THE CABIN THAT NEVER GOT BUILT

 

From the time I was 7 years old my family spent vacations camping at Lake Tahoe on the west shore– either at Meeks Bay Resort, or D.L. Bliss State Park.  Unfortunately, as the years went by, signs like the one above were all too frequently seen.  That’s my Dad standing there hoping somebody will check out so we can grab their space.

In the summer of 1963 a new subdivision of lots opened for sale in the Rubicon area between Meeks and Bliss.  Mom & Dad took a look, found a perfect lot with a tiny peek through the trees at the lake, and decided to buy it, went home, and began drawing up floorplans.

That November they went back up to the lake.  There was a light layer of snow on the ground, but didn’t deter them from cutting down a few smaller trees that needed to be cleared from where the cabin was going to sit on the lot, so that year many of us had  beautiful Christmas trees from the lot including me who had just moved into my own apartment.

My 1963 Christmas tree in my apt.  Of course I had to go out and buy all kinds of ornaments to go on it.  And I added a fake cardboard fireplace to dress up the place even more.  There was a revolving light behind the fake flames to make things look ‘real’, sort of. J

In the summer of 1964, then, with special permission, we set up camp in Meeks Bay as a main base and began working to put in a foundation for the cabin to be built which included removing more trees, measuring, digging trenches, building forms and putting them in the trenches, having the cement poured, and setting redwood sills in place.  Whew.

Dad was still working full-time during the week, so could only get up to the lake on the weekends to work on the foundation.  My brother, however, worked on the weekends but was free during the week so they would leave each other notes on what had been done, and what needed to be done.

I also worked during the week but often went up to the lake on Friday evenings with Dad to help out as much as I could.  Mom and my youngest sister pretty much camped for the full 2 months and helped doing what they could.  I’ll bet they never envisioned themselves camping for 2 months!  Middle Sis was there when she could be and helped however she could.  We were a ragtaggle group, but we worked hard!

We worked most of that summer putting in the foundation.  Here, my Mom is digging a trench.

Not sure what my Dad and brother are doing here?  Luckily, Bro’ got some weekends off so he and Dad could work together once in a while.

Here, he and Dad were getting ready to cut a large tree down and use the car to guide where it fell to mark the edge of what would be the cabin driveway.  It worked perfectly! J

I’m not sure what Dad was doing here?

I’m measuring and marking forms.

Mom takes a break to dream of what it’s all going to look like.

My Grandma Louise, me, and youngest Sis clearing a temporary driveway so the cement truck could reach the top level to pour.  And oh, what a day that was – the cement pouring of the foundation.

The first cement truck arrived and the driver, seeing only my Dad and brother, asked Dad where the rest of his crew was just as my Mom, Grandma Louise, youngest Sis, and yours truly drove up.  "Here they are." Dad said.  "Er . . . this is your crew?" the driver asked unbelievingly.  Dad laughed but said "They work hard."  And so the day of the cement pouring began.

  The whole neighborhood showed up to either watch or help.  You can’t just let the cement trucks do all the work.  When the cement is poured you have to take long sticks and chug the cement up & down, up & down so air bubbles don’t form.  My arms ached for days afterward!

Finally, when all the cement was poured and chugged to death and beginning to just barely harden, the redwood sills had to be laid in place making sure they were exactly level.  It was getting late and we were so tired.  There was one little space – the last one needing a redwood sill.  The cement by then was beginning to be almost too hard for that, but Dad slapped that small sill in place, stood and jumped up and down on it to get its rebar set in the cement, then put his level on it and the bubble popped exactly into the center.  We just laughed and laughed and laughed, crazy with relief that we were done and it turned out okay!

Somewhere in the foundation, however, were a broken-off piece of the long stick my sister was using to chug the cement, plus we couldn’t find a work glove, nor my Dad’s best hammer . . .

The next day, then, it was time to pack up and head for home.  What a summer!

We packed – that’s me on the right in the red top . . .

. . . and packed . . .

. . . and finally we were done.  Round the picnic table are my brother, me, & youngest sister.  We left the fancy canopy skeleton for the next campers.

Sadly, though the foundation was successfully in place, the cabin never got built.  Mom and Dad ran out of funds to go ahead with the building.  Mom’s brother’s wife’s sister and her husband were interested in buying the lot and using the blueprints Mom and Dad had designed, however, so we all thought that was a great idea, but before they could start building, the State put a moratorium on any new building in the area and having a foundation on the property didn’t count as building already begun.  If only Dad had known all the foundation needed to be considered building already begun was one supporting post anchored to it.  But he didn’t know.   At least the state, in buying the property from the new owners, offered a fair price.  It’s just too bad the cabin never got built.  It would have been a dream come true for Mom & Dad, but que sera sera.

Eventually, Dad & Mom bought themselves a nice camp trailer.

The rest of us had to continue tenting-it.

Dad passed away in December of 1985 and the immediate family, plus aunts and uncles and cousins and friends gathered on the lot the following summer to plant a memorial tree for Dad next to the old foundation.

L-R around the little memorial pine: my youngest sister, me, my brother, middle sis, and Mom.

It was a cute little pine.  We planted it, ringed it with a rock border, and set a wooden memorial plaque in place, then sat around telling loving and funny stories about Dad.  After that we had a big camp potluck and sat around a campfire singing.  Dad would have loved it. 

Two years later a tree, from the lot above ours, fell - ironically falling across the foundation and directly over the little pine, breaking it to pieces.  Mom was heartbroken until I said “But Mom, remember how, when things went wrong, Dad would slap his hand to his forehead?  Can’t you just imagine him doing that when that tree fell squashing his little memorial pine?”

She laughed and we decided to look around for another little pine, naturally growing there, to be his memorial tree and what we found was even better.  We found two small pines intertwined and growing together and declared those to be the memorial.  I took pictures and marked where they were in relation to the foundation.  Unfortunately, a few years later the foundation was removed and I couldn’t find the little double tree after that.

Maybe the dream of building a cabin didn’t come true, but we have the memory of that summer putting in the foundation – the hard work, the laughter and fun, and beaucoup pictures of all of us working together and that’s a lot!  What’s more, each of us has a small chunk of the foundation to remember it by. J  Mine has always sat in either a front or back garden wherever we've lived.

Today my chunk of the foundation sits on the sliding glass doorstep to the patio where I live in Sonora.  I should probably have a small identifying plaque attached to it.

Love you, Dad! Y

:->

La Nightingail