Happy Encampers

The very idea of an encampment charms me. To me, as a cabinologist, an encampment suggests an ensemble of modest buildings nestled in the woods or along a lakeshore. The best encampments, in my opinion, evolve through no careful strategic plan, but rather follow the incremental decisions of their pragmatic owners. Because there are separate structures, the space between them is more than mere “outside”—it’s happy space by which encampers connect with each other. How different life is in an encampment, with all the jolly back and forth, than in those castlelike, fourteen-room McCabins that increasingly blight our forests and lakes.

Nearly a decade ago, Bruce and Mary Bildsten abruptly ended their cabin quest when they discovered “Rabbit Hill,” an encampment on Balsam Lake in western Wisconsin. The property comprised a cabin, bunk-house, teahouse, boathouse, and garage and was perched on a saddle hugging the shore above a quiet bay. Since the first structure had been built in 1939, a series of three separate owners had provided loving stewardship, each making valuable improvements and additions.

After a few years of enjoying Rabbit Hill pretty much as they found it, the Bildstens decided they needed more space for entertaining family and friends. So, with the help of architect Lee Meyer, contractor John Chartrand, and carpenter Jim Shields, they added a family room, a bedroom, and a second bath to the original cabin building. They replaced rotting cedar logs with new log siding and stained the exteriors dark brown to match the original color. Inside, fir paneling salvaged from a cabin constructed by the same builder was blended with the original and classic light fixtures were replicated with handsome new ones.

In Minneapolis, where I live, the city council is crafting new zoning regulations to control the wave of teardowns and their ostentatious McMansion replacements. Visiting the Bildstens’ encampment, I can’t help but think that maybe the big city’s lake country counterparts should consider similar protections—and cast a vote for human scale and charm over sheer size and showiness. 

Dale Mulfinger is a partner in Sala Architects in the Twin Cities. He teaches architecture at the University of Minnesota.