Web only: Four more tree-house hotels
If the Merry Pranksters ran a camp for families, it would probably look a lot like Out 'n' About Treesort. A collection of tree houses in the woods of Takilma, in southern Oregon, the resort has room for 50 guests in its sky cabins—the Peacock Perch and Serendipitree among them. And the loose schedule of activities ("activitrees," in the parlance of this arboreal operation) is heavy on such sixties survival skills as juggling, batik, and mosaic making.
My wife and I weren't looking for a tie-dyed idyll when we considered the Treesort; we just wanted a summer place away from the theme parks and fried-dough stands. Somewhere new to us and our six-year-old son, Timothy, filled with car-stopping landscapes, oddball roadside attractions, and woodsy fun.
We check in at Out 'n' About simply by checking off our names on a grease board. There's no registration desk and no keys. No credit-card imprint required; the honor system rules here. Our adventure begins immediately: we must climb a spiral staircase, a regular flight of stairs, a second spiral staircase, then negotiate two lengthy suspension bridges to arrive at our room, the Treezebo, 37 feet above the ground. Girdling a sturdy Douglas fir, the hexagonal cabin has enough amenities to shame a Winnebago Chieftain: sink, flush toilet, electricity, mini-fridge, queen bed, and boom box.
"Where's room service?" Timothy asks.
I point to a pulley attached to the structure, with a rope for heaving up luggage. There's your bellhop.
I'm heartened by the fact that there's no television or telephone in the Treezebo, though I'm a bit unnerved by the altitude, the sheer amount of open air above the half walls—canvas flaps can be lowered in bad weather, but there are no windows or screens—and the knee-high bench where Timothy plans to sleep. Instead I make him a bed on the cabin floor with the bench cushions.
From this glorified crow's nest we have a panoramic view of the wooded property and its outbuildings, including stables, a bathhouse, and a stage for kids' performances. Nearby rises the massive black oak that inspired owner Michael Garnier to buy this spread in 1974 and open a B&B. Working without sketches or blueprints, the onetime college engineering major erected a tree house for his own use. But the cozy space proved so popular that Garnier started renting it out to guests—resulting in a lengthy battle with Josephine County authorities, who wouldn't abide a business, especially one in a tree, without a building permit.
Unable to charge people, Garnier engaged in a clever dodge, selling T-shirts at inflated prices and then inviting those who bought them to sleep over. His grove gradually filled with other free-form buildings, swinging ropes, and suspension bridges as word spread about the renegade B&B. Garnier finally went straight in 1999, after engineering studies, innumerable court orders, and a stress test—in which 93 friends, a pair of dogs, and a chicken clambered over the Swiss Family complex—persuaded the county to grant him the necessary permits.
There is an immediate sense of community at the Treesort. Timothy soon befriends Garnier's cat Locita and a half-dozen other kids of varying ages. Grown-ups also warm quickly to this eccentric world. Who wouldn't want to ride a horse through an old-growth forest, swim in a river-fed pool, gorge on an enormous blackberry patch, or, best of all, climb Garnier's trees? Timothy and I spend one morning learning his ropes course, using ascenders to make our way more than 50 feet up the black oak. There we add our names to the graffiti on Garnier's old roost, hook our safety harnesses onto the zip line, and leap into the void for an exhilarating ride under an aromatic canopy of fir and cedar.
We while away the hours watching hummingbirds flit around a trellis of trumpet creepers. We cut our own mosaic tiles to make a trivet, and play countless games of Yahtzee and Uno. We cook meat over open flames. We do everything, and nothing. A short drive takes us to groves of towering redwoods (Route 199, the Redwood Highway, is five miles west), or to the spectacular sea stacks along the Oregon coast, or to funky Grant's Pass, with its drive-through coffee bars, chain saw-art galleries, and jet-boat river outfitters.
At night, we gather around a fire with the other guests to toast marshmallows and our good fortune. Horses snuffle in the paddock; coyotes wail in the hills. A gentle breeze ruffles the embers; high above, the trees sway approval.
I make a mental note to examine the Treezebo's construction. There's a stand of ash in my backyard, a perfect place to go out on a limb and into thin air.
Christopher R. Cox is a feature reporter for the Boston Herald.
The Facts
United Airlines has scheduled jet service into Medford, about an hour's drive east of Takilma. At Out 'n' About Treesort (541-592-2208; www.treehouses.com), doubles start at $80 per night, with a two-night minimum. Activitrees are extra. Jet boats make daily runs up the Rogue River from Gold Beach. We arranged for a pick-up in Agness with Rogue River Mail Boat Trips (800-458-3511; www.mailboat.com). The Treesort has gas grills. Other dining options include La Caverna (541-592-6559), a Cave Junction hole in the wall with honest Mexican food (dinner for three, $25), and the wood-paneled soda fountain of the historic Oregon Caves Chateau (541-592-3400). Dinner at McGrew's (541-596-2202) in O'Brien, a wide spot on the Redwood Highway where a 16-ounce steak dinner (Angus beef, no less) with homemade tomato-cheese-zucchini soup goes for $15.95, microbrews cost only $2, and the deer-rack décor is modulated by such puckish warnings as, "Anyone caught smoking on the premises will be hung by the toenails and pummeled into unconsciousness with an organic carrot."
