The steam bath has been around the north woods for a long time. The Ojibwe used in their sweat lodges as part of a religious ceremony. The Finnish immigrants established it in the white settlements, and stuck with it, regardless of criticism and ridicule, until it has come to be appreciated by people of all national origins.

In Finland, too, the bath had a religious significance. It was considered advisable to be born and to die in the sauna, and both events were so arranged whenever possible. In a Finnish homestead in America, this was often the first building to be put up.

The early bath houses had no chimney. The fire was built in a pile of rocks. When these were well heated, water was poured on, the fire put out, and the benches scrubbed clean of soot. Then the people came in for the bath, splashing more water on the hot rocks as needed.

The Finns roost on the high benches, the steamier the better. If you’re an outlander, you sit close to the floor at first, coughing and sputtering. But in time you get to like the steam and begin to work your way up. And you come to enjoy the rest of the procedure too: the rough switching with cedar boughs on bare skin and the rush outside to plunge in the lake or roll in the snow. When you are that hot, snow seems just nice, once you have learned to avoid snow with an icy crust.

If you have never had this kind of a bath you should try one, to see what it’s like to really be clean for once. I hope that you will have company like the sauna enthusiast in my watercolor. Should this be your good fortune, though, don’t get any wrong ideas. Finn girls are pretty but you wouldn’t want to get slapped by one of them.

Sauna

The steam bath has been around the north woods for a long time. The Ojibwe used in their sweat lodges as part of a religious ceremony. The Finnish immigrants established it in the white settlements, and stuck with it, regardless of criticism and ridicule, until it has come to be appreciated by people of all national origins.

In Finland, too, the bath had a religious significance. It was considered advisable to be born and to die in the sauna, and both events were so arranged whenever possible. In a Finnish homestead in America, this was often the first building to be put up.

The early bath houses had no chimney. The fire was built in a pile of rocks. When these were well heated, water was poured on, the fire put out, and the benches scrubbed clean of soot. Then the people came in for the bath, splashing more water on the hot rocks as needed.

The Finns roost on the high benches, the steamier the better. If you’re an outlander, you sit close to the floor at first, coughing and sputtering. But in time you get to like the steam and begin to work your way up. And you come to enjoy the rest of the procedure too: the rough switching with cedar boughs on bare skin and the rush outside to plunge in the lake or roll in the snow. When you are that hot, snow seems just nice, once you have learned to avoid snow with an icy crust.

If you have never had this kind of a bath you should try one, to see what it’s like to really be clean for once. I hope that you will have company like the sauna enthusiast in my watercolor. Should this be your good fortune, though, don’t get any wrong ideas. Finn girls are pretty but you wouldn’t want to get slapped by one of them.

Sauna