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| 1959 Kenskill 'The Birdhouse' in the winter |
I am a single handed land-yacht sailor. I am embarking on the biggest solo sail of my life: a full Colorado winter in a 1956 Kenskill Trailer that I have yet to name or even spend a night in. On board will be Gibson and Jesse Lunde, my 14 and 12 year old dogs (forever friends) and me. They don't do much in terms of helping, which keeps in line with the strict rules of single handing. While I am not a stranger to shorter jaunts in my current trailer, a 1959 Pink Kenskill that I call The Birdhouse, to this new-to-me 1956 trailer that I plan on moving into soon has not yet been tested to be livable...
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| Before/during the scraping |
After two years of living part to full time in the Birdhouse ,and two years prior to that living in a 1966 Airstream Overlander, plans to do the biggest repairs to the '59 will begin in October, just a few weeks away. The repairs include fixing and sealing the roof seams. I spent my first summer of owning her doing the prep work for this job. It was the hottest summer ever here in Lyons,Colorado, and I'd be out there in 109 degree heat, scraping off the 55 years of past random sealants with a heat gun and putty knife.
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| Hot tin roof 1959 Kenskill after all sealants had been removed. |
Since then, she has traveled short distances but has been covered with various layers of roof tarps to keep the rain out. My other plans also include sandblasting and painting her outter skin. I haven't decided an exact color or stripe pattern, but, one thing is for sure, there will be some pink. All these repairs need to be done indoors, so the time has finally come when I have such a place to do these much needed things. My trailer partner, JMac, who owns 35 acres about 30 minutes north of here, finally got his airplane hanger size garage put up (only two years behind schedule.) So now we can do what we've been talking about for the last couple years: restoring trailers! My 1959 Kenskill is first on the agenda!
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| JMac putting the rain gutters back on. |
I have been a bit nervous about moving into this '56 trailer while my '59 is being worked on. We don't know each other very well yet. On one of the first days I spent cleaning her, she wasn't fully leveled and a big rain storm came and the rain poured in through every window. To see even one drop of water come in a trailer is devastating, let alone, a pouring stream from every possible place! Yikes! After looking things over,when the rain stopped, my trailer partner discovered that the previous owners had probably taken all the windows out prior to selling her in hopes of painting her, and when they sold her, not having painted her yet, they didn't seal the windows back up, or put the rain gutters back up over the windows, so naturally when it rained she didn't stand a chance. That was the first order of business with the '56: putting the rain gutters back up over each window and then taking each window out and adding a new layer of Butyl tape sealant to the window frame and then putting them back in.
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| 1956 Kenskill as yet unnamed. |
I have spent the last two years perfecting the livability of the Birdhouse. Everything has it's place and it's purpose. In just 119 square feet, there's not an inch of extra room for unnecessary things. I love it. I love everything about the Birdhouse. From her giant bay front window and jalousie windows, to her pink Princess stove, pink sink and pink shower, to her light birch walls and rounded cabinets. I love the way that the three of us fit in here and know our places. Jesse mostly hangs out under the bed with my guitar cases. Gibson, is either on the bed, when I want him out from under my feet or laying in the 3x3 square feet of space in front of the sink, in front of the Dometic 3 way fridge. As I sit here on my booth seat, we are all in our places. I have just heated up three pots of water in my electric water pot and I washed the few dishes I had from the day in my little wash basin I place in the sink. I don't let the water go into the grey water tank. I just dump the soapy water out side and use the rinse water to water my plants and little container gardens outside.
I am lucky that I have an electricity source close by and an outdoor water spicket that I can take my gallon jugs to and fill up every other day depending on my needs. Most days I use less that 3 gallons of water a day, and that includes the dogs' water bowls. I wash my hair once a week, and take sponge baths every day or so. During the spring, summer and fall, I have a 10x10 out door living area with a table I made from old pallets, a couple chairs, a long front porch and an old secretary's desk that I found in an alley and painted to keep my cleaning products and laundry soap in. An old non working Pink Hadco fridge sits out there and houses my gardening tools. I keep a few metal painted trash cans around for bird seed and dog food, and a pretty 1940s metal trash can keeps my dirty cleaning rags that need to be laundered. I have strung big clear Christmas lights all around the trailer's windows and the canopy of the 10x10 pop up shelter that makes up my outdoor living room. I have a large piece of that green fake grass carpet, to help keep the dirt out of the trailer...Like I said, I love it and everything has it's place.
