Cold-water cure to save the seaside

A new age of steam brings rejuvenation by the barrel load

The rush of scalding vapour is too hot for me to breathe. My ears might be on fire. Airborne moisture swirls so thick that it occludes my view over Portland Harbour. Seconds later, in the company of seven strangers, I clamber out of the barrel into which we have been packed, and dash, near naked, through the eight-in-the-morning air, and throw myself into the sea for an electrifyingly cold shock. It is mid February.

Arcane torture, it may sound like, but I paid for the privilege (a very reasonable £10), and repeated the process three or four times. Leaving the shore after an hour, I felt rejuvenated, radiant, and pulsating life. Weekly saunas at a gym pale by comparison. This beach-side experience was in a new paradigm – fears that I have been captured by a sensualist cult notwithstanding.

Emma Carter has run Island Sauna on this carpark corner for seven months, and is one of dozens of wood-fired sauna operators offering similar experiences along our coast line (and, in a slightly diluted format, in some big cities). Her sauna accommodates eight users an hour, and it is a challenge to find a slot, unless you book well in advance.

“I discovered sauna a few years ago and it helped me with chronic back pain”, she tells me. “I wanted there to be somewhere on Portland that others could get the same benefits”.

The kit is simple. A barrel, of approximately two meters diameter lies on its side. There is a door at one end, a window at the other, and a small wood burning stove in the middle. Within are benches down each side. With eight people aboard, there is space for us all to sit without touching – just. Around the stove are packed big stones imported from Finland. The fire roars, and periodic cups of water poured on the rocks throw up the steam.

Joining seven strangers in such a confined space, wearing only my trunks was daunting. What I found, however, was the friendly social mix of the best country pubs, among whom I was the only ‘down from London’. Body shapes varied considerably, the vibe was relaxed. Chat involved us all and ranged from the whereabout of a dolphin known to live in the bay, the lives of local characters, and our guesses at the sea’s temperature. Consent was sought for fresh water on the stones, and we helped each other in and out of the water.

Carter went out of her way to ensure that all enjoyed the experience, offering salt for rubbing on our bodies to intensify our second dip, lending sauna hats to mitigate the burning ears, and proffering a slice of orange once we were all done.

Wandering around Portland, and neighbouring Weymouth the sense that Britain’s seaside resorts require an injection of new energy is palpable. Shuttered hotels, abandoned attractions, and marginal retail operations abound – particularly in the off season. On a bitingly cold Weymouth beach, however, I found another barrel of sauna enthusiasts. Perhaps a voluptuary reawakening, and the rediscovery of cold-water cures, will lead a seaside renaissance? That really would be a tonic.