A Brisk Whisk in the Sauna

“There are two necessary actions in the traditional sauna – to sweat and to be whisked.”

—International Bath Academy

The vihta, a bundle of birch leaves freshly trimmed from our trees, is soaked in a bucket of rainwater by the sauna door. Once I am pink with the heat of the sauna I take my vihta and shake it overhead, shivering under its cool droplets. I heat up again by throwing a ladle of water to hiss over the stones as I use the vihta to fan the löyly around my body. I tap the bundle on my feet, ankles and legs, the leaves cool and soft. I reach over my shoulders and slap at the tight muscles of my upper back. As the leaves grow hot in the steam I press the bundle to my knees, flexing with ease. Dipping the vihta in cool water again I hold it in front of my face like a shield from the radiating heat, taking in a fragrance that is green, vaguely sweet and woodsy. I sweep the vihta over my skin one last time, applying the leaves' moisture like a lotion. I exit the sauna to sit among the trees, beneath the evening sky, cooled by a gentle rain, supple as a birch.

What is the purpose of the broom or whisk, or the whatchamacallit bundle of leafy branches in the sauna? Is it used to fan the steam, dip and splash water or, weirdly, whip and punish the skin in some kind of display of sisu or toughness? As I study and practice the use of a vihta [VEE-tah] (the Finnish word prevails these days just because the English equivalents whisk or broom are so imprecise) I have learned that it is all that and more-- scrub brush, conveyance for herbal essences and, surprisingly, a relic from an ancient liturgy.

Hauta-Heikki’s Grandma (Mummo) by Juho Rissanen, 1897, Wikimedia  Commons

An acquaintance, an expert on Finnish American sauna in the mining communities of the midwest, told me that back in the old days, after a long shift in the mine, the men in the family would trudge home so exhausted that all they could do was sit in the steamy heat of the sauna, barely able to raise their arms. He said that it often fell to the mother-in-law to come and scrub their backs. I picture a no-nonsense Finnish woman armed with a bundle of twigs giving the men in the sauna a brisk “nothing personal” whisking.

The story helped me understand that a vihta is a kind of scrub brush. Like so many things related to sauna, the tools are simple and natural. This style of washing during a bath has been formalized in the Russian sauna, properly called the banya, and offered as a treatment called a platza where an oak leaf venik (vhita) is used to fan hot air toward the body and then dipped in soapy water and brushed vigorously over the back and shoulders. 

Examining a cedar vihta with Lois Knuuttila near Houghton, Michigan where northern white cedar is a native tree species. Photo Jack Steinmann.

In other traditions, a specialized type of massage uses vihtas to heat and treat sore muscles. According to Adam Rang writing for Estonian Saunas magazine, viht (as the Estonians call vihta) is absolutely essential to the sauna experience. The composition of a branchy bundle most commonly consists of birch but other trees are used and the addition of herbs elevates it to a medicinal art. The leafy greens are believed to impart their essential oils to the skin along with anti-inflammatory and anti-bacterial benefits. I have made birch, cedar and eucalyptus vihtas, each adding a unique scent and experience to the sauna. Rang encourages folks to use materials from nature wherever in the world they find themselves and their saunas:

You can actually use pretty much any leaves from any trees or plants, as long as they aren’t toxic or too thorny. Each type of leaf is considered to have its own special qualities and you can even combine different types in one viht.

Making brooms in Värmland, Sweden using twine, birch and crowberry branches around 1900. Photo by Nils Keyland, Nordiska Museet, cc

Making vihtas can be as simple as cutting some twigs from a nearby tree before entering the sauna. It can also be a production based on the math of making enough fresh summer vihtas to dry and preserve for a winter supply. Using twine to bind the handle is simple but one can also bring the skills of a basketmaker to the task by using a withy or flexible twig twisted in a traditional way. The final challenge for urban folks is gaining access to enough trees and branches and having the knowledge to identify and know their qualities. 

For me, the bringing of greenery into the sauna deepens its connection to the outdoors and is a gesture so ancient that few of us understand its meaning any more. It helps to study some of the old beliefs about sauna. Rang writes that “…the sauna was traditionally considered a holy place to connect with departed ancestors. That’s why, upon leaving the leiliruum (sauna hot room), it’s also been traditional to leave one viht behind so that their spirits can use it after you.” 

The rather solemn image of an ancestral spirit has been lightened by the commercially cheerful sauna elf, in Finnish: saunatonttu. The word elf means different things to different people–cute elfin figurines to decorate the sauna are widely available. For my Swedish grandmother, leaving offerings of food out by the barn for an elf-like figure called a tomte (like the Finnish tonttu) was an act of appeasement–the tomte could be a punishing fellow. In old Swedish, the word tomte means home place; at the same time it captures the sense that the tomtar (plural) are the spirits of the ancestors, guardians of the home place. If you take good care of the land, the home and, we might add the sauna, then the tomtar will take care of you. In that spirit, I keep an offering of a vihta by the sauna door.