The Story of Blunder #1
Friends, food, felling, and failure
If you're not making mistakes, you're not learning.
I’m trying to keep that in mind today, to take the sting off the big ol’ blunder we made. I could have waited to write a post until it’s fixed, to preserve my reputation as a carpenter. But I wouldn’t do that to you, reader — I know you’re here for the raw, behind-the-scenes view of building a sauna for the first time, and that’s bound to include some blunders.
So, here’s the story of Blunder #1.
The blunder came at the end of a near-perfect weekend. After my last post, I took a quick 24-hour trip to Boston to check in on civilization, celebrate Rosa’s birthday, and return the CR-V. But I came back to New Hampshire promptly on Friday night, hitching a ride with my friends Jon and Camille. That’s right, the build crew is still growing! Jon and I had the same climate research fellowship at Harvard and we’ve been fast friends since, but I’ve been missing him since he started his new job as a professor in Vancouver, Canada. Lucky for me, he’s currently back East visiting our mutual friend Camille (also a climate scientist). One could argue that my friendship with these two was forged in the fires of COVID at this very Seeley cabin, back in the era when we would all take tests before podding up for getaway weekends.
It was so good to have them visit, not least because they essentially took over cooking for the whole weekend. Paul and I have been eating really well, but there’s always something elevated about the stuff Jon and Camille whip up. Come to think of it, Paul also threw down in the kitchen this weekend, producing a perfect flourless chocolate cake after minimal prodding. (My culinary contribution was blueberry protein smoothies.)
And make no mistake, this was not a “we cook so you can build” arrangement. Jon and Camille also joined in wholeheartedly with the outdoor manual labor, and with so many hands and paws on site, we made rapid progress on the sauna build. By sundown on Saturday we had all six posts notched out to accept band joists, in rough position on their footings, and perfectly leveled.
Somehow, in between all the cooking and building, Jon and Camille also managed to use the electric chainsaws (one corded, one battery-powered) to take down four dead oak trees in the vicinity of the sauna site. This prevents a future treefall from causing damage and, after some additional processing, will also provide fuel for the woodstoves in the cabin and sauna. Hauling those big logs up the slope to the cabin is incredibly hard exercise; I only carried one log, and I definitely felt it the next day.
Sauna building is hard work in general. To soothe our sore muscles, we swear by the sunset hot tub/cold plunge combo. We are lucky to be building this sauna at the edge of beautiful Randlett Pond, which is perched in a saddle between two small mountains (Ladd and Levitt) and has lovely cold water this time of year. I like to go in for a plunge first thing in the morning, but with a hot tub nearby you don’t have to be Wim Hof to want to get in the pond. Our “hot tub” setup is closer to the house than the sauna site, and it’s really just a pair of outdoor baths filled with hot water piped through a long hose from the cabin’s hot water heater. We love the experience, but I never forget that it’s a fossil-fueled experience. It’s actually the last such experience at the cabin: we’ve electrified our home heating (heat pumps), cooking (induction stove), and have installed a level-2 EV charger. There are electric hot water heaters — even “tankless” ones that can provide the on-demand hot water it takes to fill our hot tubs — but for now, we’re still dependent on propane for hot water. I think it’s OK to have a little fossil fuels, as a treat, but I’m always scheming about how to make a solar-powered hot tub.
Anyway, we went to bed on Saturday relaxed and feeling accomplished. It seemed like we’d be able to get the band joists up on the posts on Sunday, which would be a major milestone on the path to a super sturdy deck.
Sunday morning, we cut the band joists (which make up the perimeter of the deck). We’re using 2”x10” pressure-treated lumber and doubling all band joists, and we planned to make the end joists (the 12 footers) out of single boards. On the other hand, to make the long 14-foot rim joists out of single pieces of wood, we would have needed to buy 16-foot boards and cut them down. We decided that would push the hauling capabilities of even the CR-V, so we instead bought 8-foot boards with the intention of cutting them down to (roughly) 7’ and splicing them together on the edge posts, like so:
After cutting everything to size, we started working from one corner, using clamps and the 3-4-5 trick to check for square. Once everything was lined up, we traced the outline of the metal post base on the cement blocks and then popped the edge post out one last time so we could screw the metal base into place with concrete screws.
That’s when things started to go off course. While drilling the second hole, the bit hit a rock embedded in the concrete and couldn’t punch through. We flipped the block and re-traced the base, and successfully drilled a new hole on the other side. The first screw went in fine, but then the second screw snapped off halfway in, leaving that hole useless. We swapped that block with one lower down in the base, but when everything was put back together it seemed that the blocks were no longer sufficiently centered under the post. We didn’t really understand why that would have changed, but instead of slowing down and figuring it out, I decided we needed to enlarge the hole, add some more gravel, and shift the footing. It was demoralizing to have to get the shovel out again, but we had the footing back in place and centered again without too much trouble. We put the post back in place, popped the rim joist on, and checked for level.
It was not as level as it used to be. It used to be nearly perfect, but of course after adding more gravel while re-doing the footing the post was now slightly too tall. We could have stopped the cascade of errors at this point by cutting off a sliver of the post, but instead we squinted at the level and talked ourselves into the idea that it was “level enough.” We proceeded with putting in hardware, using carriage bolts to lock everything together. We even nailed in the bases of the two posts we were working with.
The sun was about to set, so we decided it was time to quit. We took a step back, and…
It just didn’t look right. That edge post is too tall, plain as day. I knew pretty much immediately that we’d have to re-do it.
It’s a bummer. The waste of time and material bothers me, and I’m disappointed that I let impatience win out over perfectionism this afternoon. I was feeling the sting of failure during our hot tub/cold plunge ritual, but began to feel better when Paul offered a calm assessment of the situation and didn’t seem fazed by the idea of having to do that corner again. We decided that splitting the 14-foot rim joists in half is not a good idea after all, because of the additional degree of freedom it introduces. So we’re changing the plan to use single pieces on the long sides too, and I think that will result in a better deck.
So, a big ol’ blunder, but things are looking up. We’ve got some nice long 16-foot boards arriving in the morning (courtesy of Home Depot delivery — always an option if you can’t haul yourself). Jon and Camille departed this afternoon (so long for now, friends!), but my cousins Gabe and Anthony arrived shortly thereafter and will be helping out tomorrow. I think we can get back on course in no time.
If you’re not making mistakes, you’re not learning.
—Jake
Thanks for taking us into the trenches with the build team! Love these posts, Jake! Special request for more Luca photos.