Outdoor solar shower

IMG_4602
Our outdoor shower is simply great. From around April (if we're lucky and it's sunny) through October (again with sun), I am able to use our solar-heated outdoor shower. Nothing beats arriving home from work, after a sweaty bike commute home, and taking a relaxing hot (and free!) outdoor shower. Sometimes the sun shines on me. I can listen to the birds sing and smell the fresh air. In the winter the outdoor shower has become a necessary part of our sauna.

When we put the shower together eight years ago it was definitely out of necessity. I threw it together one afternoon just as we began the remodel of the one and only bathroom in our house. We needed someway to get ourselves clean during a significant remodel project.

This particular bathroom redo was a bigger project than usual because we had to undo layers of previous muddled remodeling. Becky and I moved and re-framed the walls and the 100-year-old plumbing had to be completely redone and relocated. Once the old acrylic bath tub was removed, we had to do something with the original window opening that had been covered over with vinyl siding (on the outside) and the icky mold-growing acrylic bath tub cum shower surround (on the inside). Since we were doing all of the work ourselves on the weekends and in the evening, the project would take a long time. With the bathroom tied up for a while, how were we going to stay clean and stink-free for our day jobs?

The solution was the outdoor solar shower. It worked so well, especially when used with our sauna, that we've maintained it and continue to use it.

The shower, as built and in principle, is incredibly simply. It is essentially a single purpose solar batch hot water heater.

The solar heater
I had saved an old (10 gallon?) RV electric hot water heater for the project. With a Sawzall I removed the outside metal jacket and then the fiberglass insulation. I spray painted the tank matte black with standard high-temp barbecue rattle-can spray paint. The tank then went up on the roof of the garage, resting on some plywood with a couple of 2X4 feet so the roof rain water could drain under it.
Solar water heater, roof shot

Around the outside of the tank I built a "green house." A local used building supply Portland institution, the Rebuilding Center, supplied the sheet glass that were taken from old windows. I cut this up and glued the sheets together into a box using silicone caulk. (Silicone caulk is amazing stuff, up there with duct tape and Gorilla Glue.) The back side of the glass box was chip-board plywood painted white to seal out rain and reflect light back onto the tank. The plywood is aligned toward the north side of the box. Practically no solar gain comes from this side and the plywood is an easy medium to pass the plumbing through.

The shower
A semi-permanently dedicated garden hose provides the water for the shower. The hose transitions in to PVC and then CPVC pipe. Before the shower, the water "T"s, half going up to the solar heater and the other half serving as the cold water supply.
Plumbing schematic
Here you can see the water entering from the right. At the first "T" water goes up to the hot water heater tank and continues to the left to the shower faucet. At the faucet the cold water is mixed with the hot water that comes from the roof. It goes up the galvanized steel riser and comes out the shower head.

The shower hardware is simply a junked old cast iron pipe shower riser and attached Delta shower faucet. Over the years I've used a few. One I saved from an old house remodel from my maintenance days. Another was was the shower from our house. The Rebuilding Center supplied the latest.
Step into the shower

For a period of time I used the acrylic shower surround taken out of our bathroom to help "finish" the shower. The acrylic covered the plumbing and kept the water off the siding. A few years ago I figured out that it was accomplishing very little and was simply butt ugly. So I threw it out. The old wood siding was holding up fine to the occasional water exposure. (Hey, it rains all the time here in Portland and has done fine for the past 100 years.)

Notes on the day-to-day practical use and abuse

Cowboy Club Med, a Visit to Summer Lake Hot Springs


It took us a long time, but the family finally made a visit to Summer Lake Hot Springs. The experience really exceeded our expectations so it's worth sharing.

About ten years ago I found a short mention and photo of the historic and isolated hot springs bath house on the internet. Summer Lake is located in high-desert south central Oregon about two-hour's drive south of Bend, not the sort of place you can make a quick weekend get away too. I tucked this info away in a note on my computer and kept the dream alive of someday visiting.

Getting There
I was able to finally make it happen last weekend. The family went down to participate in the Burgundy Topz Scooter Club's 23rd annual camping rally, Scootouring. The rally starts in Sacramento. Becky's dad, Mike, and his wife, Pat, just moved into a new house in Cool, California which is located in the "gold hills." As luck would have it, their new house is actually very close to the traditional Scootouring camping location. We trucked a scooter down, had a brief visit and one-night's stay in Mike and Pat's new house and the next day meet up with the ride. As usual, it was a fantastic camping experience.

Early Sunday morning, we packed up for the return trip to Portland. To get to the hot springs, instead of taking I5, we went over to Reno, Nevada and took 395 north.

