Sauna is an interesting word. It is both the noun describing the little structures that I spend my days making and the action of how one uses that building. Mostly, I focus on the details of building and let the details of how one uses the Sauna fall to the individual taste of my clients. I don’t adhere to a dogmatic approach; everyone has his or her own experiences and memories to draw from. Different countries have subtle variations: wetter, drier, hotter, timed sessions, birch Vihta, etc. My memories stem from my time at Podunk, in the old Finnish Sauna. I remember the 5 gallon joint-compound buckets for gathering water from the creek, and the various cheap plastic wash tubs, brushes, loofa, and other bathing implements. There was some sort of ladle (which we always called a kipper in some mis-appropriation of Finnish-ness) for pouring water on the rocks. And there would be various soaps and shampoos–some common, some not so common, like the Finnish pine tar soap, which, despite its comparison to the sticky pine tar we would out on our skis, actually feels pretty good.
Podunk
Once the sauna got good and hot we would strip down as unceremoniously as possible and go in. The first round would always be pretty talkative and end with a healthy ladle-full or two of water on the hot rocks until we had to bolt out the door and head to the creek. If someone were annoyingly loud sometimes a good löyly would be timed so as to quiet things down. In the second and third round we might take great pleasure in thrashing each other (gently) with a birch vihta if someone bothered to make one from the birch tree outside the Podunk sauna. The old Finns would make them in the spring out of the fresh soft leaves and keep them in the freezer. Now you can actually buy them from Finland—dried and vacuum packed for a reasonable sum. After softening them in water for twenty minutes they smell just like a fresh birch tree.
The last round in the sauna
would be time to wash: after getting hot again we would take turns on the
little washing bench scrubbing ourselves (or each other) with the loofa or
stiff sauna brushes and some sauna soap. Finally a rinse with some warm water
would wash off all of that dead skin and residue of a week’s hard work and we
would leave the sauna all fresh sand natural smelling. None of us ever had to
wear deodorant or poufy colognes.
pouring water on the rocks
how to have a sauna “bath”
simple beauty of an ice lantern
Sometimes I sauna with friends, sometimes alone. Always it is the same: get hot until sweat just pours out of me, cool off, repeat; scrub my skin, maybe switch my back with the Vihta, wash up, rinse down the sauna. It’s a ritual of sorts but not like the way a ritual in the church is dictated to you. As in church, there are ritual objects that create focus help and direct the actions, but instead of incense and gold, they are plastic and wood. And unlike church, there is no sin in doing it anyway you want to. The brushes, basins, ladle, soap, and vihta are there just to help establish the flow of the sauna experience. To the uninitiated it may seem all strange, but after a few times, it all makes sense. It is just a bath house, after all.
Lately, I have found that the top of my noggin does not have so much insulation from the heat of a good löyly so I have taken to wearing a felt sauna hat, which is sort of like a Shriner’s Fez, which is to say that it makes you feel just a little goofy. But, then again, I wouldn’t want to be accused of taking the sauna ritual too seriously!
When the client for my latest mobile sauna project contacted me, he told me he needed something that would look and feel like a sauna from back home in Finland. He wanted it to be wood-fired and to get really hot. He wanted the clean lines and rustic charm of Finnish design and even requested a traditional pine tar finish like what the Vikings used on their boats. As small as it was to be, it was to have the standard two rooms- the sauna room and a dressing room. He also wanted to use the latest solar technology to light it with a soft glow.
But, working for an American company, where he might get moved from time to time, he wanted it to be un-tethered to his house, to be portable so he could always bring it with him, like a cherished possession.
I enjoy challenges–in fact, I thrive on them. One of the advantages of having my own company is that I get to decide how much to put into each project and which projects to really focus on. On some projects, like this one, I get to expand my repertoire. The goal, as always, was to bring my client’s dreams into reality. The result: a mobile sauna on a 81 by 120 inch trailer, under 3000 pounds, with two rooms, solar powered lighting, custom wood stove, northern white cedar interior, and pine tar exterior finish, did just that. I created a little oasis— a reminder of Finland—to park in his back yard, a dream come true.
Saunas are like that. When you have your own, it is a dream come true, a special place to escape into, to relax and unwind. It is tied to old traditions but for many, it is a new experience and can be life-changing. As designer and builder I get to be the midwife for people’s dreams and help them usher in a new way of living or rekindle a past love. As we turn the page to a new year and think about resolutions, what dreams do you want to come true?
mobile sauna by rob licht Custom SaunasSolar powered lights on mobile sauna by Rob Licht Custom Saunas
All summer long I have eagerly anticipated this week; we have a cottage rental on the lake. It’s the highlight of my summer and a much-needed break from all of the projects I have going on. This year, in addition to the usual activities—swimming, canoeing, beach fires, collecting beach glass and just staring the waves while sipping wine—I’ve added one more: sauna! I’ve brought my wood-fired trailer sauna with me and parked it ten feet from the water’s edge. Nothing beats coming out from the hot steam of a good löyly and jumping into the cool, refreshing lake. It is perfection.
Mobile Sauna by Rob Licht Custom Saunas on Cayuga Lake
As a respite to the maddening distractions and over-stimulation of our times, people often seek out “authentic” experiences. There is often an understated desire to eschew technology and the associated flotsam that pollutes our memories of a simpler time. We laugh when we try to remember when phones were attached to the wall and being accessible meant you checked your answering machine only once a day. Life was slower and I don’t think there is anyone over 40 who can’t appreciate that. As far as traditions go, not much can beat the sauna, which has a 2000-plus year history.
Often, clients come to me seeking some sort of authentic experience—often tied to some childhood sauna at a summer lake-house or a weekly family ritual. They don’t want just an ordinary gym or hotel sauna; they want something deeper and more profound, something central to this notion of life slowing down. I imagine Sauna as a slow moving cinematic experience that is the complete antithesis to Godfrey Reggio’s Koyaanisqatsi film about life out of balance. In the sauna, the heat should melt not only the bodily stress of the day but also the sense of time itself. To be authentic, the experience should not follow a prescribed formula but be should simply be what naturally evolves in a Zen-like way of intentional non-intention.
What evolves naturally depends upon the built environment. Like cathedrals, which were designed to encourage spirituality, I build my saunas to encourage contemplation. It’s not just the temperature of the room, but the details that your hand or eye will settle on. The arched roof, view out the window and selected grain of the boards provide visual distraction so your mind can settle into the experience while your body adjusts to the heat. The surfaces, sounds and smells of the sauna are meant to awaken your senses.
When I am in the sauna I think about this, but I also try to think about nothing! I simply do what comes naturally- sweat, pour water on the rocks, cool down, look at the night sky, repeat, and then wash up. There is no magical order to the ritual, no rules to adhere to; the point is to create your own. I cannot create for my clients an authentic experience, but I can provide the catalyst in the form of a little magical space.
