Aug 8, 2015
Recently, I was called upon by a couple who had bought a property with an existing sauna that needed some professional help. The structure was a cordwood affair: a building method where timber-framed walls are in-filled with short logs, stacked like firewood, with mortar between them. It looked like it came right out of the pages of Rob Roy’s classic how-to book: The Sauna. The exterior was fairly solid and quaint in a hobbit kind of way, but the interior, in terms of functionality, had some serious flaws. The timber frame and log and mortar walls looked pretty good, but it was obvious that the project is a classic DIY affair: a case of a homeowner taking on a project that looks easy but with complex details that get skipped due to a lack of knowledge, funds, or basic skill.
There are elements to a sauna that are essential: such as a welded-steel stove that will not crack or explode when doused with water and installation that conforms to the NFPA 211 guidelines. Insulation must be able to take the heat, provide proper moisture retention, not attract rodents, and not become a health hazard. Doors must open out and have non-metal, non-latching hardware and be self-closing (ever try to turn a 200° F doorknob with sweaty hands?). There must be no varnish or paint in the sauna room; it will only off-gas or worse, burn.
This sauna missed all of these points and more. From the pile of starling skeletons in the stove, I can only guess that it has not been used in a very long time (another detail: birds will fly down the chimney only to find themselves in a death trap), I can only guess that it had not been used in a very long time. From the lack of tell-tale scorching or smoking of the wood, I could also tell it had not been used much. In fact, if it had been fired to a decent, Finnish-approved temperature, I am sure it would have either caught on fire or sent its users scrambling to get out as all of the varnished wood off-gassed.
It is a classic example of a DIY affair: started with good intentions but never finished properly. When I went into the house with the owners to discuss my plans for bringing it back to life, they brought out a book that had been left with the house: a dog eared and highlighted copy of Rob Roy’s book The Sauna.
Cordwood construction
Jun 22, 2015
I just completed my second mobile sauna for a client and brought it home to give it a test run.
The premise is simple: take a small trailer and build a sauna right onto it so the client can move it back and forth between their lake house and their regular house. As simple as it sounds, the challenges to pulling off such a project are many. First, creating a roomy design for a 5’x8′ space without creating a claustrophobic box takes some planning. A big window with a generous view really helps. So does the gently arched roof—which means that even a tall person doesn’t have to stoop. And the white cedar I use creates a world of it’s own. Upon entering the sauna, you are bathed in the aroma of the north woods. The color and gentle pattern of the grain is soft and welcoming to the eyes. It is this cedar, which I get from Northern Vermont, that makes this little vessel possible. It is the lightest North American species, yet it is no weakling. Favored by boat builders, cedar is easy to bend, strong, and stable. It allows me to keep the trailer under its listed gross weight limit. The entire roof structure weighs less than a hundred pounds!
This second mobile sauna is heated by propane with a Scandia heater. The ample rocks make good löyly—in fact, after a few hours, the rocks were still warm when I went out tonight and looked through the sauna window to check out the Moon chasing Jupiter and Venus across the heavens.
Several years ago, feeling a need for a change, I sold my house (and sauna). But the new mortgage rules discourage banks from lending to self-employed folks like me and have kept me in a renters trap. I don’t mind the mobile existence for now, but I do miss my sauna. The trailer sauna is the perfect solution. No matter where I end up, I can take it with me! So, if you are a renter but dream of owning a sauna, there is a solution.
Jun 11, 2015
Recently, I was visiting my good friend Daniel, in Eugene, OR, and had the fortune of being able to help him put the final touches on the sauna he has been building in the backyard of his urban utopia. He moved there seventeen years ago from Ithaca, leaving behind the sauna on the family homestead in Podunk, just outside of Ithaca (yes, that really is the name of the hamlet). That little weathered building was where I was indoctrinated in the way of the sauna; it was the catalyst behind my sauna building career. As was typical with the Finns, Willie Uitti (the property’s first chicken farmer owner) built the sauna at Podunk was built first and it served as rudimentary shelter while the house was being built. Daniel has had to dream for the past seventeen years before he was able to build his sauna.
We worked together for a day and a half installing the heater, hanging the door, and getting it ready. Needless to say, the first firing of the new sauna was nothing short of perfect. It reached a good temperature, it made good löyly, the reclaimed cedar boards gave off a rich odor, and most importantly, it reached down to the pit of our sauna loving souls and transported us back to that cherished time and place on the banks of Taughannock Creek.
To the Finns, Sauna is not just a building or the simple act of sitting in a hot room, it is a quotidian ritual, a centuries old tradition, and a centering of one’s soul. The beautifully funky little shed behind Daniel’s house isn’t just a man shack, it is his identity. My role in helping was more midwife than carpenter, the honor of sharing the first sauna more like best man.
So it goes in the sauna building business, I don’t just make little buildings for people, I help them hold onto their identity, their heritage, and their dreams. It’s an honor and a privilege—and always a joy to share that special excitement of the first heating.
