
Time and worries dissolve in Pirjo’s log sauna—“A good sauna is like a womb: a safe nest away from the rest of the world”
For entrepreneur Pirjo Honkanen, a gentle sauna session feels like meditation, with needless worries drifting away like smoke. The moss-roofed sauna building blends beautifully into the forest setting.
At first glance, there appears to be nothing at the foot of the slope. The cabin sauna’s roof is so skillfully hidden beneath lichen and moss that it looks like part of the surrounding forest. Only the smoke escaping from the chimney reveals that the stove is already lit, and soon it’s time for the sauna.
“A moss roof was my dream. I wanted the sauna to fit right into the cabin’s lot, which is full of rocks, old trees, and lingonberry shrubs. And after all, this place is called Puolen hehtaarin metsä, the Finnish equivalent to Winnie the Pooh's Hundred Acre Wood,” hairdresser Pirjo Honkanen says.
When Pirjo bought the plot 15 winters ago, it looked like a rocky thicket. But the new landowner immediately saw potential in this childhood landscape. She noticed a newspaper ad for a cabin on skids, which was later moved to the property. During its renovation, a wood-burning sauna was added.
“But the steam was too intense for my taste. I wanted to lie back and relax on the bench, but it always got so suffocating that I couldn’t stay in the sauna for long.”



The idea for a sauna cabin came up when her godfather mentioned the silver-gray logs he’d carved and asked if she’d want the framework for a storage shed. Relatives offered to bring the logs to her land and build the sauna’s basic structure.
The sauna took its final shape when Pirjo met her current partner, Esko Haapasaari.
Esko turned out to be an avid sauna-goer and completed the log walls. He also made Pirjo’s dream of a moss roof come true.



Careful groundwork was essential. They laid two layers of bitumen felt and drainage sheets on top of the tongue-and-groove boards to keep water away from the structure.
“Once I got permission to gather moss and lichen, I carried them from the forest in Ikea bags and spread them on the roof. It was quite a job,” Pirjo says as she gently strokes the rough surface of the gray timber. The same beautiful logs can be admired inside the sauna, where wide black benches and candlelight add to the moody atmosphere. There is no electric lighting.
“I once heard that a sauna should be like a womb—a safe, warm nest removed from the rest of the world.”



Pirjo throws the first ladle of water onto the stove. The sauna’s glass door fogs up, and a humid warmth settles over the benches, turning beads of sweat into rivulets. Fresh air flows in through ventilation holes drilled into the logs, and the glass door quickly clears to reveal a perfect picture: the lakeside scene of birches and docks.
Growing up on a farm in Hirvensalmi, Finland, Pirjo remembers enjoying sauna sessions several times a week. The home sauna always smelled of tar that her father made.
“On the farm, we spent our days working in the fields and barn. By evening, when every bit of energy was gone, we’d finally get to unwind in the lakeside sauna. It was our job as kids to heat it,” Pirjo recalls.



There’s always something to do at their current summer house, but Pirjo and Esko prioritize their sauna time. They can spend up to four hours in the sauna, taking breaks relaxing on the terrace and dipping into the lake.
Pirjo has noticed that this sauna seems to have a meditative effect on many visitors. She has had long, profound conversations on the benches, both with guests and family. Everyday worries and stress simply dissolve.
Her 17-year-old son and 22-year-old daughter also enjoy the sauna at the cottage.
“Time seems to stop here, and we end up talking about all sorts of things. One of our most memorable sauna sessions was last summer, while we were sitting on the benches, and the kids told me I’d been an exemplary, inspiring role model for them. It brought tears to my eyes.”



They often laugh in the sauna and sometimes even argue. Pirjo says she still debates with her partner about the right time to eat dinner.
“Esko is from Ostrobothnia, where they always ate after the sauna. I grew up with dinner ready before the sauna. After steaming, it’s so nice to slip into clean pajamas and just unwind.”
Her partner offers his perspective.
“I like cooking together after the sauna and spending the evening on the terrace. Luckily, we know how to compromise—once a year, we do it my way,” Esko jokes.
“Well, you see, the landowner has the final say,” Pirjo points out.
Sadly, they were never able to invite one especially important guest. The godfather who had donated the logs for the cottage passed away before it was finished. In her eulogy at his funeral, his goddaughter shared the story of the sauna.
“My uncle’s memory always lives on in the sauna’s steams.”
