In addition, I spent many summers visiting my maternal grandparents at their Lake Cabin in Minnesota. Of course, their sauna was heated by a wood-burning stove. Ahhh, what sweet memories I have of my childhood sauna experiences.
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| Sauna at summer cabin of Matt & Saimie Hietala, my maternal grandparents I remember each time we visited, grandpa Hietala would have bushels of fresh fruit along the outer wall of their sauna (seen here) for us kids to enjoy. Great memories! |
This video link describes the Finnish sauna (and how to properly pronounce it):
Opposite of cold interview
And yes, I have enjoyed very hot temperatures in the sauna, and to this day, my bath water HAS to be straight from the HOT tap, no cold water for this Finn! And I have also run from the sauna to the lake for a quick dip before continuing with my sauna (but having leaches attach themselves to you while doing so is no fun). There really is nothing like going from very hot to (in comparison) very cold water - try it sometime in the shower. Before getting out, turn the hot water off and rinse with cold water. Very invigorating!
My uncle Kenneth Duane Hyatt (nee Hietala) emailed this to me a few years ago. I've kept it and bring it out from time to time, as it reminds me of how truly delightful a Finnish sauna really is. If you've never experienced one, it is my opinion you don't really know what it means to be alive!
From the Book “Runes of the North” (NOTE: Photos added by me, courtesy of the internet)
"According to early records, saunas were originally only excavations in the earth, built into the sides of hills, and served both as baths and family dwellings. Later, they were cabins built on flat land with a living room attached; finally, saunas became separate buildings near the water.
"All over Finland, the sauna is spoken of with affection and delight. Its use has been so closely woven into the fabric of this culture, it can never be forgotten even by the most sophisticated. Finnish emigrants brought the custom to America as early as 1683—and it was said that a settler built his bath house first, then his house and barn. In America today, as in Finland, every Finnish farm had its sauna; even in towns and cities one finds them built into homes, or, if this impossible, into public baths, so important has it become to the way of life of these people.
"My sauna cabin is primitive, one step removed from the first excavations in the hillsides of Finland. I wanted it that way for I felt it must be close to the earth, so much a part of the natural environment that simple values would not be lost. Nestled in a grove of cedars back of the beach, its logs are hand-hewn, carefully notched, and weathered a silver gray. The cabin is small, only ten by ten, but a stoop faces the bay which gives it depth and view. In the old days the roof would have had a hole for the smoke to escape, but now a stove pipe leads through it.
"Handmade benches are around three sides, and there are wooden pegs for towels and clothes. A window is under the peak of the roof and another looks into the birches. Beyond this there is nothing. Simplicity is the keynote, but when steam rises from the stones and the sprays of cedar give off their fragrance, the sauna comes into its own.
"In the old tradition and as a mark of hospitality, it is the custom to invite a guest to partake of a sauna with you, but only if the guest is willing and deserves the honor. So when my son came home after several years in Libya and Lebanon and full of the things he had seen and done, there was no question of what to do first. It was an afternoon in September that we started the fire in the barrel stove. The cabin was swept and clean, and a hand-woven rag rug of many colors was laid out smoothly for our feet. Buckets were filled from the lake, two placed on the rocks above the stove, two on the bench before it.
"As preparation, we spent several hours at the woodpile, hauling logs of birch, aspen, spruce, sawing them into proper lengths, splitting them to size, and piling them neatly. While we labored with axe and saw, the smoke curled high above us, the rocks became hotter and hotter until they hissed and spat when water was sprinkled on them. Toward evening all was in readiness. We opened the door and the bathhouse smelled as it should, rich with the pungence of burning, the odors of hot logs and of many saunas of the past. We took our places on the lower bench.
"In the old tradition and as a mark of hospitality, it is the custom to invite a guest to partake of a sauna with you, but only if the guest is willing and deserves the honor. So when my son came home after several years in Libya and Lebanon and full of the things he had seen and done, there was no question of what to do first. It was an afternoon in September that we started the fire in the barrel stove. The cabin was swept and clean, and a hand-woven rag rug of many colors was laid out smoothly for our feet. Buckets were filled from the lake, two placed on the rocks above the stove, two on the bench before it.
"A dipperful of water tossed onto the rocks all but exploded, instantly filling the cabin with steam. Then more water, again and again, until the steam began to penetrate our bodies. When we had become accustomed to the heat, we moved to the upper bench where it was more intense. As we sat there, we become one with the rising vapors and the crackling spruce in the stove.
“Dip your cedar switch,” I said, “dip it in your bucket and sprinkle the stones.” Bob did so, and the air was full of fragrance. “Hold it to your face,” I told him, “hold it close and breathe deeply.” The oil of cedar went into the passageways of our lungs, scoured and renovated them until they were clean and fresh. The moist warmth caressed us and filled us with a lassitude that dispelled all thoughts, and had we not been faithful to the ritual, we might have been tempted to stay and miss one of the greatest thrills of the sauna, the exhilarating plunge into the cold waters of the lake. Watching Bob, and knowing myself, I felt we could wait no longer. The time had come. “Let’s go,” I said.
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| An alternative when your sauna is not located on a lake |
“Turn your back,” I ordered, and I whipped him with the cedar switch until his skin was red and covered with the flat green tips of the branch ends. He did the same for me and we laughed with the good feeling that was ours of cleanliness, of warmth and blended smells. No ordinary bath could equal this. The pores themselves were cleaned, the blood brought into circulation by the plunge, the entire system recharged, stimulated, and relaxed.
“This is it,” said Bob, “elemental; we need nothing more. I had forgotten how good a sauna really could be.” He held the cedar against his face, breathed deeply once more. “The smell of cedar,” I reminded him, “is an incense that carries thoughts to heaven, which is why all worries leave.” “And all evil,” he replied, “all intrigue and ambition.” I threw on another dipperful. White steam surrounded us and swirled along the ridgepole.
“About ready,” announced Bob, and once more we ran to the beach, this time swam far out for the water was like silk to us, and we did not feel the cold, were conscious only of floating without effort and drifting in a medium as warm as our own bodies.
"We went back to a third and last steaming and, when we returned to the lake for a final dip, the sun was tinting the water, the west was pink and blue, with a broad band of color in the bay. We swam through it and then into the band, lay there in its iridescence, looking toward the sauna in the cedars. Smoke still rose from the chimney, though the fire was almost gone, and we could even smell it there on the water.
"After we had cooled, we swam to the beach, went up the trail again, opened the door and windows wide, and dried ourselves leisurely. It was almost dark now and we sat on the lower bench before the open door of the stove and toasted our feet in the glow of the coals. The hot steam was gone and the cool night air felt good to us.
"There was nothing of great moment to talk about, but within us was a feeling of well-being in which the affairs of the world seemed far away and unimportant. Ours was a sense of fullness and belonging to a past of simple ways. This was the time of magic when the world was still, this the feel of dawns and of awakenings at night, of hush and quiet. Life was simple and complete."
On a facebook page titled "The Opposite of Cold" (same title as video posted above), someone named Aaron posted:
