Cold Adaption Protocol: Cold Thermogenesis

What is Cold Thermogenesis (CT)

Cold Thermogenesis (CT) is the process of exposing your body to a cold stimulus in order to increase metabolism. During cold exposure, the mitochondria in cells burn fuel as infra-red light in order to heat the body up to maintain a consistent core body temperature. CT only works optimally for humans with maternal ancestors who have faced cold climates in the past and made genetic adaptations to these conditions. In other words, humans who are able to uncouple their mitochondrial metabolism. This means these ancestrally adapted humans’ mitochondria can generate free heat by burning fuel, such as fat, in addition to producing Adenosine Triphosphate (ATP) via the Electron Transport Chain (ETC).

CT works on Carnot’s Theorem. The theorem shows us that an engine becomes more energy efficient in a thermal deficit or cold environment. Mitochondria are a quantum rotary, piezoelectric, red light, hydrogen powered heat engine. Cooler temperatures improve the engine. Semi conduction of electrons does better in cooler environments.

Humans needed to evolve the ability to adapt to cold climates as they migrated from Africa to Europe ~80,000 years ago. Humans are endotherms and did not have the covering of fur or thick body hair to trap heat in the body. So instead new mitochondrial haplotypes were mandated by environmental stimulus. This Process was driven by the process of Epi-Genetics.

Cold thermogenesis is geared toward uncoupled haplotypes and coupled haplotypes can become cold-adaptively trained. Deep cold thermogenesis is to be only applied to uncoupled haplotypes and can be dangerous to coupled haplotypes.

Uncoupled mitochondrial origins are from non-equatorial regions. Haplotypes such as K, H, J, C, B, T and so on are examples of Uncoupled Haplotypes to varying degrees. The further away from the equator your mitochondrial haplotype is, the greater the cold benefit is for your overall system. Haplotypes from equatorial regions like the L series are not able to use cold to liberate free heat and CT does not apply for them. To check which mitochondrial haplotype, you have undertaken a 23andMe genetic test here https://www.23andme.com/en-int/.

CT is hugely beneficial for those recovering from cancer and those with excess fat that are uncoupled haplotypes. Cold exposure increases the amount of light we can make internally

Maximum uncoupling occurs after exiting CT tub when shivering starts as the muscles burn free fat. If you can avoid putting clothes on to limit shivering this is more optimal but work your way up to this stage if it is very difficult at the beginning. Uncoupling is a workout for the mitochondrial matrix - like a gym workout without the oxidative inflammatory process.

When exposed to a cold environment mitochondria release IR light to the water surrounding it. This water becomes the body’s way to retain heat and stay warm in cold environments. Therefore, if an Organism is dehydrated from nnEMF, poor mitochondrial water production or insufficient quality exogenous water, then it will not hold heat as well and thus not be able to cope with the cold. Hydration is the key to warmth. This is why before doing any CT it is advisable to drink 1-2 glasses of cold water. Water forms a crystal (crystalline structure) within our cells and IR light favours its Hydrogen bonding network over Deuterium.

Mitochondria produce electric and magnetic fields, which when exposed to the cold release Infra-Red (IR) light into the surrounding water in the cell. This shrinks the volume of water in the cell making the cell smaller. Once a cell is smaller it is more energy efficient and produces a larger magnetic field.

Become cold adapted by applying a cold stimulus to your skin surface to activate the thermal production of Infra-Red light (heat) from the mitochondria within your cells. As the body’s warming up mechanism induced blood flow to begin circulating, flowing from hot to cold. The body’s core containing all vital organs will be flooded with warm blood and as the body gets used to the cold stimulus it will heat up the peripherals like hands and feet. As one becomes more ‘cold adapted’ this process will become very quick and more thermodynamically efficient.

Mitochondria are hydrogen heat engines. The larger the difference between the temperature inside the mitochondrial matrix and outside of the cell the more efficient the engine runs. This cooling of biologic surfaces requires an increased demand for energy production by the mitochondria boosts metabolism and mitochondrial efficiency. Cooling the surfaces of the body also shrinks things and results in less space between the respiratory proteins in the mitochondria. This difference in temperature then requires a greater amount of Infrared (IR) light to be generated by the mitochondria to power the cell. This illustrates why Cold Thermogenesis works so well to improve mitochondrial health and to lose weight.

