It sounded too good to be true. Hot pools. In the middle of the bush.
With a river ford, and gravel roads to travel. A perfect blend of intrepid aspiration and also the ability to drive to within 180 metres of the final destination. All the while listening to Paul Simon's Graceland and trying to educate my family on why Call Me Al was one of the greatest songs of 1986.
Just enough adventure to step outside the usual trip to the park, where I'd occasionally risk a fling on the flying fox and a well-timed leap from the third step up, but not quite booking a trip to central India with no real accommodation plan and $70 spending money.
But it was when I revealed a picture of the pools on the internet that the real adventure began. An adventure that involved dodging a few metaphorical bullets and hopefully calming those I had wronged.
I'd unwittingly revealed a few people's "secret spot". Like a fisherman who'd once caught a 20 pound snapper and forever more held a closely guarded GPS co-ordinate, some people hold places like this near and dear to their heart.