An Open Letter to the Loonatics

Editor's note:  The Loonatics are the platoon of Loons who have helped reconstruct the Grand Garage of Stewarts Landing.

Dear Loons,

Forgive me for not keeping you adequately updated.

After our previous rejection, we fired another salvo off to the APA.  This time, rather than try to add to the footprint, we just wanted to make a minor redistribution of the allowable square feet, move the deck area around a bit, and see if we could get just a few extra feet at the peak height so that a bedroom or two could occupy the second story.

In the dreary cold of early 2015, our hopes and wishes travelled to Ray Brook, NY.

We kept the same area for the foundataion,
and moved it about 3 feet from the water in both directions.

They liked it !

We kept the same area for the deck,
but chopped off the side away from the water
and added some to the narrow walkways on the water sides
to make it all more practical.

They said, "OK" to this, too !

We just wanted to add the little bit of height shown by the green.

Two out of three ain't bad.  But that little bit of extra height would not fly.  I have to believe that the Agency just does not want to create a precedent, regardless of the size or logic in favor.  And because we did not have that extra 3 feet of vertical, the second floor would work nicely for a single bowling lane, but I don't want to spring for the pinsetter.

Alas and alack!  What to do!?!  We tried to coerce David into creating a bit of architectural magic, but it really wasn't going to happen.  At least not in any way that would provide satisfactory second floor living space.

Hmmm.  One thing that the visiting Agency people had mentioned was that if the generally wet center of our lot was wetlands, then we would not be allowed to build within 100 feet.  This would provide a regulatory conundrum, with nowhere on the lot that would allow the desired 100 feet setback.  So a visit by a wetlands biologist was scheduled.

I had no idea such jobs existed.  Imagine touring the Adirondacks, stopping here and there, poking in the dirt, maybe hiking a little, and filing a report on the density of trilliums.  Wow.   He drove his Subaru into our driveway, and emerged with a long handled soil sampler.  I followed him through the mushy part of the lot.  "A little bit of wetlands soil here, but not nearly enough for a classification.  I go by the vegetation, and you don't really have enough.  Maybe not what you want to hear."

Whatever.  He also indicated that the proximity to wetlands was only a concern for septic systems, but I'm not sure which part of the voluminous regulations he was smoking.  Regardless, the "No build-able spot due to wetlands setback" option was an option no more.  So our only option to rebuild the place with enough space for visiting children was to go ahead with the arduous process of scheduling the public hearing required for the variance, and throw ourselves on the mercy of the APA.  Or to build 100 feet back and lose our fabulous view.

Sunset photo #634

Or just maybe there was another option,  A little bird (it might have been a Blackburnian Warbler, or perhaps a Mary bird, sitting on the couch, plowing through the APA regulations) mentioned that there was such a thing as a Guest Cottage.  A what?  A Guest Cottage, which can't be bigger than 1/2 the size of the main dwelling, can't be rented, must be occasional use, and must be built according to the setback rules for the resource management classification that applies to our lot.

Want to read the complete supplement?  Go to:
http://apa.ny.gov/Documents/Flyers/GuestCottage.pdf

We can do that!  Not only can we do it, it might even be preferred.  "Go away, kids, we're tired!"  

So David set back to work.  Soon, another proposal was off to the APA.

Main and Guest House,
with magnificent garage in background.

Plans conform to height regulations so that the design
attains the coveted (at least by us) "Non-Jurisdictional" designation.

Simple but effective Guest House.

We received our letter...

"...does not require a permit or variance..."
Aren't those lovely words?
Did you really want to read the rest of the restrictions?

The letter was cc'd to Norm, the code enforcement officer.  We went to visit him at the Stratford Town Hall the next week, just to find out about what level of detail we needed to submit to get a building permit.  I was pleased to find that he was an affable regular guy.

"Two residences on one lot?  I don't know.  I'm going to have to run this by the Board."

"Norm, it's a residence and a Guest House.  Not two residences."

"It would be fine with me, but I have to answer to the board.  Gee, two residences, I don't know what they're going to say about that."

"Norm, have you seen the Guest Cottage description from the APA?"

"No, don't have that.  Not sure how that applies to two residences."  Mary and I looked at each other ever so subtly with the "YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!" look.  "I'm going to the board meeting in 30 minutes, so I can talk to them about it then.  I'll get back to you."

