On the edge of the world

A sweaty, salty trip along Ireland's Wild Atlantic Way

- ALI WATKINS

Sabhna Sauna on Achill Island.

The air is stuffy and hot as we slip through the door of this hut, a rush of chatter greeting us as we take our seats along a long wooden bench, not far from Silverstrand Beach, in Galway. We aren't there long before a stranger leans over — “Where are you from?” he asks.

Soon, we're in the midst of riotous noise. One patron recounts a failed fishing expedition the day before; another is tenderised from celebrating a 60th birthday. Soon, we're all debating a central question: Which county will win the All-Ireland Gaelic Football Championship? (Soon, a local star — a player on Galway’s team — trots in. Admiring his fitness, the men in the corner issue a verdict: We're winning it next year.)

Is this another Irish pub story? You'd be forgiven for thinking so. But it’s Sunday morning, we're hardly clothed, and one by one, we rise from the bench and throw ourselves into the sea.

Here at Power Saunas, I’m taking part in what has become an Irish sauna renaissance. This Scandinavian-style hut — the size of a small shipping container, with a long, plate-glass window that looks out across the Galway Bay to the Clare hills — is one of dozens that have appeared along the coasts in the last 18 months, part of a cold-plunging ritual that sends patrons between sweat houses and Ireland's frigid seas.

The holistic hype around the practice has been well established, from Maine to Minnesota, and Finland to Tasmania. But there is something special about this island’s sauna revival, an energy that's hard to articulate. You've heard of the pubs, the late-night music sessions, the lyrical hospitality. But in these buzzy sweat houses, now ubiquitous across Ireland's beaches, there is something more special, perhaps, because it’s unexpected. A cold plunge and a sauna? On this climatically fickle island?