Gather ‘Round the Tub

Before the hot tub, the evening gathering spot was the fire ring. We loved to circle up the benches around the crackling and popping logs, tell spooky stories, sing old campfire songs, roast marshmallows and star gaze. I liked to stay out after everyone else fled the smoke and the chill to watch the moon come up and think the kinds of deep thoughts that come when gazing into the flickering embers of a quieting fire.

A few dry summers with fire bans got us out of the evening fire routine. At the same time, a growing number of cabin regulars confessed to not really liking s’mores very much. Roasting marshmallows and making s’mores was a big part of the campfire scene; without some reward, sitting in the smoke with a cold back was less appealing. Even in wet years, the Wyoming wind whips sparks up into the trees and smoke into our faces, taking some of the fun out of it.

Having a wood-fired hot tub has been on the list of things we wanted to have at the cabin from the beginning, and we were finally able to get it a few years ago. It came in pieces in giant boxes, assembly required.

My husband printed the instructions off the company website in order to have the most up-to-date information. The instructions were clear that the kit came with one extra stave in case one was damaged, so he carefully set one aside.

After fitting all the staves in the base and tightening the hoops, we tried filling it up. Water poured out of cracks faster than we could put it in. Our first thought was that the wood needed to swell, so we waited hopefully. It did swell and the leaking slowed down, but there were still  gaps with water pouring out of them. Searching for a solution, we thought of silicone caulking, lots of it. Before we went very far with that plan, though, we decided to call the company and see if they had a better solution.

The look on my husband’s face as he spoke with the hot tub manufacturer was not good. Something had gone terribly wrong.

The internet instructions were not the most current, they told him; the paper ones stuffed in the box with the wood and the hardware were the right ones. The new tubs were shipped with just the right amount of staves, no extras. We had left one out.

It was decision time. Should we proceed with the caulking plan, or take the entire tub apart and remake it? The sun was beating down on us; we had spent half the day making the tub.

It wasn’t a cheap item, and we hoped to have it last many, many years, so we decided to do the right thing, the painful thing: take it apart and start over. My husband and his brother had been doing most of the work on the initial build. Sensing the great discouragement that threatened to end our hot-tubbing dreams, everyone rallied around the project and helped. We got the staves nice and tight this time, snugging each one firmly and carefully so we could fit the additional one into the circle of staves.

We over snugged. We got around to the beginning and there was too much of a gap between the first and the last staves, even when we cranked down on the hoops. We were at another decision point. Sweaty and tired, we were tempted to go with the silicone caulk after all.

Again, the family pulled together. We knew how to dismantle the tub and reassemble it quickly now, so once again, we took the whole thing apart and started over.

This time, we snugged but we didn’t pound; we were very precise, following the new instructions to the letter. The gap they recommended was the perfect one, even though it hadn’t seemed like it the first two times. We made it around the circle, the family standing around the tub to hold the staves in place as others were added, and then we slipped the hoops back on and tightened them up.

This time, the wood swelled just enough to stop the leaks, and we filled it up.

The next day, we built a fire in the stove and watched and stirred all day in anticipation of using it that evening. When it was hot, all of us crammed into the tub in joyous celebration. It was just as amazing as we had hoped–the smell of cedar, the starry sky, chilly shoulders and warm bodies, and even a little rubber ducky.

Many nights, instead of sitting around the campfire, we gather in the hot tub. It’s the same feeling of camaraderie without the smoke and potential forest-fire danger.

Around the fire, the focus is on the flames, the warmth, the smell of the wood burning, the pulsating depths of the embers. The fire keeps the night away; it’s a defense against the cold, the dark and the critters. The fire is an event we attend together.

Soaking in the hot tub is a different experience. We are together in the tub; we sit in the night and watch and listen to what’s around us. It’s not an event, but a place to be and search for shooting stars, identify satellites and constellations, listen to coyotes yipping in the woods, and watch the moon travel the sky and the Milky Way show up.

It’s not one or the other; they are both much-loved parts of cabin life.