Imagine being aboard a sinking oil rig and being set out into the icy oil-slicked waters in one of these tiny orange survival pods. Some adventure travelers might actually be headed to the Pod Hotel in The Hague, Netherlands to live out this particular little fantasy, while others might simply go for the novelty of saying they slept in something that resembles the underwater capsule that Steve Zissou and his crew made famous in The Life Aquatic. Whatever their reasons, this is one hotel that’s built for survivors who aren’t afraid of a tight squeeze.
The accommodations at the Pod Hotel are actually survival pods from an oil rig, and were allegedly built in 1972. Now, the bright orange capsules are moored in The Hague and are available to those who are brave enough to test their fear of small spaces.
The Pod Hotel is closed for the winter, but will reopen again this spring. Two more of these cozy little capsules have been added to their hotel accommodations, bringing the grand total of pods to four. They will also be boasting a bigger reception pod. The bright orange pods can be moored in different locations. At present, two are moored in The Hague. The other two pods are supposedly traveling to Antwerp. Packages depend on the interior, location and length of stay. One of these pods comes equipped with a disco-mirror ball, fairy lights and silk lined sleeping bags, while the other features a James Bond theme. It will be interesting to see what the other two are featured as. Hmmm….perhaps that Steve Zissou reference wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.
Prices for a night in one of these funky-looking capsules will run you between 5o and 150 Euro’s. Despite the price for such cramped accommodations, this funky pod hotel is guaranteed to be a conversation piece in any traveler’s journal.
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I helped build these in 1980-1984. They were made in La Mesa, California (San Diego area) by the Survival Systems Division of Whittaker Corporation, and saw service all over the world. They used a special, patented “Rottmer Hook Assembly” – you can see it on the top – that released itself from the winch cable once it went slack when the capsule started floating. Generally they were waaaaaay off the water when they were on the rig. They came in 14, 28, 34, and 54 man versions, with the largest being built in nearby Santee. They closed the division in 1988 or so, I think, with a downturn in the oil industry and competition from Cuban labor in Florida. I believe the rights were sold to the former fiberglass shop foreman, who was Native American and moved production to the Pala Indian Reservation in north San Diego County. Fewer environmental regulations there, I suspect, and certainly no union (IAM) to make a living wage. Labor’s race to the bottom. I believe I also heard they had a big fire at the Pala facility at some point. In any case, I’ve spent plenty of hours in a these as a marine installation mechanic. I think it’s a 28 man capsule pictured here, if not, it’s a 14 man, and 30 year’s time. The chrome rail around the top is a handrail to hold if you’re walking around the flange, but also its full of holes and they pump water through it and create a huge fountain that keeps the laminate cool – if you happen to be lowered into a burning sea of fire. They had diesel engines, and several tanks of breathing air – both for the people and the engine. The engine as started hydraulically, with either an air operated hydraulic pump or a human pumped accumulator. Being able to start the engine and get away from the rig was paramount. They had seat belts, which were essential to keep the people in the bottom and make the capsule self righting if it flipped over in heavy seas. In other words, these things were built to go through hell – and come out the other side. They were very serious pieces of machinery, and we took great pride in building them. Occasionally if there’d been a big save in the North Sea or wherever, they’d bring a guy out in a manlift on a forklift. There was a sign at the end of the main shop area above the doors into the fiberglass shop that said, “People are alive today because of the work you’re doing. To date, ___ people have been saved in Whittaker Survival Capsules.” There were nails holding numerals before the word people, and they guy would change the numbers. Everyone would walk into the center aisle of the shop and watch and then we’d all cheer. Still makes me tear up thinking about it. Sad to see disco balls in them, but at least they’re still around. That gelcoat needs a good polish and waxing, by the way.