As I squeeze myself on to the top bench of the sauna in my local lido, I’m grateful to have a spot. It’s rammed; standing room only. Next to the stove, cold water swimmers huddle and struggle to peel neoprene off shivering hands and feet, their teeth chattering. In fact, everyone is chattering. It’s as noisy as the pub before closing time and as ebullient; a steamy collective fuelled by extremes of temperature rather than extremely large amounts of booze. But, unlike the pub, everyone is semi-naked, sweating and stripped back – job title, wealth, celebrity and status left firmly by the pool.
“Since we opened the sauna at Parliament Hill Lido six years ago, we have seen visitor numbers shoot up,” says Paul Jeal, swimming facilities manager at Hampstead Heath for the Corporation of London. Once deserted and running at a loss in winter, the lido now sees queues at weekends and Jeal has to manage sell-out sauna sessions of 30 tickets an hour. “Since Covid, visitor numbers have increased fourfold,” he adds. “Many are new to cold water swimming and they say the sauna has encouraged them to come.” In spring, the sauna benches collapsed from heavy use.
