Log cabins evoke a romantic nostalgia for what is best about the past: American ideals, independence, perseverance, strength of families, a tie to nature and a simpler time.

Log cabins speak of history. Presidents Andrew Jackson and Abraham Lincoln proudly noted being born in log cabins. The first discussions about Colorado’s statehood were held in a log cabin in Colorado City.

Although log cabins are now considered as American as apple pie, the first log cabins in the United States are attributed to early Swedish and Finnish immigrants who, in the early 1600s, settled in what is now Delaware. The ease of construction and plenitude of ready materials made log cabins a popular form of shelter for early settlers.

The book, A Colorado Reader, describes the housing of Colorado’s early Anglo-American pioneers: "When the tent or lean-to phase ended, pioneers expected to dwell in the typical pioneer’s house - the log cabin. In the mountains and plateaus of Colorado, nature provided timber well suited for cabin construction which was done with tools no more sophisticated than axes, adzes and crosscut saws. Genuine frame dwellings, with clapboards and shingles, awaited the advent of a sawmill, sometimes long delayed in a migratory mining-camp pattern of settlement.

Evidence of these earliest dwellings are scattered throughout Colorado, as common as rock formations: some dilapidated along the side of back roads and some preserved, such as those in ghost towns like St. Elmo and Tin Cup. Some have been caught in this summer’s wildfires; others have escaped, standing another test of time.

Today, people’s reasons for wanting a cabin are as varied as the cabins themselves. Some long for an escape from the complexities of modern life, some desire a closer connection to nature, and for others, cabins are a thread that connects memories of family and self.

The poet Henry David Thoreau once wrote, "Our life is frittered away by detail.....Simplify, simplify." For Wondervu residents Ken Jacques and his wife, Chris, this desire for simplicity led them to build their own cabin four years ago.

An architect by trade, Ken says, "We did an extensive search and found some land. I drew up the plans, did the engineering, and we built the cabin ourselves." Co-owned with three other family members, the wood frame cabin measures 10 x 12 feet and backs to about 50,000 acres of BLM land south of Canon City. "Our intention was to get a piece of wilderness and put a very small structure on it to camp."

The cabin is very rural with no water and no electricity. In Ken’s words, it is more like "a rigid tent: four walls and a dry roof." For Ken and Chris, the cabin is their weekend escape from the city where they can go to hike or ski or fish. "To me, a cabin really does mean something simplified, a more rustic lifestyle." says Ken. "It is more and more difficult to get that lifestyle."

There is a saying in the real estate business that the three most important features of any property are "location, location, location." So it is with cabins. A log cabin would seem quite out of place in a city’s suburban cul-de-sac with paved sidewalks and a shopping mall around the corner. The term "cabin country" evokes a vision of forests, lakes, mountains and the grandeur of nature. In fact, part of what makes a cabin truly a cabin is its interaction with, rather than domination of, its natural surroundings.

A love of nature was the fuel that pushed Crested Butte resident Steve Church to build a cabin on the shores of picturesque Lake Irwin. "Personally, I built it because I like being out in the woods," Steve explains. "It gets me as far away from civilization as I can get. Like on a sailboat, when you are out in the middle of the woods, you have to be prepared and have all of your provision."

Finding the property was a fortunate piece of luck for Steve. "I was going to the post office one day and ran into a buddy who said he was meeting this old doctor for lunch who had sites up on Lake Irwin. I went to lunch with them, and the doctor asked us how much we thought the sites were worth, and we came up with a figure of $2,000. I wrote him a check, went up and saw how beautiful it was then came back and covered the check. I finally ended up with 10 lots on the lake, all old mining claims that were listed as private property."

Actually building the cabin took a bit more effort. "The first year I put in the sub floor before winter, and then the snows destroyed it," says Steve. "I poured the entire foundation from a wheelbarrow. That took me about a year." Later, after he built the walls, he set up a pulley system hooked to a big Douglas fir and to his truck to raise them. "I ended up pulling the tree out, and it fell right on the cabin."

Although is took him three years to finish the cabin, he has no regrets. "It will be the one thing I will pass on to my sone - they aren’t making any more wild places," he says.

