A Lookout Above

[Guest guest]

A Lookout Above

_http://www.naturalhomemagazine.com/Homes/2006-01-01/A-Lookout-Above.aspx_

(http://www.naturalhomemagazine.com/Homes/2006-01-01/A-Lookout-Above.aspx)

 

At 60 years old and with no contracting experience, Glenda Alm took on

building her dream home, a playful retreat based on 1930s fire lookout towers.

The

result is an off-the-grid tribute to historic architecture, a rich medley of

recycled materials, and a dedication to simple living.

 

AS A SMALL GIRL, STANDING SEVENTY-FIVE FEET ALOFT on a fire lookout tower, I

told my dad that someday I would live in a house of similar design. That was

in 1946. More than fifty years later, that intention has become a reality.

My solar-powered, 1,000-square-foot home rises three stories into Central

Oregon’s high desert, with windows and a catwalk deck wrapping the entire top

floor to capture sweeping views of the snow-covered Cascade Mountains and the

rugged cliffs of Deschutes River Canyon.

 

Off and on for six years, I lived in a funky little trailer under a juniper

tree, getting to know my five acres in all seasons and conditions. During a

snowy Thanksgiving weekend in 1998, my son Brent Alm, an architect in Vail,

Colorado, created a model of my future home using a kitchen knife and cardboard

retrieved from a Dumpster. All my life I’d been fascinated with the historic

lookout towers built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s, so I

asked him to base it on the traditional, fourteen-foot square, Forest Service

L-4 fire lookout. While I wanted a small footprint, that seemed a little too

small for year-round living, so we bumped up the size to twenty square feet.

We also added interior stairs so that all floors could be accessed without

going outside, as temperatures at this 3,000-foot elevation can plunge to zero

degrees in winter.

 

**Several builders rejected my project, scared off by the complexity of

building a thirty-five-foot-high structure on a twenty-by-twenty footprint**.

 

Making progress

 

Several builders rejected my project, scared off by the complexity of

building a thirty-five-foot-high structure on a twenty-by-twenty footprint, but

a

series of fortuitous events jump-started my progress. The engineering plans

called for hefty posts and beams because of the house’s height and wind-prone

location. I wanted to use recycled materials, and a local classified ad led me

to a used-lumber broker. He suggested I talk to a local builder, Danny

Richter, who works with old, reclaimed wood. When I saw Richter’s work, I

knew I

had found not only the wood I wanted, but the builder as well. Too busy to

take on the complete project, but fascinated by the design, he agreed to frame

the house and suggested that I—an inexperienced sixty-year-old woman—act as

general contractor to finish the project.

 

At his backyard mill, Richter had piles of Douglas fir posts, beams, and

boards from the dismantled Oakland Naval Base, where my father had been

stationed in 1942. We planed and sanded off navy-gray (undoubtedly lead-based)

paint.

As Richter shaved off inches of grime, beautiful wood emerged—rich with

decades of nail holes and other signs of use. He sized timbers and laid out the

radial of support beams, then transported them to the house site on his boom

truck. Once at the site, it took some creativity to put together the system of

spoked beams that supports the roof and cantilevers out to support the deck.

Thankfully, Richter is very comfortable adjusting and creating as he goes.

 

I’m still amazed that this busy builder who had much bigger, more expensive

homes to build agreed to frame my house. He probably made nothing—or perhaps

lost money—on my job, and I’ll be forever indebted to him.

 

Thinking small

 

The challenge of making 850 square feet of living space functional (the

stairways gobbled up 150 square feet) led to several space-efficient,

multiple-use features. In the living room corners are four studio couches whose

boxes,

on glides, slide out to create additional sleeping spaces and a whopping

seventy-six cubic feet of storage. In the bedroom, a queen-size plywood

“box†is

topped by three-quarter-inch plywood and a custom queen-size mattress. Deep

drawers on the front provide additional dresser space, and cubicles on the

back store shoes and boots. In the kitchen corner, an heirloom tabletop is

supported by a cabinet that creates easily accessible storage for tall

appliances

and bowls.

 

Propane wall heaters (and a free-standing propane fireplace on the top

floor) allow area heating as needed. An on-demand, propane water heater

eliminates

the need to store hot water, thereby reducing my energy bills.

 

“The house is a delightful place for quiet contemplation and writing, as

well as for good food and laughter with friends and familyâ€.

