We buy weak beer from the mobile shop that occupies two army vehicles, only adding to the WW1 impression, and sit in the army truck with tea and home made cookies before making our meal, (noodles, oodles of noodles ) then about 10 pm we get ready in the rain and the wind dash to the toilet block to change, and run across the wet duck-boarded bog to the steaming stream of hot water and the pool, with boiling springs feeding into it. A wooden platform for changing stands open to the four winds and here we whip our cagoules off and are ready to go in. Its hot, we can swim up hot rivers, the bottom is clean and there is a bit of weed floating past.
You can go very close to the hot water outlet streams or further away, to control the water temperature, but there are also boiling springs popping up underfoot and from all sides of the stream as you swim down. it. In spite of the rain and the cold it is heavenly, surreal; a steaming stream that you can swim up. We nudge our way gradually through the throng, until we are right at the bottom of the hottest stream and it is too hot to bear. It is 11 pm by the time we get out, run again like weird water birds in waterproofs and swimsuits across the duck board to the tent.
not at home 