Cold exposure on the skins surface appears to improve the thermodynamics of the skin and peripheral tissue. As the body works hard to keep the core warm, more 

In my experience most people chronically live in a sympathetic drive state. This sends energy away from the core and to the periphery. Cold sends it back in towards our core. Thus, this vasoconstricts the periphery and changes the physiologic response away from sympathetic drive. If this occurs chronically, it turns down warm adapted metabolism, sex steroidogenesis thyroid function and leading toward a complete shift to uncoupled mitochondrial metabolism as a way of preserving the organisms health. In this state the body becomes extremely thermodynamically efficient leading to increased metabolic flexibility. Overall, cold exposure forces blood to the core and changes the direction of blood pressure. Collagen conductance normally increases in warmer climates. Adding cold to this, can be even more effective as, cold condenses things and makes junctions smaller and more efficient. Remember, collagen connects everything in the body together and is where the EZ of water meet and electrons flow.

Key Benefits of Cold Thermogenesis

• Converts white fat to brown adipose tissue (BAT), burning ~500 kcal/hr[cite: 1].

• Boosts dopamine (+250%), immunity, sleep, and testosterone[cite: 1].

• Reduces inflammation, oxidative stress, and nnEMF impact[cite: 1].

• Reverses insulin resistance, adrenal fatigue, and autoimmune issues[cite: 1].

6-Step Protocol

1. Diet & Hydration: Seafood/keto diet; drink cold water beforehand[cite: 1].

2. Face Dunking: 10 mins daily in ice water (2 weeks)[cite: 1].

3. Torso Ice: 10 kg ice on abdomen for 20 mins/day (2 weeks)[cite: 1].

4. Ice Baths: 40 mins at 10–12°C, 5x/week (2 weeks)[cite: 1].

5. Open Water: 20-min ocean/lake swims[cite: 1].

6. Maintenance: Cold showers, spot CT, or cold air exposure[cite: 1].

Contraindications Avoid if taking beta-blockers (blocks fat conversion), or suffering from poor fat oxidation, severe anemia, Parkinson's, or heart conditions[cite: 1].

Nathan Siles' Experience - Chase the Sun. Bring the Cold.

My journey through cold thermogenesis, from a bowl of ice water to a deeper connection with nature.

In 2015, I started a relationship with the cold that would change how I experienced my own body. It began with my face in a tub of cold water, which is hardly the glamorous opening you might expect from a story about transformation. There was no beautiful plunge pool, no expensive equipment and certainly no audience. There was just me, some water from the fridge, a few trays of ice and a growing curiosity about what might happen if I stopped avoiding the cold.

Once I became interested in something, I wanted to experience it properly. Reading about cold thermogenesis was fascinating, but I wanted to understand what adaptation actually felt like, how my body would respond and whether something so simple could influence my energy, sleep and connection with my surroundings. What followed became a progression that unfolded over months and then years. Along the way, I discovered remarkable possibilities, made mistakes and developed a practice that I could take almost anywhere.

The biggest surprise was how much of the journey happened internally. I went looking for a physical experience and found something that changed my relationship with discomfort, the seasons and the natural world. The cold made nature feel more accessible to me. Eventually, it helped shape a philosophy I still live by today: chase the sun and bring the cold with you.

The beginning of NeuroPlunge

My first experiments were wonderfully uncomplicated. I filled a large container with cold water, added ice and submerged my face, then came up whenever I needed to breathe. Before long, I started wondering whether a snorkel would allow me to settle into the experience more comfortably. That simple addition, a silicone snorkel with a mouthpiece, became the beginning of what I developed into NeuroPlunge.

There is something extraordinary about putting your face into cold water. The outside world becomes quiet, your attention turns inward and suddenly there is very little room for whatever was occupying your mind a moment earlier. I felt a distinct shift in my state, a sense of settling that made me want to return to it. That experience became one of the most consistent threads running through everything else I explored.