 

Energy (and more) from the sun

 

My concern over fossil fuel’s effects on world politics and the environment

spurred my research into alternative energy. My house plans already called

for passive solar heating: The thirty-inch roof overhang lets only

early-morning and late-afternoon summer sun into the upper level, yet it

accommodates the

low, southern sun in winter. I thought it only natural to produce

electricity with photovoltaic panels, so when Dick Kent opened a solar shop

nearby in

1999, I was an eager customer.

 

I had many visits there with Dick, and he made many site visits, becoming an

active construction participant in addition to installing the solar system.

And here comes the unexpected addition to my dream: Dick and I discovered we

shared the same passions in life. We became committed partners later that

year.

 

Our eight 120-watt photovoltaic panels bring direct current to eight Trojan

L-16 deep-cycle batteries. This battery bank gives a week of backup power. An

Outback Power pure sine-wave inverter provides 120-volt alternating current

for lights (all fluorescent) and home appliances and electronics. Managing

phantom loads and practicing energy efficiency makes for a very comfortable

lifestyle on less than two kilowatt hours per day!

 

Dick also solved my quandary and concern for those who can’t climb stairs.

His years of living on a sailboat prompted him to design an electric bosun’s

chair lift, with hatch doors on the mid and upper floors so that visitors can

be safely winched up and down between floors.

 

A playful refuge

 

Dick and I both choose to live simply and close to the earth. The house is a

delightful place for quiet contemplation and writing, as well as for good

food and laughter with friends and family. On the deck we simmer wondrous meals

in the sun oven, and we often pull the studio-couch futons outside for

summertime sleeping under the stars. The natural vegetation—juniper,

sagebrush,

bitterbrush, and spring wildflowers—augmented with bird feeders, attracts

many

bird species and animals. Raptors soar up from the Deschutes River Canyon

(300 yards to the west) and lift over the house as if it were just another

old-growth juniper; they sometimes perch on the deck rails.

 

We believe that our culture tends to confuse quality and quantity. Our

modest-size house should last well into the twenty-second century, and our

solar

electric system keeps more than a ton of pollutants out of the atmosphere each

year.

 

This project, built at a cost of about $125 to $140 per square foot, was one

of intention, innovation, and perseverance. I imagined these spaces and

walked these floors in my mind hundreds of times before they became a reality.

My

determination to enjoy the process worked most of the time. To follow your

dream is good advice, but first you must dare to dream.

 

WHAT MAKES THIS HOME GREEN?

 

• A one-kilowatt photovoltaic solar array produces all the electricity for

this off-the-grid house.

 

• An under-stair battery bank stores a seven- to ten-day electrical backup.

 

• 75 percent of the wood is recycled.

 

• Windows are low-E glass with sustainably harvested pine frames.

 

• Six-inch walls are well insulated with blown-in rock wool (recycled slag

from a steel mill with volcanic-pumice rock and mineral oil) for sound and

fire protection.

 

• On-demand water heater means no hot water is stored.

 

• There’s ample natural lighting; all electric lights are fluorescent.

 

• Old classic radiators circulate water heated by solar collectors.

 

• Recycled fixtures include doors, sinks, claw-foot bathtub, lighting

fixtures, sound system.

 

• Walls on the middle and top floors are made of red fir from Sonoma Valley

pickling vats.

 

• Bathroom wallboards are from a demolished Oregon warehouse.

 

• Kitchen counters are old-growth Douglas fir milled from a log washed up on

a Whidbey Island, Washington, beach.

 

• Wheatboard forms the walk-in closet.

 

• Six-inch custom futons on studio couches are filled with recycled, spun

plastic jugs.

 

• No- or low-VOC finishes are used throughout the house.

 

• Native vegetation is maintenance and irrigation free. Native grasses in

disturbed areas have been replanted.

 

• Nearly three-foot overhang allows passive solar heating in winter and

blocks most summer sun.

 

• Operable windows allow natural convection ventilation in summer. A small

evaporative cooler can be used on very hot days.

 

• Space heaters warm specific areas when needed.

 

• Appliances (refrigerator, freezer, washing machine) exceed Energy Star

standards.

 

(http://www.papercut.biz/emailStripper.htm)

 

 

 

 

 

(http://www.papercut.biz/emailStripper.htm)