I began my life as a giant cedar in the upper reaches of the Cruikshank River. When I was felled, I envisioned a myriad of dignified purposes for my future self. Would I become part of a mighty totem? Or provide planking to adorn a coastal tugboat? Perhaps inspire contestants in a star-studded chainsaw carving competition? The planks milled from my wood (which you might describe as “common boards”) went in a hundred different directions. Common as I may have been, I was still valued for my superior bactericidal, fungicidal, pesticidal, larvicidal, and anti-microbial qualities. How exciting!
Becoming a lowly bench seat in the Cumberland sauna was NOT where I expected to end up.
But it seemed good at the beginning. I was packed in a small room with my brethren, lining the space like it was some treasure trove. It was only as the electric stove was being installed that we began to question our true purpose ….
And then the day arrived. It was October 14, 1978. The stove was heated for the first time, and sweaty, laughing, occasionally showered posteriors began to arrive in a macabre parade that seemed to go until eternity.
Country-club accoutrements
From the conversations that took place in that hot little room, I learned I was part of a proud offering of a small, blue-collar village that had made it. The community now boasted country-club accoutrements: a whirlpool, squash courts—and a sauna. Forget applying to some pompous, stuffed-shirt palace where the brand of your watch or vehicle determined your entry to the seven levels of vanity. No, this was Cumberland. Where the whole town now had access to the ultimate in luxury, all wrapped up in an egalitarian package, tucked in the recesses of the Cumberland Recreation Centre. No driving up and handing your keys to the valet …. Here, you simply got out of your logging truck, fishing boat, mine shaft, etc., and headed in for some well-earned relaxation time. Hopefully you hit the showers first.
I was proud to be part of a well-rounded health regimen. On both sides of the Atlantic, sweating has been used as therapy. Over 3,000 years ago, the Mayans and Zapotecs practiced a form of sauna called temazcal, and in Nordic countries, saunas have been used for thousands of years, probably because it’s so bloody cold and dark up there. The health benefits are purported to include improving cardiovascular health, improving skin condition, lowering the risk of Alzheimer’s, relieving asthma, easing muscle and joint pain, improving sleep, lowering stress, and adding to a social atmosphere in general.
Now, speaking of a social atmosphere, for the love of all things decent, when building a public sauna, there is ONE essential element that was missing in Cumberland: a window. It removes the opportunity of awkward surprises when opening the door to reveal a particularly… social couple. Over the years, hundreds of names pledging eternal devotion were etched into my panels (ouch!), and I believe that my sauna was likely responsible for more than one or two additions to the population. This was confirmed by anonymous sources and may have played a small role in the eventual shuttering of the space. I am now part of a lushly appointed broom closet.
Why did it close?
Yes, my sauna was closed over 20 years ago, with a brief three-month re-opening about 10 years ago. Questions put to the rec centre’s staff about the good old days are met with obvious bemusement, and any tales that might be told are hushed and, in any case, lacking in detail, to protect the not-so-innocent. (My brethren and I will never tell.) However, the official story is that the sauna simply cost too much money to heat and run. It is also logistically difficult to run a wet-dry mixed health establishment—the whirlpool was always a challenge to maintain. But that’s a story for another time.
Now, a well-used platform devoted to rowing machines, medicine balls, and yoga mats sits atop the forgotten tub. And a padlock on a cedar door is all that hints of the years of past requiescence and notoriety in a village that sought to be the great equalizer in a vast world of overpriced health spas.
Thank you, Cumberland. At least we still have the squash courts.
