Perspective is in order
Since several posters have cross-listed their posts on other sites, I felt I should do the same. And I need to be up front on a couple of items: (1) I am not particularly fond of hippies; (2) I generally don’t like to pay for more than I get; and (3) I enjoy authentic places.
The Symes Hot Springs Hotel is located in an isolated part of Montana with limited services. The closest town (other than Hot Springs itself) is Plains. The draw is, and you really need to keep this in mind, the hot spring pools (a hot tub sized one that is the hottest, a slightly larger one that is a bit cooler, and a pool that is much cooler).
The hotel’s website should be your first clear indicator as to what sort of place you are visiting. Many people would pay for something as ironic as this website. Problem is, this isn’t an ironic website. It fairly clearly lays out—explicitly and between the lines—what you can expect when you visit. If you choose to visit Hot Springs, Mont., on a lark, the onus is on you. If you choose to visit the Symes after reviewing the website, the onus is still on you. There is a reason other resorts exist that charge higher prices. Some are close (Quinn’s); others are a bit farther away (Fairmont or Lolo). I sense that some of you, even if you visited these other places, would be disappointed. Just an observation and not a criticism (though some of the previous posters really need to reflect on what their posts suggest about their character, their priorities, and their ability to take stock of their choices).
My larger point? Rather simple: you are paying to stay in an odd place, filled with an assortment of odd people (locals and visitors), while enjoying the hot springs. The price of the rooms isn’t that high. Reason? The rooms are dumpy. The food is fairly priced relative to what you can find in the area (and, even then, Second Home Restaurant, is located on the highway and offers a good option if you want something different). The hotel is charming if, and only if, you can stop and recognize what it is and where it is and what it would take to keep the whole thing running. That isn’t an excuse for the condition of the place. But it helps to explain why I can—year after year for going on twenty years—check my dispositions (see 1 and 2 above) at the entrance to town and take in something that is increasingly rare in Montana (see 3 above).
I like the fact that I can hang out on the upstairs deck at night, take in the stars, and talk with friends. I enjoy meeting locals who live far different lives than I do (and would recommend the two local bars for a further chance to interact with people who live there year long). I appreciate the fact that the people who work there do their best to make the most of what they have to offer. I mainly come back because I can enjoy some of the best mineral content around . . . for free, as often as I want, with the price of my room. I have met locals with interesting stories, Russian families having reunions, people from China, Japan, and parts of Europe.
Every time I leave, I have a cringe-inducing worry even as I feel rejuvenated: this place could be bought by someone with dollar signs in their eyes. That was more likely a few years back, but it remains the problem with authentic places in Montana. Rather than simply letting things be, there are people who want to recreate them to suit what other people want. I recognize the tension—“letting things be” has resulted in a place that is long in the tooth and short on real, substantial, improvements. But I prefer that option over the alternative.
I recommend Symes so long as you recognize what it is and what it is not.