Knives. Thousands of them, piercing every inch of my skin. I force the air from my lungs and kick my legs to stay afloat. I know this is meant to be good for me, but right now the appeal escapes me. With every kick, the stabs seem to lessen. Warmth spreads, breath slows — a welcome relief and a chance to appreciate my surroundings.
It's January and I'm treading water in Indian Arm, a glacial fjord northeast of Vancouver. Forested cliffs rise above the ice-cold waters; snow-capped peaks loom in the distance. The only man-made structure here is the one I've just jumped from — a cedar-and-glass structure that's part boat, part sauna.
Alternating between hot and cold exposure, it promises everything from increased energy to reduced stress and muscle soreness. And if there's ever been a place for such practices to blossom outdoors, it's Vancouver. In winter, the city averages around 180mm of rainfall a month, but here, people embrace the weather — even the sauna experience is enhanced by the elements.
"Some spas pantomime this nature," Nate Morris, the fitness entrepreneur behind Sisu Swim Sauna and today's captain, tells me. "They pump in evergreen scent and use salt tablets for the water. But here, we're surrounded by trees and seawater. Why not make the most of it?"
Today, we've got lucky: a rare winter morning where the sun's rays hang in the air, reflecting frost on the shoreline. After what feels like a lifetime since my battle with the tiny knives (in reality, around 90 seconds), my body has gone numb, but my mind feels invigorated. I head into the warm heart of the boat, where windows frame views of Indian Arm.
There are nine of us aboard today (the boat can take up to 11), and conversation flows as steam rises from our post-plunge bodies. This, I've come to realise, is typical of how Vancouverites socialise — after-work drinks replaced by run clubs, kayak trips and mountain mornings.
Nate built his sauna boat after spending time in Sweden, where he experienced coastal contrast therapy. Originally for personal use, it proved so popular he began chartering it to groups. With demand growing, he's preparing to launch a second vessel, High Tide Sauna, sailing from downtown Vancouver in March 2026. He's not alone: Hot Voyage began running floating saunas in Indian Arm in November 2025.
For the rest of the afternoon, we alternate between fjord and sauna, growing more comfortable with the cold. Some launch themselves from the boat's upper deck, while others ease in inch by inch, staying submerged for only seconds.
"The hot-cold cycle gives you a real rhythm," Nate says. "You float, heat, swim, repeat. Time seems to just fly by!" And I'm inclined to agree. Being afloat removes the competitive sense of endurance that often defines contrast therapy — it's not about how long you last, but about embracing the discomfort.
"There's so much wildlife to see here, both on and off the water," Nate says, pointing out a bald eagle soaring above the boat before it lands atop a nearby pine. "Birds, jellyfish, orcas, sea lions — you name it."
As we drift back towards the dock, a harbour seal pays us a fleeting visit. He gazes at me with calm curiosity, head bobbing above the water that once felt so sharp and unforgiving. I catch myself considering one final plunge.