Extreme Cabin Makeover: Sespe Edition
In a year of impressive architectural developments on the Thacher campus, it would be easy to overlook the relatively humble project taking shape on the far side of Nordhoff Ridge, unless you have been among the various pack animals—including scores of Toads—pressed into service loading in trip after trip of lumber, concrete, and other building materials.
In a year of impressive architectural developments on the Thacher campus, it would be easy to overlook the relatively humble project taking shape on the far side of Nordhoff Ridge, unless you have been among the various pack animals—including scores of Toads—pressed into service loading in trip after trip of lumber, concrete, and other building materials.
The object of this herculean effort is Patton’s Cabin, a sturdy but historically packrat infested stone structure presented to the School by alumni in 1945. Sitting on 25 acres surrounded by the Los Padres National Forest, the cabin was a favored gathering spot for alumni in the 40s and 50s, and has provided welcome shelter over the years to many a Thacher camping trip ambushed by inclement weather.
Head of School Michael K. Mulligan had long thought that a small investment in the cabin on the School’s part could yield some rich dividends. As Michael notes, “The rock walls and foundation were solid and attractive, it just needed…everything else.”
Presiding over the improvements (and doing most of the work himself) has been Paul Hoornbeek, manager of Thacher’s Golden Trout Camp, part-time professor at Whitman College, and a skilled craftsman. Paul and his feline companion, Rascal, have lived and worked at the cabin off and on since November. (Rascal was particularly helpful in the early going when work focused on ridding the structure of its rodent tenants, but now he mostly naps.) With or without Rascal’s help, Paul expects to wind up the project in a matter of weeks.
Having already applied his renovating touch at Golden Trout, Paul was the natural choice to take on Patton’s Cabin. “Paul is a genius,” explains Michael. “He’s a fabulous carpenter, problem solver, and an experienced outdoorsman. That he is a wise and fun instructor of teens makes him a perfect choice to direct this renovation. He can build anything well, efficiently, cheaply, and in the green spirit.”
Consistent with that spirit, the School has harnessed an oft-overlooked renewable energy source to transport building materials from the trailhead to the job site. Over the last month or so, Thacher students, faculty members and their children, and assorted four-legged pack animals have made countless trips along the banks of Sespe Creek. Though under a mile, the trek from the trailhead to Patton’s Cabin can seem surprisingly long when you’re balancing a window or a 14-foot roofing section on your head. Three creek crossings and a couple of muddy patches later, you’ll be pouring water out of your shoes, thanks to more than a few shifty stepping-stones. But, once you’ve arrived, even soggy-footed, what a spot to dry your socks!
And the Cabin itself is only getting better. Paul and his able visitors have raised the roof, applied new metal sheathing, and created a row of clerestory windows that welcomes in much-needed daylight. When the sun goes down, there is now a system of gas lamps and a wood-burning stove to stave off the chill. Factor in new bunks and a sleeping loft, kitchen upgrades, a solar-powered system to pump creek water inside, and a new outhouse, and Thacher has the makings of a comfortable retreat less than an hour from campus, but seemingly worlds away.
Both process and product sit well with the students who have pitched in. “I had a wondrous time at Patton's!” reports Anna North, summing things up on behalf of the busload of frosh who pitched in one day. “We basically walked miles and miles while carrying metal roofing and wood on our shoulders, not to mention walking through streams in our tennies and jeans. The scenery was so beautiful and we really had a great time. It was definitely worthwhile to spend our afternoon in the mountains doing good, hard work with our friends!”
The Cabin property takes its name from homesteader Clarence Patton, who built a crude hut near the confluence of the Sespe and Piedra Blanca creeks in the 1890s, not long after the first students matriculated at Mr. Thacher's School. A few years later, one of the School’s earliest recorded backcountry trips set up camp upstream from Mr. Patton’s homestead and grazed their horses in his pasture for 10 cents per day per horse.
Fortunately, the present round of improvements has dodged the misfortunes that hampered construction of the first masonry structure on the site in 1925. What are soggy socks and blisters compared to the lot of the anonymous worker who cut off his big toe, or the overloaded packhorse that pitched off a precipitous section of trail? (The fortunate horse was unharmed, its 30-foot fall arrested by a compliant sycamore. We know less of the worker, but assume he eventually adjusted to life with only nine toes.)
When Paul packs out the last of his tools, Patton’s Cabin will be well positioned to resume its role as a storied gathering spot for students and alumni. Over the years it has been the scene of gatherings both Spartan and extravagant—and often both at once. Back in 1948, reunion organizers surprised alumni gathered at the cabin when they unveiled a “silver screen, hidden generator, and presented a complete talking movie, produced especially for the occasion.” In 1959, students successfully packed in 72 eggs (one wonders how many they set out with) and prepared Baked Alaska for 24 members of the Pack and Saddle Club.
