A sauna you couldn't buy in Bali.

In 2020, in the middle of a world that had stopped moving, I was looking for a sauna in Bali.

I looked everywhere. I asked everyone. Nothing.

I was deep in my own practice at the time — breathwork in the morning, long walks, cold showers, and the kind of questions about health that a pandemic tends to force you to ask. Heat and cold kept showing up in the research I read. The Finns had been doing this for a thousand years. The Russians. The Japanese. The modern protocols coming out of Stanford and Finland. There was a weight of evidence behind it that made ignoring it feel stubborn.

So I tracked down a builder. We built mine together — the first sauna, in the garden of a villa, using kiln-dried timber and a Finnish heater and a lot of conversation about tolerances. When I sat in it the first time, at 90°C on a Bali evening, the problem was obvious: I wasn't the only person here who needed this.

That was the start of SaunaIceBath.

Since then we've delivered and installed more than fifty saunas and ice baths across Bali, Nusa Lembongan, Nusa Penida, the Gilis, and Lombok. Into villas and resorts and yoga shalas and retreats. Every unit goes in by hand, by our team. Every unit is still supported by us.

On my own side of the work — the practice — I am in my sauna most mornings at 5:30am for twenty minutes, in the plunge for two, and back in the sauna for another ten. It has done more for my sleep, my focus, my mood, and my capacity for stress than anything else I have tried. It is the smallest thing I do every day and, looked at across a year, probably the most significant.

The company is the answer to a simple question: how do we make this practice accessible, supported, and locally owned, for the people who live in and visit these islands?

We are very glad you're here.