It's located in the northwestern part of the lower peninsula of Michigan on a 12 acre piece of land that a stream runs through. There's no electricity available, which is why I picked that piece of land. I didn't want the rich people to build around me. It's got an outhouse and a pitcher pump out in front.
When I got out of the Army in '70 one of my dreams was to move to British Columbia or Alaska and homestead some land. I think the movie "Jeremiah Johnson" had a lot to do with that. I've probably watched it 20 times. Unfortunately I was too indoctrinated by 20th century life to actually make the move so this was an attempt to at least capture some of the blood, sweat, and tears of what life was like before the world became so influenced by money and material things. It's undoubtedly the most meaningful accomplishment I've had in my life.
Now I'm going to bare my soul a little. I was in a real bad motorcycle accident in May of '79 and broke my left arm in 33 places with lots of nerve damage, broke my hip, pelvis, left wrist, and a bone in my ankle. The doctor that bolted me back together hated motorcycles and didn't have any respect for those of us that ride them. Not for one minute did he show any compassion for my pain. In fact he was real disrespectful whenever we talked and he told me that my arm was in such bad shape that he almost amputated it during surgery, and probably should have because it would never be of any use to me in the future. Well, I've got quite a rebellious nature and that statement, along with my fantasy of being a self-sufficient homesteader, made me decide to build the cabin. Looking back on it I often wonder if maybe what I thought was a disrespectful doctor wasn't really a smart man that knew what it took to motivate a person like me. Whether it was intentional on his part or not, I was out to prove that I could still kick butt in spite of what had happened. The first trees I cut down with while I still had steel pins sticking out of my elbow. That determination (probably obsession) to prove something to myuself is what kept me going thru the three years it took to finish the cabin.
Please don't take this as bragging. I didn't do it to prove anything to anyone else. I had to prove to myself that I wasn't down for the count. I'm writing this now to show what a person can do when faced with obstacles. I've seen too many people fall into a self-pity existence when something happens to them. It's like whatever the problem is in their life, it becomes their excuse to take easy, sometimes self destructive, dead-end paths. It just doesn't have to be that way. There's always more than one way to look at what life dishes out to you and deal with it.
For me, the cabin is much more than a place to go to get away and relax for a little while. It's a reminder to me of what can happen when I choose to take the paths in life that lead somewhere, even if they aren't the easiest paths.
Yes, we do a lot of burpin', fartin' and spittin' there.
