In the Toolik sauna, a powerful tool for climate resiliency
Photo by Francesca LoPresti. The view of a foggy day on Toolik Lake from inside the sauna.
There are few things that can lift the heads of the busy Toolik scientists away from their work. But on certain weekdays, behind the maze of dark green storage containers-turned-laboratories, a soft plume of fragrant smoke rises. The tell-tale sign of the awakening Toolik sauna never fails to pull a relieved smile from weary scientists. “Sauna tiiiime,” they whisper underneath their breath, while others let loose a shrill “Yesssssss!” as we hurry to finish the last task of the day. This wooden oasis, tucked into a slope leading into Toolik Lake, is one of the most beloved features of the Toolik Field Station—and a vital community space shaped by the art of storytelling.
On sauna nights, scientists saunter over to the edge of the station, towels draped around our necks. Walking into the mud room, we brace ourselves for the stifling heat we are about to enter. As we walk into the wall of heat we grimace, and then slowly let our shoulders loosen, opening our lungs to the heat—eyes closed, breath heavy, body relaxed.
Photo by Francesca LoPresti. The first view of the Toolik sauna, from inside the mud room.
There is a gentle silence at the beginning of every sauna session as we settle into the damp heat of the room. But soon, conversations start to flow and meander, the sauna filling with the sound of overlapping chatter. People lament their torn-up hands from readjusting rusty bars, muse over the absence of darkness, and fiercely debate the proper name for fish nests (the conclusion, “redds”). I listen to the tale of a soil scientist, swearing that she nearly joined a pack of wolves on a recent data-collection trek. We weigh the strange dependency of this climate research station on the road that was built to expand oil production. And I listen as an older scientist, one who has been coming to Toolik for almost thirty years, recounts how much he has seen this landscape, which he has come to love so deeply, change so much.
In these moments, I cannot help but think, “This is what it’s all about.” Scientists—across disciplines, countries, generations—sharing the weight and joy of their lives of work. An ecologist’s work, not unlike the heat that we choose to sit in every time we walk through the sauna’s doors, can be heavy and at times, suffocating. But under this pressure, in these spaces of relaxation and healing, we inspire celebration, reflection, and resolution with the stories we tell.
We bask in our love for science— a shared love for adventure, mystery, the land, and a dedication to protect and heal it.
Photo by Francesca LoPresti. A late August sunset on Toolik Lake from the dock of the sauna.
For younger scientists, listening to the stories of older scientists bends time, reminding us of what has been lost—and the urgency with which we must continue to defend these changing ecosystems.
Once we leave the sauna, these stories become incredibly special tools. Global change can be insidious, its effects hiding beyond our daily lives. But by sharing these stories, we have the power to reach out and envelop others in our world, finding that perfect heartstring to tug.
We need people working from every angle, from both within and beyond the scientific community, to understand, mitigate, and adapt to the consequences of our rapidly changing world. And while the Toolik sauna is an incredibly unique ecosystem of human beings, sweat, and laughter, I—and many of my fellow scientists—happily hold the responsibility of disseminating the words that are shared in that space with all of our communities so that everyone can take a turn basking in the sauna at the top of the world.
