There isn’t much to read in the inspection report itself. A few sentences regarding the hot tub’s chlorine content. a message stating that because there were no lifeguards on duty, the waterslides had been closed. The type of paperwork that accumulates in a state office and is never read by anyone outside of it is bureaucratic and dry. However, a state inspector named Lutz entered a building full of swimsuit-clad guests behind those lines and immediately determined that some of it had to end.
Like many mid-sized waterparks in the Midwest, Wasserbahn Waterpark Resort in Williamsburg, Iowa, has been running quietly and seasonally, with the steady flow of family weekends keeping the lights on. Until it wasn’t. The establishment abruptly closed by March 2022. Local reporters were informed by employees that their paychecks had bounced. Some had been residing there, but all of a sudden they had nowhere to go. The kind of story that doesn’t make national headlines but illustrates how precariously these places can be held together.
| Detail | Information |
|---|---|
| Location | Williamsburg, Iowa |
| Facility Type | Indoor waterpark and hotel resort |
| Closure Date | Early March 2022 |
| Regulating Body | Iowa Department of Public Health |
| Registered Waterslides in Iowa | Roughly 323 across 176 facilities |
| Slide Height Threshold for Registration | Anything over 20 feet |
| Reason for Closure | Health and safety violations, including low chlorine levels and no lifeguards on duty |
| Employee Impact | Bounced paychecks, sudden job loss, displaced staff housing |
It’s remarkable how commonplace the failures were. not disastrous technical defects. Not the kind of catastrophe that claimed the life of an eleven-year-old in 2021 when a raft on the Raging River ride overturned and trapped a family beneath it at Adventureland Park near Des Moines. A subsequent inspection of that tragedy found seventeen safety violations, including incorrect parts, incorrect adhesives, and a ride that one former manager claimed was held together with bubble gum and duct tape. The point is that Wasserbahn’s issues were minor. There wasn’t enough chlorine in the hot tub. The chairs had no lifeguards. Thus, in the middle of the visit, Lutz turned off the slides and closed the hot tub.
It’s the unglamorous aspect of working in public health that doesn’t lend itself to a film. Iowa uses a checklist that includes chemical balance, mechanical condition, staffing, and signage to inspect its 323 registered waterslides at 176 facilities annually. Many backyard-adjacent attractions operate in a gray area that the state doesn’t really monitor because slides shorter than twenty feet aren’t even registered. Reading through previous inspection records gives the impression that the system functions primarily because inspectors visit and pose inquiries. Not because the law is particularly strict.
One could contend that the stakes are too high for the penalties. Iowa OSHA fined Adventureland $4,500—the highest amount permitted for that category—after an employee fell and broke his skull on the Raging River conveyor belt in 2016. Four thousand five hundred dollars. For the life of a man. Five years later, Michael Jaramillo was killed by the same ride. It’s difficult to ignore the pattern.
After that visit in March, Wasserbahn never really reopened. The staff dispersed, the hotel emptied, and the slides drained. It’s unclear from the public record whether the health citations caused the closure directly or if they merely accelerated it. However, the inspectors took action after seeing what they saw. That’s the entire job at times. Enter, take a look around, and don’t leave until the chlorine level is correct.
