We wanted to open up the water-view — the next step in developing Camp Many Moons on Huron Bay. That meant removing the 26-foot trailer from the waterfront. So we did. Now we have a wider water-view. Yay. But we didn’t count on the extra excitement. That story, and more, in photos and captions below.
Jeff brought his Iron Mule (also called a forwarder) to the hitch end of the trailer. That huge machine is made for hauling logs, not trailers, but he’s had a lot of practice on it by now.
We wore headsets (the same ones we used on The Great Loop) because I was his eyes on the opposite end as he navigated in a fairly tight space. We did hit one tree, a White Pine. Sad, but not surprising. I trimmed it up and Jeff taped its injured bark. It might recover.
The trailer makes its way up the drive to its new inland spot. That huge rear window – larger than most — is one reason I’ve enjoyed it for many months a year. (I’ve even stayed here in winter.) That window overlooked the water from just five feet away. I’ve seen so many sunrises and moonrises, and wildlife, from that window. In summer, I could hear the water lapping.
Once we got the trailer in place, on the south side of the house and maybe 60 feet inland, we had to get the (full) propane tank into place. For this, the back-hoe was the preferred machine.
The tank needed to be placed precisely in order for its hose to reach, so I took a turn at the controls while Jeff pushed the tank into place. It was my first time on a back-hoe and I took it (very) slowly while trying not to think of a potential “oops.” I’m told that propane tank explosions are rare but possible. I didn’t want to be the “rare exception!” But all went well.
So how did we get from that to these melted wires? I was on the waterfront, viewing the detritus left behind, when I noticed clouds of white smoke coming from the hitch end of the trailer. Where the propane tank sits! I started running and yelling “smoke!” Then I saw sparks, and small flames, so my yell turned to “fire!” Oddly, I also yelled “where are the fire extinguishers?” — then realized I forgot to buy any for the new house. (Already done, as of this writing.) I also forgot that the trailer was now parked right next to the well. So I hustled to open up the well pump while Jeff grabbed the hose, and we put the thing out fast. Whew. And, shoot. Well, nobody got hurt. I have insurance. (Already made a claim. Apparently, electrical fires are fairly common with older trailers.) But, I’m bummed. I actually love that trailer. I know, I know. Who loves a trailer? But it had great views, and still does. Not to mention its usefulness during family visit overflows.
Boo still treats the trailer like home even though it’s dark and damp now, without electricity or heat. She looked confused when we moved it, but found it quickly in its new location. (She’s not used to the house yet.) I walk over to let her in — and out — when I hear her meow.
Our first morning with an open view brought unusual dense fog. It seemed appropriate somehow, matching my mood. The trailer once blocked the right half of this photo and it’s weird to see it gone, as it’s been my home base during the entire building process. My intention is to build a small movable building in that space, matching the house in siding and trim, as a private get-away. (I need more privacy than most, and also more access to nature.) But I’m rethinking its location. It would be a shame to block the view!
Indoors, I found a coffee table that fits the space, made of both wood and stone, with beveled glass to see the the “rustic rug” underneath. I got it in the weirdest way, which could never be planned — but that’s another story. (The legs were too tall but Jeff cut them down to the perfect height. We may need to keep his various saws on the patio indefinitely!)
A view of the living area through the stair balusters, from the loft.
We’ll clean up the porch eventually, but it’s still a work zone. Today, Jeff was out there cutting shelves for the mudroom closet. (In the Midwest, the entryway is called a “mudroom.” Self-explanatory!) I stained them this evening and they’ll be up soon. Final detail work…
It’s been quite hot for mid-September (in the 80s) and I heat up easily while working. A Siberian Husky heats up easily too, so we both took a swim today. More than one, actually.
It’s still very warm as I write this well after sunset. Here’s the view from the front porch tonight as the moon rises over the water and reflects on the dock.
And here’s the new view from the end of the dock. I don’t miss seeing the white trailer behind that rowboat – but I do miss using it. Many of you must wonder why, given that beautiful new home sitting there. I guess some of us need adventure more than security, and experiences more than comfort. And I guess that’s why I call this a cabin rather than a house, even though some of you call me out about that! I want the experience of a cabin…rustic, and close to nature. Even though it is close, it somehow isn’t (yet) close enough. I suppose I’ll get used to it. And as I get older, will definitely appreciate it! Meanwhile, I can always sleep in my tent. 😄
For Many Moons 