The physiology fascinated me just as much as the feeling. Facial cooling can engage the mammalian dive response, involving sensory pathways through the trigeminal nerve and changes in autonomic activity, including a slowing of the heart rate known as bradycardia. To me, this was a remarkable meeting point between the face, the brain, circulation and the nervous system. I began thinking of it as a parasympathetic portal, my way of describing the powerful inward shift I experienced.

Years later, after trying everything from ocean swimming to circulating cold tubs, I still come back to the face plunge. For the effort, cost and consistency involved, it remains my favourite cold practice. These days, I generally do it three to five times a week using a roughly 10 litre bucket, about 2.6 US gallons, cold tap water, trays of ice and my black silicone snorkel. There is something deeply satisfying about a practice that has travelled around the world with me while remaining so simple.

Learning to become comfortable in the cold

My progression beyond the face plunge happened gradually. I experimented with a compression vest and bags of ice while sitting in an empty bathtub, then worked through cold showers, cold baths and eventually baths with ice added. Each stage generally occupied a couple of weeks, often two or three, with regular exposure giving my body time to become familiar with the experience. What interested me was the gradual change in how I responded.

At first, the cold demanded my attention immediately. Over time, the initial reaction softened, my breathing became calmer and I could feel my body becoming more capable of responding. Eventually, I was lying in the bath with the water up towards my bottom lip, fascinated by the sensation of cooling around my neck and the pathways carrying blood towards the brain. Within my biophysical framework, I thought of this as influencing the thermal and energetic environment of the circulation.

Then the practice moved outdoors, into oceans and lakes. I sometimes wore a beanie and gloves, which probably made me look like a man who had misunderstood the dress code for swimming. But those small comforts mattered to me as I became more familiar with the water. Little by little, an environment that once felt confronting began to feel inviting.

This is what adaptation meant in my own life. I could wear fewer layers in ordinary situations, cold wind bothered me less and a small drop in temperature seemed to bring my internal heating response online much more readily. I felt as though I had spent years living with a thermostat that barely got used, then finally started teaching it its job. Winter became a season I could participate in more fully.

The changes that kept me coming back

My sleep became exceptional during that first winter of adaptation. I associated the deeper sleep and stronger evening sleepiness with a better melatonin rhythm, and I loved the feeling of my body moving more decisively between daytime activity and nighttime rest. I was also losing body fat rapidly and becoming leaner. Those changes gave me an enormous appetite to understand what was happening beneath the surface.

I experienced what felt like a dramatic improvement in testosterone, vitality and physical drive during that period. My body composition changed, I felt stronger and I had the sense that my metabolism was becoming more responsive. These were changes I experienced alongside the wider way I was living, including movement, food, daylight and sleep. Cold became an important part of that whole picture.

The science of thermogenesis gave me a language for some of what I was feeling. Cold exposure can increase the demand for heat production, mobilise stored fuel through lipolysis and recruit brown adipose tissue, which contains abundant mitochondria. Through proteins such as UCP1, those mitochondria can release energy as heat. The idea that our bodies contain specialised tissue capable of turning fuel into warmth made the experience even more fascinating to me.

It also drew me into questions about insulin sensitivity, leptin signalling, appetite and the relationship between fat tissue and hormones. I became interested in aromatase, the enzyme involved in converting androgens into oestrogens, and how changes in body composition might interact with that wider hormonal environment. Better sleep also brought nighttime growth hormone into my thinking, although I was not measuring every hormone involved. What excited me was the possibility of these systems working together as my daily environment changed.

The ocean taught me where the limits were

Eventually, I reached a point where I could spend around 45 minutes in ocean water at 8°C, or 46.4°F, sometimes while it was raining. I remember coming out with pink skin, feeling warm through my body and finding that my hands and feet could still feel surprisingly comfortable. There was an exhilaration to it that is difficult to explain until you have experienced your own response changing so profoundly. I felt capable in a setting that would once have sent me straight back to the car.

But enthusiasm can get ahead of judgment, and mine certainly did at times. After several consecutive days of long exposures at cold temperatures without adequately warming my feet and hands afterwards, I developed bruising and bleeding beneath the skin around my heels and feet, which I interpreted at the time as burst capillaries. It took roughly a week to settle, and that experience made me reconsider both the duration and how I looked after myself afterwards. My body had given me very clear feedback.

