Last week, I nearly burned my butt on a sun-baked rock in the middle of nowhere, Idaho. That’s how you know it’s a real hot spring, not some Instagram trap with a parking lot full of Sprinter vans and Bluetooth speakers.
If you’ve ever wanted to soak in water that feels like a secret handshake, keep reading; I’m spilling the actual places locals talk about (and sometimes, yes, keep from their own cousins).
1. Jerry Johnson Hot Springs
Some places ask you to show up as you are: Jerry Johnson is that friend. Hidden in the Nez Perce-Clearwater National Forest, it’s reached by a suspension bridge, which feels both daring and slightly wobbly. The pools are scattered like secrets, each with its own flavor.
The hottest one is closest to the river, so you get both steam and the rush of cold water. Locals swear midweek visits mean fewer strangers and more time to listen to the creek’s gossip. You’ll spot carved initials on logs, left by people who “just needed a minute.”
Spring and fall are the best, when the air is crisp and the water wraps you up like a secret. Remember to pack sandals; the rocky edges do not care about your city feet. Leave your expectations (and maybe your phone) at home.
2. Kirkham Hot Springs
Kirkham is the place you end up when your friend insists, “Trust me, this one’s worth the drive.” There’s no reception, the air smells like wet pine needles, and the soundtrack is nothing but waterfalls thundering down mossy rocks. If you need a reset button, this is it.
In summer, the riverside pools fill with steam and a weird sense of possibility. Locals know to come at sunrise for the real magic; when the light glows golden, and you feel like you’ve stumbled onto a movie set. The hottest pool sits closest to the falls, but the smart ones test the temperature before jumping in.
There’s a little honesty in the graffiti on the rocks. You see names, dates, and sometimes a sharp, hilarious truth about love or camping. It’s public, but it always feels like you’re part of an inside joke. Could be the sulfur, could be the company.
3. Pine Flats Hot Springs
Think of Pine Flats as the introvert’s answer to a spa day; quiet, uncomplicated, and surrounded by more trees than people. The walk down is brisk, the kind that makes you question every extra granola bar you brought, but it’s worth it for that first glimpse of the river curling through the forest below.
One of my favorite things? The sound of the water burbling as you soak. Birds chirp just loud enough to remind you you’re sharing space, but not so loud they interrupt your thoughts. The pools change temperature with the season, and the best ones are tucked behind walls of wildflowers and ferns.
If you’re lucky, you’ll spot a blue heron fishing nearby. Locals say late afternoon is the sweet spot: you get the warmest water, but still beat the evening chill. There’s zero cell service, so bring a real book, no excuses.
4. Bonneville Hot Springs
The first time I hiked out to Bonneville was with someone who swore they’d seen a moose on the trail. They were not lying. The path meanders through thick forest, never quite letting you forget how far you are from the nearest latte.
Bonneville’s pools have this lived-in, slightly wild vibe; half-nature, half-something out of a fairy tale. There’s a genuinely old-school changing hut that leans a little to the left and probably has stories of its own. Locals know the water temperature shifts after a rain, so every trip brings a new surprise.
If you sit quietly enough, you’ll hear the wind wrestle the treetops and the odd call of a hidden owl. It’s not a spot for big groups or loud celebrations, but it’s perfect for that friend who loves secrets. Or for you, when you need a long, contemplative soak.
5. Goldbug Hot Springs
Goldbug is the only place I’ve ever seriously considered becoming a morning person. The hike up is legit; about two miles, rocks, and all; but the payoff is unbeatable. When you crest the last hill, those pools appear like a mirage, straight out of your best daydream.
The springs are all about perspective: above, mountains tower like old friends; below, cliffs drop away into a canyon you’ll want to photograph a hundred times. Water trickles from pool to pool, each one a different temperature. Locals swear by the top pool for privacy and the best sunrise views.
A little graffiti marks the rocks here too; simple, anonymous things, like initials or the occasional heart. Evenings are quiet, and stars blanket the sky so thickly you might forget what a city is. Don’t skip bringing a flashlight for the hike back.
6. Sacajawea Hot Springs
Sacajawea’s magic lies in its contradictions: wild and peaceful, open but somehow private. Locals whisper about the perfect pool spots, always shifting with the river’s mood. The walk from the car is short, but the journey from stress to relaxation feels instant.
Water flows right into the Payette River, so you get the thrill of hot and cold dips in one sitting. Kids skip rocks while parents soak out tension, and everyone leaves a little lighter. The pools vary wildly by season; sometimes you find hidden gems, sometimes just a cozy nook.
My favorite visits happened after rainstorms, when mist curled over the water and every step felt cinematic. On clear days, you’ll spot eagles hunting upstream. Bring a thermos; nothing beats sipping coffee in the steam at sunrise.
7. Weir Creek Hot Springs
Weir Creek feels like it was invented for those days you want to disappear. The hike in is short but steep, winding through trees that block out the world. When you reach the pool, it’s small, circular, and just deep enough to melt away what’s bothering you.
Locals love to visit during the shoulder seasons; late fall or early spring, when there’s a good chance you’ll have the place to yourself. The rocks get slippery, so everyone shuffles around like newborn deer, but that only adds to the charm.
The pool sits above a rushing creek, so you get white noise with your soak. More than once, I’ve seen someone celebrate a birthday here with nothing but cake and mismatched mugs. Simple, genuine, and wonderfully offbeat.
8. Rocky Canyon Hot Springs
If you ever needed proof that Idaho hides its best treasures in plain sight, Rocky Canyon is it. The pools are stacked in tiers above a wild river, built and rebuilt by whoever cared most that season. Crossing the river is part of the adventure, so arrive prepared or risk wet socks.
Each pool takes water from the same source, but the temperature can shift after storms or spring melt. Locals like to shuffle between the hottest and coldest pools for a full reset, sometimes bringing thermometers for the fun of it.
The forest here is thick and alive, filled with the kind of silence you only get far from roads. At sunrise, I watched mist curl over the water and realized nobody in the city would believe a place like this existed. Bring extra dry clothes; you’ll thank me later.
9. Trail Creek Hot Springs
Trail Creek has opinions; mostly about the weather and who’s worthy of finding it. The parking area is barely marked, and more than once I’ve watched people wander in circles before stumbling on the pools. But when you get there, it’s like Idaho shook out a secret just for you.
Two main pools sit beside the creek, divided by a row of flat stones. The water mixes with the creek so you can pick your favorite temperature. Locals love the winter visits: snow piles up on branches, steam floats everywhere, and you get to feel smugly cozy.
I once met an old-timer who claimed these springs have been a “local’s trick” since the 1950s. Whether or not that’s true, every soak feels earned. Bring a towel you don’t love; the rocks sometimes leave a mark.
10. Loftus Hot Springs
Some places are so under-the-radar even locals forget about them until someone whispers, “Remember Loftus?” The pool sits in a quiet clearing, not much more than a wide spot in a creek, but the water is perfectly, stubbornly warm.
It’s the kind of spot you discover because your GPS lost its mind, and you decided to try the road anyway. Sunlight filters through cedar branches, making patterns on the rocks and your skin. Saturdays feel like a reunion, but most days, it’s just you, the water, and the distant hum of the forest.
Loftus isn’t fancy, but its simplicity is a gift. I’ve left notes in a Ziploc under a rock for friends who didn’t make it this time. If you find one, you owe me a coffee; and a great story.
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