A little over a century since Clarence Patton cleared out and moved to L.A., the cabin that bears his name has never looked better. The grazing hasn’t been the same since the Pack and Saddle boys disked under the last of Patton’s barley field in 1951, but don’t be surprised in the near future to find two-legged visitors to Patton’s once again testing the limits of camp cuisine. With basic necessities so amply covered, can flaming desserts be far behind?
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The object of this herculean effort is Patton’s Cabin, a sturdy but historically packrat infested stone structure presented to the School by alumni in 1945. Sitting on 25 acres surrounded by the Los Padres National Forest, the cabin was a favored gathering spot for alumni in the 40s and 50s, and has provided welcome shelter over the years to many a Thacher camping trip ambushed by inclement weather.
Head of School Michael K. Mulligan had long thought that a small investment in the cabin on the School’s part could yield some rich dividends. As Michael notes, “The rock walls and foundation were solid and attractive, it just needed…everything else.”
Presiding over the improvements (and doing most of the work himself) has been Paul Hoornbeek, manager of Thacher’s Golden Trout Camp, part-time professor at Whitman College, and a skilled craftsman. Paul and his feline companion, Rascal, have lived and worked at the cabin off and on since November. (Rascal was particularly helpful in the early going when work focused on ridding the structure of its rodent tenants, but now he mostly naps.) With or without Rascal’s help, Paul expects to wind up the project in a matter of weeks.
Having already applied his renovating touch at Golden Trout, Paul was the natural choice to take on Patton’s Cabin. “Paul is a genius,” explains Michael. “He’s a fabulous carpenter, problem solver, and an experienced outdoorsman. That he is a wise and fun instructor of teens makes him a perfect choice to direct this renovation. He can build anything well, efficiently, cheaply, and in the green spirit.”
Consistent with that spirit, the School has harnessed an oft-overlooked renewable energy source to transport building materials from the trailhead to the job site. Over the last month or so, Thacher students, faculty members and their children, and assorted four-legged pack animals have made countless trips along the banks of Sespe Creek. Though under a mile, the trek from the trailhead to Patton’s Cabin can seem surprisingly long when you’re balancing a window or a 14-foot roofing section on your head. Three creek crossings and a couple of muddy patches later, you’ll be pouring water out of your shoes, thanks to more than a few shifty stepping-stones. But, once you’ve arrived, even soggy-footed, what a spot to dry your socks!
And the Cabin itself is only getting better. Paul and his able visitors have raised the roof, applied new metal sheathing, and created a row of clerestory windows that welcomes in much-needed daylight. When the sun goes down, there is now a system of gas lamps and a wood-burning stove to stave off the chill. Factor in new bunks and a sleeping loft, kitchen upgrades, a solar-powered system to pump creek water inside, and a new outhouse, and Thacher has the makings of a comfortable retreat less than an hour from campus, but seemingly worlds away.
Both process and product sit well with the students who have pitched in. “I had a wondrous time at Patton's!” reports Anna North, summing things up on behalf of the busload of frosh who pitched in one day. “We basically walked miles and miles while carrying metal roofing and wood on our shoulders, not to mention walking through streams in our tennies and jeans. The scenery was so beautiful and we really had a great time. It was definitely worthwhile to spend our afternoon in the mountains doing good, hard work with our friends!”
The Cabin property takes its name from homesteader Clarence Patton, who built a crude hut near the confluence of the Sespe and Piedra Blanca creeks in the 1890s, not long after the first students matriculated at Mr. Thacher's School. A few years later, one of the School’s earliest recorded backcountry trips set up camp upstream from Mr. Patton’s homestead and grazed their horses in his pasture for 10 cents per day per horse.
Fortunately, the present round of improvements has dodged the misfortunes that hampered construction of the first masonry structure on the site in 1925. What are soggy socks and blisters compared to the lot of the anonymous worker who cut off his big toe, or the overloaded packhorse that pitched off a precipitous section of trail? (The fortunate horse was unharmed, its 30-foot fall arrested by a compliant sycamore. We know less of the worker, but assume he eventually adjusted to life with only nine toes.)
When Paul packs out the last of his tools, Patton’s Cabin will be well positioned to resume its role as a storied gathering spot for students and alumni. Over the years it has been the scene of gatherings both Spartan and extravagant—and often both at once. Back in 1948, reunion organizers surprised alumni gathered at the cabin when they unveiled a “silver screen, hidden generator, and presented a complete talking movie, produced especially for the occasion.” In 1959, students successfully packed in 72 eggs (one wonders how many they set out with) and prepared Baked Alaska for 24 members of the Pack and Saddle Club.
A little over a century since Clarence Patton cleared out and moved to L.A., the cabin that bears his name has never looked better. The grazing hasn’t been the same since the Pack and Saddle boys disked under the last of Patton’s barley field in 1951, but don’t be surprised in the near future to find two-legged visitors to Patton’s once again testing the limits of camp cuisine. With basic necessities so amply covered, can flaming desserts be far behind?
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