The not so hush-hush hot tub

The secret hot tub

A hot tub constructed on the sly from purloined parts was part of the glue that held a remote community together.

In 1984 and 1985, we lived in Tembagapura, Indonesia, where I worked as an exploration geologist, and Jan taught school. Some of our best and worst times were experienced there. We survived them, and today, we know that every day is a blessing.

Although built and operated using “acquired” parts, the hot tub hosted company officials, visiting dignitaries, and all manner of staff at the mine.

The tub started as one of several redwood tanks brought in to support the early exploration camps in the area. An enterprising helicopter pilot lifted it from the original camp and set it down in his side yard. Trimmed to height with a chainsaw, the tank became a tub.

What could be found to serve as a blower motor for the bubbler? A vacuum cleaner motor, of course.

Word cloud of hot tub post

And the purpose of PVC pipe was clearly to serve as the distribution system for the bubbler. The pipe was “liberated’ from mine supplies.

How to heat the water? Propane. Where did the propane come from? Mine supplies.

So this secret hot tub was stolen, as were most of the materials and supplies to operate it. You might think this would have caused trouble for the pilot.

Not so. The secret hot tub soon became a social hub for employees. The pilot was savvy enough to make the tub available to senior managers, effectively co-opting their objections to the manner in which the tub was created.

Managers, mine workers, mechanics, teachers: there was always a great mix of people in the tub. Luxuriating in the hot tub cut across the social strata, and made life much more bearable in this remote outpost.

We also played baseball and basketball as social outlets. Of course, being just a few degrees south of the equator, we had to play in the morning, because it rained almost every afternoon and evening. (The difference between winter and summer? A few more hours of rain each day in the winter!)

Dinners were also often social affairs, and many of those meals were had adjacent to the hot tub.

Occasionally, we would drive down to the lowlands and swim in the river.

Tom attaches sling load

As a geologist, I was lucky enough to go on many, many helicopter rides. Sometimes we would make supply runs to missionaries in remote villages. Sometimes we would pick up dignitaries from the airport located in the coastal lowlands, spooking flocks of cockatoos in the river valleys along the way.

Often, we would haul materials to remote drill sites, including slinging heavy gear in and out at high elevations.

The work was challenging, the physical environment created unique demands on equipment and people, and the social pressures were complex. The intensity of living and working in this environment meant strong relationships were quickly formed.

We became good friends with the helicopter pilot who created the not-so-secret hot tub. Jon was larger-than-life, a commanding presence in any setting.

Tom's seat is undamaged

One of the most difficult events in my life was losing Jon in a helicopter crash in 1985. I was on that flight, and although the aircraft is almost entirely destroyed, my seat was largely undamaged. Next year will mark 25 years since that fateful flight. I still marvel that I survived the crash. It was as if an invisible bubble surrounded me.

My friends often hear me say “every day is a blessing.” Even in my lowest moments, I have believed that since emerging from the remains of the helicopter.

I don’t know what happened to the social structure of the town after the crash. I was largely wrapped up in my own struggle to regain better physical and emotional health. We took a month off to tour Scotland and visit family in the United States. It wasn’t many months until we reached the end of our contracts and chose to not remain in Tembagapura.

Today I’m in contact with Jon’s one child, who is now an adult to be admired. It is amazingly bittersweet to share memories of Jon with his son so many years after Jon’s passing, but it renews my belief that every day truly is a blessing.

More photos are available in the Gallery. Also see photos and commentary posted at http://yogafamily.tripod.com/travel_id_papua_tp.htm.

The Grasberg Mine photo by NASA is available at Wikipedia. The Grasberg Open Pit photo is by Alfindra Primaldhi.

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