THE WILD SAUNA | Sauna Stories

Sauna Stories: My sauna and cold-plunge experience at The Wild Sauna at Whichford Mill in the Cotswolds.

If you’ve been following My Norwegian Christmas Adventure daily vlog series (and if not, why not…?!), or my monthly journals here on Splodz Blogz, you’ll know that I now randomly but firmly consider the sauna and cold plunge life part of my personality. I’m addicted.

I only recently rediscovered the joy of heat and cold thanks to a session at Fellside Sauna on Derwentwater, a birthday gift from Fiona and my first sauna in years. Then came two more in Norway: one on the Gutsy Girls trip, where the cold plunge was courtesy of a hole cut into a frozen lake, and another in a dreamy floating sauna bobbing on the Oslo fjord. Now, thanks to the enthusiasm of my friend Jenny, I’m now part of a small but determined project to try as many different saunas as possible. I’ve even booked a trip to Estonia next month where I’ll get to try one of their UNESCO‑listed smoke saunas. Yes, this escalated rather quickly, I realise that.

So, as with Fellside Sauna, I’ve decided these experiences deserve their own space rather than being tucked away inside my monthly journals. Welcome to Sauna Stories, my little series documenting my new obsession.

Tell your sauna‑loving friends, and feel free to recommend your favourites in the comments.

Splodz Blogz | The Wild Sauna at Whichford Mill — The Wild Sauna at Whichford Mill.

The Benefits of Sauna and Cold Plunge

Sauna culture itself goes back thousands of years. The Finns are usually credited with perfecting the tradition; their little wooden rooms heated by fire and stone, places to cleanse the body, reset the mind, and gather as a community. But versions of heat bathing appear all over the world: Russian banyas, Estonian smoke saunas, Japanese sentō, Turkish hammams. At their core, they’re all about the same thing – stepping out of the everyday and into a space where warmth, water, and intention do something quietly transformative.

And then there’s the cold. The plunge, the dip, the gasp. That moment where your breath catches and your brain lights up and you feel, briefly, startlingly alive. The contrast between hot and cold has real physiological benefits, including improved circulation, reduced inflammation, a boost in mood – and it’s that emotional effect that keeps pulling me back. It’s grounding. Regulating. A way of being fully present in your own body for a few precious minutes.

I mean, in the floating sauna in Oslo there was a sign that read: “Don’t forget your towel – sauna and icebathing makes you high“. A nice little nod to Hitchhiker’s Guide, and absolutely correct.

No wonder the UK has caught the bug. In the last few years, saunas have been popping up everywhere; lakesides, beaches, farms, city rooftops. Partly because we’re finally embracing outdoor swimming and cold‑water culture in all seasons, partly because people are craving simple, elemental experiences that cut through the noise of modern life. And partly, I think, because we’re remembering that community can be built in small, warm spaces where everyone is slightly pink‑cheeked and wrapped in steam.

The Wild Sauna, Whichford Mill, Warwickshire

So, to The Wild Sauna at Whichford Mill, the first official entry in this new Sauna Stories series.

Tucked deep in the Cotswolds, Jenny and I chose it as our inaugural UK sauna meet‑up partly because it was almost exactly halfway between us, and partly because the website made it look like the kind of place where time slows down in the best possible way. Awarded Best UK Nature Sauna 2025 by the British Sauna Society, it’s a small, beautifully considered setup: a wood‑fired sauna built into a horse box, a wood‑fired hot tub, and three different ways to cool off. A whole little ecosystem of heat and cold.

One thing I’m learning about these sauna sessions is that each one feels like a tiny holiday. On this particular morning, the sun was shining, the air was crisp, and the resident cat wandered around like it owned the place – which, frankly, it probably does.

Getting there involved a slow, careful drive down a narrow, steep, unmade track, but once we’d arrived we were warmly greeted and shown around. There were changing rooms (Jenny and I had one to ourselves), a genuinely lovely composting loo, a yurt for relaxing, and a hot shower if we wanted something more than a cold rinse before heading home. We’d followed the advice to arrive in our swimsuits, so there was no delay in getting straight to the business of the morning: alternating between warmth and cold.

Heat, Cold, Repeat

We’d booked the 90‑minute communal session for £20 each, which meant sharing the space with around ten others. Even though there were technically more people than seats in the sauna, it never felt crowded. The hot tub helped with that – often an added extra at other venues, but included here – and it meant we could enjoy the sunshine, which was the first we’d seen all year.

For heat, we drifted between the Finnish style sauna and the hot tub as the mood took us. I’ll happily admit I prefer the sauna to the tub, but having both available made the whole experience feel generous and unhurried.

For cold, we had options. We each took a couple of dips in the River Stour, which was very high and very fast flowing on our visit. Think very cold endless pool and you’ll be somewhere close. The ladder steps made it easy to get in and, crucially, gave us something solid to hold onto so we didn’t drift downstream. I couldn’t resist a tiny swim, but that was more cardio than I’d planned for, so that didn’t last long! We also dunked in the spring‑fed tin bath and braved the bracing cold shower.

Fire, Water, and Good Conversation

And all the while we chatted about life, the universe, and everything (I did say Hitchhiker’s Guide was relevant). Jenny and I met on my recent Norway cross‑country skiing trip, and we spent the entire session nattering about travel, adventure, and all the things we want to do next. There’s something about slipping between fire and water that makes everything feel both lighter and more meaningful. Restorative in that simple, elemental way that doesn’t need explaining.

Midway through our session, our host appeared with orange wedges, the most refreshing snack imaginable between rounds of heat and cold. There were natural, homemade face masks available to buy too, though we didn’t partake this time. If it had been raining, there was a covered area outside the sauna for shelter, as well as that yurt – but we didn’t need either as the weather was kind until a bit later in the day.

The Wild Sauna is a really lovely setup in a very pretty valley location, it feels like exactly the right spot for a sauna, and it’s run with care and attention. I can absolutely see why they have regulars who visit weekly.

The Wild Sauna felt like a small, sunlit pocket of warmth and cold and conversation. There was nothing complicated about it, nothing performative; just fire, water, fresh air, and good company. Exactly the kind of simple, grounding adventure that fits neatly into a morning yet lingers for days afterwards. And with our next sauna already in the diary, I’m realising this might become one of the most restorative little rituals I’ve added to my life in a long time.