Soaking Up History in Calistoga

A mud bath at the Indian Springs Mud Bath Spa.

(© CATHERINE KARNOW/CORBIS)

Like so many stories about Calistoga, this one begins with a mud bath. At least once every winter, my husband and I make the 80-mile drive from chilly, rainy San Francisco to sunny Calistoga, California, a Napa Valley town famous for its natural hot springs resorts, and most specifically, its healing mud baths.

Calistoga’s location, in one of the gourmet meccas of the world, doesn’t hurt either. We usually spend a night or two soaking in mineral pools, eating delicious organic food, and tasting the local wines. The mud bath, often included with the price of a hotel room, is a primordial pleasure that really does seem to make the joints looser and the mind more relaxed.

But a weekend in Calistoga is not all about hedonism. The postcard-perfect, Starbucks-free town has a rich history, from its Native American origins to its pioneer past and its heyday in the nineteenth century as the “Hot Springs of the West.” People have been going there to take the waters for thousands of years. I like to think I’m part of that tradition, soaking up history along with my mineral water. And if a glass of local sauvignon blanc enters the picture, who am I to complain?

Calistoga’s famous waters got their start eight million years ago with the eruption of nearby Mt. Konocti. The volcano blanketed the surrounding valley with a carpet of rich volcanic ash (perfect for growing grapes) and created deep fissures in the earth, which in turn formed geysers. One of three “Old Faithful” type geysers in the world (technically an erupting geothermal well) is in Calistoga. It erupts about every 45 minutes, spouting scalding water 60 feet in the air. Lots of smaller geysers are nearby too. And another relic of that eon is the Petrified Forest, a few miles outside of town.

The numerous hot springs in the area bubble up from geothermal sources 4,000 feet deep, and according to Native American legend (and contemporary medical folklore) the waters have healing powers. The Wappo Indians arrived in the area as early as 6000 B.C., building sweat lodges over the fumaroles and calling it “oven place.” They lived there until 1823, when Spanish settlers began planting grape crops and referring to the region as Agua Caliente. In 1868 Bancroft’s Tourist Guide explained that the “’diabolus ipse,’ or ‘devil himself’” was at work underground in Calistoga, identifiable in the “Prevailing and Stygian” odor emanating from the place.

The town itself was the brainchild of Sam Brannan, California’s first millionaire and a colorful figure in the state’s early history. In 1846 he arrived in San Francisco—then a small settlement called Yerba Buena—aboard the ship Brooklyn with a group of Mormons that more than doubled the town’s population. After a stint as publisher of a newspaper, he opened a general store near Sutter’s Mill, where gold was struck a couple of years later. He was the first person to publicize that discovery and made a killing during the Gold Rush, buying up all the shovels and pans he could find and selling them to prospectors at a huge profit. He later opened a bank, and at one time he owned a fifth of San Francisco (a major street is named for him) and a quarter of Sacramento.

Intrigued by the hot springs northeast of San Francisco, Brannan dreamed of harnessing their potential to create a resort reminiscent of Saratoga Springs, New York. He sank much of his fortune into building and populating the town of Calistoga, with the Hot Springs Hotel as its centerpiece. The place opened in 1863, complete with vacation cottages, a mansion, a bandstand, a horse-racing track and stables, a distillery, pools, cabanas, and a roller-skating rink. Wide circular avenues laced through the 2,000-acre property. Robert Louis Stevenson, who lived in the area for several years, described the resort in his book Silverado Squatters. Not all of the early white settlers welcomed Brannan, however. In fact he was shot eight times in a dispute over a sawmill, and at least one of his projects—and there were many, including a silkworm farm—was vandalized.

Legend has it that he himself was the first person to mix volcanic ash with the local spring water to create the famous Calistoga mud. Ever the salesman, he began touting its powers as a curative for rheumatism and other ailments. The name Calistoga—a combination of California and Saratoga—came about when he drunkenly mixed up his words (either at dinner with friends or at the resort’s christening, depending upon the source). “It’ll be the Calistoga of Sarafornia!” he is said to have exclaimed.

To entice guests to the remote and rugged area, he founded the Napa Valley Railroad Company in 1864. Another yarn has it that he offered a money to anyone willing to relocate to the area, because he wanted registered voters to get his railroad bid passed. A deal was struck, and he built a depot—right in front of his resort—in exchange for railroad tracks. Visitors from San Francisco would typically take a ferry to Vallejo Landing in Sonoma County and then board the train waiting on the slip. The Southern Pacific bought the company in 1885 and added the line to its California Pacific routes. Passenger service to Calistoga ended in the 1936, but the Napa Valley Wine Train—the line’s only remnant—survives as a popular tourist excursion. The Calistoga depot is the second oldest in the state in its original location.

Brannan’s resort thrived for more than a decade, hosting visitors like California Governor Leland Stanford, Robert Louis Stevenson, P. T. Barnum, and the San Francisco magnate Mark Hopkins. But in 1870 a bitter divorce forced Brannan into bankruptcy, and in 1880 Leland Stanford bought the resort. He originally planned to build Stanford University on the site, but it never happened. One story is that when Stanford’s wife fell ill they had to move back to the Bay Area, as there were no hospitals near Calistoga. The resort was resold and reopened but has changed hands only a few times since. Calistoga never did become the wild success Brannan dreamed of, and he died in 1889 alcoholic and penniless, in San Diego.

Today one of Calistoga’s best hotels (and my personal favorite) sits on the premises of Brannan’s resort. Indian Springs retains the feel of an old-fashioned summer camp, its spacious grounds dotted with cottages built in the 1940s. I love its Arts and Crafts-style bathhouse and its “inhalarium”—a sulfurous, eucalyptus-permeated steam room that will cure even the most stubborn winter cold. The enormous geyser-fed pool is a marvel to behold, especially on a chilly night. Steam rises invitingly off the surface, and the water is soothingly hot. Naturally, the mud baths are said to be the best in town, made with volcanic ash and the resort’s own spring water—Brannan’s special recipe.

Calistoga visitors can also choose among many historic lodgings in town. The Brannan Cottage Inn, in a cottage built for Brannan and listed on the National Register of Historic Places, is a charming bed and breakfast. The Mount View Hotel and Spa—also on the register—is a grand 1917 Mission Revival structure right on the main drag. It also has a thermal pool and a full spa.

A visit to the Sharpsteen Museum, near the town center, affords a real taste of what Calistoga was like in Brannan’s day, complete with a colorful diorama of the resort and even an original cottage from the grounds. A historic plaque marks the site of Brannan’s General Store at the corner of Wapoo (Brannan’s misspelling) and Grant Streets. The train depot still stands next door to Indian Springs, but these days no trains stop there; it houses antiques and jewelry shops. But Brannan’s legacy lives on. More than a dozen resorts thrive in the town, and people like me come from all over the world to bathe in the mud, take the waters, and enjoy the local bounty. I for one am grateful for his crazy vision. Sam, here’s mud in your eye.

For visitor information about Calistoga, go to www.calistogafun.com.

—Amy Weaver Dorning is a freelance writer in San Francisco.