Our cabin is one of my favorite places in the world. When I'm there I feel safe and content. It doesn't have electricity or running water, and it's all one room which makes four humans and one dog feel kinda cramped sometimes, but there is no place like it in the world.
This post is mostly a love letter to the cabin, but it's also about how we get out there and have fun with two kids under three years old in tow. And while this post is about a cabin that we own, we follow a lot of the same thinking when we visit other remote public use cabins around Alaska.
It should come as no surprise that Alaska is full of wild places. We only have three highways and most of the state is inaccessible even by smaller roads. But we do have trails, and wide open swamps, and frozen rivers. So Alaskans use our boots and our skis, snowshoes and snow machines (snow mobiles as they're called in the lower 48), four-wheelers and side-by-sides, and sometimes more traditional dogsleds to get to some of these wild places. And then sometimes really handy, rugged people like my partner get the idea that they should buy a piece of that wild and build a cabin on it.
Derek built the cabin in 2006. He did the bulk of the work, including building the outhouse, over spring break, hauling lumber and tools out on a sled he pulled behind his snow machine. Over the next two years he and/or his friend Tadd, an amazing home builder throughout south central Alaska, would add insulation and a wood stove to the cabin, a detached sauna, a fully enclosed shed, an in-ground refrigerator inspired by Alaska Native systems, and two open (covered) wood sheds. The cabin sits on ten acres bordered at the back by Nine-Mile Creek with astonishing views of Mt. Denali and the Alaska Range and at the other end by Aurora Lake, a mile-long lake great for pike fishing in the summer and snow machining in the winter. We have neighbors on either side but completely out of sight, an older woman whom we never met before she passed, and a couple who have been Derek's friends for 15 years.
The cabin is intimate, cozy, 14 feet by 20 feet. When you walk in, you hang your coat on a hook on the wall to your right. Straight ahead is the ladder (recently converted to steep steps) to the loft, and on your left, a modest living room with a pull-out couch, wood stove, and chair with ottoman. At the back are a small kitchen on one side and a single bed on the other, perfect for a man and his dog at the end of a long day of splitting wood and having a couple of beers by the fire. Up in the loft we keep a few storage tubs full of extra paper towels, socks, sheets, etc, and a full-size blow-up mattress for guests, usually deflated (we have a generator out there). And while we slept up there before we had kids, when Derek imagined the cabin he built it for himself, hence the built-in single bed on the more easily accessible ground floor.
When Derek and I started dating, the cabin was our first weekend getaway. I came up a day after him and he met me at the parking lot. Together we slogged through puddles up to our knees on the two and a half mile 4-wheeler tracks. I know now that he took me "the back way" so that he could bring me up to the cabin via canoe. Usually we just walk up to the cabin door. But boy, seeing that beautiful home that my man built up there on that hill as he paddled us across the lake, well, let me just say it's a way to win a woman's heart.
Isaac was at the cabin at three months. We brought Autumn there a month sooner. Even some of our Alaska friends were surprised that we were taking such young ones to a remote place. And sometimes I do feel anxious thinking about what we would do if someone got really hurt or really sick while we were out there. But Isaac absolutely LOVES going to the cabin. He's even been out a couple of times alone with his dad. It is a truly special place.
To get out there with kids in the summer we put Isaac in our Thule child carrier backpack (here is the latest model) and Autumn in our Tula Explore carrier. We look for animal tracks in June and July and pick blueberries in August. We dress in rain pants and xtra tuffs, and almost always one of us slips and falls in the mud. When Isaac is three, our hope is that we'll put Autumn in the backpack and Isaac can walk all the way out. The issue isn't so much the distance as it is the puddles and the bugs. We get A LOT of rain in August and September and the 4-wheelers create terribly deep ruts that collect water and keep it there because the ground is so compacted by their heavy tires. We also get A LOT of mosquitoes in the summer months, and Isaac's small legs can only carry him to the cabin so quickly, especially when we're asking him not to run and turn an ankle or fall into a bunch of devil's club. So the slow pace means a lot more exposure to the mosquitoes. We can use head nets and bug spray and it will be fine, but there might be some piggy backing on the days that they're swarming.
There is a period of transition when the ground is too icy in the fall or the snow is too soft in the spring when we can't get out safely with our kids. But the rest of the winter the snow is great and I snowshoe out and Derek rides the snow machine. First I carried Isaac with me, then I was pregnant, and now I carry Autumn. Isaac has ridden with Derek the last two winters. Derek crafted a sling to keep Isaac close and connected just in case the snow machine slides away from them. We've tried putting Autumn and me in the sled to get towed to the cabin or back to the car, but the fumes and ice & snow kicking up in our faces is no fun. Unless it's a blizzard (which I've walked out in more than once), I'd rather walk.
Once we're out there, outdoor "play" is actually more of Isaac following Derek around as he does cabin chores. Isaac plays with sticks and rocks, talks Derek's ear off, and "helps" with the wood stacking or painting or whatever other project he is working on. Michaeleen Doucleff, a journalist and author of Hunt, Gather, Parent, recently gave an interview to The Atlantic about this very kind of parenting style, where rather than do all kid-centric activities, you adapt your regular activities and the kid plays alongside you or "helps", thus learning how to be a contributor to the family and, eventually, society. I love that Derek parents this way naturally.
Meanwhile I'm inside playing with Autumn or she and I come outside for a while to watch or help or just read. We brought a bumbo seat out there to keep first Isaac and now Autumn from getting into trouble (eating sticks, falling in the fire pit, etc). At some point we try to make sure she gets a nap. For this we have a pack and play (we actually have two) under the stairs. We use to try to have Isaac nap out there, too, but it's never worked for him.
