The latest sauna that we built is an indoor electric affair in a new addition that also holds a hot tub and pool, an enviable personal home spa combination. It has an ample window and large 10 kw Harvia Cilindro heater that should make the top bench a real hot spot. A feature of this sauna that I love is the view from that bench. Not just any view, but one that takes me back to my childhood.
The property is located on the eastern shoulder of Cayuga Lake, at a point where the land starts to dip dramatically downward to the long snaking shore. The slope is so steep here, that you don’t see the lake, only the opposite side, a little more than two miles away. Someone unfamiliar with our landscape might not even be aware that the longest of the Finger Lakes fills the glacial trough below. While the scene feels close, it is, in fact, a long journey away.
Most pronounced is Rice Hill: the old ski and sledding hill that, at one time had a rope tow run off of an old tractor motor. At the top of the hill is a warming hut and two shallow ice rinks, where many a hockey game was played. When we were too broke or didn’t have the ambition or means to go to the closest downhill ski area, we would go to Rice Hill and practice our ess turns. I also recall many tobogganing adventures; it was the kind of hill where serious injuries where the mark of a good run.
Just to the north was a ten-acre parcel my parents bought in the 1960’s with the dream of building a house. My dad designed it with all the meticulous detail he employed on his larger architectural projects. It was a three story modernist affair, with a flat roof, and cantilevered balconies that would have commanded a view across the lake to precisely where this sauna is.
In the early 70’s, things turned south for my Dad; there was a recession, he lost his job, increased his drinking, and the dream of the modernist masterpiece overlooking the lake was deflated like a balloon the cat played with. All we were left with was the model of the house my dad crafted out of mat board, with twigs as stand-ins for trees. Later, before my parents had to sell the property as a part a bankruptcy plan, I actually lived there in my tent after I finished Grad school and waited for my dreams to come to life.
I bring all of this up become of the associations of sauna with memory. So many of my clients, who are typically, like myself, aging baby boomers, tell me that they want a sauna because of the wonderful childhood memories they have of taking saunas. Perhaps their family has Finnish roots and they experienced summers in Finland, or they had a camp somewhere with a sauna. Like my experiences at Podunk, these childhood memories start to loom larger with age. Memory acts as a filter; the important things are retained and the trivial is set aside.
Landscape acts as a placeholder for memory. Living where I grew up, I constantly encounter places that stir memory. Working with my past literally out the window on this job, I was constantly reminded of my connection to this magical place in the heart of the Finger Lakes. Sauna is like a keystone in all of this.
Like so many saunas that I build, I dream for a moment; what if it was mine? But then, I hand over the sauna to the new owners so they can ponder their own dreams. In this case, the owner will be looking at the near view of the land he grew up on.
If you look “Podunk” up in the dictionary, it will tell you that it is a hypothetical or insignificant town. The folks who live there think otherwise. Podunk is actually a place name on the map a short ski south of Trumansburg, New York, where I grew up. Despite having only a smattering of residents, they will all tell you that is very real and very significant.
In the 1960’s Ozzie Heila settled there with this family on an old farmstead established by an even older Finn who first built his sauna (above) before the house in the 1930’s. It is also where I learned of all the important things in life. In the 1970’s I spent countless winter hours there at the ski center that Ozzie established, becoming a become a damn good Nordic skier and developing a life-long passion for the sport.
In the summers I explored the creek with his son, my good friend Daniel, and learned the value of immersing one’s self in nature. Daniel’s mother, Ethel, was my art teacher in middle school; she helped me become the artist I am today and we still have wonderful conversations about color theory and art composition. And at the heart of the complex of dated farm buildings was the sauna; there I learned to channel my need to experience extremes into something healthy and life affirming. We loved going from the hot to the cold.
Jumping in the creek in the dead of winter after a searing round in the sauna, we felt more alive than ever. That feeling has never died; each cold plunge I take during sauna takes me back to that creek.
