Here's what happens when you wheel two wood-fired saunas onto Clover Point to set the stage for a little neighbourly interaction.
Text by Anja Torres, Aryze Communications & Engagement Manager
Photos by Ben Farris, Endurance Media House
Dec 1, 2025 · 7 min read
I spot him looking out, arms folded on the window frame right below his face. It must be nice in there, I think.
Indeed, the fire has just been fed and the sauna our guest is standing in should be reaching a cozy 70ºC. Outside, a 65 km gust of wind carries the late October chill straight through every little opening in our clothes. Hair whipping around our faces, our cameraman Ben and I laugh as we try, mostly unsuccessfully, to capture a decent bit of audio with a clip-in mic. The man standing in the window sees me looking towards him and smiles. Everyone stepping into and out of the two wooden saunas parked on either side of us is smiling.
It’s 11 am on a Saturday morning at Clover Point. Environment Canada has issued a Wind Warning—not that we or anyone around us needs it. Amazingly, the weather seems to have no effect on the spirits of those attending No Sweat Social, our four-day community sauna pop-up event in collaboration with Wildwood Saunas.
Red-faced guests are running between the two wooden structures and into the sea, many of them laughing or taking a moment to stand on the field, steam rising from their bodies as they yell over the wind to each other. As one of them later tells us, it’s a “true West Coast experience.”
The saunas, even with their skylights and windows, are so well built there is nary a whisper of those West Coast winds within. Though our guests seem relaxed, nobody is not sweating.
But if a fully booked-out four days and the community’s response are any indication, we can feel good about having delivered on the “social” aspect. Arriving early, my plan was to catch a changeover of sauna sessions in order to maximize our chances of finding a couple of people who would be willing to speak to us on camera. Everyone is in such great spirits—giggling, taking photos, spraying each other with the hose feeding the sauna shower station—that we needn't brave the wind for very long. They all want to talk. And what they have to say is really gratifying.
"It’s been incredible. Just waking up and then seeing the beautiful nature and the smiley faces. And it feels like we’re in a movie—it’s really amazing."
Some of them have come with a friend or partner, some have come alone. Most have left having interacted with new friends and neighbours.
"We met some new friends and we’re going to hang out and have dinner next week. It’s just a nice way to meet people in the community, which is really important."
Their mood is so infectious that neither Ben nor I mind too much when the ocean winds bend the flow of hose water our way, putting our rain gear—and equipment—to the test.
Uli, a commercial diver from Würzburg who occasionally helps with Wildwood sauna operation (when he’s not repairing internet cables 90 feet below sea level in the Arctic), feels the same. After he warns me of the impending increase in winds, I ask if the operators will be OK without the frequent blasts of heat that the sauna-goers are enjoying to offset the cold. He assures me it’s bearable. “Everyone is having such a good time that I don’t mind being out here” he replies with a grin.
I notice that Brian, his colleague, has also remained surprisingly chipper throughout both weekends’ stints of inclement weather. As I observe the scene, he walks up to tell me the man looking out at the ocean from the sauna window is a cyclist who happened upon the pop-up the weekend prior. Taken with the sight of people running, rosy-cheeked, from the little wooden huts into the ocean, “he booked in and came this weekend.”
With roots in ancient Finland over 2000 years ago, sauna culture began as a practical response to harsh northern climates and limited daylight, but soon evolved into something a lot more meaningful than simply a place to sweat it out.
Early saunas were dug into the ground or built as smoke-filled log structures where fire-heated stones provided heat long after the flames had died. These spaces served not only as sites for bathing and hygiene but also for childbirth, healing, spiritual reflection and family gathering. Over time, the sauna became a cornerstone of Finnish identity—a place where social hierarchies softened, important decisions were made and community bonds were strengthened through shared ritual and quiet conversation.
"I think it adds to the sense of community because you’re not distracted with cell phones, you’re not distracted with anything, you’re just kind of in the moment. I think that makes it really nice and you can stare in each other’s eyes and talk about whatever’s going on in your life. It’s a great way to connect with people and share real human experiences."
This emphasis on communal well-being and purification is far from unique to Finland. Across the globe, many cultures developed their own heat-based ceremonial spaces, each reflecting local beliefs and environments. Indigenous peoples of the Americas have long used sweat lodges as sacred settings for prayer, purification, reproductive health and storytelling, where participants often sit in darkness around heated stones and engage in guided ceremonies. In Japan, early mushiburo steam baths offered a place for collective cleansing and spiritual renewal, while the Roman Empire’s elaborate bathhouses combined physical relaxation with social and political life. These traditions, though diverse, share a common understanding: that heat, ritual, and social interaction can intertwine to create spaces where people reconnect with themselves and with one another. Sauna culture, it turns out, is a pretty great way to strengthen the warp and weft of community.
88% of guests at No Sweat Social made new connections during the event.
"I’m Indigenous—I grew up going to sweat lodges. So the togetherness and sharing stories from different walks of life. There’s just something about being warm and cozy with strangers that makes it feel like you can loosen up and get to know people in a different light."
It’s for precisely these reasons that No Sweat Social was conceived as an exercise in community and aquatic recreation. It also felt like a natural way to build on the success of Project Albero—a simple intervention in the Gorge Waterway that launched countless bathers into the temperate waters in an attempt to connect point A to point B, thus helping turn the area into one of the most happening spots in town on any given warm day. These beautiful public areas belong to all of Victoria’s residents and while many are familiar with them, there’s something about providing a playful excuse to get out there that really boosts uptake and, subsequently, interaction among neighbours. Deep down, we all just want to have a little fun—and Aryze believes that facilitating that fun is what helps drive up quality of life for everyone involved.
As Vancouver amends existing bylaws to allow for more of events like No Sweat Social, a global rise in the popularity of mobile saunas has seen custom builders wheeling their units to unique locales all over the world. With a little community support, Victoria could be cresting that wave in real time.
*All quotes and statistics taken from anonymous post-participation survey
Special thanks to Wildwood Saunas and the Good City Project for their support.
