“The blue of our lakes and the white snow of our winters”
—Zachris Topelius, Poet
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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.
The landscape of Upstate NY is punctuated by the rural agrarian architecture typical of an area rooted in 19th-century traditions. Massive old barns reign supreme and are typically surrounded by a cluster of smaller accessory buildings: smaller barns and equipment sheds, dairies, smokehouses, and, occasionally, if one looks hard enough, a sauna. Sadly, many of the wood-sided buildings have either burned or fallen into abstract heaps of their formal selves. Their replacements— metal-sided Morton buildings and giant fabric-covered hoop structures—are strictly utilitarian and lack the romantic appeal of the old barns. It is the former that inspires the creative in me.
When I was an aspiring young artist, old barns were often my subject matter. My father and I would go for drives in the country and stop to draw landscapes with a barn as the focal point. Now, when I build my saunas, the vernacular of old farm structures is never out of my mind. In particular, I am drawn to the older simple gable roof structures, rather than the more efficient gambrel roof. There is something pleasing about the simple geometry and the formal balance in earlier barns. When additions were made they typically created a hodge-podge of shapes and the formal symmetry was lost.
The barns were typically sided with local pine, nailed vertically with green boards nailed closely but with gaps that would open as the wood dried. These gaps were often covered with narrow battens that were nailed so that the boards could shrink and swell. This is the beauty of board and batten siding: it takes into account that the wood is alive and not a fixed entity. It is this board and batten technique, or variations of it, like reverse board and batten or vertical shiplap, that I often employ. Nailed correctly so it can move, the wood will last for one hundred years, as is evident in many of the old barns still standing.
The best part of this style of siding is that it typically employs local lumber. Most rural towns have a sawmill nearby. In our region mills typically cut White Pine and Hemlock. I rely on a sawmill that has been in operation for 50 years: Collins lumber in Alpine NY. It was started by Bob Collins and continues to be operated by his nephew. The same saw has provided siding for hundreds of barns, sheds, and other outbuildings in the area. What is distinct about the operation is that they use a traditional circular saw. Many newer sawyers use a bandsaw mill, perhaps even a portable unit they can bring to you. What I like about the wood I have been getting from Collins for the past 30 years is that there is a character to it. The circular saw marks on the rough sawn boards create a pattern that has repetition but also pleasing randomness—like jazz. Certain saw teeth will mark more than others. No two boards are alike. It’s not like metal siding, cement board siding, or any manufactured material typically used in construction these days. It speaks of the trees, the mill, and the rural landscape.
It’s the kind of thing you might never notice, except when you come out of the sauna and have time to stare at the inconsequential things in life while you cool off in the fading light of day with the sunbeams raking across the swirling marks left by an old saw blade.
If the heart of the sauna is the kiuas, or sauna heater,
—Rob Licht
then the soul is the rocks.
Every brand of heater I’ve installed has a different approach to the rocks. Some, like a wall hanging 6 or 8 kilowatt unit, use less- maybe 40 pounds, and some, like the Harvia Cilindro or Club heaters use more— up to 200 pounds. Wood burners vary too, Kuuma’s heater takes 150 pounds or so, but you have to provide your own. My own custom built stoves ( Lämpimämpi ) take a similar amount and like the Kuuma stove, the rocks are piled on top, mounded as high as you can. The Harvia Legend, an elegant wood burner from Finland, basically has a cage that surrounds the stove. By the time you are finished loading it, you won’t see the stove. There is even an optional cage that surrounds the stove-pipe to hold even more rocks.
The Finnish and Swedish heaters use Olivine Diabase or Peridotite, igneous rock found in Scandinavia. All of the rocks I have used that come with the electric heaters look the same: grayish chunks, some flatter, some chunky, all in the size range you’d find in a bag of potatoes. These are amazingly cheap considering that they come all the way from some quarry in Finland or Sweden. The UPS driver has stopped asking what is in the boxes (“yup, rocks”). Once I found a note in one from a young Swede hoping that I was happy with my rocks.
My favorite rocks are hand selected glacial erratics: various igneous granitic and metamorphic stones that I find in places where glacial melt-waters sluiced out potato sized rocks. (shown below) These are heavier and denser than our native shale, which is worthless for the sauna since it tends to explode when heated. They have a crystalline structure that you can usually see and a solidity and heft that is evident when you pick them and bang them together (they are not easy to chip.)
