10 October 2019

A Cabin on a Lake

In an attempt to add more property maintenance to our lives, our new hobby is searching for a little camp house on a not-too-big lake.  And it has turned into quite the search.

We have a fairly short list of criteria and prior to riding by, we peruse the photos online. Here is where we often discover some remarkable decorating ideas.  One of my favorites is this one.


Puffy vinyl sofa, matching armchairs equipped with console and cup holders.  Stuffed deer heads, obligatory big screen, adorable mini rockers, all enhanced by a shop light.  Incredible.

When we find suitable decor, we ride by.  The location appeared online to be a decent place on a beautiful little lake, but so far we drive away saying "well, once again, screwed up a perfectly good lake".

But we have learned a lot.  A whole lot about lake living and, for the most part, it's not what you think.  

Or maybe it is exactly what you think. Our price range has offered some interesting opportunities.  If you've got a half million, which we do not, you're good to go.  Otherwise it's a fishing camp fixer-upper that may have plumbing and may not.

The mobile/manufactured/trailer house is the only way to go.  I've never been a fan of these, but I do appreciate their versatility.  You're not stuck selling your dream home like we've always had to do. Just hitch it up and move on.  Or that's how it should be.

Did you know that in the U.S., travel trailers/campers go back to the beginning of auto travel. But the modern mobile home was marketed in the 1950's as inexpensive housing (not just camping) primarily for their mobility.  However, in the '60's and '70's they became longer and wider making it difficult to move around easily.  They were meant to be permanently set up and left.  Perfect for lake living.  With no pesky HOA.  A free for all if you will.  

I once made a faux pas (not just that once) to a couple from Canada - "Jim and I lived in some pretty unique places, but we never had to live in a trailer".  To which the guy said, "Barb grew up in a trailer - in the tundra - without heat - slept in her coat."  There you have it.  Foot - mouth.  

Or the time we were dining with a couple of Jim's colleagues and I mentioned "our kids were teens, but it seemed most adults our age were getting an Asian baby to fill the gap".  Which was absolutely true. To which the guy said "we just adopted Japanese twins" followed by a history on how difficult it is to get a baby (much less two) from Japan.  Proof.

If you've never traversed east Texas, you probably shouldn't start now.  I'm pretty sure any one of the areas we've driven around in could (and should) compete for a "Deliverance" remake.  Years ago we thought Holiday Harbor in Jefferson was an anomaly.  In fact, there are Holiday Harbors every half hour from here to any other state.  And that name alone is delightfully eerie.

What's in a name?  We decided if and when we ever found the perfect cabin, we'd definitely give it a name. We found one lake where the owner isn't allowed to stay more than 14 consecutive nights.  I can only assume it's to keep the drug trade strictly a hobby.  No full time dealers here.  Jim suggested we could name our camp "The Schengenla".  You must have been a foreigner living in Europe to appreciate that.  I definitely got a good laugh.

While I'm no city girl, I'm in awe of lake life.  The innovation that erupts out of "necessity, mother, invention..." would impress anyone.  Like sheet metal roofing used as fencing to obscure your meth lab.  Genius.  Countless immobile autos in your yard so you're never more than a few feet away from a spare radiator or side mirror.  

And the reason these folks can be so innovative is because they've never thrown anything out.  When you've got that much crap to pull from, it's staggering what you can accomplish.  With all this gear filling up a half acre outside, imagine the bounty inside that double wide.

So the search has been fun and frustrating, educational and entertaining and I hope to update this post when we find that classic camp, on a slab, we know is out there.  Somewhere.  Maybe.

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