Intex’s Inflatable Hot Tub Offers Bubbles on a Budget

One of my greatest disappointments of adulthood is learning just how much hassle is attached to recreation. Everyone loves lounging on the deck of their buddy’s boat on a sunny summer day, but the poor schmuck who owns that boat is currently lubricating his battery terminals and waxing the gel coat. Everybody loves the family cabin until the gutters need to be cleaned. And everyone loves relaxing in an inflatable backyard hot tub until the power bill arrives or a wind storm knocks a big branch off the tree above it.
I’ve enjoyed some wonderful hours in the bubbles of Intex’s PureSpa inflatable hot tub during my testing period, which started last December and ran five months until Missouri’s summer heat arrived. If you’re someone who’s considering a backyard inflatable hot tub, I can promise some great hours looking up at the night sky as the steam lifts your spirits on a chilly Tuesday night. But I also need to warn you that it’s a commitment—hot tubs, even inflatable ones, require some care and feeding—and that you’re going to pay for the privilege on your power bills and some occasional scrubbing.
The PureSpa is made by Intex, which is best known for its blow-up pool floats and camping mattresses, as well as aboveground pools, inflatable kayaks, and a host of similar products.
An inflatable hot tub is what it sounds like: It’s a tub that blows up using an air pump that’s part of the same unit that heats and filters. The shell of the tub is a three-ply laminated material that’s reassuringly sturdy—you won’t fret collapse while sitting on the edge. Roll out the bubble-wrap ground cover, put the tub on top, and inflate it—I have an automatic air pump that did the job in about 20 minutes. You then (carefully!) thread the inflow and outflow tubes from the heating unit to their counterparts on the tub. From there it took another 20 minutes to fill the tub with a garden hose. (Note that Intex recommends plugging the hot tub directly into an outlet and does not recommend use of an extension cord; something to consider when deciding on placement.)
The maker says that to reach the max temperature of 104 degrees Fahrenheit, the ambient outdoor temperature must be a minimum of 50 degrees. I didn’t find that to be true—I was able to get the water in the tub up to the max even when it was in the upper 20s. However, the water temp dropped once the insulated cover was off, and my power bill did reflect the challenge.
If you’re using hose water, expect to fill the tub and turn on the heat at least a day before you see yourself relaxing in it. Even when it was in the 60s outdoors I saw the temps rise by only a degree or two per hour. When I refilled in colder weather (colder than the temperature at which the company advertises it should be operated), it took two full days to break 100 degrees. The tub holds 200-plus gallons of water, which weighs 1,668 pounds on its own before adding people, so make sure the hot tub is placed on a surface that can support that weight.
That was before the insulated cover broke, though. This was not the result of any defect in manufacturing. Rather, it was my bad decision to leave the tub set up but not turned on during an especially cold stretch in the winter. A storm blew through and knocked a sharp branch off the tree above my deck, which punctured the insulated cover that had grown brittle from the cold. Water leaked through the hole and was sopped up by the insulation, becoming a soggy, heavy lump that I struggled to pull on and off. As I said, a hot tub is a commitment—if you’re going to use the Intex in winter be prepared to either take it apart or leave the heater running continuously so the cover doesn’t get brittle in the cold. (A replacement insulated cover can now be had for $80, but I instead bought a cheap, off-brand replacement and paid the difference to the power company over several months.)
The other big issue I dealt with was a slow, steady leak from the seals on the heat pump. This started before I pushed the tub into freezing temperatures and continues to this day. A small drip of water every second adds up over the course of several days, so I found myself having to top off the tub with colder hose water, which meant waiting hours for it to heat up again. I worry I may have been too hasty in threading the tubes from the heater to the tub when I first got the tub—take your time and attach them as carefully as you can.
I didn’t have any difficulty with chemicals, because I used a single 1-inch chlorine tablet every week—the hot tub comes with a ball-shaped dispenser—and emptied the tub to clean using dish soap and a sponge at most monthly. (That’s another little chore, of course.) Refilling the tub only costs a couple of bucks where I live, but if you live somewhere where water is precious and expensive, you may want to spend time learning more about treatment regimens.
Once you do settle into the PureSpa, though, you will be delighted. With the cover off for soaking, it will slowly cool but always stayed above 95 degrees for the duration of my 30-minute bubble timer. The bubbles come from 120 little holes running in a circle around the bottom of the tub. They’re far less powerful than Jacuzzi jets but do feel good against aching muscles, and they provide a nice ambiance.
There is plenty of room for four people, and two people can spread out across the tub and stretch their legs and arms. You won’t fret the tub collapsing if you lean over the edge to grab a drink or switch the music. After a couple of months, it became a reliable way to relax on a chilly evening. And once summer heat started, it was easy enough to deflate, clean, and stow away in the garage for the summer. (I was able to get the pool body down to about the size of a very large duffle bag.)
It won’t take many crisp nights before I’m dragging the Intex tub back out. Then, a few days later I’ll be spying on the water level and topping it off. A few weeks after that, I’ll be draining, scrubbing, and refilling. On and on, little chores rising up from the tub like so many bubbles.