The secrets of sauna-ing like a Finn

The first thing to know about Finnish saunas is that they’re everywhere. You’ll find them in urban apartment buildings and rickety forest cottages; they’re part of trendy seaside hangouts, floating around lakes on wooden pontoons, and dangling from sky-high Ferris wheels. There are more saunas in Finland than there are cars, making it both a national pastime and a cultural imperative. Even the national airline, Finnair, feels like an extension of this obsession, with their new, cocoon-like business class seats designed around the same principles of warmth and quietude, and – of course – a sauna within their platinum lounge at Helsinki Airport.

I experienced all this firsthand on a small island in Helsinki, where one chilly afternoon I found myself sitting half-naked in a humid, cedar-paneled room with Anna Velten, who works at Finnish sauna and wellness consultancy Terhen. The air was thick with steam, rolling in waves from a pile of white-hot stones below the wooden floorboards. “Historically, the sauna has always been a sacred space where people have healed and cleansed, both physically and spiritually,” Velten told me while pouring another ladle of water onto the rocks. “It connects Finns with nature, traditions, and each other – it can be a deeply spiritual experience.”

Related: This is how to protect your hair in the sauna

Those words hit home when she started chanting a Finnish hymn, passed down for generations as a way to summon the perfect löyly. She explained that this löyly wasn’t just the hot steam prickling my lungs, but the ethereal, life-giving spirit of the sauna itself. And while the chanting undoubtedly helped, Velten’s water-pouring prowess also contributed: slow and steady, to keep the steam soft and humid. “It should feel deeply warming and pleasant,” she said. “Not harsh or overwhelming.”

As the *löyly *roared and the heat pressed me down onto the wooden bench, Velten brought out a bundle of leafy birch branches and gently whipped my back, legs, and shoulders. This vihtominen, another cherished Finnish sauna tradition, is said to stimulate blood circulation and cleanse the skin. With every whip, the woody scent of birch leaves filled the boiling air, and just as I started to wonder if I might spontaneously combust, Velten gestured toward the door. “Time to cool off.”

Outside, the icy wind cut through my skin like a million needles. Wrapped in a towel, I shuffled barefoot through mushy snow towards the rock-strewn Baltic coast, and without thinking, plunged into the black water, cold as liquid ice. The shock sucked the breath out of my lungs, my heart pounded, and for a split second, I existed in a place of pure ecstasy – the kind of sharp, exhilarating clarity I had spent eons chasing through meditations and chi-chi wellness retreats. “Just 15 minutes in a sauna, followed by a cold plunge, can release more than 30 different feel-good hormones,” Velten said. “It’s an escape from the hustle of everyday life and encourages people to be fully present in the moment, a digital detox at its best.”

I spent the following days chasing that high. At The Hotel Maria, Helsinki’s latest luxury hotel taking over a courtyard-connected quartet of 19th-century office buildings, the experience took a softer, but no less revitalizing approach. With its marble-clad interiors and plant-draped atrium lounge, the hotel’s cavernous spa was a far cry from the no-frills saunas I had seen so far, but an hour of alternating between the sauna, steam room, cold plunge, and Jacuzzi tub jolted the jet lag right out of me.

Related: “I’ve become the Nordic sauna ambassador.” Take a tour of Finnish legend Arja Saijonmaa's summer retreat

If my sauna sessions in Helsinki were all about ritual and refinement, the ones in Finnish Lapland offered something wilder. At Octola, a hush-hush hideaway set deep in the Arctic woodlands of Rovaniemi, the sauna was stripped back to its most elemental form: a log cabin (albeit a very luxurious one) in the snow, miles away from passing cars and city lights. Between dog-sledding tours around the estate’s endless pine forests and eye-opening meetings with the region’s indigenous Sámi people and their reindeer herds, I’d nip out for a sweat session before cooling off in a knee-deep layer of powdery snow.

One early morning, the sky still dark and painted with the faint green haze of the northern lights, we drove to a lonely sauna cabin deep inside the estate. The lake next to it was frozen over, save for a small hole surrounded by lit-up blocks of ice. After heating up, I stepped outside into a skin-searing minus 20 degrees Celsius, and plunged in. As I floated there looking up at the sky, it clicked: this wasn’t just about chasing temperature extremes, but about submission. A surrender to nature, to tradition, and to the undeniable pull of something ethereal lingering far deeper.

Before boarding my flight home, a final sauna felt like the only proper farewell. In the Finnair lounge’s sauna cabin, I shed my airport layers and let the heat seep into my skin. As beads of sweat gathered on my forehead, I thought of Velten’s words from days earlier: “It’s a transition rite from work to leisure, from the ordinary to the sacred.” And this time, it didn’t feel like a clumsy trial, but a ritual I was finally beginning to understand.

Preparation is key

Shower before you go in, make sure you drink enough water or herbal tea to stay hydrated, and wear a towel or sauna hat over your head to protect yourself from the dizzying heat.

Contrast with a cool-down

Cool off between sauna sessions by stepping outside for a mood-boosting cold plunge or dip in the snow.

Respect the ritual

More than anything, don’t treat the sauna as just a quick sweat session. Take your time, embrace the silence (especially in public saunas, keep your voice low), and appreciate the deep-rooted connections it has to the Finnish way of life.