![]() She then disappeared inside Cottage 15, which sleeps six. “Probably 1,” she answered, referring to a 1929 log cabin with an all-white interior. I passed a housekeeper and asked her which cabin was her favourite. To give my folks extra space in the morning, I would stroll the grounds, studying the other cottages with the opportunistic eye of a real estate broker. ![]() Once in bed, we talked in the dark, our voices growing fuzzier as we succumbed to sleep. We cooked and ate in the diminutive kitchen, which required us to move like dancers on a small stage. My parents and I also pledged our allegiance to simpler times. ![]() “We try to stay true to what was here before,” he said. He then funkified the kitchen flooring with a checkerboard pattern. He also peeled back the homely linoleum to discover oak boards. Shumaker preserves the vintage spirit by combing estate sales for antiques as well as repurposing old farm desks into bathroom sinks and barn wood into kitchen counters. Roughing it is having to cross the room to throw another log on the fire. The two-person log cabin is made of timber culled from the site and includes a hand-built stone fireplace and an iron bed frame adorned with leaf tendrils. “This is a step up from glamping,” he said.Ĭabin 13, for example, is one of the original structures. Modern features - bathrooms, kitchens, insulated windows, upgraded heating, WiFi, gumdrop-coloured paint jobs - were also added, uptowning the spartan shelters. The other original structures suffered fires, insect infestations or other irreparable damage and were rebuilt in a traditional stick style. “It’s old-school awesome.”įour log cabins dating to the first year are still standing two are for rent. “The cottages are a kick back in time,” he said. The Log Cabin Motor Court beat the Pines Camp by two days.) Andrea Sachs/The Washington Post (A subplot: The founding family, the Pruitts, competed with the neighbours, the Fosters, to see who could open their cabin court first. The motor court provided them with a safer and more comfortable alternative: one-room log cabins with a bed and a community bathroom - all for a buck. Before, the commuters would sleep in their cars, on the side of the rutted dirt road. The Pines opened in 1929, he told me, to accommodate farmers driving from Tennessee to Asheville to sell their wares at market. After the indoor heat wave returned, I asked him about the property’s history. Allen Shumaker, the fourth owner in 85 years, came to the rescue after the pilot light in the gas furnace flickered out. Newcomers might even strike up a conversation with old-timers, including couples celebrating their anniversary in the same place where they honeymooned a half-century ago. Guests fraternize while walking their dogs (or pot-bellied pig) or sitting around the fire pit. I told my parents they were welcome to visit me anytime, but to please call first.ĭuring our three-night stay, we saw few neighbours (too nippy to grill outdoors or people-watch on the porch), though a staff member said a sense of community often takes shape. ![]() Seizing lessons learned from HGTV, I pushed the mattress against the front door and positioned the chair to create a room divider. ![]() Article content Andrea Sachs/The Washington Post This advertisement has not loaded yet, but your article continues below. (The property, sandwiched between two busy roads, is more domesticated than wild.) Goldilocks had it easy. I considered dragging the air mattress into the kitchen but worried about banging my head against the green Formica table if I heard noises in the night. I followed the short hallway to the wee kitchen with a stove, tall cabinets and a full-size fridge that nearly squeezed out the other appliances. I set out on a scouting mission for other arrangements. One wrong turn to the bathroom, and I could end up with a footplant in my face. Inches from my parents’ bed was the child’s lair, an inflated air mattress. A king-size bed large enough to fit Henry VIII and half his wives dominated the room. The main living space was filled with a hodgepodge of furnishings, including low antique-y tables, a dresser/TV stand, a spider-legged stool and a deep-seated chair the colour of margarine. “We can get creative,” my mom chirped optimistically. ![]()
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