Saline hot springs is a fantastic spot in a remote area of Death Valley National Park. Next to a huge salt flat from which salt was once mined lies a group of large concrete hot tubs.  The road to Saline is passable by passenger cars and RV’s weather permitting, but it has also been described as “the most miserable 57 miles of dirt I’ve ever had to traverse!” by another off-roading friend.
  I would have to agree. The winding North Pass route to the springs is shorter but winding, the South Pass route is simply a LOT of washboard road interspersed with just enough rough spots to lull you into a false sense of security before you go airborne through a hidden dip in the road.

Perhaps I’m maligning a perfectly good road needlessly, but last time I visited, I was rushing against a setting sun to get to the turnoff to the springs before dark.  Rattling along at 45 MPH on a road that is best traveled at 25, I hit a dip in the road and really DID go airborne with a couple of bounces.  After restarting my heart by pounding on my chest with a large rock, I set off at a slower speed.   My radio was trying to vibrate out of the dash and my shock absorbers were losing their “oomph” from the constant pounding. (When the oil in your shocks foams you basically have no shocks!)
   I could see the campfire at the springs, but I’d never been here in the dark and knew that finding the turns was going to be serious bitch.
   About this time, my headlights went out.....
I spent the better part of two hours taking every right turn looking for the right road by moonlight and my still-working running lights, but every time, I ended up on the salt flat.
   Eventually, a woman in a Subaru Outback came along and let me follow her taillights to the springs.

Even then, my “Savior” was driving like a
bat-out-of-hell and I had to stick my head out the window to keep her in sight. (Dusty windshield and moonlight...bad combo!) I mangled sagebrush right and left and lost my hat somewhere along the way, but I doggedly kept those taillights in sight! 
   Arriving at the springs, I failed to find my friends, but since the Tahoe and I are a pretty self-contained unit, I had a nice night in the lower hot springs with my savior and some new friends. In the morning I found my friends camped barely 100’ away. What a difference a little light makes!   I’d driven right by them by marker lights alone and never saw them.

At first light, I found Lewis, Tracy, Lisa, and a whole family of Waag’s and joined them for breakfast.   Lewis had a tire poked by a bush and had to change to the spare and I fixed my headlights by reseating the connector plug under the dash that had wiggled out during the paint-shaker trip to the springs.
   I wish I could have taken more pictures of the hot springs, but since Saline is basically a nudist retreat, cameras aren’t exactly welcome and it would have been impossible to get a picture of the better pools that would be suitable for this rated PG website.
  Will have to suffice to say that I watched the sunrise on Easter morning surrounded by nekkid women in a 16 person hot tub.
   Off-roading is rough, dusty work, but somebody has to do it...

Saline is, basically, a hippie camp. Charles Manson and his gang hung out here and numerous dropouts come here to spend days or weeks.  It’s also visited more and more by refugees from the city and the usual collection of hard-core rock-climbers, desert rats, and off-road enthusiasts like ourselves. Everyone is unfailingly nice and helpful and there is a real sense of community.
   The “Ranger” in residence is a guy named “Lizard Lee”, who maintains a cabin and and nice oasis lawn area.  I didn’t ask, but I’m pretty sure Lee was living here before this area was annexed by the Park Service and rather than root him out, they took the path of least resistance and simply hired him.   Saline has a couple of standard pit toilets and visitors bring in toilet paper and bleach to help keep the hot tubs clean.