A big consideration when selecting a heater is the rock capacity. The more rocks, the longer you should let your sauna heat up. Clients always ask:” how long should we let it heat up?” While I usually say “about 45 minutes” I really want to answer with the same sort of retort I give when someone asks how long will take for paint to dry (as long as it takes). The correct answer should always be: the sauna is ready when the rocks are hot enough to produce good löyly or steam—löyly is the soul of the sauna’s mysterious expression. And how hot is that? 450° Fahrenheit, more or less. If you want more steam, then you want more rocks.
Löyly is the soul of the sauna’s mysterious expression.
—Rob licht
If you expect several rounds or people coming and going, then more rocks are good. No one wants to pour water on the rocks expecting a stimulating burst of steam (but not too sharp) only to hear the fizzle of water barely boiling. That’s like trying to make an omelet in a pan that is barely hot. Disappointing, to say the least, but also bad for the heater. There’s Finnish saying that goes something like this: when you leave the sauna put another log on for the sauna elf or he will pee on your stove. Which means, don’t keep throwing water on the stove, especially at the end, if the rocks are not hot. The warm water will just sit on the steel stove and rust it. When you throw water on the rocks, it should all turn to steam and when you are done, the stove should dry quickly. When I finish eating my omelet, I rinse my cast iron skillet and let it dry over the flame, I don’t let it languish all wet in the dish rack; same principle applies to the sauna stove.
Jagged rocks will catch and momentarily hold more water, allowing less to get past the rocks and into the heater. The dense roundish rocks I use produce a nice soft steam but they have to be hot. I’m not so worried about water getting down to my stove, which is always very hot (and mine have 3/8” steel plate on top so they will never rust out). By the way, always use clean water and be wary of city water with chlorine or even country water with minerals or methane. We use only use filtered water for löyly at home. Spring water or distilled water might be prudent in some cases. Never use pool water or worse, let some disrespecting novice wring out their bathing suit over the rocks, as I have seen happen in a gym. Pleasant smells should emanate from the rocks. Special sauna oils or even Sauna Brew can be added to the löyly water for aromatic effect. Heck, we used to add beer to the water (cheap lager was always best).
If your electric heater comes with the grey jagged olivine rocks, I suggest using them. They are selected to fit between and around the elements. When setting the stones first I rinse them, then I take care to arrange the rocks one by one. It can take me 45 minutes to fill a large capacity heater. For the Cilindro, I place large rocks at the bottom to hold up the others and then work a flattish layer against the cage wall. I then backfill the rocks against the elements with smaller and irregular rocks. On the smaller wall-mounted units I try to fit the flat stones between the elements without forcing or bending them. The goal is loosely fill the cage so there is good airflow and to completely conceal the elements. Lastly, I top off the heater with larger stones and try to arrange them so they will catch water and force it inward, not splashing it out. In Finland there might a “spirit stone” placed here: a special stone or stones from a favorite place (make sure it is igneous or metamorphic—test it in a campfire first if not sure). The top might even have a layer of more decorative stones, which in Finland you can buy from sauna dealers, but here in the US, I have only seem the same dull grey stones. The Harvia web page has a good section on stones and how to place them into the pillar.
Once you have the sauna going and have been using it for a year or so, expect the stones to settle and flake off. You should remove them, vacuum out the heater and replace the rocks loosely, discarding the broken ones and adding more if needed. Failure to do so will cause the heater to eventually overheat and lead to the elements failing.
Care in selecting and placing the rocks will ensure that your sauna…. Rocks!
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Wood-Fired Mobile Sauna by Rob Licht Custom Saunas.
Although Glamping is a term that was coined in the early 2000’s, the concept of an adventure in nature bolstered by all of the modern conveniences one could muster, or have mustered for them, has been around for well over a century and a half. In 1869, writer William H.H. Murray of Boston, extolled on the virtues of experiencing the Adirondack backwoods in his book Adventures in the Wilderness. This inspired an avalanche of urban neophytes to flock to the woods in search of adventure and commune with nature. These were known as “Murray’s fools”.
