GLENWOOD SPRINGS • Late on the summer solstice, deep within a vault of ancient rock and hot steam, soft sounds of singing and prayer could be heard.
Songs of gratitude. Prayers of hope. Indigenous languages spoken by tribal women known as “Grandmas” by the few invited to this seasonal celebration. Words of appreciation for the countless years their people have made this place sacred.
“I see the caves as the womb of Mother Earth,” says Melinda Delmonico.
Since her family acquired ownership of Yampa Spa and Vapor Caves two years ago, she has felt what she describes as a sacred duty.
For her, the word “stewardship” goes beyond the health and wellness business that has been a fixture in Glenwood Springs for more than 100 years. “Stewardship,” Melinda says, goes beyond the physical upkeep of the otherworldly terrain beneath the spa.
“It’s about making sure the cave traditions are preserved,” she says.
That’s why the ceremony will be held this summer.
In the past, medicine men led the prayers and a shaman visited on the autumn equinox. This event brought Native Americans back to the hot spring caves long before commerce became dominant in Glenwood. Early peoples knew that the mineral waters that seeped into the caves and evaporated were restorative. “Yampa” comes from a Ute word meaning “big medicine.”
The Delmonicos don’t charge natives for a “soak” in the Yampa Caverns. They know that it’s silent underground, with only the trickling and gurgling of water flowing and rising toward the earth’s scorching center. Meanwhile, other visitors heed the signs on the stairs that lead down into a realm of stalagmites and stalactites. “Please respect Steam Cave as a quiet place,” the sign reads.
“It’s not like when you go to church, you walk into a cathedral and start a conversation,” says Melinda’s husband, Scott.
For his son, Alex, it’s a veritable place of worship, and while many can’t stand the heat for long periods of time (it often reaches 110 degrees Fahrenheit), Alex has been known to sit on the same marble benches that were installed in the 1890s and lose track of time in solitude and thought.
“It’s powerful to me,” Alex says. “It’s like a sanctuary to me.”
Alex oversees the day-to-day operations of Yampa Spa, and his parents own a long-running and successful Denver business that specializes in recruiting and staffing for the legal industry.The spa and grotto seems like a surprising change of direction.
But family vacations to Glenwood Springs stretch back decades to when Scott was a child, and those vacations were defined by attractions that were very different from the big hot spring pools it’s known for, other than massages and “soaking in the springs.”
“We didn’t know much about the caves,” Scott said, “but Melinda had an affection for them, so we used to come here a lot.”
Melinda has long been fascinated by indigenous cultures and ruins, and has traveled to many countries, including Turkey, India, Egypt and Peru, to experience tribal teachings and ceremonies.
One thing she’s learned is the importance of following your instincts.
So she did in the summer of 2021. During a visit to the Steam Cave, she felt compelled to ask about the owner, which is how she ended up with Patsy Steele, who seemed ready to sell after more than 30 years in business.
The deal closed the following summer, and the Delmonicos have been busy renovating and reimagining the 1893 building ever since.
“We want to upgrade and modernize the facility and raise the level of service,” Alex says. “We own the spa and for me it’s a business, but with the caves it’s about protecting, preserving and respecting them.”
From an upstairs spa room under construction, he looked out the window at a view across Interstate 70 to the railroad tracks, a place known to the Utes before settlers in the 1800s came up with what they called Cave No. 1. The cave was later damaged by the railroad and sealed off.
“This is a truly sacred site that should be protected,” Alex said. “It would be very sad to fill it with a railway.”
According to a book on the history of the steam caves, the disappearance of Cave No. 1 dates to the arrival of the railroad in 1887. The book, titled “Yampa Spa: Centuries of Cleansing Steam,” was published in 1993 to mark the facility’s 100th anniversary.
The opening page states: “Ute Indians had been using the healing powers of the caves for hundreds of years before white people ‘discovered’ the area in the mid-1800s.”
After the Meeker Massacre in 1879, the tribe was forcibly relocated to remote reservations. While their people suffered, rumors of their “steam baths” continued to spread among the encroaching civilization.
“Steam bath” is a famous magazine phrase. Read Harper’s Weekly: “The gatekeeper tells us stories of old miners from Cripple Creek, covered from head to heel in lead, who find relief from their pain in the cave in a few days.”
The profiteers put up a sign identifying Cave No. 1 and listing separate times for men and women to enter “for modesty,” according to newspaper articles of the time.
These rules also apply to Cave 2, which was developed in 1883 by the Defiance Town and Land Co. (the name of the town before Glenwood Springs) and then similarly obliterated by the railroad.
“Not content with this, they dug a tunnel through the mountains on the north side of the river, in which they constructed three large chambers,” a local paper reported. “This cave is known as No. 3, and its comforts exceed any known to man.”
Yampah Spa and Vapor Caves was born, along with other attractions that made Glenwood internationally famous, including the Hotel Colorado and a hot springs pool believed to be the largest in the world.
The spa and grotto are “less well known than the pool and the hotel,” Alex says, “but they’re just as important to the community.”
As important players in communities near and far, the Delmonico family continues to learn.
Melinda’s hope for the future of the place is, “That people from all over the world will continue to visit, that they will feel invited to come here and feel a connection with the ancient past.”
A Ute man once visited him and “told me stories of miracles that had happened in the cave, stories of his family, his friends, his sick people,” Scott said. “I wish I’d written it down.”
Perhaps some things are best not to write. It’s better to feel than to write, said the grandmothers who preside over the summer solstice ceremonies.
There were songs of gratitude and prayers of hope: thanksgiving to ancestors and Mother Earth, prayers for deeper understanding, healing and connection.
That night in the cave, there was a certain sensation.
“I felt such a sense of relief and such joy,” Melinda says.
