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LAST UPDATE | 6 Apr
SWEATING PROFUSELY WITH a group of strangers in close confines, wearing next to nothing may not sound like the most appealing or relaxing thing in the world, but it is the latest trend sweeping the country.
In the past, if you wanted to visit a sauna, you’d have to shell out a small fortune for a trip to a spa or buy a leisure centre membership. Those days are well and truly gone, with everything from barrel saunas to repurposed horseboxes popping up all over the country, in unassuming places like carparks, fields, beaches and garage forecourts. Gone is the faff and the price tag; the sauna has been well and truly democratised, with Irish people flocking to them in their droves.
“What felt niche a few years ago has now become part of people’s weekly routines,” says Dan O’Connor, co-founder of the Hot Box saunas. We’ve seen a huge shift, especially post-pandemic, with people prioritising their health and seeking out ways to feel good, mentally and physically. The sauna and cold therapy movement is no longer just a trend; it’s a lifestyle.”
He’s not wrong, and as it turns out, this boom in sauna culture is not so much a new trend, rather it’s more of a revival of our ancient roots. In Ireland, from the 1600s up until the 1900s, stone sweathouses were a popular destination for those who were sick or seeking wellness. The Leitrim Sweathouse Project recently worked to unearth that county’s rich heritage and culture around these beehive-style stone structures and has so far uncovered over 100 sweathouses, 2.5 more than any other county in Ireland.
Saunas are popping up everywhere, but it’s not just community saunas that have seen a rise in popularity; people are investing in facilities in their own gardens too. “We’ve seen an explosion in the level of interest in home saunas recently, with demand up 80% in the past couple of years,” says Ita O’Brien, of Versatile interiors, “We are also seeing businesses adding saunas to their premises as a way to truly embed workplace wellbeing and socialisation.”
At a time when most of us are burned out, stressed out and quite frankly sick of living through major world events, it’s not hard to see why saunas are making a comeback. The health benefits, such as better sleep, happiness and pain relief as well as improved circulation and cardiovascular function, are much needed by many of us.
To be honest, though, I wasn’t sure if sweating my arse off at 100 degrees with a bunch of strangers would be for me. Like most people, I had dipped in and out of saunas in my local leisure centre and when visiting a hotel or spa and had enjoyed them for a few minutes at a time, but I’d never seen the appeal of anything more than that.
So, it was time to see what the hype was all about. On an unseasonably sunny and calm Friday morning, I made my way down to the Hot Box at their Killiney Beach location, ready to channel my inner Christy Moore and sweat like he did on stage in the 90s. Being one of those people who took up sea swimming during lockdown, I was already familiar with the endorphin rush from jumping into the freezing water regularly, but was less convinced of how lovely it would feel after coming from a roasting sauna.
I dropped my gear in the makeshift changing room, which sat below where the old Victorian tea rooms used to operate on the beach and took a seat inside the aptly named Hot Box. Ticking away at close to 100, the man and woman who were already well into their session asked if they could pour some more water on, I nodded calmly, but inside I was not so sure.
The rising steam hit me like a smack in the face, and the sweat began to pour freely, turning my suddenly dry hair wet in a few seconds. Robin Williams’s famous line from Good Morning Vietnam (1987) played in my head on a loop; “basically, it’s hotter than a snake’s ass in a wagon rut.”
I wasn’t sure I was going to last, but funnily enough, the temperature rise was the immediate icebreaker, and the chat started flowing. More people entered the sauna, and we were all soon cheek-to-jowl, chatting and sweating socially as though we weren’t complete strangers sitting together in our togs.
It was not what I expected at all. “A lot of people come on their own,” Dan explained later. “It’s a great way to disconnect from the chaos and have time for yourself. But the atmosphere is always friendly and welcoming. You don’t need to come with a group to feel part of the vibe. We’ve seen countless solo guests leave with new friends.”
The mix of ages there was probably not what I anticipated either. Three people in their 20s, myself and another woman in her late 30s/ early 40s, and two others in their 50s. We chatted about everything and nothing as we looked out the sauna window and the sea, which grew increasingly more inviting with each sweating moment.
The passing minutes became like a game of chicken, who could last the longest, as we made jokes about it. It struck me that the way we were sitting, we could have been on a train or a bus. In that scenario, we probably wouldn’t have uttered a word to each other, too caught up in our phones, desperately trying to avoid eye contact despite our knees probably knocking uncomfortably close to the other or elbows dug into one another’s sides. Yet here we were having the craic, with a totally different vibe.
It was curiously reminiscent of what pubs used to be like before the arrival of the smartphone. Maybe just a tad more sweating, although that really depended on which pub you were in and how long you’d been there.
“We see it all the time,” Dan echoed afterward. “Friend groups catching up in the sauna, people coming straight from work or sea swims to unwind together. It’s still social, still full of laughter and chats, just in a healthier environment. It’s like the new Friday pint, except you leave feeling better than when you arrived.”
I almost had to remind myself to get out of the sauna, I’d gotten so comfortable in there and so caught up with the chats. Each of us shuffled in and out after ten minutes or so of heat and down the short walk to the beach for a dip in the cold water. The contrast in temperatures was an absolute jolt to the system, in the best possible way. It was the bliss of sea swimming but on steroids.
I left feeling on a total high, even a little bit woozy, truth be told, so sort of like being in the pub, but without the hangover fear and instead with a genuine feeling of wellness.
Niamh O’Reilly is a freelance writer and wrangler of two small boys, who is winging her way through motherhood, her forties and her eyeliner.
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