Today, Daniel and his family were back in the area and we went to Podunk to visit the old homestead once again. This time we took our Finnish Blue mobile sauna and parked it next to the ramshackle old sauna, which is now defunct and awaiting a rebirth. Many things have changed but some things are the same. The trees have grown huge or even died, the old purple Lilac, with the rusty sauna bell hanging from its branches, is gone and the brush has been cleared away from the old sauna, revealing the sagging bones of the century-old structure. But the building itself is as recognizable as the last day I took a sauna there about 25 years ago. The inside is a sadder story—it turns out that squirrels like the sauna too and they have made it theirs. As if in a expression of horror at the mess, the Lämpimämpi stove I welded up for Ozzie in the 90’s sits with it’s mouth rusted wide open.
The path through the field to the creek is the same but with a detour to the left towards a new dipping hole: a bathtub in the midst of the rushing current with a strategically placed rock to help keep your butt moored. The run down to the creek had the same awkwardness … trying to run all out before you cooled off but trying to maintain stable footing the same. And the sensation! The whoops and hollers of 12-year-old boys came out of us as we braved the icy April stream.
Real or not, Podunk is the same as it will always be. What are memories but unreal fragments in our minds, ready to be stirred up by whirling waters of a cold stream, or by the hot steam of a sauna? The old next to the new will always appear old, until we make it new again and live our lives in the now, to the fullest, with no regrets, and dreams, not of memories, but of tomorrows.
New sauna and parked it next to the old sauna near the creek.
Class Schedule: Thursday: 12PM to 5PM Friday: 9AM to 5PM, lunch provided Saturday: 9AM to 5PM, lunch provided Sunday: 9AM to 1PM Throughout the intensive days we will have break-out work sessions, time to answer questions, and coffee breaks. There will be opportunities for socializing after class and the option to take sauna at the shop and by the lake.One evening, we will sauna and picnic at a local park on Cayuga Lake. Significant others are welcome to join us for this event.
Recommended prerequisite: We’re not covering basic carpentry (exterior framing), and basic metal working. If you lack these skills it is advised that you take a hands-on carpentry class.
About the Teacher: Rob Licht has been taking sauna for 45 years and has designed well over one hundred custom saunas. Rob readily dispenses his knowledge to students and hopes to share his enthusiasm and expert knowledge of sauna with you.
Rob Licht grew up near Ithaca, N.Y., inspired by the bucolic landscape of the Finger Lakes region. He fell in love with sauna and Finnish culture as a teenager at a local cross-country ski center run by a Finnish family. He has a Master of Fine Arts Degree from Cornell University and has been a practicing artist and teacher for over 30 years. He taught art at Ithaca College for 12 years and has also taught adult education classes in welding, art, and design. He began combining his love of sauna, his practice as an artist, and his skills acquired from working in the building trades into a sauna building business in 1995. Today sauna building is his primary focus and he is one of the leading east coast sauna builders and sauna building educator offering a plethora of information to his clients, and now students, from around the world.
Terms & Info: A $100 non refundable deposit is due at registration and payable via paypal or venmo. Your balance is due (via check in mail) a month ahead of time in order to attend the class. You will receive an email to pay the balance. In the event the class is under enrolled (6 or less), you will be informed and your deposit of $100 will be refunded. In the case the class is over enrolled we will put you on a waitlist and we will let you know a month in advance or sooner if you can attend. Class attendees will have the opportunity to buy our sauna building plans at 50% off. Class size will be limited to 12.
About the Shop: 3000 sq ft with 16 ft ceilings and two large overhead doors and outdoor spaces to ensure good air quality.
Lunch is included: Friday and Saturday. Coffee and snacks will also be available throughout the days of the class. We will accommodate basic dietary restrictions.
Sauna etiquette: About 4 people at a time. Bathing suits required and please bring 2 towels: one to sit on, one for drying off after cool-dip. Everyone will get a chance to sauna.
WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING…
“This was the best weekend. I learned so much and left feeling full of inspiration and conviction. We can do this y’all- the revolution is happening! I am so grateful to you, Rob and Scarlet, for working so hard to put together such a clear and digestible roadmap for all of us. And I am so grateful for having four days with the loveliest people to talk sauna. What a dream.” —Erin, NC
“What an amazing weekend of sauna immersion. It was something special to be in an intimate group of like-minded folk focused on something that brings us such joy. Rob and Scarlet so well prepared and so packed with knowledge and hands-on experience! I was so impressed with the smooth and thoughtful delivery of information. Possibly the biggest take away I got was that there are many right and not so right ways to do things, in the end sauna building is an art as much as it is a science, which is why my sauna is so authentic in the experience.” —Mark, MA
We just finished this sweet sauna: an eight by eighteen-foot building with an ample dressing room, large hot room, and wood storage on one end, all on a 12×20 raised deck. The site is near a cabin and a nice pond, all on a remote hilltop in the Finger Lakes.
The design and the craftsmanship were driven by the concept: a weekend retreat from the bustle of life, removed from technology and the stress of the 21st century. Nestled in nature, the sauna has windows to let the light in and open the view to the woods and pond.
We kept it simple, yet well crafted and elegant. The sauna functions as a centerpiece to the family gathering place and also serves as the bath house—since they are eschewing modern conveniences like running water.
Henry David Thoreau may have had his pond, but what he really needed was a sauna.
Recently I posted a picture of the sauna fire burning hot and mentioned Sam McGee. For those who don’t know, Sam McGee was the sad character from Tennessee who could not take the cold of the Yukon in the poem by Robert Service: The Cremation of Sam McGee. His last wish was to be cremated, a task his friend dutifully tried to complete. The ending had the narrator peeking into the make-do crematorium in the boiler of the derelict ship stuck in the ice on Lake Lebarge and finding his late friend as warm as could be and calling out to shut the door.
Whenever it is extremely cold out, as it has been recently, I think of this poem and the warming power of a hot fire. I love it when the mercury dips below zero. There is something invigorating about having your snot freeze when you breath hard or having sweat icicles dangling off of your brow. I love cross-country skiing in the dark, in the cold, when two hats and two pairs of gloves are needed. One false move and the night might end like “To Build a Fire” by Jack London, another favorite read from Middle school—when I would dream about all of the great explorers who ventured into the frozen lands.
walking through the snow towards a hot sauna fire
I remember my senior year of high school when Cayuga Lake last froze over. That was a cold year. We did a lot of cross-country ski races that year. With our skimpy race suits and tiny boots we had no protection other than the fire in our hearts to keep us from freezing to death. During the Canadian Ski Marathon that year it was minus 40 at the 8 a.m. start. Celsius and Fahrenheit. If you blinked too long your eyes would literally freeze shut. Old lady volunteers would slap our cheeks at checkpoints to make sure we didn’t have frostbite (and we still wore our skimpy suits.) By the end of that year my parents had moved to the heart of the lower Adirondacks. Our house, in the Black River valley, was often the coldest spot in the lower 48. It was minus 25°F for days on end. Thunder would boom from the river each night as the ice expanded. The ice was several feet thick; I have no idea how the fish survived. I loved to be out in that: skating, skiing, or snowshoeing. It was the cold of a Jack London Story. Your spit would literally freeze in mid air and hit the ground with a crackle.
I had a hot sauna to crawl into after our ski races during that cold winter in high school but not in the years after. When I moved back to the area after college, I went back to that sauna at Podunk weekly until I could build my own and have kept up the ritual ever since. On these freezing nights it is never too cold for a sauna; in fact I relish those times when you can experience the 200° (or more) difference as you go from the hot room to the night air. Your feet freeze to the ground and your hair forms punky icicles.
There’s no need to wait until you are cremated to be truly warm; Poor Sam McGee, if only he had a sauna!
