The Ice Tub Club

January 30, 2026

It started with a tub.

Just a tub, some ice, and a guy named Peter who’d come back from Pensacola with a wild idea.

“Peter took a breathwork, ice tub, and yoga kind of class while he was there over the holidays,” says Hannah Eyre, who now helps run the whole thing. “He loved it. He thought it was something Savannah could use.”

So on January 1, 2024, when most of Savannah was nursing champagne headaches or resolving to drink more water, Peter filled a tub with ice, dropped a pin on Instagram, and invited whoever was brave enough to show up.

Fifteen people came. Then they came back the next week. And again the next. A year later, it’s a full-blown movement.

The Ritual Begins Before the Plunge

“We’ve met almost every Sunday morning since,” Peter says. “Before anyone even touches the water, we start by preparing the tubs with ice, socializing, catching up. Then we move into 30 minutes of breathwork and mindful movement. It’s about creating the right internal state before you even dip a toe.” The process is as important as the plunge, a kind of communal ceremony that eases the mind and anchors the body.

A Sauna in Starland. A Plunge into Something Deeper.

The Ice Tub Club meets weekly in the heart of Savannah’s Starland District, with pop-up saunas and cold plunges that look more like a music video shoot than a wellness routine. But it’s not a fitness flex or a trendy stunt.

“It was a need that needed to be filled,” Hannah says. “It was nice having community like, a way for everybody to kind of gather, to move and be intentional with each other and with their own bodies. Everybody’s kind of growth minded in the same way.”

That phrase comes up often: intentional. This isn’t just about dopamine hits or chasing cold shock benefits. It’s about choosing discomfort, together. About sitting in silence with strangers, your breath fogging in the cold, and realizing you’ve never felt more connected.

“A lot of people come thinking they’re gonna be tough about it,” Hannah says. “Like, ‘I’m gonna stay in five minutes, longer than my buddy.’ But in that first minute, you tense up, you panic. And then… you breathe. You remind yourself that you’re safe. And suddenly, everything changes.”

She calls it a reset. “A mental reset. That’s the reason I plunge every week. It’s like eating the frog. If I do the hardest thing first, I can eat frogs all day.”

From Cold Water to Warm Belonging

In a city where social life is often soaked in bourbon and beer, the Ice Tub Club offers something radically different: daylight. Real conversations. Shared stillness.

“There’s so much drinking and nightlife in Savannah,” Hannah says. “This is a shift into daylight and real, genuine connection between people… You come and meet people that are like you or people that open up your mind in new ways.”

“One of the biggest benefits,” Peter adds, “is this form of social wellness that’s been created. It’s not just about getting cold. It’s about coming together regularly, moving your body, pushing your mind, and cheering each other on. There’s accountability, but more than that, there’s connection.”

And yes, this thing is scrappy. Mobile saunas. Pop-up locations. An evolving schedule of public plunges and private sessions. They meet people where they are, sometimes literally, in new neighborhoods every month.

Still, it’s not about building a brand. It’s about building a bond. “I’ve made deeper connections here than anywhere else,” Hannah says.

“When I moved, it was the Ice Tub people who showed up with trucks and said, ‘I live around the corner, need help?’” What about folks who don’t see themselves reflected in the ice tub crowd? What about people who feel like they don’t fit the mold?

“That’s one of the main things Ice Tub Club is good for,” Hannah says. “Breaking yourself out of your comfort zone. A big part of it is just showing up. Even that first step is growth.”

She admits the vibe can look intimidating from the outside. That’s why they host public plunges in places like Starland Yard, to invite in new faces, new energies, and new stories.

“It’s not about how long you can sit in the cold,” she says. “It’s about reminding yourself that you’re safe. That you’re capable. And that maybe the person next to you, someone you thought you had nothing in common with, is feeling the same thing.”

In a way, the Ice Tub Club feels like Savannah itself: unexpected, layered, and quietly transformative. It’s not built on hype or hustle, it’s built on heart. Like the Savannah Photo Club, or the DIY music shows tucked into basements, this is Starland in its purest form: community before commerce, curiosity before comfort.