When I was a kid I had a series of “forts” that extended from my backyard through several neighbors properties and into a stringer of undeveloped forest a 1/4 mile from home. Usually centered around a partly fallen, or ivy-covered tree, these spaces were dirty, wet, bug-infested, and wonderful.
As an adult who spends a lot of his time in a technologically advanced, stormproof fort (or tent as they are more commonly known), I don’t think I’ve changed much. There is something comforting about these spaces, whether it is a tent, or a piece of plywood nailed to a fallen oak trunk.
My cabin here in Fairbanks too, is akin to these forts. It’s a cozy place, small, made of logs, and warm when the wood stove is blazing. It’s the kind of place I imagined living when I was a ten year old careening through the woods. I love my little cabin.
But, its small. Amy and I are comfortable there, but as we’ve expanded our lives, and I’ve expanded my home-based photography and guiding business, that smallness has started to feel cluttered, and maybe from time to time, cramped. The time came to do something about it.
Our property has three structures: the cabin in which we live, a small sauna that we’ve converted into a writing space for Amy and a good sized workshop built by the previous owners. The workshop is well-built, lightly insulated, and was equipped with a wood stove for occasional heat. The previous owner used the area to build dog sleds and kayaks. When we first moved here, I used the space a bit for building, but then it slowly became a storage space, where outdoor gear, books, and bicycles were stashed when we didn’t know where else to put them. It became a disaster area, where things were tossed. Occasionally we’d take a whack at cleaning it. I built a bed frame for the space, and it became a rarely used guest cabin when we could stuff the boxes and bags out of sight.
Last fall I decided I needed a dedicated office space. Someplace to get my computer and camera related paraphernalia out of the house. At first I considered a new building, but the expense vetoed that idea. No, it was the workshop that needed conversion. This summer, in early July, I added on a cold storage area to one side of the workshop, a place to dump the mountain of gear that needed to be removed.
That project was fun, and quick and rewarding as the mountain of gear, boxes and bags made its way into the neatly shelved space in the new shed.
Then just weeks ago, after my summer guiding season had wrapped up, I started work. The workshop needed more insulation if I was to keep it warm all winter, so I furred out the slanted ceiling and added a layer of fiberglass batts. Unsatisfied with the resulting R-32 insulation, I added two inches of rigid insulation across the walls and ceiling (It gets cold in Fairbanks, alright).
The messy work of drywall followed, then paint, then a day of reorganization. That was yesterday. Today, I am sitting at a desk, bookshelves loaded around me, camera gear secured safely out of sight, the dog asleep on her bed behind me, and I’m tip-tapping away on my computer.
It’s a space of my own, almost as good as an old toppled oak.