Owner/Engineer designed house I helped him with .
It has a creek that is seasonal that runs beneath it.
Pole foundation .
He is the one standing on the ladder in the one pic.
They can’t get your Goat if you don’t tell them where it is hidden.
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They can’t get your Goat if you don’t tell them where it is hidden.
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Prescriptive codes don't address the connection at less common angles, so base the connection off more typical ones using bolts, structural screws, blocking, and steel tension ties.
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"I have learned so much thanks to the searchable articles on the FHB website. I can confidently say that I expect to be a life-long subscriber." - M.K.
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Love it, thanks. But now that I'm not on dial-up, I don't mind asking for a little larger for better detail?
PAHS Designer/Builder- Bury it!
Tom, I would be happy to if I knew how. Those are scanned 4x5 prints from a 35mm.
Let me play some and I will see what I can do.
They can't get your Goat if you don't tell them where it is hidden.
I'm looking at the stairs and they look like they have a couple of risers too many. Might be an illusion, stair angle looks kinds flat.I've never worked on an octagan home, looks interesting.
mike
The stairs have only a 6 1/4"" rise per tread, might have been slightly more or less than that I can't recall now. They wanted an easy climb. The owners both had leg problems and wanted it that way. Stringers and treads are all paralam (sp?)stock, it was a fairly new product at the time and the owner was enthralled with it.
They can't get your Goat if you don't tell them where it is hidden.
When I build my final home, the treads will be somewhere between twelve and 14 inches. Risers will be around seven inches, maybe six. In my old age, I don't want to end up in an assisted living facility because my own stairs present a hazard. Code be damned! I wear size 16 shoes and am getting older. I am really tired of having code-nerds forcing me and the rest of the world to have my house their way.
I'm tired of walking up stairs where my heel hangs over too far.
I'm tired of walking down stairs where everything forward of the ball of my foot hangs in the air.
These conditions are uncomfortable, unsafe, and downright stupid.
I like walking up courthouse steps. Plenty of tread, and not too much rise.
I will probably have to walk up plenty of them at some point to have my house my way.
The crow's nest is great! It's the first place i'd go with my coffee in the morning.
It allows them to look to the west from the house out across fields and then to take in the view of the coast range. to the immediate east of the house is a man made lake , across the lake the view is blocked by tall Doug firs and Hemlocks. Fun place to build if you can handle crazy engineers. lol I have been blessed with being able to work on some pretty unique stuff in some great settings over the years.
They can't get your Goat if you don't tell them where it is hidden.
The "seasonal creek" made me go looking for pics of the creek that flowed under the cabin i grew up in. You can see where the footbridge didn't survive. I slept on the porch that was supported by posts right in the creek bed. It dwindled to almost nothing in August, but it's decidedly 'seasonal' in these pics taken in 1964.
Now that would not have lent itself to a restful night of sleep ! I was maybe 3-4 when a severe wind or tornado tore the roofing off the house I grew up in. Mom rushed everybody to the basement, counted noses and I was missing. They found me sound asleep in my bed when they came rushing back up stairs. Slept right through it.
They can't get your Goat if you don't tell them where it is hidden.
SG - just showed DW the cabin pix - where was it? Got any more pix?
Inquiring minds wanna' know!
Forrest
I scanned a few more. Unfortunately i don't have any of the water wheel used to generate electricity; that flood took out the flume that fed it from up the creek. My parents opted for a generator bec that didn't tend to freeze up solid in the wintertime. I remember them out in the creek with blowtorches trying to free up that behemoth. It was home-made, at least 8' in diameter, with a bunch of enormous pulleys and belts to drive the generator. I learned a lot of words while my dad worked on it that would make Jane blush!
This was located about a mile high, just off the Continental Divide between Butte and Helena, the capitol. The nearest hamlet was Basin, about 150 souls. The cabin was built on some unpatented mining claims during the Depression, but it's gone now at the Forest Service's insistence. I heard it got un-built, then re-built about 12 miles away. I got to do some salvage before that happened and have the hand-forged draw-bolt that held the half-log door closed.
This is fresh snow, but not atypical snowpack. The roof had NO insulation, meaning some spectacular icicles - and ice dams - in certain conditions.
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Summertime, not sure which day.
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Longer shot. In the flood pics, the road is awash. It took out both bridges, above and below the cabin.
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Only interior shot i have. The logs were hand peeled, with smaller poles between the logs, and burlap bags stuffed between the logs. The interior walls were made of packing crate material, printed on the back side. The doors were 6' tall. We are luckily a short people...
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Edited 2/16/2008 9:24 pm by splintergroupie
DW thinks that's so cool! Though we know it was hard, and probably cold on the three hundred sixty days not summer, it must've been neat to live a sort-of pioneer lifestyle late in our country's history.
Forrest - trying to avoid nature whenever possible
There was two major advantages to growing up like that. One is a sense that you can either do it yourself or do without, both viable options, and the other was that frontier kind of community where folks tend to leave each other alone until the chips are down. When the flood happened, soon after my parents bought the place, several men from Basin walked in three miles over a washed-out road to check on the new folks who bought 'the Cartwright place'. They didn't know us...it was just the thing that had to be done. I fell deathly ill with strep while my family were still refugees in a one-room cabin on higher ground; i'd have died if a doc hadn't walked in with penicillin. My folks tried to pay him; he refused. We were poor, not back-to-the-landers, and it was far from genteel poverty. Still, i absorbed some interesting ethics and attitudes toward survival without really trying. I also have a keen appreciation for indoor plumbing!
You should write a book.
It would take time away from Breaktime. <G>
ghostwriters my dear..