Ken Dollinger: A cabin in the woods opens windows on life
Linda and I started out on a simple search for a small, private spot in Eastern Oregon that we could use as a hunting camp. We ended up buying a dilapidated one-room log cabin on 40 acres of pine and aspen on a small creek.
The location certainly met the definition of “private.”
It lay nine miles off the highway in the southern Black Hills of Klamath County, tucked into the Fremont-Winema National Forest. At a nearly 5,000-foot elevation, winter snow made forest service roads impassable.
The cabin was in very poor condition. It had basically become a home for wildlife.
There was no electricity, drinking water or phone service. And the creek was essentially a mud puddle for free-range cattle.
The timber was crowded. It was filled with deadfall, tall brush and debris from a logging operation conducted decades earlier.
The location lay nearly 300 miles from our McMinnville home, and was so isolated that days could pass without sight or sound of another human being. The nearest towns were an hour or more away.
Then there were the stark facts that we were then in our 50s and knew absolutely nothing about what do with the place. We should have run away screaming.
Instead of being daunted, though, we were entranced. In love, fully insane.
With the enthusiastic help of First Federal, we paid $26,000 and christened the new purchase The South 40.
For the next six years — winter snow permitting — we made the 600-mile round trip a dozen times a year on weekends, holidays and vacations.
Family and friends helped us clear the area around the cabin and rebuild the old structure with new flooring, windows and roofing, a new porch, and new caulking inside and out. We ended up with a primitive but comfortable place for indoor camping.
Heating was by wood stove. Cooking was by propane burner or campfire.
A queen mattress rested on a log frame. Pegs held clothing. RV lights operated off a 12-volt battery.
We had to bring potable water with us. Utility water could be hauled bucket by bucket from the creek, 100 feet below the cabin. A solar shower and outhouse provided for sanitation.
Next, we turned to the creek and timber issues.
For the next six years, we struggled with our Herculean needs without knowledge, skills or equipment. We ended up simply wasting time, money, sweat and blood, accomplishing little.
Then a local suggested that we start making contact with professionals. A visit to the local U.S. Forest Service office led us to folks at the local Oregon Forestry Department office, both state and federal wildlife offices, county soil and water conservation, the county watermaster and several nonprofit conservation groups.
Our knowledge level climbed steeply as we got information and tapped resources. We discovered avenues for financial assistance for small landowners dedicated to forest and water restoration, wildlife enhancement and fire hazard reduction.
In 2012, we hired a professional forester with fire prevention credentials to help us create a plan for effective action. The following year, we entered into a formal 10-year Forest Stewardship Plan with the Oregon Department of Forestry, and joined the Oregon Tree Farm Association.
During the following years, we got the creek cleaned up and restored. Wildlife-safe fencing was erected to keep the free-range cattle away.
We commissioned a major non-commercial thinning and slash-burning operation serving to remove hundreds of substandard trees. Brush was reduced 60%, ladder fuels were substantially trimmed and wildlife habitat was significantly enhanced.
By spring 2022, all the goals of our stewardship plan had been met. There were no major projects left.
Simple maintenance matters had to be carried out on cabin, creek and timber, but that left time for chores such as cutting cords of firewood and digging a new pit for the outhouse.
This year we realized that, at almost age 80, we no longer had the mental or physical stamina to perform forestry work — or even demanding maintenance chores.
The pickup and chainsaw are now gone. We have turned control of the property over to our family.
Our goal had always been to create a legacy for our children and grandchildren. They just got the legacy ahead of time.
Now we visit our beloved South 40 for a few days a few times a year just to relax and enjoy.
The only sounds are those of wildlife in the woods, wind in the trees and rain on the roof. The only lights those of sun by day and stars and moon by night. Happy memories fill our thoughts and dreams.
It has been a wild but grand nearly three decades. In the end, we bless the day we lost our minds — and ended up gaining our sanity.
About the writer: Ken Dollinger set out to become a journalist, getting his start as a reporter and photographer at a daily in his native Texas. He was working in Beaverton in 1990 when he decided to relocate to McMinnville and open a bookstore with his wife, Linda. Now retired, he enjoys fishing, hunting, traveling and seeking out new experiences. He has a long legacy of active community involvement.
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