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| Up a Tree: When it comes to treehouses, the sky's the limit (Spring 2008) |
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By Steve Werblow
Pete Nelson stands in the doorway of a 256-square-foot treehouse, its facade a woodsy take on the Parthenon. But instead of a temple to Athena, Nelson’s Temple of the Blue Moon celebrates the trees that surround and support it, and the river rushing 16 feet below.
"It's very much about the outside environment,
getting in tune with nature," he says of the project, which he built on the 5-acre property near Fall City, Wash. that he and his wife Judy call Treehouse Point. "In all of our treehouses, we go crazy with windows."
Nelson has spent a lot of time in treehouses.
It started with childhood projects in his New Jersey backyard. But took a bold leap in 1987, when, at 25, he built his first grown-up treehouse as a departure from the homes he was building around Seattle, Wash.
"I was mostly interested in the architecture,"
he says. "Something on a small scale was
really appealing. But after being close and
working in these trees, I recognize that it’s
the trees themselves that are so attractive."
After a decade of building treehouses on
the side, Nelson and his friend Jake Jacob
went into treehouses full-time, creating the Seattle-based Treehouse Workshop and building
custom treehouses nationwide. Nelson has
also published four books on treehouses.
These are definitely not your daddy’s old
tree forts or glorified deer stands.
Kit and Karen Sickels’ 1,000-squarefoot
treehouse straddled a copse of live
oaks in eastern San Diego County before
it burned in last year’s firestorms.
Flooring and lumber from old Seattle
buildings gave it a warm, homey feel.
Skylights and broad banks of windows flooded
the space with light and offered vast views of
the Sickels’ 80-acre property, its vineyards
and garden, and nearby canyons.
Kit Sickels, a retired developer, said the
treehouse was literally a dream come true. "It was just kind of a fantasy," he says. "We
looked at each other and said, 'wouldn’t that
be a goofy idea?' Then we thought about it
and realized that it wasn’t so goofy after all.
We raced over to a bookstore and found Pete’s
books and said, 'well, we could pull this off.'"
Gold standard. With plumbing, climate
control, and a kitchen, the Sickels’ treehouse
was the gold standard of tree living. Most
projects are less lush, though still commodious.
"What we’re finding is that most of these
are being built as escape pods—art studios,
some offices," Nelson says. "They’re retreats.
That’s what they’re all about—getting back to
nature. When you get out next to these trees,
it’s a powerful rejuvenating effect."
On projects big and small, Nelson and
Jacob have built a worldwide reputation for
their elegant designs and stunning craftsmanship,
often working with reclaimed materials.
Raw-edged siding undulates along exterior
walls. Tree trunks grow through the floor and
out the ceiling, or snake in and out of walls.
"It's a dream for a carpenter to build a
house like this," Nelson says.
Pioneer engineers. But building a custom treehouse takes more than carpentry. The downward forces of weight and the lateral forces of a wall pushed by the wind mean designers must consider physics and biology, too.
Engineers like Charles Greenwood have pioneered the treehouse field, calculating loads and sail areas and documenting how trees react to the houses that rise within them.
"There have been advancements in technology
that allow us to put heavier structures in trees safely, both in terms of not hurting the tree and in keeping these structures up here
safely so nobody gets hurt," Nelson notes.
Arguably the linchpin in today’s treehouse
technology has been the Garnier Limb, a
specially engineered 1-1/4-inch bolt with a
collar that can support 8,000 pounds or more
when it’s driven deep into a tree trunk.
Though deep, the Garnier Limb is tree-friendlier
than old brackets or hoops that could cut off the delicate circulatory system just below the bark. Just as important, other pieces fit around it with rings or slots, allowing joists and
braces to slide as the tree sways or grows.
The Garnier Limb is a legacy of Michael Garnier, builder of Out ‘N About Treehouse Resort near Cave Junction, Ore. A bustling complex of overnight rentals with whimsical names like Serendipitree and Balcontree—linked by seemingly miles of rope bridges—Garnier’s backyard is the mecca for treehouse lovers. His annual Treehouse Institute workshop has been part boot camp, part Manhattan Project for a generation of treehouse builders, including Nelson and Greenwood.
Garnier recently completed a three-story,
1,800-square-foot treehouse for himself and
his wife, Peggy. It sits in seven oaks, with a
boost from four deep-driven, concrete-filled
well casings. For the beginner, Garnier recommends a more modest project.
Pick carefully. "The simplest one to build is in four trees, 10 to 12 feet apart," he says. That spacing will help keep your longest span 12 feet or less, he notes, which is about as far as a 4"x12" beam can carry you.
Trunks should be at least 8 to 10 inches in
diameter at building height. The big trick is
picking the right tree. Alder and poplar tend
to be big, but short-lived. Cottonwoods tend
to lose branches. Hemlocks often get root rot. Garnier suggests taking a long look at
local forests. "You want to pick a dominant
tree in your area," he says. "Choose the
species that get the oldest and biggest."
To set his Limbs dead level, Garnier
makes a quick-and-easy, flexible spirit level
with a 1/4-inch tube filled with water.
Excited? Great—but don’t rush. In fact,
taking a year or two to build allows the tree
to adapt to the weight of your structure.
Plan to have an engineer help you with your design if your dream treehouse is going to be over about 200 square feet, Garnier suggests. At that size, you’ll be propping about 14,000 pounds up off the ground, so you’ll want to get it right.
You may also want to check local rules on treehouses. Most communities don’t yet issue building permits for treehouses, though Garnier won an 8-year legal battle to get his resort permitted by his county, and Nelson is working on getting treehouse construction written into the International Building Code.
But Nelson is quick to recognize that the lure of the trees is far more than a question of
planning, engineering, or building codes.
"They represent freedom," he says.
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