Tofino’s Floating Sauna Turned Me Into a Sauna Person

I was more than a little choked.

In the months leading up to my just-coming-out-of-COVID trip to Tofino, I had been peppered (in the nicest way) by emails from the PR company representing the Tofino Resort offering up the opportunity to try their brand-new attraction: a floating sauna. For all of those months, I had been politely replying either that the timing didn’t work or I wasn’t sure exactly where such a story might fit in the magazine—but, of course, I very much appreciated the generous offer.

If I’m being honest, it wasn’t solely that the timing didn’t work. Deep down, I wasn’t exactly sold on the concept of just hanging out in a sauna for half a day, no matter how pretty the surroundings. I had been to the OG floating sauna—installed by the famed Nimmo Bay eco-resort several years earlier in their isolated corner of the mainland. It was both fine, and my least-fave activity at the resort. Not to sound like a Gen Zer, but after the first hour, I was a bit at odds as to what to do. A raw dogger I am not.

So when the wife of the family we were travelling to Tofino with emailed with news that she had been able to secure a reservation for the new attraction everybody was talking about, I knew what she meant before even reading the rest—she had booked us at the flipping floating sauna. Now I was faced with the double-kicker of not only being late to the game, but also paying for the privilege of so being. Yay.

At first I thought the price was a bit less than I feared: $818.85, which, when split between two families, seemed doable…  until I realized that was the cost per family.  Double yay.

People don’t often describe me as resilient, but as  we left our amazing Airbnb, I was determined to not be a Debbie Downer. The money was spent, the weather was… well, it wasn’t actively raining, so this was going to be fine. Just fine.

Then things started to miraculously pick up.

First up was the boat: while many of the operators on the rugged west coast of Vancouver Island elect to go with the sturdy-as-hell, uncomfortable-as-hell workhorse aluminum boats, waiting for us at the end of the pier was a brand new Boston Whaler 315 Conquest. I’ll save you the boat nerd-out and cut to the chase: someone spent about $600,000 on it, and it’s easily the nicest boat in the harbour, so suddenly my $800 seemed like a much better deal. And it also made for a smooth, even luxurious ride out to our destination.

I had assumed the trip would be a five-minute blast out of the harbour to the other side of Meares Island, but we just kept going, and going. We went past the fish farms (they’re everywhere), and up channels with literally no other boats on them. I tried to track our vector on my phone, but, alas, no service—underscoring that we were leaving it all behind. After about 30 minutes at full power, our captain eased off on the throttle and we coasted around the corner to our home for the next half-day.

First impression: it’s nicer than the one at Nimmo, and bigger, too. We unloaded the Whaler (our fare included a nicely curated picnic) and got our bearings, then the boat took off and we were alone in the best I-can’t-see-or-hear-another-human sense of the word.

The wood-fired, glass-walled sauna was still warm from the morning charter, so we eased in and let the heat work its magic. The first potential challenge came 20 minutes later when it was time to cool down. As anyone who’s waded in to their ankles on Chesterman Beach knows, the open Pacific is not swimmable. Even jumping into the shallows (there’s an awesome swing rope beckoning) is a dicey proposition for those not blessed with polar bear genes. But, not wanting to look sad and aged in front of my daughters, I took the literal plunge. And it wasn’t bad. Cold, of course, but actually swimmable for a long stretch, in a way the open ocean just a few kilometres away never is. I don’t know if there’s some sort of hot spring below this bay or if the shallowness lets it get comparatively warmer, but it’s far and away the warmest water I’ve ever experienced on the west coast of the Island.

The rest of the day unfolded in a suitably chill manner: kayaking past the point, paddleboarding, hanging in the overwater hammock and reading. Sauna, plunge, repeat. I wasn’t bored once and the only sound that disrupted the vibe was the faint whirr of the twin outboards as the Whaler returned to pick us up after our time was sadly done. We were across the board despondent that our five-hour sojourn was over so quickly. Thankfully, our melancholy reverie during the trip back was interrupted when the captain stopped to pull up a few traps I had forgotten he’d set on our way out. Now we had three nice-sized Dungeness as a parting gift and a wriggling reminder of how sometimes taking a flyer is the path to half-day enlightenment.

On Dry Land: Sweat, Stay and Sip

With apologies to Eat, Pray, Love-rs everywhere, you can find enlightenment all right in one place on Canada’s West Coast. Here’s where to sweat, stay and sip in Tofino.

Sweat

Amazingly, the price for the Tofino Floating Sauna excursion doesn’t seem to have increased in the past few years. Between May and September, five-hour stays are $1,050 for four people, plus $150 per additional person.  A picnic is extra. In low season, trips are $950.

Stay

The Chesterman Cabin on Airbnb was one of the best I’ve stayed in: the massive Bocci light grouping over the dining room table that greeted us set the high-end design vibe for this chill oasis. It’s lo-fi where it needs to be (laminated plywood walls, functional chef’s kitchen), but has great furnishings and an expansive (and expensive) use of glass to underscore the surrounding deep forest. It’s also only a very short stroll to Chesterman Beach. It sleeps six and was a fraction what any of the neighbouring hotels would cost. Simon Montgomery (a former WL Architectural Designer of the Year) told me that it’s owned by the people behind Molo Design. I don’t know if that’s true, but it feels cool enough to be.

Sip

You can bring your own wine to the boat (but no glass allowed). There are no local wines, but you could go for a bottle of onetime Tofino resident James Langford Smith’s Pamplemousse Jus Gew Pet Nat—all natty and wild for the natty and wild surroundings. And if you want to toast your decision to sauna, try a Bokbunja negroni from amazing local restaurant Jeju.