The Year of Cabins

A New Years aspiration I can get behind

Nothing makes my heart flutter like a log cabin with a front porch. (The Huntley Cabin, photo credit Richard Heath of the PATC)

As climate change put the Virginia holiday forecast in the ‘50s and ‘60s, I gave up dreams of a white Christmas. But my dream of a few winter days in front of a wood-burning stove, with book and tea in hand and a mountain view out the window – that did not die. 

With this vision in mind, a few friends and I began planning a cabin night for this weekend. I wasn’t sure where to go, uninspired by the Airbnb options, until my friend Dustin reminded us of the amazing Potomac Appalachian Trail Club (PATC) cabins. These cabins are quaint and affordable, maintained by PATC volunteers and accessible with just a $40 annual membership. Whereas cabin stays have felt like uncommon luxuries these days due to cleaning and services fees, etc, clicking through the PATC cabins has opened a whole new world for me. Starting at $35/ night (for the most primitive cabins, granted, and on a weekday), I can basically afford a cabin whenever I want! After we chose ours (the Huntley cabin, outside Luray), I purchased a membership and made a mental note to take advantage of it as much as I could over the next twelve months.  

My friend Katy is visiting and earlier this week, as we discussed our plans for the upcoming year (and she encouraged me to plan a visit to a cabin at the farm where she works, not a hard sell), she said it sounded like 2024 should be my year of the cabin. I love that framing: Year of the ____. 

Resolutions often feel like a chore. I know that I want to both exercise and write more this year and I have envisioned some specific goals, but putting numbered expectations on those goals immediately conjures them into something more work than dream. They not only feel less fun, but even less achievable.

(On that note, does anyone else set annual reading goals? Now in the last week of the year, for probably the fifth December in a row, I’m finding myself wanting to wrap up as many books as possible to get to the number I’d set for myself in January — trying to speed through them rather than enjoy them, and attempting to finish books I’d fallen off of halfway through. All this for a goal truly no one else cares about or even know exists. Why do I do this? So that’s one strict resolution I’ll set now: no reading goals next year.) 

The Year of the Cabin feels like a perfect guide. Back on New Year’s Eve of 2018, at a dive bar in New Orleans, I’d declared 2019 the Year of the Martini. In one sense, that marked one of my countless transitions into adulthood – sometimes instead of going for the cheapest beer on draught, I’d treat myself to a martini! And there was a great idea that the martini represented, which was that there was something worth celebrating every time I went out with friends. I didn’t have all that many over that year, but I did choose the slight splurge and change of pace more than I would have otherwise, and I continue to order a martini with that in mind whenever the situation feels right. 

Similarly, I hope the Year of the Cabin inspires me to seek out not just more A-frames and cottages, but all the things cabins represent to me:  more writing time, of course, plus more reading (without expectations), more days in the mountains, more hiking, more moments in front of a fireplace or wood stove, continued and different types of quality time with friends, and also less time on my phone. I hope it inspires more paring down, quieting, and focusing on smaller, simpler things. 

Ironically, mere hours after Katy declared 2024 my year of the cabin, I found out my first official cabin plans of the year might have to be postponed. Friends who just purchased a cabin in upstate New York had generously offered for me to stay there for a writer's retreat during the last week of my winter break, but it turned out that the plumbing system might need work before it was ready to host a visitor. 

At first, this seemed like the universe saying that the Year of the Cabin was a bad idea. Perhaps I should instead stay away from all cabins! Have I heard about bears? Icy roads? The cold of winter? Loneliness? 

But it was too late – I’d made the declaration and I had to stick with it. Earlier in our conversation, Katy and I had been discussing the futility of being attached to plans (a reminder I always need) and this felt like an immediate lesson in that practice. I’m currently reconfiguring my plan for next week, whether it means a different type of stay in the same cabin or a trip to a whole new one. 

I’m actually getting a Year of the Cabin preview tonight as we head to the Huntley cabin. We’ve packed games, meals, and ingredients for mulled wine, and have a long night ahead to catch up beside a fire. I believe this reunion of old friends in woods outside Shenandoah Nation Park will be a perfect kick-off to my cabin year, and that this time will be ideal to both reflect on the past and think about the future.  

I’ve asked a couple of other friends if they have aspirations for 2024. So far we’ve gotten the Year of Deepening Relationships and the Year of the Party (you know I love these both). If this framework feels inspiring or fun for you too, I’d like to know yours! 

I wish everyone a 2024 full of joy, in whatever forms it comes. And if you’d like to have martinis in a cabin with me sometime next year, let’s talk.