This love of "wild places" is also what drew James Martin to build his log cabin on seven acres near Russell Gulch, between Idaho Springs and Central City. "Being in the country is what I’m all about," says this Denver resident. "Somehow I got stuck in the city." James is a consultant who designs colors for buildings and had his 700 square foot cabin built to his design, complete with bleaching stain, periwinkle windows and galvanized roof.

James does note that, "You can’t just build a cabin anywhere anymore. There are more codes than you would imagine. Even though my cabin is at 9,500 feet elevation, it must withstand a 90-pound snow load on the roof. Which means instead of using log rafters, I had to use structural timbers. You could land a 707 on the roof."

Yet, he advises others thinking of building, a cabin to "think small. The point of being there is to be in nature, to be outside, not to re-create your city experience."

James has fond memories of discovering himself growing up in the woods in the Ozarks, a legacy that he is now passing on to his grandchildren. "I’m real familiar with trees, flowers and birds, and I’m training my grand-kids to look at them and to notice the differences. Nature gives you perspective on what’s real."

Like Steve Church, James would like to pass the cabin on to his family. "I never thought about legacy in my life until I had grandchildren. When they’re my age, they’ll never be able to afford this kind of place," says James, who has put together a trust to ensure the cabin will be available to his heirs. "The weekend before last I went up there with my 3-year-old granddaughter, and we watched the sun set. I taught her Star Light, Star Bright, and she sang Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star as we watched the stars come out. It was wonderful."

 Annie Dillard, author of "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek", wrote, "These trees stir me. The past inserts a finger into a slit in the skin of the present, and pulls." For some, cabins are like Dillard’s trees, cutting into the present and pulling memories of the past.

Brothers John Jaynes, who lives in Denver, and Ron Jaynes who lives near Palisade, have never known life without a cabin. Their grandparents bought a cabin in 1923 that was situated on forest service grounds. "In 1952 they forced us to move it, so my family bought a share in the Grand Mesa Resort Company and moved the cabin to a site there," says Ron. "The cabin was built in 1915, roughly 18 x 18, with a porch on a log and rock foundation. When we were small, the refrigerator was a perforated, screened box that sat on the back porch. We used oil lamps for light."

The cabin is a focal point of their family history. Each year growing up, their mother would host a "Christmas in July" family reunion for her eight siblings. "Everybody had a coffee cup with their name on it hanging on the wall. The cups are still hanging, even though some of them are now deceased," says Ron.

Through the years, the cabin has moved into the present era with more modern furniture, electricity, running water, a fireplace and carpeting. So far, however, no TV or phones. "I don’t know that getting phone service has ever come up for discussion," says John. "We just go there as a family to relax and hang out."

When asked what the cabin means to him, John replies, "When you grow up with it and have known it all your life, where you went as a child with your family - it’s been part of our life, our whole life."

History, both personal and local, ties Evergreen resident Evelyn Stuart to her cabin in the old ghost town of Fulford. "The town itself has a lot of history, old gold mines, old stages," says Evelyn. "I just wish my husband was here to speak with you because he loved the history of it." She explains how her husband Milton, a pilot, was killed in a floatplane accident.

Her husband bought the cabin from a cowboy, numbered all the logs, took it down, and built it back. Her father developed the mix for the chinking that went between the logs. They used a wheelbarrow and water from nearby Nolan Creek to mix it. "Milton loved everything about constructing a log home. He’s still with us here in Fulford," says Evelyn.

Their family grew up with a love of the outdoors. "We’re all fishermen, and we would come up here to fish and enjoy nature," say Evelyn. "Both my daughter and son love Fulford." In fact, her son, Scott, owns an old cabin nearby that still is papered with ancient newspapers on the inside.

The family cabin now has running water, but still retains its ties with the past. It has small windows from an army fort with criss-cross panes. The door is out of an old hotel. Still, modern life is encroaching. "Last week two cement trucks were up there, so things are changing," says Evelyn. "The primary purpose at one time was to get away from it all, but now there are too many people to really do that."

Once in a while, Evelyn entertains the thought of selling, but has mixed emotions. "I look up into the heavens, and I think my husband would be upset," she says. "I’m very proud of it, it will still be standing long after I’m gone..."

...her cabin in the woods.