Ice-breaker Chris Hillary, the founder of The Cold Pod, reveals the meaning behind the wellness brand and talks personally about the social anxiety which lone working brings, and the value of retreats for men's mental health.
“I launched Cold Pod in 2022, two years after I started dipping in the sea. I’d become hooked on the way cold water made my mind feel, and I wanted to get in more regularly. I needed something to put in my garden and all I could find was a wheelie bin, so I started dipping in the wheelie bin. The idea of a portable ice bath came to mind, so I sourced one, branded it up and there it was. The Cold Pod.”
We’ve come to Kingsdown, a scenic village on the east Kent coast because where better to bring Chris than the place which started it all – the beach. We met at dawn to catch the sun rise slowly over the English Channel. As we walk along the seafront at a dusky half four in the morning, I grasp the meaning which this stretch of coast has brought to Chris and his brand the Cold Pod.
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“From day one, I wanted the Cold Pod to be more than just a portable ice bath. I foresaw something bigger than just the means for people to get their cold-water fix. I wanted to make a meaningful impact on people’s lives and, along with that, bring people together, grow a community. It’s easy to sell a product and easy for a customer to buy it, but the hard part – that’s down to the client. We asked ourselves, how can we support and motivate people to get in? How can we create a community which keeps people dipping?”
The name the Cold Pod is synonymous with the concept of community. Just like a group of dolphins coming together in a pod, interacting with each other, swimming together and protecting each other, the same notion applies to individual human beings united in the love of the invigorating cold dip. There is a sense of being a team. Building a bond.
“In the back of mind was the community I managed to create when I was a Zumba instructor,” Chris continues. “Something I did for six years and really loved. People turned up early to my classes to sit and chat. They turned up for motivation. They turned up to be part of something. We’re all looking for our tribe, a sense that we’re not alone.”
I realise I’m nodding effusively in response to this statement. I agree, every one of us craves the feeling of being part of something bigger than ourselves. By nature, we are tribal, and back in our caveman days, tribal culture was necessary for survival. But society has become scattered and the process of finding our tribe is much more difficult.
“It’s harder to grow this sense of tribe amongst people sitting behind screens,” Chris admits, “but our Facebook group is growing and we’re seeing that our customers feel safe on there and can talk openly with each other. The Cold Pod Diaries is another way of us trying to bring people together, to inspire and motivate each other. Bringing these stories to life is another way of empowering our customers. It’s a meaningful project which I’ve become passionate about.”
I nudge Chris further on the notion of tribe, something I can tell he is passionate about creating. I also detect empathy within him, as though he relates to his customers and understands what it’s like to walk around in their shoes.
“I really do understand how it is important to be amongst like-minded people, and the power of it,” he says, proving my intuition right. “What has kept me going in the sea every Sunday has been the people who I’ve shared the experience with. The conversation and the connection. On my way to the beach, I’d pick up a friend, and that’s what got me up and out the door, the fact that I was accountable to giving her a lift. We’d chat for half an hour, talk about our week and what was going on for us and then, after the dip, we’d go for a coffee. This quick dip turned into a two-hour outing. There would be lots of different conversations going on in the water amongst a big mixture of people. Every Sunday, my daughters would ask – “Are you going dipping today, Dad?” It became a part of my lifestyle.”
“Time for you,” I chip in, understanding that whilst there are many joys of being a parent and spouse, there are pressures too. Inevitably, these erode our identity and leave us wondering who on earth we are now.
“Yes,” Chris agrees. “Getting in the cold water every Sunday was about me taking time back for myself, amongst being a dad, a husband, and busy family life. I do really need this community. Running the Cold Pod is fairly solitary.”
Again, I’m nodding, understanding the limitations of running one’s own business. We’ve reached the end of this stretch of seafront and so we climb the steps leading onto the iconic white cliffs. When we arrive at the top, a little out of breath, Chris elaborates on this personal aspect of his story.
“The office is a mile and a half from home,” he explains. “On a typical day, I go from home to the office, perhaps to the post office, speak to the people at the post office, and then back home. That is basically my circle. I look back at my Zumba days, of being face-to-face with a hundred people and having a reason to talk to them all - but since being self-employed, there has been a massive shift in my social life and also my social skills. My confidence has definitely slipped. It has become quite hard to talk to people. There is a society anxiety within me that I’ve never had before.”
It's now five in the morning and the sun has lifted itself higher, illuminating the visible outline of France in the distance. The sky is streaked with yellow, orange, and purple. It is the ‘golden hour’ at its very best – a magical time to take photographs and a breath-taking moment to be awake whilst most other people are fast asleep.
