Post #3295: A decade of cabin-building

For the first time since September 2021, Brian and I spent the past few days at our cabin outside of Princeton. Since the last time we were here, our cabin co-owners have done a bunch of work including hanging kitchen cabinets, some interior painting, and laying flooring on both the main and loft levels. The interior bathroom is now finished and the hot-water-on-demand is working as it should so we can have hot showers for the first time! From a piece of bare land with a collapsed cabin bought in 2013, it feels miraculous that I should be here now, sitting on my deck, having just enjoyed the convenience of a kitchen with countertops and the comfort of a flush toilet.

We realized yesterday that it’s been exactly ten years since we first came to look at this piece of land with our friend Leung – skipping a Monday of work to drive up and back from Vancouver to scope out the cheapest piece of usable land we’d found within four hours of the city. It was a tax sale with a history it turned out, and because it was so inexpensive and far out of town, the realty company had not bothered to drive out to put a sign on it. This made it difficult to locate from the landquest.com descriptions, but it also meant no one in the area knew it was for sale. By the time the week was out, we had an accepted offer for $34k, and another friend had come on board for the land purchase.

We have been building a cabin here ever since, starting that summer by hand-clearing a bunch of land and building an outhouse (which doubled as a lockable shed) as our base of operations. We hired builders and other professionals for the main work, but much of the finishing has been done via work parties, including a rustic outdoor kitchen, deck railings, indoor railings, kitchen finishing and more. We are pretty close to final inspection now, though given our pace I expect that won’t happen until next summer. Flooring on the stairs and trim are the final hurdles, and we all know how long trim can take to get around to.

Those of us who initially came together on this project did so because we wanted a place outside of the city to get away to – a hunting cabin, a place to escape the garbage-scented summers of city life, a stretching-out spot in the world. Partnering was the only way any of us could afford such an enterprise, and we have built at the pace we had money to do so (one of the reasons it has taken so long). Not only have land partners been the right choice in terms of finances, but we have each shouldered different parts of the work over the time we have owned together. In the early years Brian and I did a ton of the upfront work to get the cabin permitted – built, insulated, and drywalled. We also arranged the well drilling and the initial septic consultation. Our longest-term cabin partner Leung has carried out all of the finishing work on his own or with friends, and is the only one of us who uses a chainsaw (an essential skill in an eternally-dying pine forest). Our most recent cabin-partner Lisa (who bought out our initial co-owner Dave 7 years ago) has a partner with professional painting skills – and a mom who makes gorgeous quilts – adding more elements to our cabin mix.

When Brian and I moved to Gabriola, there was a bit of a question about whether or not we would keep our share in the cabin. But as we had only owned the land for three years and didn’t want to let our partners down, we figured we would at least finish the building before making a decision. Over those intervening seven years, I have questioned why we were holding onto the cabin project many times – especially when we faced challenges around well-drilling and septic installation – but ultimately Leung would talk me through my misgivings and we would stay in for another year.

It’s often been pointed out that owning two rural properties (our home and the cabin) doesn’t make much sense as we no longer pine to get away from where we live, plus have a two-ferry hurdle to get here. But there are many different kinds of “rural” in the world, and there is a big difference between Gabriola (rural-residential with direct float-plane access to Vancouver) and Bankier, BC (hundreds of kilometres from any city). It isn’t the end of the road up here, but feels pretty close. Besides that, the cabin isn’t “home” with all its attendant pressures, nor have we developed any kind of a social life up here – which means our time here is unstructured and free.We sleep in, read books, drink tea and go for walks. When the weather is warm there is swimming. Sometimes a pancake breakfast at the firehall. It’s pretty relaxed in other words.

Now that the cabin is near-finished, it’s much easier to spend time in. It will be even more so when we get some proper furniture which we’ve been holding off on all these years. At present, the only “comfy seat” is a beaten up loveseat that has a broken leg. I plan to bring a desk and chair up this fall, since I’d like to start working from here periodically, and our cabin partners have started scoping out a better couch (preferably one that can double as a bed). We will likely put a second bed in the loft, and get a better dining table than the patio furniture we are currently using – but given that we only have a 600 feet square down, 200 in the loft, we don’t have a ton of space to furnish.

We have stayed away so long due to floods, fires, and ferries – but these last few days have been a reminder of how much I love this place and surrounding environment (the ranch land drive in is the most beautiful thing I know in this world). I’m reminded that it’s worth the effort to get here, and also the effort it’s taken over ten years to get to this place on the deck where I write from now.