LIttle House in the Big Woods - Foundation

 Five years of regulatory purgatory. Waiting on architect, structural engineer, approval for water well and a 'Critical Environmental Site Survey' and a geohazard slope failure risk analysis. Then, just when were ready to build the house - a year of shut down by the state for Covid-19 response. You can debate me, but most of these wasted five years was over-regulated government over-kill.

By August, 2021, our General Contractor has lined up vendors to begin construction. GC Phil says, "You should be out here around October 24, that's when we're scheduled to get started."

Four days of driving  and I clock almost 2,200 from Garland, Texas to my gate in Arlington, Washington. Two attempts by criminal elements to drill-out and then cut the lock on the gate earlier in the month has made it necessary to replace the two damaged locks, for which I do not yet have a key. I'll have to get that new key from Phil when we meet.

I pull off I-5 at dusk on Saturday, October 23rd and pull into the drive and hop over the barrier eager to see what progress has been made on the remaining foundation. There are three concrete walls left standing after the fire five years ago. Those walls have been patched and new forms have been set to pour the foundation for the southern extension of the the new footprint and two bay window foundations have been added. The forms are still in place, but inside them is the solid cement for the new beginning. 

I inspect the signs of progress and my soul is filled with hope that finally, dreams will shift from the abstract lines on paper plans to tangible walls of concrete reality.

Phil and Dave finish the foundation work.

I bunk with my sister and brother-in-law in their home in Anacortes, 34 miles from the Pilchuck Place. I consult with Phil on scheduling for work. I wait for three days and then meet him and his brother on site. Phil and Dave pry off the forms, my job is to scrape them clean of dried cement and load the heavy forms into his van to be returned to the building material rental shop - before they are stolen from the site like Phil's $8,000 worth of cement forms were last year.

I scrape and lift and then scrape, chip, clean and then lift and load. Repeat about 80 times. I am tired and cold working under the the Pacific NW liquid sky. I return to a hot, soaking bath and  bed in Anacortes. My appetite has evaporated. 

I am mystified. Hard physical labor in cold weather should make my body demand a high caloric intake. I'm not feeling it. I think I might be a little bit pregnant - remembering my wife explaining that the smell or even sight of some food while being with child was a big turn-off. I sort of get it now. Strange.

Dave and Phil rest in front of their foundation work.

The new cement foundation sits fallow. Phil is making many calls trying to line up a framing crew. Everyone is busy; the supply chain is broken, demand outstrips supply. There is a labor shortage. No framing crews reply to his voice messages. No one is available. I am concerned.

Phil puts a hold on the lumber delivery since we have no workers to build the house with the material that is waiting to be delivered. Eventually we take delivery of enough 2x4's and such to frame the basement - once we have found a crew.

 

Lumber load is dropped. Enough to frame the basement - once we can find a framing crew in this crazy, supply chain labor shortage delirium.

 

Materials arrive, Waiting on workers.

October 28, I move into the trailer on the property to keep watch on building material, fearing theft. It has happened before. I have purchased a 12 gauge shotgun and carry a Colt 32. I have taken firearms instruction. I don't expect to use them, much less force the issue with any intruder after I call the sheriff if their is attempt to breech my gate. But I am prepared to defend myself on my own land.

I settle into my trailer behind a locked gate every night. Vigilant for any signs of forced entry onto my property where valuable building material sits waiting for it to be turned from a stack of lumber into a dream home.

I can see the little house in the big woods in my imagination. The foundation is laid. The future by definition must always be a dream. But I can wander out into the morning mist and touch the concrete foundation. I say to myself, the dream rest right here as I place my hand on the firm reality of a concrete foundation.

 

See the lonely boy, Out on the road...

 

 

Bahmp Bahmp Duhmp,

Bahmp Bahmp Duhmp,

I think I'll buy a pickup,

and take it down to LA.

See the lonely boy out on the weekend, 

trying to make it pay. -Neil Young, "Out on the Weekend"

 

Coming into Cheyenne, Wyoming going north on I-25 after a night in Colorado Springs, I make the casual curve that connects me to I-80 westbound, catching the lifting, pale morning October sun in my rearview mirror.  I'm on the road west and I slip ol' Neil Young's Harvest CD into the yet-to-be-used slot on the upper part of the dashboard equipped with all the bells and whistles that have become standard in the fifteen years since I last purchased a vehicle.  