At some point we try to go for a walk back to the creek or down to the lake. We have a canoe out there so in the summer we paddle - Isaac in the middle, then Cody behind me, then Autumn sitting up front between my legs. In the winter we snowshoe down the lake, pulling Isaac in a small sled and carrying Autumn in the carrier or backpack.
We've started talking more about animal awareness with Isaac (he's 2 1/2). Recently, an adolescent wolf or very big coyote came ambling up our driveway. This animal was beautiful and significantly bigger than our dog, Cody (who was none to pleased to have a wild visitor, let me tell you), and didn't seem too frightened when I went outside to shoo him away (and take a couple of pictures). Isaac was very interested in the creature. At some point he said, "The wolf will eat me mommy?" I had to really think about my answer, you know? "Yes," I said, "The wolf could eat you, but probably he wouldn't. Wild animals don't really like to be around people, but sometimes they feel scared or hungry." His eyes were wide. "But normally wild animals are in the mountains and the forests, far away from us. This one was just curious." Then I added, "And, Isaac, this is why we always want you to be able to see us when you play outside or even inside at the airport or the store. We want you to play and have fun, and you don't need to be right by us all the time, but you can get hurt sometimes. Mommy and daddy want to help you to have fun and to be safe."
I mean...how much of this does he understand? Probably very little. Should I have told my toddler that a wolf could eat him? I'm not sure. But we live in a place where bears and moose do occasionally come into contact with humans and very rarely it ends badly for a human.
So we teach Isaac about bears and coyotes and wolves and moose - not to scare him, but to make him aware. We revere these animals as we do the trees and rivers all around us. At the cabin, the animals are out there, but they are not our immediate concern. We have berries that he shouldn't eat (but really wants to), prickly bushes, big fires, axes, a significant hill down to a lake...basically plenty that is more immediately risky than running into a moose. And honestly, we're much more focused on keeping the kids dry in the summer and warm in the winter. We started keeping rain and snow gear out there, but since we hike or ride out, most of what the kids will need they wear on that first day so we're pretty set. We also try to keep diapers, wipes, lotions, and a few nonperishable food items like squeeze packs and box milk out there so that we have stuff no matter what. We learned our lesson when we came out to find the formula we'd left from last time had turned (Isaac refused to eat it, and then we noticed the expiration date...#parentsoftheyear, right?), and so we essentially ran out of food for him. Derek built an Alaska Native version of an in-ground refrigerator one year, so we keep the food and sodas (and some beers, of course) in there. Everything inside has to be thaw- (aka leak) proof and everything outside has to be bear-proof.
We started bringing Isaac into the sauna last year. We don't let it get above 100 and he absolutely loves it. It's a great way to give him a bath and he can play with water, pouring it on himself, on us, on the floor. This summer we'll be able to bring Autumn in as well, although for safety (we don't want either touching the stove), we'll probably have to go in with one child at a time. I'll be curious to see if we can manage it!
I think the hardest part is sleeping. For the last few months, Derek has been crashing in the single bed, Autumn curls up in one of the pack and plays, and Isaac and I take the pull-out couch. Even though he gets to "sleep with mommy", Isaac still does not want to sleep when he "should" (aka when he is tired between 8pm and 9pm). And his restlessness means it's harder to keep the one-room cabin quiet for Autumn who is willing to go to sleep at a reasonable hour. We've found the answer to this dilemma is that we all go to bed around 9 or 9:30pm (still trying to get Autumn down earlier). Sure, Derek and I would like some alone time, but sleep is way more important, if not for us, then for the kids.
This is one of those lessons that we've learned more slowly than you might think about how to stay healthy and happy when we sleep in places where we're all on top of each other - the kids stay up later and we go to bed earlier and that's okay. This is true for hotel rooms, cabins, and our camper. The better rested we are, the more fun we have the next day. We have more patience, more alertness, and more energy. We drink less beer and we get more cuddle time.
When it's time to leave the cabin, it's like a clown circus. We have to clean it and make sure everything is put away and nothing is left on or open and the fires inside and out are completely burned out. We have to bear proof a bunch of stuff, make sure tools are put away and shed doors are locked, make sure we have everything we came with, and check that the kids are dressed appropriately for however we are moving down the trail. THIS is why we have two pack and plays out there even though Isaac doesn't sleep in one anymore. For containment.
Once we get on the trail, Cody our border collie leads the way, herding us, keeping us together. Often the kids fall asleep which means that Derek and I finally get either some time to catch up, some time to be quiet in nature, or usually a little bit of both. Even though we're exhausted and itchy and maybe a little cold, we're content. The cabin is our happy place.
As we look ahead to our big transition out of Alaska (less than two years away now), I think one of the saddest parts is leaving the cabin behind. Derek poured blood, sweat, heart, and soul into that place. But now we are starting to imagine building a new home wherever we land (Maine?), something on property with a river or lake where we can continue to put the kids on the water, fish, snowshoe, have bonfires and spend lots of time outside. It's a good dream. It makes leaving the cabin behind a little bit less painful.
My one ask of Derek is that the new place has at least a couple of bedrooms. :)
Please use the comments to tell us your own stories about venturing out to remote cabins or maybe how you talk to your kids about wild animals, poisonous berries, and just generally about safety in wild places. And don't hesitate to shoot me an email if you have any questions or thoughts!
And one final note: Our beloved cabin is actually on the market, so if you or someone you know is interested in a beautiful piece of Alaska in Trapper Creek, we have a place you might like.
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