Week One: The Little House on the Hilltop Project

HIGHLIGHTS: Our first project fan. Pole building construction book. “Scott, do we have any kind of budget for this?!” The O’Neill Hay Barn (Mr. Gehry, we need you!).

COUNTDOWN: 42 WEEKS* (*Not knowing how long it’ll take for this project, I’m going to use the countdown to our inaugural wine release—around November 1—as something to shoot for, particularly since we can only fit 6 people in our camper comfortably – that’s not a very big party).

With Week One of The Little House On the Hilltop (TLHOTH) Project now behind us, let me share what’s happened.

First Proclaimed Fan Turns Up the Heat. This was the most exciting of the week. Someone out there is listening and let us know! He was also kind enough to share some ideas and links—you can see them in his comments—and for all this I say, “Thank you, thank you!” So now the heat is ON! Something I haven’t felt since the time I organized a team for a 24-hour mountain bike race at the Gorge Games when I had simply mentioned the idea of organizing one at the sports company I worked for (the one with the stripes). And then, when someone came to me wanting to join my only-imagined team, what could I do? “Ride!” was my answer. And ride I did, on some gnarly wilderness single-track, eating the dust of Team Fisher with Gary and his pros, among the other super-fit riders who so effortlessly cranked past.

Thankfully no puma ever pounced on me as I imagined would happen while huffing alone through the darkness, but what I’m even more thankful about was how word got out that got me off my arse and out there doing it. Because otherwise I would’ve just sat and thought about it. See, I’m a real arsedragger to the core, something I need to work on. I don’t know why I need external influences to get me moving, but at times I still do. I’m no Scott, that’s for sure, who decides he’s going to find ground and put in a vineyard and then lickety-split, he’s got it all going on, with vines growing and harvests taking place, never once missing a beat. So again, I say, THANK YOU self-professed follower. You are that kick in the behind I needed.

Le Pole Building Construction Book Est Arrivé. At last. Kept on my “Save For Later” list on Amazon for AGES (a year, easily) while I waited for that kick in the behind, Low-Cost Pole Building Construction: The Complete How-To Book by Ralph Wolfe  is now proudly in my possession. The simplicity and matter-of-factness of this thorough how-to book greatly encourages me, someone who has absolutely NO experience building, that we can do this, if this is the option we go with for TLHOTH. Not only is it the least expensive building method (well, other than a yurt, but with the wind on our hill it perhaps is not a good choice), it is the basis of a construction form still in use that dates back to the Stone Age; obviously it works.

Supporting both the roof and floor, a system of poles anchored in the ground provide the structural integrity of the building. And since the walls are not load bearing, and no foundation or excavation is required, the building process is further reduced, saving time and money. From modern-day beach houses to the old Iroquois long houses from my neck of the woods in upstate New York, and with many more world cultures in between, pole structures provide a simple, easy, and highly functional form of building. Their relevance in the USA picked up in the 1930s when telephone/electrical poles and sheet metal became widely available, and their mark on the American rural landscape cannot be denied. Now that I’ve seen drawings and plans of buildings up close in this book, my mind is racing with possibilities. C’mon, TLHOTH!

The Budget Talk. It had to happen sometime. Especially since I threw the TLHOTH idea out to the world before even consulting with the project’s bookkeeper, Scott—and now that we have our one professed fan, reality has come into play: do we even have the budget to do this? I mean, we’ve been living in this little 900 square-foot house, funding our vineyard and land and our winemaking ourselves, which leaves very little left past the bare-bones day-to-day that typifies our life these past four years. That book and utility and closet shelving that I always figured would make my life more bearable here? Never happened. Scrooging down salad dressing with vinegar to get more out of it? The norm (Although Scott says he likes the taste with more vinegar, I see it as making it last longer). Sale shopping? Always. Living has been comfortably ok, don’t get me wrong, and there have been some “splurging moments” like buying boneless spare ribs instead of bone-in (woohoo!) or my quick trip down to Switzerland from Ireland a couple years back when we had returned for Scott who was there on business; but there are usually tradeoffs: on that Ireland trip I was sneaking into the hotel through the backdoor to save us money, felt like some backstairs hooker. So there you go.

Anyway, the answer I got from Scott regarding our budget was what I figured: we don’t have much. But it’s something. And since I never expected this little humble structure to be more than a cozy spot for a group larger than the six we can shove in the camper, maybe we can pull it off. I’m still working on ideas to minimize costs, no matter what structure we go with (rammed earth, pole, haybale, underground). I’ll add the yurt idea to the mix—stakes are cheap, right?

The O’Neill Hay Barn Idea Gets Raised Again. Some years ago we ran across a photo of Frank Gehry’s O’Neill Hay Barn in a book in Powell’s book store. We were researching Western USA architecture to get a feel for more place-oriented structures, and I think the book we were looking in was Corrugated Iron: Building on the Frontier by Simon Holloway.

Well, weren’t we mesmerized. (I wish I could locate an image to link to; all we could find years ago online was a grainy one that I can no longer find because it feels like almost all  Gehry references point to Sketches of Frank Gehry, a wonderful film by the dear and departed Sydney Pollack). Such a simple structure, obvious in the landscape yet at the same time a working element of it. We both felt its style and grace AND apparent practicality. We talked about it for some time after, how this little structure paid quiet homage to the land around it; to us the duality of its jauntiness and gentleness felt dynamic, plus it just looked cool. A Western barn. It was truly individual, as a Gehry would be, and quite different in style from the work he does today, but of course; this little barn was built in 1968, one of the first few buildings listed on his resume.

Last night the barn came up again. And Scott put out an idea that he thought would be crazy: “What if we could get Frank Gehry involved, to create in the same vein the O’Neill Hay Barn for our hill top?” I immediately thought, “Why the hell not? Doesn’t hurt to try.” Right? If there’s one thing I’ve learned, even during all my kicking and screaming, from this venture, is that if you reach for the moon and miss, there are still the stars. And maybe Mr. Gehry would have no interest in returning to the more humble barn, or give one rat’s arse about us. (And if he were interested, how the hell would we pay the man?) But we’ll never know unless we try. Any of you out there know Frank Gehry?