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The Healing Lake That Hid a Walking Fish

On the Columbia plateau near Spokane lies a strange saline lake with no inlet and no outlet — credited with curing rheumatism, foaming like soap in the wind, and home to an axolotl that fooled the naturalists.

The story, cleaned up

A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.

There is a little alkaline and saline lake in Southern Washington that has no visible inlet or outlet, the supply coming from two hidden springs. It is situated on the great Columbia river plateau, sixteen miles southwest from Spokane and 2,300 feet above the level of the ocean. From the remedial virtues of the water it has been appropriately called Medical lake. It lies in the midst of a great basaltic region through which the granite crops occasionally, as on the western shore. The lake bed, too, is said to be granite. A high basaltic ridge to the westward is shaded by a pine forest. On the opposite side is the thriving little village of Medical Lake.

Medical lake has a maximum depth of sixty feet, is half a mile wide and twice as long. No plant grows close to or in the water, and the quiet that reigns over the dark pool is impressive. The water has been described as amber-colored. If amber is dark with a greenish tinge the description is good. Fresh water is to be found only a few feet below the surface, not more than twenty feet from the lake shore.

The first date mentioned in connection with the lake is 1807, when, it is said, Antoine Defoui, a prisoner of an Indian band camping on the lake shore, discovered the virtues of the water in an accidental and unpleasant way. Exposure had made him a victim of inflammatory rheumatism, and one night while hobbling about in a vain attempt to escape from captivity he tumbled into the water. He barely missed being drowned, and expected the wetting to make worse his already stiffened joints, but to his surprise and delight next day he was better. After this he frequently bathed in the water, and was soon free from disease and captors.

For three-score years after this we hear nothing of the healing waters. In 1872 Andrew le Fevre entered a quarter section of land where the town now stands. To this French Canadian the Indians were quite partial, for other white men were not allowed to stay unmolested. But they guarded jealously the "medical waters," for they had long known of their virtues, though they told the white men they were "bad waters." Some of Mr. le Fevre's sheep, however, led him to think differently. They had "scab," and their instinct led them into the water, which they also drank and were healed. The shepherd soon tried it for his rheumatism, and was cured as if by magic.

The medicinal virtues of the water, of course, depend on the presence of minerals held in solution. These are the chlorides of sodium and potassium, the carbonates of sodium, iron, calcium, magnesium and lithium; the silicate and borate of sodium; oxide of aluminum and sulphate of potassium. There are 101 grains of these solids to the gallon, which gives the water a specific gravity of 1012, and an alkalinity that makes the skin feel, after bathing in it, as if oiled. As in most such bodies of water, the sodium compounds predominate, nearly two-thirds here being the carbonate. For bathing the water is much preferable to sea or Salt Lake water, and lathers, when rubbed on the head, like fine toilet soap.

Whenever a rough breeze brushes the lake surface the soapiness of the water is said to manifest itself in a lathery foam that sometimes rises a foot high. A valuable toilet soap is obtained by adding a vegetable oil to the concentrated water. By evaporating the water the salt is obtained, and is sold wherever known for use in bathing as a remedial agent.

Animal life in the lake is not quite so scarce as plant life. There is a bug which sports on the surface, a species of terrapin living more on the bottom, and a curious animal called the "walking fish," which seldom comes to the surface. The last-named, the Axolotl, is quite remarkable in appearance and one of the most interesting of American reptiles. The name "secretary tadpole" would be as appropriate as "walking fish," for the gills stick out behind the head in a way to remind one of the "secretary bird," and it much resembles a large tadpole, being eight or nine inches long. A finny membrane extends along the back, continuing along the upper and lower sides of the compressed tail. The fore feet have four toes, the hinder five. The eyes are small and without lids. The mouth, like the head, is large and ugly.

Our natural histories speak of the axolotl as a Mexican reptile, and it has been given a separate genus—siredon. It is so abundant in Mexican lakes as to be a source of food to the natives. Not until the discovery of Lake Como, Wyoming, was it known that the animal lived in the United States. Professor Marsh took some of them to New Haven from the mountain lake, and the scientific world was surprised to learn that in these new surroundings they passed through another metamorphosis, losing their gills and finny ornament, while their hitherto undeveloped lungs expanded so that they would live in the open air, and their eyes were protected with lids. In fact, it is a true amblystoma, and had been wrongly named, having never in its native habitat reached more mature existence than the larval state.

The existence of the axolotl in Medical lake, or even the existence of the lake itself, is perhaps new to most zoologists. It is also said to sport in the fresh water of Lake Washington, Washington.

“He barely missed being drowned, and expected the wetting to make worse his already stiffened joints, but to his surprise and delight next day he was better.”

— Printed in The Olympia Tribune (Olympia, Wash.) 1890-1893, 1891
Then · 1891135 years apartNow · 2026

Medical Lake is still a small town in Spokane County, and the American instinct to seek healing in a particular patch of water — from mineral springs to today's wellness retreats — has never really faded. The article's most durable detail is the axolotl: a creature that startled 1891 naturalists by refusing to stay in the category they had assigned it, a reminder that the living world keeps complicating our labels.

The original page

The Olympia Tribune (Olympia, Wash.) 1890-1893, 1891-10-09. Library of Congress, Chronicling America.

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About this story

From
The Olympia Tribune (Olympia, Wash.) 1890-1893, OCT 9, 1891, Page 3
Rights
Public domain
Place
47.57271, -117.68239 · placed automatically
The paper in the Library of Congress catalog ↗