Finishing a job is always a sweet endeavor. I usually budget in one day of fussiness—a day when I can pay attention to all of the little details, get the stove in place and then, as a last step, give the sauna a test run. This is when I get to see how my efforts have paid off and take note of how the sauna actually fires. Is it hot enough? Is it light and airy and does it have that right sauna “feng shui”? Does it reach a good temperature and would Ozzie, the Finn who started me on my sauna-building path, approve.
The job I just finished is a modest affair: bare bones in that Finnish sort of pragmatism. I converted a kit-built garden shed, the type you’ll find parked on the edge of a big box home store parking lot, into a simple sauna with no dressing room. I liked the challenge of working within a modest budget, and I liked the folks: down-to-earth modern day Helen and Scott Nearing types. I had to remind myself that a sauna does not have to be a luxury item, affordable only by those in the higher income brackets, but that a sauna should be essential and ubiquitous as indoor plumbing.
I lined the inside with knotty pine—a low budget alternative to cedar. Sitting on the top bench I noted that the smell of pine reminds me of my forays into woods here in the east and is a close and familiar smell—unlike the rarefied smell of cedar. Aside from the knots, which will bleed sap forever and inevitably find it’s way into someone’s hair, it is a fine wood to use. It is not as stable as cedar but the inevitable cracks will open the sauna up and let it breathe. We always said that Ozzie’s old sauna at Podunk, with its gappy knotty pine walls and sagging ceiling, felt better than any other.
MyLämpimämpi stove fired fast and hot. The rocks quickly reached good löyly temperature and the first splash of water had me moaning in ecstasy. At no point did I feel that claustrophobic locker-room-sauna feeling of not being able to breathe. The dual windows filled the space with light. The benches will hold the couple, their kids and several neighbors. In term of the essentials, it is a perfect sauna. Nothing more is needed– no fancy tile work, no dressing room, no fancy cedar trim work. It works, plain and simple, and it works well. It was the best sweat I’d had in a while and a good sweat is almost payment enough.
Recently I was visiting my good friend Daniel, in Eugene, 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 17 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, the sauna at Podunk was built first, and served as rudimentary shelter while the house was being built. Daniel has had to dream for the past 17 years before he was able to build his sauna.
We worked together for a day and 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 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 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 best 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.
Podunk aficionados will recognize this bell that used to hang by the old sauna. Traditionally, the bell was used to alert bathers that a round was over or that the sauna was hot.
The electric heater, although a far cry from wood, can still give off a nice glow. If installed correctly, it will provide plenty of heat and good löyly.
The inside as it should be: simple and dimly lit. The heat should be felt and almost seen as a shimmering veil that falls over the stress of daily life. Detailing here is clean and rustic, Brand new but as old as the tradition of sauna.
