In a little more detail...

We headed down at nightfall not really knowing what to expect. Jo has some sauna experience in Germany but, between us, that was about it.

We had carried stones with us thinking they might be wanted but our arrival was welcomed by a huge fire in which stones were already slowly taking on a new hue - a rich fiery red. We sat for a couple of hours while the flames burnt themselves down around these stones, wood being added over and over and then around midnight we were told it was time to begin.

I removed my clothes and then was asked to stand in a circle around the fire. Palms together with those on each side of me, I listened as a few of the more practiced practitioners began to chant. Others who weren't taking place just sat on and watched (kind of weird and a little disconcerting at first). The chanting slowly reached a crescendo before falling away and after a quick bow to the flames (not me), I joined a line with maybe 20 others headed for the tent.

The size of a small igloo, it was a domed wooden structure covered with tarpaulin and blankets. Inside was a floor made of straw maybe an inch thick and central to it all was a shallow hole perhaps a foot deep and 3 feet wide.

Fourth in line, I followed a young chick in through a small flapped opening at the front and, following her example, moved crab like around the hole in the centre from the left to the right. I had been told to keep this up until I bumped shoulders with the next person where I was to then stop, knees drawn up and wait for the tent to fill.

So wait I did. Squashed in relative silence - considering there were maybe 20 other people in this small space with me - I waited in true suspense for what was to come next.

It was to be heat. Dry heat. And lots of it. Hot stones were brought in one at a time and thrown into the shallow pit. Each welcomed like another being into our midst with a spoken word. They crackled orange with sparks flashing on their surface. Each a piece of orange sky with golden stars entombed within. The heat given off was fantastic. Waves of it would reach out in search of your body to find and steal away with any trace of cold or moisture you were silly enough to reveal to it. Then the door closed, the night was shut out and we were alone (my hands covering my face as the intense heat beat down upon me).

A quiet chant begun. A blessing to the sun and moon? On each increase in volume a ladle of cool water was thrown onto the stones and a wave of steam, feeling like it was straight from the bowels of the earth would engulf us.

Hotter and hotter it rose around and through us. It made the dry heat seem cool. My breath would catch in my throat; too afraid to come out. Sweat appeared from nowhere and soon was sweating itself. My head lowered, my mind screamed and my sweat just kept coming. I sat, thankful I had drunk so much before entering.

4 times we entered and the process was repeated. You would sit, at times fighting horribly an urge to bust through the back of the tent and out into the fresh air. When a pail of water was thrown on it was often all I could do to remain. To breath was a challenge fantastic! My hands lay on the ground - really helped to cool - and with each addition of water they would fly to my face to cover my mouth and try and help with breathing. I cannot relate the sheer intensity of the heat as it hit you.

When finally it was enough - and we only lasted out the whole of the first session - you would declare "door, door, DOOR!" and then crawl out into the night. And so refreshing was it! A hose of cool water over your head. A mouthful of the most wonderful water ever pouring down your throat. Life was once more bliss.

Then you would forget the heat that was and enter again, only to discover once more the heat that is!

Oh, and afterwards, I had the most itchy arse in the world, no, the universe! Hay allergies plus sweaty bum on straw floor plus heat = itchy, ITCHY, arse (o: