Our First Wood-Fired Hot Tub

July 25, 2023

After our day exploring Hopewell Rocks, a soak in hot water sounded great. Fortunately, I had previously reserved an hour in a wood-fired hot tub at our campground, West River Camping.

The hot tub was set up in a very cute enclosure surrounded by trees. The wooden privacy fence was strung up with Edison-style lights, and natural branches had been nailed up to serve as clothes hooks.

The tub itself was made of wood, and the “hot box” was inside the circle of the tub and needed to be completely covered with water at all times. A stovepipe vented the smoke into the trees.

Heating the water turned out to be a time-consuming experience. Supposedly the hot tub renter was responsible to get the fire going and the water would be hot and ready in an hour. Easy.

But when the campground owner brought Doug to show him how the tub operated, the wood was so wet that they had trouble lighting it. The owner went to get a helper and it took the two fellas an hour to get a fire going.

I went to check on their progress after an hour. The guys had just gotten the fire going and were standing around. I asked the helper what he did for work the rest of the time. He’s a lobster fisherman. I asked him what he liked about lobster fishing. He was silent for a minute, then said, in a suddenly surprised tone, “The money! Although it’s not been good the last few years!”

He told me he had gone to school to study heavy-duty engine repair but then got sidetracked into the fishing because it paid well. I just listened and asked questions. I hope he makes a career switch. He’s young, obviously doesn’t like his work, and has another marketable skill. But it can be hard to change course.

The two guys left Doug alone, charging him to stir the water frequently with a big wooden paddle, and to stoke the fire every 15 minutes. This part of the process was supposed to take less than an hour. But the water was fresh from the well and ended up taking a full two hours to heat. That’s a lot of stirring and stoking.

As Doug stirred the cauldron I chanted along with Macbeth’s witches —

“Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble.”

Actually, after some chanting and still no bubbling, I went back to the camper, where I got a phone call from a friend. She gave me news that was both shocking and difficult.

Our time in the hot water was not the purely romantic encounter one might have anticipated. Still, it was good to soak.