"Tell you what.  We'll call our daughter Katie and she can send the document here, OK?"  

"Well, my computer isn't here, but maybe Diana, the Town Clerk, can receive it."  We checked, and she said it would be OK.

"OK, Norm, we'll run off to where we can call our daughter, and she'll send the form.  And remember, you're our advocate to the Board."

"We'll see what they say.  I'll let you know."

We drove quickly to where cellular telephony is possible, and in a few minutes, the form was dashing thought the ether.  I called a few minutes later to find out if Norm had the document in hand, and Diana admitted having turned her computer off, but she was nice enough to fire it up again and print the one-pager.

We arrived home and Mary went right in and sat down, saying little.  I grabbed a beer and walked out to sit on the dock railing with my back to the warm sun, hoping for magical effect.  Later Katie she told us, "You two looked totally defeated when you got home.  Never saw you look like that before."

Off to the Board Meeting went Norm with the form.  Our spies informed us that the discussion lasted for half an hour.  True to form, Norm called us after the meeting.  Mary took the short call.

"We're OK!"

"Really?"  I didn't expect that result.

"Yes, he said the Board approved our plans."  Good old Norm!  You can count on Norm.

So now all we have left to do is demolish the old place, build the new place, and pay higher taxes.  You know, easy low-stress stuff.  

But the reason I've brought you up to date is that these plans make the annual fall Construction Party a bit iffy.  I'm sure Homefries would be fine with cooking all our meals over the campfire, but I'm not sure all would embrace tenting it.  And we'll have to build an outhouse over the input to the new septic.

On second thought, nevermind.  A nice Mid-October campout would be just fine.

- Gimp 1

We still have a long way to go,
and I'm sure there will be many more stories to tell,
but I can almost feel it becoming real.

Another Project

Pete, our next door neighbor at the camp, always has a project.  It’s good for him.  Everyone who lives in the woods should have a project.

The current one is his sun room.  He has planned it for many years, and now he is making it happen.  He works methodically, and usually without help.  Earlier this summer, his son PJ gave him a hand, and the rafters started going up.  I happened to be around at a point of readiness, so it was time to finish the rafters and get the sheathing on.

Rafters complete at this point.
A few are double for snow load.
It's good that PJ helped get this rolling.

The eaves hang far over where the slanted southward-facing windows will go.  I asked about the amount of sun entering the room (second-guessing is a good reason to work alone), and Pete assured me that though the August sun would be largely blocked, the low angle of the rays in December and January will penetrate far into the room.  I can buy that, but I still suggested a between-the-rafters long and skinny skylight to brighten the room.  I don’t think that is going to fly due to concerns about snow piling up.  

Long eaves carry the rain and snow away.

Pete is either levitating or standing on a wire milk crate.

All the plywood went up, with lots of grunting and groaning. Though I am eligible to collect Social Security, I got to be the young monkey, climbing up and down from atop the roof to the ground as the situation dictated.  It’s good to be young, and it was good that Pete had a young guy around, since I’m not sure his wife Mary would have been able to help bull the plywood sheets over the rafters and on up to their proper positions.  

A thing of beauty.
Don't try this unless you are a skilled professional.

She was certainly pleased that the job was not hers.  The hors d’oeuvres the first day and pizza with salad the second expressed her pleasure.  And the beer.  I think we did a pretty good job of removing all the Ommegang from the house, but I don’t think Pete had any problem with that.  I was glad to have helped out, regardless of reward.

Very tired from all the lifting and screwing the more-than-long-enough fasteners through the plywood and into the 2 by 8s, I joined my wife Mary (it’s so confusing) on our dock.  The wooden bench proved too hard, so I dragged the second of our plastic strap lounge chairs out alongside Mary’s.  The pine sap came off with a liberal dose of WD-40, and I assumed the proper position to read about the operation of the SU carburettors under the bonnet of my MG Midget.  Gotta figure out that choking problem.  More appropriately, Mary skimmed Adirondack Life.

Even though there was almost no wind, we were pleased to find that the flies had taken the afternoon off.  The sun played hide and seek behind the intermittent clouds.  Though it became almost uncomfortably hot in the full sun, the respite provided by the interceding clouds balanced the intensity with cool recovery periods.  Soon the printed matter fell away unread, and time slipped away.