Cabin Journal: Cabin Unchic

I saw an email from Expedia with the headline, “Discover cabin escapes that feel worlds away.” Because I love anything to do with cabins, I checked out the listings. But these weren’t cabins that I was familiar with around Meeker Park—small and tucked into the woods, often 50-100 years old. Expedia’s cabins were contemporary, often next to ski slopes, with tall floor-to-ceiling windows, four or five bedrooms, a hot tub, bathrooms with “rain showers” and claw-foot jacuzzi tubs, and “hand-thrown glazed tiles on the main bedroom's fireplace.”

The only thing that made them cabins, as far as I could tell, was their location: in the mountains or woods. So what makes a cabin? “Wood elements, rustic decor, furry accents and plaid fabrics are all associated with cabin-chic style,” gushed one HGTV commentator.

I guess my knotty-pine walls qualify as a “wood element,” and I have a Scottish plaid blanket thrown over one of my chairs. I’m not sure about the rustic décor, unless that would include the old Rocky Mountain National Park pennants on the walls. And, sad to say, I have no furry accents, unless you include the deer mice that are regular visitors to my cabin and “accent” the cabin with their funny antics, like climbing up the curtains.

The descriptions of “cabin chic” that you find on websites like Instagram also stress cozy—something the world seems to crave in this time of uncertainty—but a 5,000-square-foot cabin doesn’t meet my requirements for feeling snug and secure.

In fact, small should be one requirement for a cabin, because each room should have an outside wall, the better to feel close to nature. You need to be able to hear the wind through the pines, feel the house creak when a big gust arrives, hear the animals underneath the floor and the pine cones hit the roof. Feeling the cold come through the cracks in the walls is a bonus. In a real cabin, you’re separated from nature only by thin walls and windows.

Built in 1939, my cabin is around 650 square feet, including the attic. The walls and ceilings are the original knotty pine, and the single-paned windows let in cold air, as well as warm sunlight. On heavy snow or rain days, water drips through the ceiling, a lingering result of an unfixable leak that developed after the 2013 floods.

The furniture is circa 1940s, including the aluminum chairs (left) on the front porch and, inside, a chipped wood table and a flowered print couch and chair. Wanting to replace the furniture, I once checked out the cabin furnishings store in Estes Park, but the overstuffed leather couches were so large they would have taken up my entire living room. I’m afraid my cabin would not be considered chic by today’s standards, especially according to this Expedia description:

“This stylish, masculine living room represents the classic, cabin-chic look. Featuring neutral gingham fabrics, rich leather details and wood-beamed ceilings, the space manages to look both comfy and super sophisticated. The large, wood-burning fireplace serves as the centerpiece of the space, tying it all together.”

At least I have a wood-burning but I enjoy its warmth and light on cold winter nights. I also lack the gingham fabrics and leather details. However, my cabin has something the large, modern ones don’t: simplicity. Because I have no plumbing, I don’t worry about pipes freezing. I have no dishwasher, so I wash dishes by hand. I’ll never need a plumber nor someone to maintain my (nonexistent) hot tub or jacuzzi. This all leaves more time for enjoying the simple life: reading, watching wildlife, smelling the pine trees.

One website I found about Alaskan cabins said a real cabin should have either an outhouse or compost toilet. I have both. I would add another requirement: that you have mice, because that means the cabin is porous, open to the world. It’s part of nature, not set apart from the surrounding forest. In fact, the forest is part of my cabin, because the foundation is tree stumps.

You can’t get much closer to nature than that. Except when the mice crawl into bed with me.