I had become interested in allowing my own heat production to do the work of rewarming. That remains a fascinating part of thermogenesis, but I learned that I had sometimes taken the idea too far, especially with my extremities. I became more attentive to my hands and feet, to how I felt after leaving the water and to the difference between a useful challenge and an exposure that had gone beyond it. Those lessons became as valuable as the exciting breakthroughs.

Looking back, I’m glad the story includes that part. Adaptation did not make me infallible, and a strong response on one day did not mean the same exposure would suit me every day afterwards. I became more interested in responsiveness than records. The cold had plenty to teach me once I stopped assuming that longer and colder is always better.

A different relationship with cold in summer

Summer brought a different emphasis to my practice. In winter, I had been becoming more comfortable with a cold environment; in summer, I was exploring how deliberate cooling fitted alongside warmth, sunlight and outdoor activity. I loved the sensation of returning to the sun after a an intense cold plunge session. That contrast became one of my favourite experiences.

Within my own framework, I became interested in how temperature influences the conditions in which we receive and respond to light. I was thinking about skin temperature, circulation, mitochondrial membranes and the organisation of the respiratory machinery inside the cell. I pictured cooling as one way of changing that biological environment while remaining deeply connected to natural sunlight. It gave me another lens through which to explore the relationship between light and temperature.

My first home setup was a simple upright rubber tub. I kept ice in a chest freezer, added it to the water and enjoyed having cold available without needing a winter climate outside my door. I also visited health clubs and spas, but having something at home made consistency much easier. Once again, the most useful part was often the least complicated.

Later, I bought a dedicated cold tub from Coldtub, with jets circulating the water around me. Moving water changes the experience considerably because the warmer layer near your skin is continually disturbed, so the same temperature can feel much more demanding. I experimented with movement and with exposing areas such as my armpits and groin to the circulating water. I was fascinated by how strongly the body could respond to these changes.

At my most adapted, some summer sessions extended to 75 or even 90 minutes at the optimal temperature 9°C or 50°F. On other occasions to challenge my mind, I spent approximately 26 minutes in water around 1°C, or 33.8°F, breaking surface ice before getting in and afterwards lying on the grass in the sun. Those were extreme chapters in my personal exploration, and the experiences stayed with me. What I value most today is how much they taught me about paying attention, focusing inward on my internal world and the power of the life force inside of me.

Feeling more at home in my own environment

During that wider period, I also felt that my sensitivity to anthropogenic electromagnetic environments began to subside. Places and situations that had previously bothered me seemed less intrusive, and I felt more settled and resilient. That change mattered enormously to me. It became another reason I wanted to understand the relationship between cold, water, nervous system regulation and the environment around us.

I sometimes reached for the phrase “Faraday cage” to describe the feeling of being immersed. The closest physical connection is that water, particularly conductive water containing dissolved salts, can attenuate certain radiofrequency signals through absorption and reflection. How much depends on frequency, conductivity, depth and the arrangement of the water around you. I now see my time in water as a break from the constant pulsing of radiofrequency in the modern environment.

There was also the lived experience of immersion itself. My face was in the water, my attention was contained, the sensory environment had changed and my whole state felt different. I cannot separate all those influences retrospectively, but I can describe how profound the experience was for me. I felt as though I had found a place where my system could settle.

Bringing cold into the BioHack practice

Cold eventually became part of something much broader that Nick Dawe and I were developing. We combined rope flow, Soma bag work and Indian clubs with time in the sun, contact with the ground and brief cold and heat exposures. There was rhythm, coordination, movement, temperature variaiton and a great deal of enjoyment in it. This became a significant part of our BioTra practice.

I loved how naturally the pieces fitted together. Movement brought expression and warmth, the cold and warmth changed my state and the sun drew me back into the surrounding landscape. The practice could feel playful while still demanding attention and coordination. It gave me a way of exploring performance that felt alive and connected to the world around me.

That is also why I have never thought of cold primarily as a mental toughness exercise. Confidence and discipline can grow from the experience, but what keeps me interested is the biology and the relationship it creates with the environment. The body is participating in something it recognises. My insight was to become more attentive, aware, mindful and attuned to my own vitality and resonance with my environment.

