Django Kroner - The Perfect Treehouse: From Site Selection to Design & Construction

CINCINNATI, OHIO

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I felt a distinct clash of confusion and wonder when I woke up. I couldnt recall where I was and didnt know what time of night it was. I was surrounded above and below by thousands of tiny blinking lights and there was a loud pulsing choir of chirps and clicks. I yawned and exhaled into the thick air of an approaching fog. I sat up in my hammock, and focused out into the darkness. It was at this precise moment that I was hit with a rush of contentment. Like sitting down in your most comfortable chair after hours of hard labor, I felt like I had accomplished my mission or found a secret destination I had been searching for. In my heightened state I recognized the fireflies and spring peeper that captivated my senses at night in these woods. I was surrounded in 360 by these creatures and felt like guest in their home. I was spending the first night of many, forty-five feet up, in my newly built treehouse in Kentuckys Red River Gorge.

I had moved to the gorge about four months earlier. I was nineteen years old and yearned to connect with the area and test my skills as a rock climber. The gorge is gifted with Corbin sandstone cliffs and lush rainforest-like hillsides. Its a true rock climbing paradise east of the Mississippi. I moved there with little other plan than to become a stronger rock climber and apprentice with a timber-frame cabin builder in exchange for room and board. My goals were simple and time was abundant. I would spend hours in the hot sun chiseling mortises, and then head to the cliffs as the temperatures dropped. I would climb until sunset, hike home, cook a feast and then go to bed. It wasnt long until I realized that the bunkhouse in the parking lot was not the natural setting I was seeking for my bedroom. I pitched a tent back in the woods and laid awake much of the night wondering what it was that had just knocked over my water bottle. Still, I enjoyed the solitude and the weeks flew by. We had constructed the first of three floors of a giant timber-beam cabin, and I started to understand a little about how much patience is needed to be a good timber-frame craftsman. I was pleased with my setting, and was determined to stay the course as long as I had my chance to climb.

June came and with it all of the perks of summer in a jungle. Rain, humidity, mold, bugs and snakes had become my frequent roommates in my nylon tent. My boots developed a squish and eerie black mold grew quickly across the logo on my rain fly. I held high spirits, but they were mostly a cover for decreasing motivation. I wanted so badly to connect with this place, to prove my dedication, and to learn whatever it was I couldnt get from a mere weekend camping trip. I thought my best route was to just keep at it, but building was starting to feel like work. And as for climbing, my grip on the steep sandstone was slipping as sweat infiltrated the creases between my fingers. Life had become just plain sticky.

One morning after a rainy night, I woke up to a flooded tent and wet sleeping mat. I unzipped my screen, swiveled my feet out of the door and grabbed my boots to slide them on. I was greeted by a copperhead that had decided to take up residence. Luckily, I saw the snake in time and promptly threw the boot in the air as it slithered out of my toe cap. I collapsed back on my wet tent in defeat. As I lay there I watched the sun peak through and scare the clouds away. I noticed how the breeze ruffled the leaves of the tall tulip poplars. I felt the dank, dark air of the forest floor against my chest while I watched the tops of trees light up from the suns rays. I was in awe at how majestic the pale blue sky looked through the filter of the big leaf magnolia leaves. At that moment, I realized that I absolutely, without a doubt, needed to move into the trees.

Have you ever been eating breakfast and all of the sudden remembered a delightful idea you had in a dream the night before? Thats what that moment felt like. Building a treehouse wasnt exactly a new dream of mine. When I was a kid I would spend hours a day alone in the treetops. I would watch videos of orangutans and try to mimic their movement to better my climbing. I would climb trees to escape the wrath of my older brother, and I always felt safe in the limbs of a sugar maple. Like most kids, treehouses ignited one of the deepest wells of my imagination. I suppose, as I grew older this dream was put on the back burner and it wasnt until that day, somewhere between being a carefree kid and an adult, that I remembered my dream. It felt comfortable and it felt like home.

That day at lunch I hiked back to my site and began exploring the canopy with my eyes. I saw a collection of hemlocks, big leaf magnolias, white oaks, sycamores and poplars. I took note of how thick they were and how far apart they were from one another. I knew that a treehouse is only as grand as its host, and I knew that choosing the trees was going to be a very difficult decision. I spent each night in the office researching how to build treehouses and how trees grew, and looking at treehouses for inspiration. About two months passed until one night the perfect trees popped out to me. I saw the sycamore and tulip poplar that straddled the creek at the valley floor. I liked the idea of sleeping above running water and that the trees sat perpendicular to the direction of the holler. This meant I would have an unobstructed view. I began sketching designs, trying to determine what the simplest version possible would look like. I knew I wanted as much exposure to the canopy as I could get while remaining comfortable and safe. I knew I wanted to be to be high to achieve the best view possible. I had virtually no budget and knew that using scrap materials was going to be key to my success. Later that week I had come up with my final design. I ordered wood from the local saw mill, and convinced some climbing buddies to come over that weekend to help me start hauling beams to my build site in the woods.

I climbed the sycamore trunk first. I used a primitive aid system that was slow but did the trick. I then set safety and rigging lines that hung between the two trees. With my background in climbing, I considered the rope work to be the easy part. It was the construction that would be my challenge. I had just finished a year of AmeriCorps building houses with Habitat for Humanity, so I had a decent idea of what building a house took. I designed my treehouse to hang on cables, so that the trees could have room to sway in the wind and grow. I drilled a 1" hole through the trunk of each tree and hammered a 1" pipe to act as a sleeve in the hole. Then I threaded 12" aircraft cable through the pipe that extended down to beams on either side of the trees. Once I framed the rectangle that hung level around the trees I was able to raise a platform frame I built on the ground and set it onto the beams. Progress was slow. All of my help was volunteered so I would only get a few boards up at a time, usually in the evening after everyone was already worn out from the days activities.