for tourists, picnickers, and the infirm. Sadly, Chastain-Seay Park, where the Worthington Springs Hotel and the spring-fed bathing pool once stood, was closed due to high waters and the only evidence of the site's history was photographs posted outside the park's boundaries.

The Tampa Tribune from June 27, 1910 describes the property as an "ideal place" for outings and vacation stays:

"The Spring is magnificent and strongly impregnated with sulphur, affords ample bathing facilities and under the able management of Ira Lamb is kept in a first class manner. There is no reason why any one should go elsewhere for an outing when all the requirements are here. No mosquitoes, fine shade right in the midst of where melons, vegetables, chickens, fresh milk and all else to make (l)ife pleasant are found in abundance."

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Courtesy Matheson History Museum

After making a few photographs of the signs outside the park, my wife and I headed to Taylor County, home of Hampton Springs. The site of a former resort hotel and spa is now a county park, and it has recently received much attention after the County decided to fill in the spring pool. The County Commission quickly reversed their decision after residents protested the loss of a favorite swimming hole. I talked to the County Administrator who was caught off guard by the vocal reaction, but seemed to see an opportunity in the outpouring of energy from advocates of the spring. This was my second visit to the spring – my first stop was after a talk in Tallahassee on a cold day in 2014. There was no one in the park that day as I poked around as a "polar vortex" threatened the state capital with potential snow flurries and the park was slightly erie and very quiet. I could see evidence of vandalism then, and the problem has persisted, contributing to the county's initial decision to fill in the spring pool, although the main reason was to minimize liability.

Image of Hampton Springs from my 2014 visit

Filling in the spring, courtesy J.T. Davis

Page from a 1920s promotion booklet from the State Archives of Florida.
Note the semi-circular area in the photo on the right. 

This appears to be the semi-circular area pictured above.

This shallow pool is between the semi-circular area and the deeper pool.

What appeared to be the indication of high mineral content in the water of the spring pool.

Water flowing into the recently restored spring pool.

On this visit the park was again quiet and I could see evidence of where heavy machinery had removed the concrete debris and gravel used to fill the spring. The main pool was full of algae-laced spring water on my first visit, but it was mostly dry this time, allowing me the opportunity to descend the stairs and survey the pool. The smell of sulphur permeated the air and there was evidence of minerals deposits from the flowing spring water, which made a miniature waterfall as it flowed down the side of the pool. Taylor County cobbled together a series of grants in the early 2000s so that this historic site could be surveyed and partially restored. Their foresight has created an opportunity for future generations to learn about an era when visitors arrived via train to take the waters, hunt, fish, golf, and participate in other leisure activities, all while staying in a luxurious hotel. Beyond maintaining a swimming hole for locals, preserving the remnants of this site create a glimpse into a time when "taking the waters" at Florida springs provided the foundation for today's tourist economy.

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Houses at sulphur springs – Newport Springs, 1924 from the State Archives of Florida

Newport Springs between 1920 and 1939 from the State Archives of Florida

People gathered at springs – Newport Springs, 1926 from the State Archives of Florida

Newport Springs 2018

Traveling west on U.S. 98 into the state's Big Bend region, our next stop was Newport Springs, in the tiny unincorporated village of Newport, Florida. According to 1998 article in the Tallahassee Democrat, this out-of-the-way location boasted a flourishing hotel as early as 1850, and guests arrived by train and mule-drawn wagons. Today the spring is still located just off the unpaved Plank Road, but is surrounded with a menacing fence marked with no trespassing signs. It was a bit disappointing that we couldn't get closer to the water, but it is good to know the watering hole still exists, unlike the pool at Worthington Springs.

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Text near the bottom of the sign reads “A Florida Learn and Serve Project." Learn and Serve America (LSA) was a program of the Corporation for National and Community Service. Created under the National and Community Service Act of 1990, LSA distributed grants in support of service-learning in order to simultaneously enrich the education of young people, demonstrate the value of youth as assets to their communities, and stimulate the use of service-learning as a strategy to meet unmet community needs. The federal appropriation for Fiscal Year 2011, signed on April 15, 2011, eliminated funding for the Learn & Serve America program which provided funds for the Florida Learn & Serve program. This sign is a remnant of that program.

The final stop on our journey was Panacea Springs located in a roadside park just across from the Wakulla Welcome Center in the unincorporated town of Panacea. A large sign marks the spot where about half dozen small mineral springs still trickle into different size basins. According to Bulletin No. 31, the State of Florida's definitive report on springs, the site was home to a 125-guest hotel and some 20 medicinal springs in 1911.  An ad from the Weekly Tallahasseean in 1901 boasts of new mineral and salt water pools, hot and cold water in all rooms, baths in the hotel, and "all modern conveniences" (including shuffleboard!) According to much more recent 2008 article, different springs were purported to cured different ailments and were labeled as such, including Arthritis Spring and Liver Spring.

The spring closest to U.S. 98 had a brick wall around it leading to a circular opening, so I assumed it was the famed "Cypress Stump Spring" from which water flowed directly out of a stump. Nearby were several other rectangular basins of differing sizes, some sheltered, others completely open to the elements. One spring filled a pool large enough for several people, others were about the size of hot tubs. All of them had cloudy water that seemed to indicate a high concentration of minerals in the spring water.

Cypress Stump Springs from the State Archives of Florida

Cypress Stump Spring?

The most interesting spring was near the rear of the park, where three, (at one time four), brick columns supported a roof above a small, round basin, that reminded me of a spring one might find in a temple in the ancient world – a temple that was home to an oracle.  Located right next to the creek, one of the columns had been pushed down into the water and another was decorated with graffiti. This place where the water was at one timed believed to have miraculous properties is very much at risk.

Across the street at the Welcome Center I found some archival images of the spring, but no historical interpretation. I emailed Wakulla County through their tourist website, and the county official who responded said that the park was located on private property and the county is not responsible for the park's upkeep. Yet the park is promoted as a destination for tourists and is mentioned on printed materials and included on websites. Additionally in 2015 the Welcome Center once posted renderings of restoration plans for the park. I have inquiries pending, and my hope is that these remnants of another era are somehow preserved.

2015 photo from the Wakulla Welcome Center, courtesy Karen Chadwick.

In summary, the spring pool at Worthington Springs is now covered by a parking lot. The spring pool at Hampton Springs was recently filled, and then emptied when residents reacted strongly to the loss of their swimming hole. The basin at Newport Springs is fenced off, and the spring pools at Panacea are crumbling and at risk of falling by the wayside.  I like the words of the mission statement of the Florida Division of Historical Resources: "To inspire a love of history through preservation and education" by cultivating "connections between people and place." These spring pools are invaluable assets of our state's history where enormous opportunities exist to create connections between people and place. To let these assets crumble and disappear or in some cases, even be paved over, is unacceptable. One does not need an oracle to see the cloudy future facing these irreplaceable historic resources.

Archival images of Panacea Springs from the State Archives of Florida