The legend of Sleeping Child – Ravalli Republic

For quite some time now two of the most popular resorts here in the valley have been under new ownership and are no longer open and available to the “aching masses.” The general public had enjoyed the waters at Sleeping Child and Medicine Hot Springs for many generations, and the enduring history of each of these special areas was deeply ingrained in local tradition. My own fond memories of the springs at Sleeping Child go back more than forty years, and form an integral part of my first impression of the place I now call home. In the mid-70’s both of these recreation areas were veritable hubs of activity, and each place had a faithful following of clientele who were eager and willing to pay for the privilege of taking a weekly plunge. Regrettably, the state of Montana did nothing to ensure public access to either of these fabulous natural treasures, and as a result, the opportunity to give something back to the people was lost forever.

Stories passed down by early Bitterroot pioneers tell us that the Salish Indians were known to camp in the narrow valley near Sleeping Child Hot Springs, and reportedly the natives were always considered friendly and accommodating to the settlers who came to visit the site. According to these early accounts the Indians had built rock dams below the springs, which caused the mineral water to pool up and form hot baths. There are various strange tales that the Indians told as to how the place got its name. It seems that one day a man was wandering up the creek alone when he found a child crying beside the stream. The man bent down and picked up the infant and cradled it in his arms, offering the weeping child his finger to suckle on. The child stopped its weeping immediately and took the finger hungrily, at the same time mesmerizing the man, who offered one finger after another, until the child had consumed his rescuer bone by bone, leaving nothing behind. After becoming completely pacified, the child once again fell asleep by the stream and patiently awaited the next victim.

In another version of the story, the voracious infant consumes all of the man’s flesh, and leaves behind a telling pile of parched bones. Interestingly, the area has alternately been known as Weeping Child and Sleeping Child through the years, with perhaps both names originating from the same gruesome tale. Another story tells of an Indian mother who wept because her child had drowned in the creek before she could reach it and drag it to shore. This version is perhaps the least fanciful of the lot, being more probable, yet far less interesting in a purely legendary sense. One last report relates that an early settler found a sleeping or weeping Indian child in the vicinity and gave the place the name as a result.

Many other native people of the Rocky Mountains have their own enduring legends of “water babies” that have been passed down from one generation to the next. The Shoshoni Indians call these ravenous little nymphs “pah-o-nah,” and one of their oral traditions speaks of a group of people who were traveling near the shore of a high mountain lake when they heard what sounded like a baby crying. Looking out towards the middle of the lake, they saw a water baby combing its hair. Every time the strange child pulled the comb through its tangled hair, it gave out a loud cry. When the reclusive infant finally realized that it had been discovered, it instantly disappeared below the surface of the water. Although the Indians were quick to make a hasty retreat before any bad luck could befall them, their horses went missing in the night, and their loss was blamed on the fact that they had been unlucky enough to witness the mysterious hobgoblin going through its daily grooming routine. Unlike the common water babies of western Montana, the “pah-o-nah” were said to be experts at luring in women and children, and from all accounts they rarely focused their cannibalistic craving towards men.

But, getting back to the story, sometime in the late 1880’s a local settler acquired the land surrounding Sleeping Child Hot Springs, and consequently the site was expanded and improved upon in order to allow a larger crowd to assemble and enjoy the healing waters. According to an early account the original owner “traded some horses to the Indians for the springs.” Just a few years later a pair of new owners took over the operations at the springs, and promptly decided to build a wagon road up through the isolated valley. When the road was completed, it crossed the creek fifty-two times as it wound its way up the canyon.

The first bathtub was actually taken up by the old Indian trail before the road was built, and the original cabin constructed on the property ingeniously employed the use of empty beer bottles, which were crudely grouted into the window openings to let in light. Eventually the bottles were replaced with panes of glass, and a door was hinged to the gaping hole that had served as an entrance to the dirt-floor cabin. Within a short period of time, a front porch was added to the hewn-log structure, and extra window openings soon appeared where solid log walls had stood before. Guests could either rent a room in the main house, or sleep in tents or smaller log cabins surrounding the springs. In those days visitors who wished to test the healing waters of Sleeping Child were usually shuttled in by wagon from nearby Grantsdale, and guests were said to have come from as far away as Sweden.

By the turn of the century a large bathhouse had been constructed on the property, where visitors could take a plunge in the privacy of their own rooms. The scalding water seeps out in two separate places below a towering rock formation, and is too hot to touch until it has run downhill in the open air for a while. The hotter of the two springs is reported to be 140 degrees Fahrenheit, and both streams are high in mineral counts. An early visitor to the springs said that with a little salt and pepper and a dab of butter, the water tasted just like chicken broth! Most of us would probably opt to take his word on it, however many mineral springs are considered to be healthy both “inside and out.” One of the early owners of the springs even attempted to change the name to Eureka, in honor of having found such a medicinally useful site, but the name never caught on, and before too long the ever-beguiling Sleeping Child had reclaimed her original moniker.

A stage line ran to the springs from Hamilton twice a week in the early days, delivering mail, supplies and guests on a regular basis. At one point around the turn of the century the Northern Pacific Railroad held the deed to the property, though it’s somewhat unclear to me just what their intentions might have been. It was also reported that Marcus Daly was interested in piping the steaming hot water to his thriving new city of Hamilton, but apparently the project came to an abrupt halt when he died suddenly in 1900. Throughout the years many improvements had been made, including a large hotel built in 1911, which featured such modern conveniences as electricity, and hot spring-water running through the radiators. Unfortunately, the hotel burned down several years later under “mysterious circumstances” which, more often than not, is just another way of saying arson.

In the 1950’s the Forest Service helped with the problem of accessibility when it improved the last section of road through the canyon, and even more recently the entire length of road to the springs was paved to make travel conditions safer and more reliable. But then, after all the improvements, and all the history, and all the fond memories, we somehow lost our precious Sleeping Child. We were quietly lulled into a comfortable sense of complacency by her mystical charms, while she consumed us one last time before returning to her timeless sleep beside the healing waters.

 The Ravalli Republic is teaming up with Ravalli County Museum to bring you a series of local history and photo features. If you would like more information on today’s subject please contact the Ravalli County Museum at www.ravallimuseum.org. You can also find them on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.