 

I'm not sure of the meaning of his lyrics of which Neil Young sings, but the words resonate with me as I press the accelerator and hear her growl as I climb toward 90 MPH - what I affectionately call 'Wyoming Speed'. 

 

 

I sing along in my head, changing the lyrics;

 

I think I'll buy an SUV and take it out to WA.  

See the lonely boy out on the road,

trying to make it pay. 

 

I debated this move. I like driving cars that are paid for. I do not like to be beholden to anyone. I like cash flow in more than cash flow out. But there comes a time - a time to say it has been a good run and to look toward the future. In preparation for my long trip and bivouacking in my 50 acre woods, I decided that that time had come.

 

Good ol' 'Sandy Q' had given me 230,000 virtually trouble-free miles over the last fifteen years. The hole in her floor mat had worn clear through into the underlying carpet. A couple of her dash lights had burned out along the road. I believe she'd likely give me several more thousand score of miles, but I couldn't be sure. A big life change was upon me, I was going to take an open-ended trip to Washington to live a primitive existence on the harassed construction site where I was going to be building a new house. I valued reliability and 4WD on the muddy tracks of the Pacific Northwest, where I could not afford to have a broken-down vehicle in unfamiliar territory.

 

Sandy Q brought a few bucks for her silver, road-worn chassis. I got a high-riding, 4WD dark and admittedly 'bad-ass' highwayman persona in a 2015 Toyota 4Runner. I try to live a life of no regrets. 

Bahmp Bahmp Duhmp - 

I think it was a good choice,

to buy an SUV,

and take it out to WA. 

 

I log 2,174 miles from my Garland driveway to the gate on our acreage. The autumn open road was a pleasant experience as I scanned the horizon anticipating the unexpected around the next curve, mostly in a metaphorical way, as I play out the scenarios of my future in my head. I'm logging those miles riding a high horse, feeling secure in my choices and believing the coming changes will be for the good. 

 

I've noticed that women will often change their looks, get a new hair style change up their color choices during or after a life change like a divorce. Maybe not acting as deliberately as that, but I too, have passively allowed my looks to change; not cutting my hair or shaving since the end of August, 2021. I'm not sure their is a clear reason for my actions, but I do think it gives me the look of a wild man of the woods. Should any of them thar criminal varmints show up, I will appear as an Old Testament Prophet of Doom or a pistol slinging Yosemite Sam. Just best not to mess with a wild man in a metallic charcoal gray 4WD.  

In the mean time, I remind myself to Enjoy the Journey.

 

Prelude to A Big Change

I left my wife.

I'm living in a trailer down by the river.

Little Trailer in the Big Woods. My home away from home as I build a new home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm living in a trailer down the the river - Pilchuck Creek. 

A river runs through our woods and the salmon run through our creek.

 

+++++

Context is everything. 

A summary of the situation: We own 50 acres of woodlands and a portion of salmon habitat labeled on the map as Pilchuck Creek. It is rural Pacific Northwest beauty about 50 miles north of Seattle. We had a nice house that was built by Sue's parents at the toe of a cedar and alder wooded slope overlooking an old apple orchard.

Needing a source of income to meet mortgage and tax obligations for this property, we felt our best option over 20 years ago was to rent our 3 bedroom house with a full, day-light basement. In a world that Calvin tells us is populated with fallen humanity and total depravity, we hired a property manager and sought paying renters to enjoy the quiet beauty and forested shelter that we could provide at a reasonable rate. None of our tenants would have surprised Dr. John Calvin.

Our first tenants, mother and daughter, liked the place because we had a barn and they wanted to have a horse. They didn't want to pay for heating oil for the old furnace, so they chopped up our large legacy, solid maple workbench we'd left in the basement and burned it for firewood. They lacked money for not only paying the heating bill but the rent as well. They were asked to leave.  

Our second tenants were a family that believed that the contract they signed was superfluous to their personal desires, which were never discussed with us. He cut a hole in the concrete basement wall to install a wood-burning stove and rewired (not to code) the basement and built some shabby rooms. They moved on. Good riddance, leaving us to tear out his fire-hazard, shabby handy-work defiling our faith in him and our property.  

