The rooftop shakes were sourced locally on the island and were steamed to achieve the curves. This cottage is featured in our latest book, Small Homes.
There are 2 stretches of coast, each 3-4 miles long that are “inaccessible at high tide.” You are warned that you can die if get caught there. Well, uh, OK.
To begin with, it was harder going than I thought. My pack was really heavy. There was a rock slide upon entering the first part of the northern no-fly high tide zone that had to be clambered over. I hadn’t brought rain gear, either for me or the backpack, because the weather report had said no rain…well, 20% chance of rain the first day … and it started raining. Shit, if it poured I’d be screwed.
I found an opening in the rocks and prepared to duck under when the raindrops stopped. Yo!
Onward, or … upward. I had a moment climbing over the rock slide; I slipped, almost fell backward, and got a shot of adrenaline. I occurred to me if I fell and got hurt, I’d be screwed. No way to get word to the outside world. What had I got myself into? And yeah, grudgingly, being 80+ has taken its toll in strength and agility. In my mind I’m still 18, but that just ain’t the reality with an aging body. The kids that passed me that day seemed so strong and bouncy. God, I used to be like that.
I was a bit spooked, got to the end of the tidal zone and felt too tired to make it around the final point.
I found a ledge above the water, pitched my tent on the rocky ground, hoping I’d be above the high tide that night (I was), spent a restless night. Had to wait a few hours in the morning for the tide to drop so I could get around the point. 5½ hours hiking the 1st day.
After about 3 hours the 2nd day, I basically flat-lined. I was depressed, wiped out, thinking of all the things that could go wrong.
The wind was blowing, sun glaring, I felt almost dizzy, so stopped at Big Creek, a wide canyon with 15′-wide creek, pitched my tent, which took 45 minutes in howling wind, climbed inside and slept for an hour.
When I woke up, two women from Auburn, maybe in their 40s, had pitched their tents 100′ away and we visited. Renee told me she’d had 10 herniated discs, a back operation, and several pieces of titanium implanted and that it had taken her 10 years to recover, and one leg was shorter than the other. And here she was, on this incredibly tough hike. Shit, what kind of wimp was I? This was inspiration.
That night we sat around their campfire and her pal Pica pulled out a plastic lightweight ukulele and sang songs in a quiet sweet voice. Did I play the ukulele. Well, uh yeah-uh, songs from the ’20s, and I played “Five Foot Two,” “Ain’t She Sweet,” and “Jada.” Fun.
I got several hours of good sleep that night, woke up. I’m gonna make it! I lightened my load by burying a pair of running shoes, some extra food, and a spiral notebook in the sand and set off feeling lighter and inspired the next morning.
It’s Saturday morning, I’m at Trinks in Gualala, with a double latte and piece of berry pie with whipped cream for pre-breakfast, now going to get bacon and eggs. I can’t get enough food after the trip; listening to the Georgia Satellites sing “Keep Your Hands To Yourself”:
@Dreamweaverscollective crafted this “cedar cabin on wheels”, 42 sq. ft. interior, features a wood-burning Dickinson stove, kitchen cabinet with a stowed-away cook stove + dishes, and bed for two, among other amenities.
This beautiful tiny house on wheels was constructed on the back of an old Bedford truck. It’s off the grid, using solar power for energy and was built almost entirely from salvaged or reclaimed materials.
The tiny home’s interior is stunning and packed with timber, giving it a wonderfully warm and welcoming feeling. There’s a large lounge space with wood-burning stove and a decent-sized kitchen for this couple who love to cook…
…It seemed like a light roof was needed to compensate for the heaviness of the forest. Built the roof first; then the floor, and last the walls. To me roofs have become umbrellas that say anything can happen under them. When the roof is finished, you can stand it — feel the space, be in touch with the house — love it…
In the early 90s, Bruno and Wayne built a number of houses on a small flat island off the Pacific Coast. They had to go out every day from the mainland, anchor their boat, and somehow get on the island. Wood came via helicopter and on barges from the mainland. All of the wood came color-coated for assembly. “We flew enough wood in for two houses in less than three hours.”…
This tiny house has everything this young couple needs. It’s set up to be completely off the grid, running on renewable energies. The home has solar power, captures it’s own rain water, uses solar water heating and even generates it’s own gas via a bio gas digester.
The bio gas digester works to turn household food scraps and garden waste into useable gas, which the couple can use for cooking and could also be used for heating water for the home. Living off the grid in this remote location, it helps the couple to be even more self-reliant.
Inside, the home has absolutely everything the couple need. The design of the home is light and open plan, with kitchen, bathroom, lounge, office and storage stairs which lead into the loft…
In 1973 we published Shelter, which turned out to be station central for people interested in creating their own homes. Now, in the 21st century, we continue this dialog here online on shelter, carpentry, homesteading, gardening, and the home arts with this blog. We hope you will join us and contribute.
