I grew up in Chehalis surrounded by woods. I spent time there romping around and building trails where I could ride my bike.
I came to the UW thinking I’d go to medical school. But when I went to the pre-med sessions with the other kids who wanted to be doctors, I saw I wasn’t like them.
When I picked up my cap and gown, I learned I was one class shy from a double major. I’d never taken History 101, so I took it online that next fall from a community college and now I have degrees in both history and anthropology.
After college, I worked for eHow.com writing 20 $10 articles a day. Pieces like “How to Set up a Tent” with step-by-step instructions.
I bought a one-way ticket to Argentina and lived there for eight months. But I didn’t hike glaciers every day. I sat at my laptop writing $10 articles and drinking red wine, but in Patagonia.
When I came across the $7,500 cabin in the mountains east of Seattle, I’d never seen anything that cheap. It was a piece of land with a structure on it with windows and a door so animals couldn’t get in.
The transition from office worker to full-time builder took about eight years. I learned to build from trial and error, YouTube and “This Old House.” Now, I work with experienced carpenters building small custom structures.
“Cabin” was this yearbook of an experience where I went from not knowing anything to learning so much. Every part of it was a memory I didn’t want to lose.
For me and my friends, it felt like a critical time. Getting rid of our phones and having days of talking and walking around the woods kept those friendships strong—so strong that we didn’t want to drift apart.
I’m now at the tail end of building a 10-by-12 cabin near the Hood Canal with my business partner. It will be the prototype for our tiny cabin business, landing pad.
Change all at once isn’t necessary. Give your curiosity room to grow over time. I paid attention to that feeling and believed in it.