Long story for our third tenants, ending in a drawn out eviction ostensibly for non-payment of rent, but the reality is they had destroyed or broken everything inside the house in the process of turning the place into ATV party place, drug shooting gallery, hosting seekers of dark deeds, welcoming the criminal elements among their dissipated friends and punching out the windows in the basement to run a marijuana growing operation. The place was trashed. Dead, smashed and rusted autos scattered around the property, used needles strewn across the shadowed corners of our basement floor, it all became an unlivable/unrentable hovel. 

Once the wretched tenants were gone, we were on the way up to assess damage and begin repairs. Before I arrived on our place for repairs, several picture windows were smashed out of the recently vacated home. Those were boarded up as we gathered supplies to start major repairs. Vandals cut through the locked gate again and smashed all of the remaining windows and all of the interior light fixtures. We labored for eight days inside a completely boarded up house in October, 2016 to paint, patch, repair and restore.

My limited landlord time was up, I unplugged all appliances, locked the door and the gate behind me and returned to Texas with plans to return in a month to resurface the hardwood floors. Halloween Night, 2016 we got a phone message from our property manager; "Call me."

I asked Sue, "What do you think this is about?"

"Fire," she said with a grim certainty.

I returned the call. "Mark, I'm here at your place with the fire marshal. He has some questions for you..."

The house was a total loss. We had insurance, but not in the amount that covered the solid oak hardwood floors, the plaster and lath walls. We decided to rebuild with the settlement rather than take a lump sum casualty loss and pocket the money. After all, we felt we had insured a dream of our future, not a rental property.

My idea was to makes some changes to the original floor plan, move the kitchen from the north side of the house to to the south end to gather the Pacific Northwest southern sunlight, expand the footprint a little and build on top of the old basement walls - which were the only thing that remained after the unsolved arson.

I figured we'd have a new house ready by early autumn, 2017. I didn't figure the red (and green) tape hurdles that would be thrown up in front of us. The county would not permit a rebuild without 1) An environmental critical areas report ($$), 2) A geohazard mandated assessment for a rebuild of essentially the same structure - since we were within 100' of a slope of more than 20 feet in elevation, a "landslide hazard" ($$), 3) Must have a new water well, the old well was not in the county records [it's an old property, used since the early 1900's with a perfectly good well], but a new one had to be approved before building would be permitted (more $$), and 4) redesign a new drainfield - which was going to be needed.

Between architect, structural engineer, geohazard and environmental rigamarole with the planning and development commission, we were delayed years. In the mean time, the abandoned property was a haven for gate-cutting criminals. We unwillingly hosted keggers in the burned out basement, several car theft rings  used the out-of-sight environs to chop stolen cars, drug parties and 15 homeless campers squatting in our woods. Our address was a know location for total depravity to take root, a criminal nuisance. Several Biblical parables of Jesus come to mind.

We finally had all of the permits in place and were ready to start construction in February, 2020. Cement forms were in place to begin pouring the new foundation.

Ground Zero for a tiny little bug known as COVID-19, found its first domestic foothold in Washington State. The governor shut down all functions of government, including field work by county building inspectors needed to sign off on our concrete forms. Nothing happened for a year as Washington flipped through Phase I, II, III, I, II...

We lingered in government induced limbo. Allstate Insurance calls and says, "You causality arson claim has been out for too long. We're going to not pay the significant second part of your settlement if you don't finish building your house." I protested, it would have been finished last year, except the governor prevented anyone from completing the work we started. "Too bad, so sad - get it to sheetrock phase by March 31 or no payment." 

Working with our excellent General Contractor, Phil, we inched back toward putting all of pieces in place to rebuild in 2021. Phil worked from his end in Washington, I worked over the phone with him from Texas. I tell Phil, "I'll be on site to oversee the construction details once we celebrate the twice delayed wedding of our son in early September."

The wedding was a blessed success and a fun event gathering much of the family in The Woodlands, Texas. The nuptials were off on their honeymoon and I returned to Garland to pack for an extended stay on the job site in Washington. 

I load up and head North by Northwest knowing my wheels are spinning away from home and whispering, "This is the prelude to a big change." My heart hears these whispers as it sings softly, 'Enjoy the journey'; my head spins and I wonder if one is ever ready for the Big Change that I see coming.  

 +++++

Context is not everything. The reality is that I left my wife and I'm living in a trailer down by the river.

Looks like I'll be here for a long while.