Sauna culture is thriving in cold Minnesota as people value the health benefits and sense of community
First there was the sauna, which I really liked. The sauna is small, there is a stove inside that makes you sweat, which is very convenient in the winter when you need the heat the most. The heat from the sauna cleared my sinuses, and that alone was enough for my health – I have a small child, so I basically have a stuffy nose all the time because of the germs that live in the kindergarten in the winter.
Now comes the hard part. After enduring the 180 degree Fahrenheit (80 degree Celsius) sauna, it was nice to walk around. But I had to work up the courage to walk down the stairs and onto the ice, and I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to enjoy it.
The heat of a sauna makes sense in this climate: It’s cold and snowy, and people need to warm up. But sauna enthusiasts say the best and healthiest ways are to jump into a lake or pool, slide around in the snow, or throw cold water on yourself. That’s the hard part.
It was a cold January day in Minnesota, and I expected to step into the icy lake on purpose, rather than accidentally fall in, contrary to my habits from the cold of North Dakota, where my typical winter lifestyle was one of survival.
“Oh no,” I thought, jumping into the ice hole in my bathing suit, winter hat and wool socks. I like it. Do I need to change my personality?
Despite the grumbling and shouting of discontent from those around me, I felt strangely calm. I wasn’t shaking. My mind was pleasantly empty. I had been in the cold water for about two minutes, much longer than the 30 seconds my host had recommended for a first dive.
After a decade of living in the desert heat southwest of Phoenix, Arizona, I returned to the northern Midwest in late 2023. I wanted to enjoy the winter and the growing sauna culture in my new home state of Minnesota, often informally referred to as the “sauna capital” of the United States.
“These statements are a little tricky because they seem a little presumptuous and arrogant,” said Glenn Auerbach, founder of the sauna website SaunaTimes and author of a book on how to build your own sauna. “But yeah, I would say we’re definitely ahead in some areas.”
Minnesota’s cultural heritage, climate, and topography are ideal for saunas. Winters in the area are very cold and snowy. A typical January, the coldest month, has a high of about 20 degrees Fahrenheit; it’s not uncommon for temperatures to never rise above 0 degrees Fahrenheit (-18 degrees Celsius). The state has more than 10,000 lakes, perfect for jumping into icy water after warming up in a sauna. In the late 19th century, the state welcomed a wave of Scandinavian immigrants, particularly the Finns, who brought with them their homeland’s love of saunas.
“They often build the sauna first and then the house,” says Jessica Nelson-Röhl, operations manager of 612 Sauna, a mobile sauna cooperative. “They wash in the sauna and spend time together. Some even give birth in the sauna.”
Saunas are becoming increasingly popular in the United States and around the world, and industry reports point to a promising future for the sauna market. Some attribute this to public demand following the end of quarantine, and research also provides scientific support for claims that saunas improve heart health and circulation.
When my husband and I were house hunting in the Minneapolis area, I noticed that many homes had saunas in their basements, and I realized that this practice must be fairly common. Would I become a sauna enthusiast?
“I always say that a good sauna is like one candle lighting another candle, and when you experience that, you want to experience it yourself,” Auerbach said.
I wanted to try a few different types of saunas and baths. The easiest way to start is with a mobile sauna, which you can rent a bench on. I joined friends and family on the wooden benches scattered around the city center, putting down their phones and taking a break from the sweltering heat. Minnesotans tend to be solitary and don’t like to interact with strangers. But in a sauna, I found that people were more talkative, and the forced intimacy without screens almost forced them to interact with others. It’s the perfect hobby for people who like to chat.
“Saunas are a great way to connect with other people without having to leave the house to eat, go to a bar or have a drink,” Nelson-Rohr said. “It’s a great way to take care of yourself while still being part of a community and connecting with other people.”
When I came out of the sauna, my vision was blurry. Sauna use can be dangerous, especially if you’re a first-timer, and overuse can lead to dehydration. Auerbach says that each sauna session can range from five to 20 minutes, but the key is to focus on and listen to your body’s core. But in my case, my glasses actually fogged up. Extreme temperatures can cause the anti-reflective coating on corrective lenses to melt, a condition called “cracking.” When I called my eye doctor to order replacement lenses, he said this was more common among sauna owners and professional chefs.
While searching for other sauna experiences, I discovered that the Great Northern Winter Festival in Minneapolis has a “Sauna Village,” where I tried out a dozen saunas with other newbies and “sauna bros,” competing to see who could withstand the hottest temperatures the longest. One of the saunas is minimalist, while others resemble cabins or barrels. Most avid sauna users wear cloche hats to protect their hair or prevent their heads and ears from overheating.
Our first cold-water plunge took place at a summer camp called Sauna Camp, located near the lake. The owner told us that someone had rented out the private sauna next to ours for a birthday party, and later we heard everyone singing “Happy Birthday” in unison. It’s a sign of the cultural significance of saunas here, “like a wedding on an Arizona golf course,” my husband joked when I told him about it later.
I began to enjoy the sauna and soon fell in love with its atmosphere and its appeal. Physical therapist Craig Ringsven is another person who is prone to change his mind. During the pandemic, Lin Xiwen’s work hours were cut, so he spent more time at home. He used a sauna in northern Minnesota and decided to expand his backyard. A koi pond became a cold-water pool, and he built a barrel sauna next to his detached garage. A yurt with a fire inside serves as a relaxation area.
After friends and acquaintances insisted on using the backyard oasis, it grew into a business called Nordic Nook. Ringsven said the city of Golden Valley, where he lives, eventually closed it down because home-based businesses must be run indoors. But he hopes to reopen it one day.
He invited me to take a look. The intimate setting with twinkling lights was perfect for a date. My husband, an Arizona native, said the scorching heat of the sauna reminded him of home, but he only spent seven seconds in the cold water.
Ringsven warned me that cold showers can be addictive. “It’s shocking and disturbing, but when you go back to the sauna, you feel very refreshed and relaxed. The more you do it, the easier it gets.”
That night, the temperature in Lin Xiwen’s yard was very low, only in the single digits. The temperature in the pond is 27 degrees Fahrenheit (-3 degrees Celsius). I was going to skip the immersion part, but then I had to admit that I had missed it, so I dove in. I lasted about a minute before jumping out. I immediately went back to the sauna, my wool socks stuck to the cold ground, and although I was freezing, I was proud of myself.
I don’t think I’ll be installing a sauna in my home anytime soon, even though I enjoy socializing with my neighbors and being outside even in cold weather. But I have to admit that perhaps the most important factor in my eventual sauna-going was the desire to excel at something, even if that something meant staying cool in icy water.