In the Keweenaw, “taking a sauna” (sow • na) is not something you do on a whim. It is a serious tradition that has very little to do with hygiene. When the first Finnish people landed here and built that third little house out back, a tradition was begun that is as much a part of the Keweenaw’s culture as copper and pasties. In the 150 years since those first Finnish pioneers put up that two-room log building and built those wide pine benches across from the stove, man has tried to improve the design. But somehow, hi-tech doesn’t go with a good sauna. It is the thick log walls and that certain pitch on the ceiling so the steam rolls. It’s those special rocks from Lake Superior that hold the heat, but don’t explode when you throw cold water on them, and it’s that just right mixture of wood smoke and steam that make the sauna. What it takes to make the perfect sauna hasn’t changed from those early days.

The art of “taking a sauna” is governed by several traditions going back hundreds of years. Sauna days are generally Wednesday and Saturday. The wood fired stove is started at least two hours before bath time. I like to enter the sauna at about 120 degrees F and start the temperature climb gradually with small dippers of water on the rocks. This starting temperature I have surmised is directly proportional to the amount of Finnish blood in your veins. I know a few full bloods that go in at 150 degrees. Soon the heat totally encompasses you and your pores start to open. As the sweat starts to pour and the skin turns a bright pink, a washcloth dipped in cool water applied to the face is nice.

After about 15 minutes at this gradual climb, the temperature is now 130 degrees. To speed the circulation, birch switches are applied to the back and legs. In the Keweenaw a small bunch of cedar boughs are commonly used and the aroma of hot cedar mixed with sweat and wood smoke is the true fragrance of the sauna. Its time to wash, but don’t shampoo until later. After a cool rinse I like to retire to the changing room for a little relaxing, maybe a cup of coffee and a chunk of summer sausage (mukera), which has been simmering on the hot rocks in the sauna.

After a break, it’s time for more heat. The pores open quickly and the sweat pours profusely. It’s during this second time that old hurts or sore muscles disappear. The sinuses are completely drained. The air is so hot by now that you don’t want to move fast enough to stir the air or it will burn your skin. Now you are at 160 degrees. Sauna benches always have at least two levels, and it is perfectly legal to retreat to a lower level if your partner is taking the temperature up faster than you like. After 15 minutes of heat it’s time for a pan of cold water over the head and a stroll outside. Most traditional saunas are located so this type of country privacy is available. (This not recommended in urban areas.) The cool evening air is soothing and there is no sense of chill.

Back in for more heat, a final wash, shampoo and a pan of cold water to close the pores — then a nice easy cool down. In the winter the final plunge is a unique experience. A dash out into the snow is a great feeling, but hard to describe. As your super heated skin comes in contact with the snow, the snow disappears, evaporates into clouds of steam. Your skin tingles in waves of excitement. My longest scamper has been less than 30 seconds, but I have known a couple ole blue blood Finns that would go all the way to the wood shed and back.

Some Finns lucky enough to live by the lake build their saunas close to the water so that last plunge can be into the lake. Recommended only in the summer and fall, this is the ultimate cool down. Wherever you sauna, the clean, relaxed invigorated feeling and the special fellowship enjoyed with friends, renders all other showers, Jacuzzis, hot tubs, or whirlpools, inadequate especially to a Finn. The ultimate show of hospitality in the Keweenaw is to be invited for sauna. After… the smell of fresh coffee and warm Nisu (cardamom spiced sweet bread, braided in a sometimes frosted loaf), back in the house, binds neighbors and families together in a 150 year Keweenaw tradition.