The excited squeals were followed by a wave of giggles that was followed by a disclaimer:
"We're not really 12," Hannah Shafer insisted. "We're actually 28."
But as she and a group of friends stood in their swimsuits in a snow squall while having cold water poured over their heads, it was hard to control their inner-child enthusiasm. "It's fun!" she gushed.
The group was spending a recent evening at Sauna Village, a place where the name mirrors its function. It consists of wood-fired saunas of varying sizes in which visitors — some regulars, others, like Shafer, first-timers — get heated up and then run outside to roll in the snow, dump cold water on themselves or even jump into a water tub (make sure to break up the ice on the surface first).
The village, which is tucked behind a closed power substation on the corner of 47th Street and Nicollet Avenue in south Minneapolis, is the brainchild of Rod Buhrsmith and John Pederson. The two were involved in the 612 Sauna Society's mobile sauna operation. This is a separate entity called Stokeyard Outfitters.
Their goal is to promote "thermaculture."
"It's actually a term we made up," Buhrsmith admitted.
But, he insisted, it's not a practice they made up. Rather, it's one that is growing quickly as Minnesotans — even those without a Scandinavian heritage — embrace the healing and restorative powers of sitting in a small room that has been heated to 190 degrees and above.