Description without comparisons

On washdays, at the start of the 8 hour dusk, smoke curls from the chimney of the tiny cedar sauna. Ecologists and limnologists and wildlife biologists stop work for the day and trek down to the confluence of the arctic research camp and Toolik lake. Wash buckets and pitchers are absent-mindedly strewn across the sauna porch, making the dash to escape the mid-July snowstorm comically hazardous. In the dressing room wood is piled high and bright, terry-cotton towels paint every inch of wall-space. Well-worn Carharts and flannels are piled on the wood slatted bench; bras and underwear are conspicuously tucked out of sight. (Someone’s purple leopard-print panties seductively peak out from their hiding place.) Rubber boots of all sizes expectantly line the wall, ever ready to lead their wearer back to work.

A caribou antler door handle invites nakedness into the sauna. Two long L-shaped benches, one above the other, curve around a crackling wood stove. Beautiful, curious, laughing, breathing flesh fills the space, oozing desire and grime from the last three days of work. Dim gray light from the window contrasts markedly with the flushed cheeks, glowing in the heat of the furnace roar.

1) Sweat it out. (No science talk . . . and no stretching!) 2) Jump in the lake, careful not to slip on the dock. 3) Run back to sauna to sweat some more. 4) Take a quick, snowy wash on the porch (Damn that’s COLD!) 5) Warm-up and sweat, sweat, sweat. 6) Lower your body temperature in preparation for sleep with one final (I promise) jump in the lake. 7) Dry off. 9) Crawl back into rubber boots, Carharts, and flannels. 10) Trek back to your own tent and sleeping bag. 11) Go to bed (still slightly shivering from the last dip in the lake.) An exhausted nervous system invites sound sleep.