The clouds are expected to burn off by afternoon, but right now it’s a stereotypical Pacific Northwest morning: gray, damp, and a little misty. Walking down the pier on the Columbia River at the northern tip of Portland, Oregon, puts me in the middle of a working marina: houseboats with patio furniture, kayaks suspended from riverside racks, tugboats passing through, and a lone eagle posing on the pilings. While it might be chilly outside, it’s a perfect time to get into a cedar box bobbing on the water, heated to a balmy 180 degrees.
Floating saunas—part boat, part wood-fired bathhouse drifting across icy harbors and fjords—have long been part of Scandinavian culture, where bathers cycle between intense heat and bracing cold plunges into water right outside the door. The Finns made the rhythm of heat, plunge, repeat into a daily habit, long before biohacking labs and luxury spas started trending worldwide. Saunas have of course found their way into the United States, but now a small-but-growing fleet is ushering in the next level: putting the wooden sweat lodges directly on the water.
One such company is Ebb & Ember, which launched on January 1, 2026, in Portland. I sit inside the wood-clad, propane-fired structure, outfitted with large panoramic windows overlooking the river, a rooftop deck for sunny days, and a covered lounge for less ideal ones. Although U.S. Coast Guard regulations prevent them from actually coasting down the river, floating saunas unlock quick access to the water and an atmospheric experience that you just can’t get from a traditional bathhouse, according to Jonah Moses, who founded Ebb & Ember along with Davey Rack.
“Both of us grew up around water, and when we go a few days without being in or near it, we feel it—patience shortens and the day loses its flow,” he says. “This place keeps us connected to that and gives other people a way in.”
The duo have purposely mirrored the Finnish ethos of natural and straightforward rather than fussy or glamorous—you won’t find fluffy robes or cucumber slices here. Guests can book a private session for up to eight people or pop in for a communal one to socialize with other dry heat devotees. Monthly membership options encourage a routine rather than a one-off splurge.
Related: My Favorite Wellness Travel Tip? Talk to Strangers in the Sauna
After stashing my belongings in a locker on the dock, I head in to sweat. The interior is set up like a traditional sauna, with an upper and lower bench, rock-topped heater, and a bucket of water with a ladle in case the mercury dips a few degrees below your liking. Despite the fact that the sauna is moored, I can feel the current, as well as the wake from passing vessels.
Kiln in Wisconsin and Cedar & Stone in Minnesota are the Midwest options for floating saunas.
Courtesy of Kiln (L); courtesy of Cedar & Stone (R)
Part of sauna culture involves contrast therapy, making your body intensely hot and then quickly cold, which is believed to have cardiovascular and circulatory benefits. Admittedly, I’m not great with extremes. I’ve often found sauna heat uncomfortable and the cold shocking. But the views—the river, waterfowl, and the occasional plane headed to PDX—have me feeling both relaxed and emboldened.
The Columbia River varies from 42 degrees in winter to 60-something in summer; dipping in my toe, I can’t help but think it’s closer to the former. Nonetheless, I descend the ladder on one side of the vessel and let the bracing current quickly usher me to the other side. I climb back up, feet cramping, and re-enter the sauna, which now feels blissfully soothing. I remained for less than the recommended time, but longer than I thought I would last—just enough to emerge flushed, clear-headed, and strangely exhilarated.
Later, while I dry off, feeling a little more connected to both nature and my body’s rhythms, I chat with Moses. He says he’s surprised at the wide swath of visitors: parents with their teens, groups of friends, and solo bathers who show up for social sessions, held Friday to Sunday, 9 a.m. to 7 p.m., where small quarters are the ultimate icebreaker.
Other outfitters are wading into the waters in other states too, including Fjord in Sausalito, California; Kiln Floating Sauna in Bailey’s Harbor, Wisconsin; Cedar & Stone Nordic Sauna in Minnesota on Lake Superior; and from the Pineapple Ketch in Kennebunkport, Maine. From forest-fringed rivers to Great Lakes shorelines, floating saunas are turning waterfronts into communal wellness hubs more rooted in nature than traditional spa settings. Perhaps they’ve caught on to an idea that goes deeper than just hot and cold cycles. In the right setting, more aware of my surroundings and therefore myself, I realized what really matters is mindfulness.
“Sitting still, outside, in conversation, with no phone and no goal,” says Moses. “The sauna and the plunge are really just the structure that makes that possible.”
