MINNEAPOLIS — Last Monday evening, I trekked through the cold toward a quiet spa in Northeast Minneapolis, feeling excited, but oddly nervous. It was the night before I was set to film a story on Minnesota’s first public bathhouse, at Watershed Spa, so the spa had arranged for me to try the experience myself.
Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect. I knew I had been booked for a "bathhouse soak ritual," something I was unfamiliar with. It sounded a little... adventurous. I know how to take my own shower and bath, so I wondered, why do it with strangers?
I was reassured that swimsuits are required for the bathing ritual. I figured, if these communal bathing experiences have become popular in other parts of the U.S., there’s got to be some reason they’re catching on. So with a suit and towel in a small bag, I headed in.
Watershed Spa is an 11,000 sq.ft. location of what was formerly known as Spot Spa, founded by body work practitioner Nell Rueckl. The first floor smells of refreshing spices, oils, and natural body butter made by Rueckl.
On the upper level, there are nine treatment rooms where practitioners provide services from massage and acupuncture, to “integrative healing modalities” such as Reiki. But I wasn’t here for that, so I waited briefly in the lobby area to meet Rueckl, who guided me to the lower level: the bathing area.
The history of public bathing
The phrase “public bathing” or “social bathing” might be a new concept to Minnesotans, but it has traditions dating back to the Neolithic period — according to BBC, one of the world’s first public baths was built in 2500 B.C. Later, it was adopted by the Romans, and centuries after that, Turkish baths became popular. Now, here in the U.S., you can find baths in many states from Illinois to New Mexico.
Rueckl told me she takes seriously the traditions and rituals of these baths in their many different iterations across cultures and time periods. Having dreamed of opening a social bathhouse for 17 years, she wanted to incorporate some of the core similarities from other bathhouses into the one she opened in the Twin Cities: a hot pool, a cold plunge and a social element.
Watershed’s bathing area and “nap room”
When we entered the bathing area, the first thing I noticed was an overwhelming sense of calm. Colored lights from within the pools shone easily in the dim lighting. Peaceful music played. Those who were talking did so quietly.
Rueckl showed me to a private dressing room where I noted a sign that kindly asks people to not engage in public displays of affection (PDA). I changed into the suit, put my items in a locker and grabbed one of the spa’s Turkish towels.
Rueckl gave me a brief walk-through and made sure to emphasize there is no “right way” to experience the different areas the bathhouse offers, but showering is encouraged first. There are showers in an open area, next to a bowl of Himalayan sea salt people can use for salt scrubs. However, two private bathrooms also offer showers as well.
Of the two pools, the largest one is the hot pool set at 104 degrees. It’s like a very large hot tub without jets. Rueckl said that’s intentional, to create a “calm and safe environment.”
Then there’s a cold plunge, set at 58 degrees. Directly behind the pools there is a steam room and a cedar sauna. And just outside the bathing area is the “recharge garden,” or what Rueckl sometimes just refers to as the “nap room.”
It was up to me to choose my own adventure.
Trying the bathing ritual and talking with others
I started in the hot pool. I swam around for a bit – it’s big enough that you can do some small strokes and float without bumping into other people. As far as I could see, I was the only one who came there solo. However, I knew that the point of doing this was to be social so I started going up to groups of two and asking them what brought them here.
I approached a group of two young women, chatting about their daily lives and jobs. They told me they were there for a “mom’s night out” and had heard about Watershed after a friend of theirs had been to Spot Spa for treatment. They had come from Eagan and said they were enjoying their mini getaway.
Another couple, a man and a woman in their thirties, said they were there for their one-year anniversary. They had heard about Watershed on Instagram.
I left the hot pool and ventured toward the cold plunge. I simply dipped a toe in and refused to go further. It was frigid!
A woman who appeared to be relaxing(!) inside assured me it would release toxins from my body. She said she's been doing cold baths for years for this reason. I thought I’d rather keep the toxins in than put myself in pain! But I didn’t want to be a total weenie, so I changed my mind, quickly went down the steps, dunked myself and ran back out and straight into the sauna.
It’s hard to describe what my body felt like after going from the extreme cold to the extreme hot of the cedar sauna. It was torture… but like, a good kind of torture? Or maybe a release from torture? It felt like I had just gotten done with an excruciating workout and was feeling the high: It was invigorating.
It’s hard for me to sit still generally, but I managed to stay in the sauna long enough to talk to someone there, too.
A man, now joined by his partner in the sauna (the brave lady who hung out in the cold plunge) said he had been to a social bath in Budapest, which is why he wanted to come to Watershed. When I asked him what he thought of this one, he said Watershed was like a “glorified Lifetime Fitness,” adding they had a cold plunge and a sauna, as well.
I later asked Rueckl how she differentiates the spa from a gym with similar amenities.
“We’re trying to create a space where you’re not testing yourself; you’re not going for your personal best,” Rueckl said. “You’re really just trying to let go.”
I left the sauna for the steam room and sat for a bit before deciding to give the whole rotation another go. I worked up the bravery to even try the cold plunge again (though I declined to do a cannonball, at the suggestion of a gentleman who had perhaps been joking).
Thoughts
By the time Rueckl retrieved me for the salt scrub and Vichy shower treatment (an entirely unique experience on its own, using water as a means of massage), I had spent time in each area three times and felt pretty zen. And as a journalist who runs on high stress, I don't say that often.
It's sort of like a no-kids-allowed, private pool with attendants. It's not a bath in a very literal sense, but more of a social spa experience. In my opinion, it would be fun to go with someone I enjoy, providing a different way to reconnect and recharge that's not a restaurant or bar, or winter walk outside. Unlike a walk outside, this will cost you $54 for a three-hour experience. I like the idea of unwinding in a healthy way, with others.
You’re not encouraged to bring your phone in for obvious reasons, but it struck me as a very “Instagrammable” activity because the aesthetic of the bathing area was clearly carefully curated — and it shows.
But perhaps the fact that you wouldn’t snap a pic for Instagram is a good thing. You have no choice but to connect with others (or yourself) in an authentic and peaceful way. Rueckl said that’s by design.
“We’re obviously all very amped in our daily lives, especially coming out of COVID, things are speeding up so quickly right now, that helping people handle their daily lives is really my main focus,” she said.
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