People traveled great distances and endured great hardships such as days of travel over log roads (which were literally made of logs placed side by side) to get to the heart of the Adirondacks. Once they arrived, they sought out the services of guides who did everything for them—transporting them in their guide boats, making camp, catching and cooking their meals. In essence, these early Glampers brought with them from the city every expectation of service they would get at the finest hotel.
“The mountains call you, and the vales:
—Armstrong, Art of Preserving Health
The woods, the streams, and each ambrosial breeze
that fans the ever-undulating sky.”
While part of me chuckles at the concept of Glamping with it’s pretense of tender-footedness, part of me is drawn to concept of rustic luxury. Although I am as far from a camping neophyte as one can be, with years of deep woods experience and many a night sleeping on hard ground, the concept of luxury camping does have certain appeal to me now. I’ll sleep in a tent on a platform—with lights and heat and maybe a commode. But better yet, with a sauna.
The idea of communing with nature combined with sauna is perfection—and something, I bet, even the luckiest of Murray’s fools never had.
Most people glorify the act of building, as in being able to transform a humble pile of building materials into a noble sauna or house or shed. I like to think that too: that my profession is a noble one, with an emphasis of craftsmanship and attention to detail that can only be honed by decades of working with fine materials. But the truth is, on any given day, on any given project, especially for on-site work, where I take my tools and materials, my truck and trailer, my lunch and my laptop and various other accoutrements, is that I am often just a professional schlepper. And I bet any other contractor reading this just now nodded his or her head.
I love doing saunas that are removed from the house, perhaps beyond the garden gates or down by the lake or out in the woods next to a pond. I like to work immersed in nature, take lunch by the water, and contemplate the finer things in life while I toil at my craft.
But, when I bid jobs like these, I have learned to think of the schlep— that is the sum total distance from truck to the site. I think of thousands of steps back and forth to carry lumber, to retrieve the pencil or glasses from the cab, of the steps I have to climb or the potential for slipping and falling with a 100 pound load on my shoulder. I have literally carried an entire eight by twelve sauna on my shoulders, load by load. Some days I count the steps and do the math—how many miles I wonder? Other times I count the load— a ton of concrete mix, how much work was that?
I don’t mind the schlep. The key is to embrace it. If I know from the start and plan for it: clear the path, remove obstacles, make ramps, then I can proceed slowly but with the steadiness of a Yoga master moving through a progression of poses. Each repeated carry is perfected in the same way a bobsled driver learns to lean through each curve.
With two or people it is a choreographed movement. Go left here, stoop here, K- turn at the end and dosey-do before we enter the door. Perfecting the movement makes it almost enjoyable.
At 60 I have to protect my body. I know my strengths and limits and my strength is knowing how to carry and move heavy objects. Always keep one hand free- you never know when you’ll have counter an off- balance step. Always be relaxed and take smaller loads— there is no race. It is amazing what you can in an hour of honest schlepping. Ironically when I do have spells of days or weeks when my back is “out” and the chiropractor is needed, it always the stupid stuff that gets me: desk work (I stand at my desk now), shoveling snow or that heroic effort to rake all the leaves in one Sunday. These are unintentional actions. Work with intention and you will become stronger. Work smarter and you will avoid injury. I really like those 60 pound concrete bags— and I’m eyeing those forty’s. At 19, everything came in 100’s.
I’ve had jobs where the schlep caught me, like the sauna-cabin in the woods where I was promised an ATV to haul everything. After the first week, 3 feet of snow put the brakes on that. Everything had to be hauled on a sled with me in snowshoes. Good thing I Loved those Jack London stories as a kid.
But then, I’ve been pleasantly surprised too- like a recent job on the lake where the haul was several hundred feet down steep stairs or a windy path. Then the owners produced a golf cart. It became my mini-truck and my morning joy as I breezed down the hill silently. There is a beauty to electric vehicles: the joy of still hearing nature as you whizz through it.
I’ve thought of offering classes on Schlepping—or even rigging—which is a specialized form of schlep that involves more weight, more dance, more cooperation. We would move things each day. And then maybe move them back again. Everyone has it wrong about Sisyphus. If the enjoyment of the act of moving becomes the goal, rather the completion of the act, then he could be seen as a master perfecting his craft. Like a cat that keeps hitting the toy away only to chase it again, a worker who carries load after load and enjoys the process will reach the goal of enjoying his or her work.
And only when a worker enjoys his or her work is
true craftsmanship possible.
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