Steam Trails: What 22 Finnish Saunas Taught Me About Heat, Humanity and the Art of Löyly
Over 12 days and 22 public saunas, we came to understand that these warm, wood-lined rooms are not escapes from society, but invitations into it. They're places where strangers become equals, and where social cues are reset, no dress code, no tech, no hierarchy. The sauna, we learned, isn't a retreat from life in Finland, it is life. It's where people reconnect with friends, bring their families, or come alone, and find company.
Tampere: Baptism by Steam
We began in Tampere, a city two hours north of Helsinki and the self-declared Sauna Capital of the World, where you feel that sense of calm the moment you arrive. Nestled between two lakes, the city buzzes with understated energy. Beach volleyball games at 9pm, families lounging on the grass, fitness groups on the foreshore. We wondered if all this ease had something to do with their national obsession with sauna.
One sauna left a particularly hot impression. Rauhaniemi Folk Spa, perched on the rocky edge of Lake Näsijärvi. It's a no-frills, mainly locals kind of place, and we were warned one of the saunas ran extremely hot. They weren't joking. We quickly found ourselves the only ones sitting on the lower bench, while an older gentleman, clearly in his element, claimed the top seat beside the stove and threw water onto the hot rocks with joyful intensity.
The heat was searing. We laughed at the absurdity, only to stumble out minutes later onto slick wet rocks, heading barefoot down to plunge into the rolling, freezing freshwater lake. And yet, we returned. Again and again, we found ourselves pulled back into the cycle: fire, ice, laughter, shock. Around us, young couples, old men, and friend groups followed the same migration every ten minutes or so. Each round became a small bonding moment with strangers as we gasped, winced, and grinned through the extremes.
Steamroom Briefings
At Saunaravintola Kuuma, a lakeside sauna in the heart of Tampere, we saw firsthand how seamlessly sauna weaves into Finnish daily life, even business. A local man had brought his American colleague along, and as we sat in the heat, it became clear their meeting was equal parts cultural exchange and work discussion. Between rounds of löyly, they discussed projects and plans, all while nodding to the rituals of sauna etiquette. In Finland, this isn't unusual. The sauna levels everyone, stripped of suits and status. Maybe that's why it works. Deals are done, not with handshakes, but with steam.
The Art of Löyly
Further north, we followed roads through forests that felt like a storybook and arrived at the Art Sauna, an elegant, cylindrical structure sitting beside the Serlachius Museum. I assumed it would feel touristy, but I was wrong. Inside, it was humble, quiet, and communal. The circular sauna centred around a sculptural heater, the heat radiating out like a campfire.
The first to arrive was an older man who visits every Tuesday. Without hesitation, he took the ladle and doused the stones with a dramatic splash. The steam exploded upward, hot and fast. He looked at us and gestured eagerly, attempting to teach us his way. We smiled, we mimed, we laughed.
Soon, a group of women arrived, chatting in Finnish as they entered. One watched the man toss more water, then burst out laughing and grabbed the ladle from him. “That's not how you do it,” she said, and demonstrated her version — a slow, deliberate pour in one spot. The result was a warm, enveloping cloud of heat. It was clear, everyone had their own style of löyly, and each technique sparked conversation.
Getting Lost (and Found) in Conversation
On Lonna Island, a short ferry ride from Helsinki, we arrived to find a modern, sculptural sauna perched at the water's edge. Zinc roofing and thick timber walls gave it a modern utilitarian feel, but inside, the spirit was familiar. Dormer windows framed views of the sea, while steam drifted up from the woodfire heater below.
That night was the Eurovision finale, Sweden's sauna-themed entry a hot topic. We found ourselves sweating beside a Swedish traveller on a work trip, and before long, conversation flowed. We debated music, traded sauna stories, and laughed until we realised, far too late, that we'd overstayed our heat tolerance. But no one was counting minutes, it was the conversation that mattered.
More Than Heat
We came for the design, the scenery and sauna. We left thinking about the people: laughing, passing the ladle, making space on the bench. No shared language, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was the camaraderie generated by the heat.
Story and photos by Zoe Manderson.
