There’s a kind of sacred quiet that comes with fire and steam. A way the light bends, the air vibrates, the world slows. Our first Cedar & Stone sauna, tucked on the edge of Lake Superior in Duluth, Minnesota, has known this silence.
It’s breathed it in. It’s held it for others.
Since the doors first opened, tens of thousands have passed through them. Not merely guests, but humans carrying their whole lives with them.
People newly in love (we have one documented marriage proposal at the sauna), bringing a spark to warm the cedar.
Long-distance runners hobbling in after marathons, seeking the therapy of heat.
Families gathering to mark birthdays, achievements, and making memories together.
Friends saying goodbye to someone they’ve lost. The sauna is a safe space for grief.
Even those who walked in for the first time, unsure of what a sauna could be, and walked out believing in its power.
And then there were the old souls, the sauna-born, those who’ve sat in steam so long it’s rewritten their blood.
In this humble room, we’ve weathered blizzards together, think snowbanks tall enough to swallow a door. We’ve greeted the longest day of the year with flower crowns and a kind of ancient joy.
From within these walls, we’ve heard the echo of Bon Iver across the harbor, Willie Nelson wandering through the airwaves, Trampled by Turtles playing to the hometown they love.
This was more than building materials or an exercise routine like the gym sauna; it was a hearth.
A refuge.
A meeting place for human longing and human resilience. A place where we remembered what it means to be embodied, to be present, to be with each other.
No distractions, no pretension, no urgent deadline pulling us away.
The sauna that started it all has earned its rest. We retire it not as an ending, but as a sacred passage, making space for a new, larger, more beautiful, more accessible home. A new fire. A new place where the steam will rise and carry our stories forward.
Our team, our sauna guides, have been the keepers of this flame. They’ve woken before dawn, braving wind, rain, sleet, and subzero breath, just to make sure the door was open, the fire alive, and the invitation clear: Come as you are.
We built this together. With sawdust in our beards and cedar in our clothes. With late nights and early mornings. With the belief that something small and handcrafted can change lives.
It has.
To every person who sat in these walls and left something behind, or took something with them, we see you. We thank you. We honor you.
And to the next chapter: We bring every ember, every breath of steam, every story we’ve heard whispered in the dark.
We’re just getting started.
Look forward to hosting you all in our new space,
– Justin Juntunen
