Dear Sagebrush Sally,
The new stewards of the Tecopa Hot Springs Pools and Campground have barely settled in, but a lot of us are already uneasy. Not only did they fire a longtime local worker recently, but they also seem to be alienating the very visitor base that has kept the place running for years by pushing up prices and presenting doctored AI images of the campground on its new website.
The hot springs aren’t just another business in town—they’re part of Tecopa’s cultural identity and one of the few pillars of our local economy. Most folks who come here return because they feel welcomed, not managed. But it feels like the new operators are trying to reshape the place without understanding who their guests are, what the community values, or how fragile the balance is between tourism and local life.
It’s starting to look like a mismatch between the stewards and the spirit of the place. And if they keep pushing away both workers and visitors, the repercussions won’t stop at the pools—it could ripple through the economy of the whole town.
What do we do when new management for a vital public space seems to be the wrong cultural fit from the start? How can the community advocate for respect, accountability, and common sense without turning this into yet another Tecopa feud?
— Worried the Water’s Changing
Dear Worried the Water’s Changing,
You’re right to feel unsettled. When new stewards step into a place as beloved—and as culturally specific—as the Tecopa Hot Springs Pools and Campground, their choices echo far beyond one staff change or one busy weekend. Out here, a business isn’t just a business; it’s part of the town’s rhythm, its economy, its memory. If the new operators are firing longtime locals and alienating their visitor base before they’ve even found the light switches, it’s not just bad manners—it’s bad strategy, and bad stewardship.
Tecopa runs on relationships, not rigid policies. Visitors return because they feel known, not managed. Locals support the hot springs because they see their own history reflected in the water. When new management ignores that, they’re not just misunderstanding the culture—they’re missing the whole point of being here.
Now, as for what the community can do, remember this: clarity is stronger than outrage. If something doesn’t feel right, bring it into the light. Ask questions publicly. Document concerns. Communicate with the County, which still holds authority over the contract. One person raising their hand can be dismissed; a whole community speaking clearly cannot.
And here’s something a lot of folks don’t realize: the contract includes a 90-day probation period, during which either the County or the operator can end the agreement for any reason with 30 days’ notice. It’s essentially a built-in trial run—an early exit ramp if the fit isn’t right. That means this moment matters. Your feedback matters. The County is listening more closely now than they might later.
Approach this phase with equal measures of grace and backbone. Give the new stewards a fair chance to learn the culture—but don’t contort the culture to protect their missteps. If their actions continue to push away workers, alienate visitors, or disregard the community’s values, then the probation period exists for exactly this reason: to course-correct before long-term damage sets in.
The springs will outlast any contract. What matters most is the people who tend them—and Tecopa deserves stewards who understand that tending is more than managing. It’s listening, learning, and respecting the place and the people who make it what it is.
— Sagebrush Sally
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