Snow Lotus: Exploring the Eternal Moment

Nasty Business

Nasty Business It's dangerous, I know, and it can hurt a lot. KILGORE TROUT I'll call the victim Sulo, and if Neil and I had known his plan, we'd never have invited him into the sauna. I was helping Neil construct a boathouse out of cedar logs a few bright summers ago, and we worked hard at it all day. Neil lit his neighbor's sauna after lunch, and periodically stoked the firebox the rest of the afternoon. We anticipated a relaxing steambath after our labors, and we wanted it hot. Visitors droppedby shortly before dusk, as we were tying up the project for the day. It was a friends-of-friends situation , and neither Neil nor I knew Sulo. We got acquainted 91 over a few beers, and Neil assured Sulo he was welcome to join us in the sauna. When the three of us settled in on the top bench, we realized the stove was far too hot. Most of the stovepipe was glowing cherry-red, and Neil figured he'd gotten carried away with the stoking. He cautioned us not to throw water on the rocks, or terrific, scalding steam would drive us to the floor. In a traditional sauna, a woodstove heats a bedof rocks, and water is tossed on the rocks to generate a soothing , cleansing steam. An agreeable bath can be achieved at 125 to 150 degrees, but the temperature in this particular sauna was over 200. Sulo tipped back his beer bottle, sucked down a long strapping swig, and rhapsodized about saunas past, boasting of how much heat he could endure. Neil and I exchanged nervous glances behind his back. Our aim was restoration, not a vain trial of stamina. After fifteen minutes of the intense heat, Neil and I needed to cool down outside. We still didn't dare throw water on the baking rocks, and it seemed Sulo was impatient . Maybe he thought he was sharing thispurification rite with a couple of overcautious wimps—and nonScandinavians to boot. We were out in the bracing evening air for less than a minute when we heard a loud, explosive KA-KOOSH! from inside the sauna, followed by a prolonged, crackling hiss. We shook our heads and grinned. Sulo had let her rip. It sounded like he'd dumped an entire pail of water on the rocks. Clouds of steam puffed out of the soffits and curled up around the eaves. "It must be like a pressure cooker in there," I said. Neil nodded, still ruefully shaking his head. When I eased back inside a few minutes later, Sulo was prostrate on the top bench, breathing heavily. His face was flushed, and he appeared to be in pain. "You all right?"I asked. "Yeah," he croaked, and pushed himself up to a sitting 92 The Snow Lotus position. He was still clutching his beer bottle. Neither of us knew it yet, but his back was burned; the rush of broiling steam had seared his flesh. The day after next he'd be in the hospital having his back abraded, but this was merely the beginning of sorrows. It was an inherently hazardous sauna building. The benches were too high and steep, the room too cramped. We were precariously perched directly over the woodstove on slippery, wet surfaces. Mix in a few beers, and disaster loomed. And Sulo's senses had been further numbed by the horrendous blast of steam. The heat from that burst was lingering over the top bench, so I sat on the next level down. Though the skin on Sulo's back still looked normal, his breathing continued to sound labored, and it dawned on him that he was partially cooked. "You sure you're OK?"I asked. "Well. . . maybe I better take a little break." He took a big one. He raised his red butt off the bench and fell forward. I was horrified. For a wild moment I thought: this dude is dead. As he droppedby me I was certain he was going to land on the stove and rocks and be fried. Instead, he dove six feet onto the concrete floor, impacting with an ugly bellyflop. I heard the beer bottle shatter in his hand, which was sandwiched between the floor and his stomach. Before I could move to stop him, he rolled over in a panicky spasm, and his abused back slid...