The beach was about 9 kilometers away by road. Someone tossed out the idea of walking, but an 18km return trip in the summer heat didn’t sound very appealing. Besides, you could only get to the hot springs at low tide, which was in an hour. We’d have had to run.

I’d asked the campground office the day before about shuttle service: the seasonal shuttle service had ended just two days before, “but Mike has a van, he might be able to take you.” Mike was the guy who’d brewed coffee in Cathedral Cove. Problem was, it was 7:30AM, the office was closed, and we didn’t know how to contact him. We considered smoke signals. On a hunch, I looked up the kayaking company’s website and tapped the number into my phone. This seemed like the sort of place where the company number might just be Mike’s phone. After a second, it looked like we were in luck: the number showed it could receive iMessages. I tapped one out asking for a ride and hit send.

I got a reply within a few minutes: it was Mike. He agreed to drive us to the beach and give us shovels so we could dig pools near the hot springs. The water straight out of the springs could be as warm as 147°F (64°C)—too hot to stand in—so the way to do it was to dig a hole between the springs and the incoming tide: water would flow in from both directions, the seawater would cool the spring water, and voilà, you’d be relaxing in a one-time-use hot tub.

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