I think it’s kind of fitting that I give you a little tour of the cabin at Echo today. It would’ve been Dad’s 98th birthday today and I can’t even think of Echo Lake without thinking of Dad.
Dad was Echo Lake. Echo Lake is Dad, or Jorgy as he was known to all who knew and loved him. And there were plenty of people who loved him. But I’m not going to write about him today. Even though he’s been gone nearly 11 years, it’s still too hard.
So I’ll give you a tour of the little cabin that he loved so much and where I was supposed to be spending a relaxing, peaceful, completely unplugged week. Until we got a phone call from my brother in the E.R. yesterday morning which prompted us to quickly head back down the hill to check on him.
They kept him overnight in the hospital, but they think he’ll be fine, thank goodness. So while I’m home for a day or two I can plug back into the internet and maybe get a couple of posts up.
Our cabin is on the road to Echo Lake, a glacier lake that sits on the summit above Lake Tahoe. The cabin was originally the ‘corral house’.
The horses and corrals have been gone for years, along with the bunkhouse, riding rings and pack station. But the little cabin/house remains.
It sits back from the road into the lake a couple hundred feet. Just enough to be secluded, but still able to watch the cars coming and going. Which is about the only activity going on, save for the birds, chipmunks and marmits.
Before we start out little tour, keep in mind that this is a cabin. Or as my mom always says, one step above camping. We do have a lot of creature comforts, but there’s a lot of work that needs to be done too – which is why I’m showing you all of these pics.
Consider each one a “before” photo. That’s what I do.
It makes me feel better.
When you open the door you step into the living room. Right.into.the.living room.
This little wood-burning stove nearly heats the entire cabin. Nearly.
Even in the summer, nights and mornings get pretty chilly at 7500 feet.
Off the tiny narrow living room is the tiny narrow galley kitchen.
With the two-tone kitchen cabinets that we started painting, oh, maybe 6 or 7 years ago and never finished.
Off the tiny kitchen is a tiny porch that Dad added on about 25 years ago. While it does house a 2nd fridge – that we don’t use – it also connects the bathroom to the kitchen.
And, yes, the bathroom is also sorely in need of a fresh coat of paint.
The bathroom connects to the downstairs bedroom.
I was going to wait until another post to show you some of the antiques in the cabin, but check out this trunk . . .
Just one item in a very long list of paint projects.
The last room downstairs is what we affectionately call the ‘dining room’ although there isn’t too much dining going on in there.
(I did clean this all out yesterday before my brother called. I just haven’t taken a pic yet.)
Since we don’t eat in here and since there’s no TV or internet, I always, always have a puzzle to work on.
If you’re willing, you can brave these stairs to go up to the loft.
It’s not really a loft but that’s what I call it. Affectionately, of course.
It’s actually the nicest space in the cabin except for the fact that you have to climb up and down those steep stairs. If you want to get to the bathroom. And when you’re over 50, these things need to be planned well in advance.
I’m just sayin’ . . .
So that’s the whole cabin – full of paint projects – the first of which is all the exterior window trim.
After years and years of winter shutters going up, coming down and going up again (no, they’re not hinged – that would be too simple), I decided that this is the year to fill all the holes and repaint all the trim.
Not very creative, I’ll admit, but it’ll spruce up the outside quite a bit.
And that would’ve made Dad happy – to see me working on the cabin. I don’t think he would’ve enjoyed the internet, but he would’ve been happy that I’m writing about Echo.
Maybe one of these days I’ll face my emotions and write a couple of posts about his incredible life.
But not today.