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| Outdoor living area of 1959 Birdhouse. Table I made from pallets. |
Winter is coming. That is a fact. And I have spent not only the last two but really the last 4 years living,like I said, part time in trailers. My first for-go was in a 1966 Airstream Overlander. It also didn't have the water hooked up. I had electricity and kept it heated with an little electric heater when I'd be there. There were nights I slept in her when it was 7 below outside and maybe 40 inside. It would take a long time to heat up. After living for 7 years in an old log cabin high in the mountains of Colorado,also with no running water, just a wood stove for heat and only 15 amps of electricity, I know what it was like to be cold. It would be 40 below outside and frosty blankets inside. Brrrrr. Looking back, I guess, I am an unconventional liver person.
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| Elk Creek Ranch cabin I lived in for 7 years. Snowy bunnies! |
I just tried a four stint living with my boyfriend (part time when I wasn't in the trailers) in his high mountain town town home. We lived in the basement and had roommates upstairs. We shared the kitchen and common areas. I swear this nearly killed me. It was strikes all around. While I love him, I couldn't handle the stress of the living situation. So this brings me to this current situation of living full time year round in a vintage trailer. I really have no place else to go but no place I'd rather go anyway.
I sit here tonight, in my pink trailer, front door proped open, listening to what could be a sleep noise mix tape: bubbling brook, mixed in with chirping crickets, low bass-y frogs and an oscillating fan. It is another full moon? Good Lord, it sure looks like it through the trees. The Harvest Moon. I am barefoot and enjoying the last of these summerish nights. Soon enough, I will replace the fans with heaters, flip flops with snow boots, and hoodies with down parkas. I will close the door and nestle in for the winter.
This whole last year has already felt like a long winter emotionally. From the Lyons' flood a year ago, to the dissolving of my relationship; emotionally it's been incredibly dark. So now for it really to be getting dark again, I'm just a little apprehensive about it.
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| Gibson Lunde |
This afternoon, during a particularly windy storm, I decided to do something I haven't done in months: watch a movie on Netflix. Instead of watching it with my guy, snuggled up in our memory foam bed, at his town home we lived in together, under down comforters and dogs all around, I watched it on my iPhone, on top of my feather bed with Gibson,my 14 year old black lab at my feet. I watched this documentary that my friend Craig (a real sailor who sailed from America to Tahiti!) suggested because he knew I'd love it, Maidentrip, the story of Laura Dekker, the youngest girl to sail single handed around the world. These stories have always inspired me. From the first time I saw the movie The Dove, about Robin Lee Graham,another young single handed sailor, to reading all kinds of books on sailing and sailors ( Maiden Voyage is another favorite). I especially like the single handers for some reason. I like the idea of just being out there alone...and liking being out there alone, and then not liking being out there alone, and then not wanting to come back from being out there alone. Learning to like your own company the best. To rely on yourself entirely. To find your true happiness, to finding your true self and finding you never want to leave who you found.
While in my relationship with my guy over the last four years, when I'd feel overwhelmed by our living situation, I kept another trailer up at his place, where I could go to escape if I needed. Yes, all these trailers get confusing for everyone to keep straight. So all total, my trailer partner and I have 4 trailers between us: the two Kenskills, the Airstream and this little one called the Cardinal that is a 1962.
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| 1962 Cardinal outside of the town home, Frisco Colorado. |
I am now in a place in my life I've never been and I like it. I am totally alone. I can do whatever I want. I have my own little cleaning and organizing business called 'Girl Friday' and I live with in my means. I also wear many different hats that include: songwriter,musician, writer, chef, crafter, sewer, upholsterer, gardener, horse whisperer, star gazer, mountain climber, river rafter, and photographer to high light a few things that I can be found doing. Instead of worrying about the Doldrums that are sure to come mid-winter, I am going to use this time as a land locked solo sailing journey around the world of me. Who is this 42 year old that I've become? What else is she capable of? There's no running away. There's no jumping overboard, there's only sailing on towards the horizon to what is right in front of me. In my mind, as the wind blows and the snow comes, I will think of my trailer with sails on top, heading towards the sun.
