When you first step into the cold plunge during a contrast-therapy circuit, everything in your body says, “Get out.” The temperature, set around 40 to 60 degrees, is said to prompt a nervous system reset, but in the moment, it feels like every nerve ending is wrapped in fiberglass. By the third time, you start to crave the arctic bite. When you emerge, panic is replaced by a sharp clarity and invigorated feeling.
That post-plunge high fueled a wave of contrast-therapy studios. Research backs some claims—reduced inflammation, improved circulation, alongside a spike in mood-regulating neurotransmitters—while others remain anecdotal. Regionally, the first to make the concept social and design-fluent was Sauna House, an Asheville-based brand that debuted in Bonita Springs in 2024. Our team tracked the project’s progress, intrigued to see a design-forward take on the communal baths many remember from travel.
Despite living nearby, I’d yet to test the public waters. Then, I remembered Sauna House’s three private suites for four guests or fewer. The amenities—cedar-wrapped sauna, LED-lit cold plunge, shower and heated lounger—without the visibility.
My partner, Dan McIsaac, and I decided to take a private suite plunge for his birthday. We arrived tense. My perfectly planned day had gotten off to a rough start, with unplanned interruptions and a low-grade irritability we couldn’t quite shake. We were heading into tight quarters, wondering if 190-degree heat would soothe the mood or make us boil over.
Inside, I went straight to the Bluetooth speaker to connect my playlist. The novel experience, tied with the idea of disconnecting for two hours with the smooth stylings of Leon Bridges and Bahamas, took the edge off almost instantly.
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Courtesy Sauna House/Fabiana M. Solano
editor pick bonita springs suana house experience in sauna
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Courtesy Sauna House/Fabiana M. Solano
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An hourglass timed the 15-minute sauna sessions without the angst of a clock. The first time in the plunge pool, I barely made it to 30 seconds (they suggest three to five minutes). Dan soldiered through, recalling advice from a friend in New Mexico who was used to thermal springs and icy lakes. “If you can make it past the first two minutes, your body stops fighting it—you can settle into a sort of meditative ease,” Dan recalls learning. It’s as much about physical resolve as mental stamina. Discomfort remains, but nerves dull. Proponents say this is when the cold starts to do its work.
Subsequent rounds had us testing our limits. Dan settled into a stoic comfort with the shifting extremes. I made it nearly a minute after raising the temperature.
While he worked his process, I encouraged him from the lounger. When he determined he’d go the full five minutes, I used the phone in the corner to order an herbal tea from a menu, listing LMNT-spiked waters, kombucha from Fort Myers maker Flying Eagle and local loose-leaf brews from Tigertoes Herbs and Teas. The drink was there when he emerged.
The public circuit runs most evenings, open until 8 p.m., with memberships available for those who want to make it a regular habit; packages range from $80 for two monthly visits to $375 for unlimited.
By the time we started back to the car, we were back in step. Most benefits are said to come with repetition, but there was immediate payoff, too: Our bodies were more limber, our minds alert but calm, and there’d been enough giggles and cheerleading between us to erase the morning’s frustrations. We may not have set up our memberships yet, but I’m keeping the tab bookmarked and the memory of a great birthday top of mind.