“The interaction which I have with other dippers on a Sunday morning is really helpful in keeping my anxiety at bay,” Chris continues as we stride through the long grass. “Yes, there have been times when I’ve got out of the habit. I’m like everyone else. Things come up in life. When our customers find their routine slipping, they have reached out to others on the Facebook group, saying they’d stopped dipping and that they’d lost their confidence. We see how the community chips in with encouraging comments and suggestions of how to combat the fear and ease back in, step by step. It’s amazing that the community is there to pick those people up and help them to get the love back for dipping, and I can relate to this. I’m currently struggling with back pain and taking medication which makes me feel groggy and not myself. I’m in a bit of a rut and finding it hard to motivate myself to get back into cold water. Sometimes a mate messaging me and asking me to come down to the beach with the rest of the guys makes all the difference. See, the power of community…”
Once again, a reference to what seems to really matter to Chris and a reiteration of just how personal the Cold Pod brand is to him. There is an unmistakeable depth to the product which is almost spiritual. We chat further about the notion of the tribe; seeing oneself reflected in others; feeling validated and safe. This is, we both agree, when we start to grow as individuals.
“I believe it’s really important for men to connect with other men,” Chris tells me. “Men need friends! It’s something that we often let slide. I think women are much better at this than us. It is so important for mental health, and this has led to male retreats becoming quite popular. I went to a retreat in Devon where we did some surfing. I hadn’t been surfing since I was 19 in Australia! I turned my phone off for three days. I had no idea what was going on in the outside world! There were 20 of us and in the evenings, we sat round the campfire and chatted. Everyone felt safe in the environment to open up and say what they were thinking and feeling. I used it as an opportunity for self-reflection. I’d take five minutes to myself, sit outside my tepee looking at the sea, not having to answer an email or post on social media, and it was very grounding. The support and love in groups like this is what pushes people forward to make changes.”
“Ah, but no ice?” I quip.
“At the second retreat in Sweden, there was!” Chris laughs. “We got in the freezing lake every day, using a pickaxe to break the ice. We went for walks up the mountains. I remember a moment where we arrived at a ridge with an incredible view. Automatically, everyone stopped talking. It went quiet. It was surreal, as though we were in harmony. There was a sense of peace and understanding among us all. We sat still and reflected for about five minutes. It was powerful.”
I have an idyllic image in my head of this self-care experience which Chris is adamant he will treat himself to once a year. It’s a tantalising taste of a simpler, slower pace of life which makes a world of difference to our wellbeing. A chance to take a deep breath, sit still, and re-evaluate our priorities, boundaries, and goals.
Chris and I scramble back down the cliff, bound for the pebbly shore. There’s an unsaid mutual assumption that we’re going to broach the waves and bob around in the sea. The water is fresh but not cold enough to take our breath away. Too warm, we joke. We stand in the shallows and continue our chat about restorative time-out from the treadmill of day-to-day life.
“It’s quite hard leaving the protective bubble of a retreat and re-entering real life,” he admits. “On the way home, I remember stopping off at a service station and a woman was kicking off about Greggs’ running out of sausage rolls, and it can be quite a shock to the system. Still, the point is to take little things away from these retreats and put them into practise in real life. I put my phone down a lot more in the evenings now and give the girls my full attention which they deserve.”
We emerge from the sea and in need of a hot cup of tea, I head back to Chris’ house with him to conclude our conversation. Insistent that he has another dose of cold water, I persuade him to have his daily ice bath in front of the camera. A good sport, he obliges, even chucking a few extra bags of ice into the water. It’s colder than the sea but a seasoned dipper, he immerses without a flinch of discomfort. Afterwards, he dries off and we wrap up our reflective morning jolly.
“To date, the Cold Pod has sold over 100,000 units, something I’m so proud of because that’s 100,000 people who are cold dipping for a reason,” Chris concludes. “A recent survey of our customers revealed that 98% of people are dipping in their pod every day! That’s amazing, isn’t it? It’s pretty big! We’ve recognised that people who are using the pods seven days a week will invest in something sturdier and so we’ve brought out the Elite range. We’re also bringing out chillers so people can still dip during the summertime. We’re doing as much as we can to make it as easy as possible for people to keep dipping. People need to be able to do it whenever they want, to fit it around busy lives. I’ve heard people say, “Oh, just fill the bath,” every day, but it's not the same as going into an ice bath in your garden, cover it up, get back into it tomorrow.”
I couldn’t agree more. I tell Chris about my little sanctuary on the patio at home where I can grab five minutes of peace and press that metaphorical reboot button which sees me emerge as a fresher, clearer, more positive mum, wife, photographer, writer…and me overall.
“It’s a therapeutic space for you to go,” Chris concurs, “to take time for yourself, shut the world away for a few minutes. It’s a way of resetting and grounding, something which is so important for us all.”
Perfect parting words. I bid goodbye to Chris, satisfied that I’ve got to the authentic root of the somewhat shy but spirited man behind the portable tub which I – along with 100,000 other people – credit with keeping me in a good place, mentally and physically.
Why are we bringing stories to the Cold Pod? Because the Cold Pod isn’t just a product - the means of conveniently getting your cold-water fix. It is more than that. Behind everyone who gets into a Cold Pod is a story. A reason. A motivation. There are countless lives which have been changed for the better because of cold water. These unique stories matter. They shouldn’t go untold. After all, stories empower. Humanize. Inspire. Bring depth to our lives. Make us sit up, pay attention, and understand ourselves. We learn from stories. The whole world is built around stories.