An inward journey

People often pair cold exposure with meditation and breathwork, and I understand the attraction. In my experience, the cold itself can bring an extraordinary degree of presence. You become aware of your breath, your heartbeat and sensations you would otherwise overlook. A crowded mind can become remarkably quiet. But a certain peace is found in the cold when you let go. A timelessness, and a high of sorts.

My interest in mitochondrial biophysics also led me towards questions about light within living systems. Biophoton emission is a real research field, and within my own framework I became fascinated by how metabolism, redox chemistry and environmental light might relate to that internal activity. I sometimes describe the feeling poetically as lighting yourself up like a Christmas tree from the inside. That image captures the vividness of the experience for me.

It also explains why sunlight remains so central to my approach. Cold sits within a much larger relationship involving light, water, food, movement, sleep and the seasons. Seafood became part of that story too, alongside my interest in seasonal eating and periods of ketogenic eating during winter. I was exploring how those inputs felt together in my own life.

Why I chase the sun and bring the cold

The cold expanded my relationship with nature. I could enter water I once would have avoided, enjoy weather that previously felt uncomfortable and spend more of my life outdoors. It made the natural world feel larger and more welcoming. That is one of the gifts I treasure most. I no longer felt a battle with nature but a strengthening of myself the more connected I became with the natural environment.

At the same time, I realised I could bring cold with me. A refrigerator, a few ice trays and a suitable container could make a meaningful practice possible almost anywhere. Later, chillers and dedicated tubs offered other ways to create that experience. I did not have to choose between loving a tropical environment and keeping cold in my life.

That is why living in the tropics makes sense to me. I love the sunlight, the warmth, the ocean and the opportunity to spend so much of the year outside in an energetnically supporting environment, while keeping deliberate cooling available when I want it. Cold showers remain part of my routine, and NeuroPlunge remains the practice I return to most consistently. It is practical enough to survive travel and enjoyable enough that I want to keep doing it.

I now share NeuroPlunge through workshops in Italy, the United States, Australia, Mexico and elsewhere in Central America. I love explaining the cranial nerve pathways, the dive response and the changes in state that first captured my attention back in 2015. And I love seeing people who were resistant to full body cold exposure, try my NeuroPlunge and tell me afterwards the first thing they are doing when they get home is buying a snorkel and a bucket! My favourite part is watching someone discover a new relationship with their own body. There is a particular delight in realising that something you once avoided can become something you look forward to.

My journey started with a tub of cold water and grew into a way of participating more fully in life. It helped me appreciate adaptation, respect feedback and find joy in experiences that had once seemed uncomfortable. After all the equipment, experiments and adventures, I can still find that same curiosity waiting for me in a bucket of ice water. I chase the sun, bring the cold and keep learning from both. I invite you to join me in welcoming the cold and becoming empowered by nature!

 Cites and References:

How to get started with Cold Adaption:

1. https://jackkruse.com/cold-thermogenesis-easy-start-guide/
   

2. https://jackkruse.com/the-evolution-of-the-leptin-rx/
   

3. https://primedforyourlife.com/2019/04/24/the-primed-life-supercharge-your-energy-cold-thermogenesis-rocks/
   

Scientific Research on Cold adaption:

4. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4029955/
   

5. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/7856402_LeBlanc_J_Ducharme_MB_Influence_of_personality_traits_on_plasma_levels_of_cortisol_and_cholesterol_Physiol_Behav_84_677-680 

6. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/295542312_Human_physiological_responses_to_cold_exposure_Acute_responses_and_acclimatization_to_prolonged_exposure 

7. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/230711223_Health_and_performance_challenges_during_sports_training_and_competition_in_cold_weather 

8. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/230711223_Health_and_performance_challenges_during_sports_training_and_competition_in_cold_weather 

9. https://jackkruse.com/cold-thermogenesis-6-the-ancient-pathway/
   

10. https://jphysiolanthropol.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/1880-6805-31-22
    

11. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4861193/
    

12. http://johnhawks.net/weblog/reviews/neandertals/neandertal_dna/ruiz-pesini_selection_mtdna_2004.htmlhttps://www.wimhofmethod.com
    

Workshops and Online Courses:

13. https://www.nathansiles.com