It was a long drive and pretty tough on our eight-year-old daughter, Greta. We arrived in Paisley, Oregon around 7:30 p.m. and decided we needed to get something to eat before checking in at Summer Lake Hot Springs which was a few miles away. We pulled into the first (and really probably the only) place we saw, the Homestead Restaurant. The waitress looked a bit frazzled. She was hurriedly loading beers into the cooler behind the register. We were told it might be a 20 minute wait before we were served because there was a big party in the back room. Having no other options, we sat down.

There was indeed a big party and it was all cowboys wearing true-to-life cowboy regalia (including their hats on indoors). They were having some sort of association meeting but they were also having fun drinking beer. While we were waiting, a couple groups of other local families sat down in the main area where we were. Picking up on some of the conversation, the families were ranchers too and most of them were duded-up in cowboy hats, boots and even spurs. Very likely there was some rodeo-type event in the area that day. Even so, it was evident that in this part of Oregon they take cattle ranching and cowboy culture seriously. Maybe I was a little giddy from the day-long drive, but I thought practically everyone in the restaurant had charisma. The people seemed full of character: strong, healthy and reasonably happy. Maybe there's something to be said for living in cattle country?

On to the springs

By the time we finished our food it was dark outside. We were a little worried we would be checking in too late and imposing on the proprietors. We showed up sometime after nine. It was late but we were graciously received. We were pointed in the direction of our cabin. The bath house was noted off in the distance with simple instructions to "help yourself." It was totally dark out but there were some lights on in the bath house. That was good enough for us.

I think one of the reasons I love soaking and sauna-ing so much is that, as I get older, I tend to get pretty sore muscles, especially in my hips after sitting all day. (Stupid desk job!) After driving for most of the day I was eager for some righteous "hydrotherapy." We quickly unloaded our stuff, grabbed towels and headed for a soak. We stumbled our way through the dark, partly dazzled by the incredible star show.

I was entranced by the bath house. It was empty, quiet and completely unsupervised. It was an old structure (built in 1928) and a bit like being inside a barn, peeling paint, dust, rust and a few spider webs. All was peaceful and quiet, with the only noise the calm steady pour of the spring water into the pool. After 9 p.m. bathing suits were optional and, amazingly, the bath house was open 24 hours. This was true cowboy freedom!

We found changing stalls and the showers. (Do you need changing rooms when no one is around?) We got into our birthday suits, and headed for the showers. Even though there is abundant geothermal hot water, there was no hot water for the showers. The website made it clear that they wanted people to "wash your bums" to help keep the pool safe and chlorine-free. We dutifully washed our bums in the bracing water. This really wasn't so bad knowing that blissful warm water awaits.

We soaked in the pool for a while, taking in the amazing rustic atmosphere of the space. We heard some voices outside the bath house. Greta did some exploring and came back to report that there was an outdoor soaking pool made of rocks and concrete at the back of the bath house. There were a couple of people finishing up their soak back there. Once the other folks vacated, we relocated to the outdoor pool. It was much hotter, making for a more vigorous soak. I loved the bath house but being outside in the hotter water under the stars was just what I needed.

The experience of soaking in the outdoor pool and looking up at the amazingly clear high-desert night sky was one I won't forget. There's really something to be said for looking out over the universe from the comfort of warm, womb-like water. The universe is gigantic and cold. It can seem lonely and unforgiving, but from my position it didn't feel that bad.

After the soak we slept like babies. In the morning I brought my camera out and explored.

The Cabin

There were two small cabins built next to each other. They were built on concrete slabs that were geothermically heated. When we arrived the night before, our cabin was actually too hot and opened the windows to cool it off a bit. We were impressed.

This one is the "Paisley," named after the nearby town
Paisley cabin

This one is the "Manzanita," where we stayed
Manzanita cabin

I thought our cabin was nice and well-proportioned. It was put together carefully and thoughtfully. We appreciated the interesting choice of materials in the construction. Notice the re-used corrugated metal roofing. This probably helps to keep the space cooler in the summer.

Much of the interior wood was salvaged old-growth clear vertical grain fir, replaned and sanded. If you looked closely you could see old nail holes.

Here is a good photo showing the reuse of an old ball-tipped door hinge.
Cabin hinge detail

I liked how the door and window casing was consistent with what would have been done in the 1920s in the area. There was the screen bead piece just under the top horizontal board but no crown lintel. Nothing fancy but it was the way it was done, particularly in working-class structures or out here.

The kitchen counter surface was made of red linoleum. It reminded me of my family cabin's 1950s kitchen counters in Hope, Alaska. It reminded me that this red linoleum is still obtainable in case we ever need to redo the Hope cabin's counter tops!

You can kind of see the counter here in this photo, along with some other cool features.
Cabin kitchen

The old refrigerator was a nice aesthetic touch but it was loud. We ended up unplugging it for the evening. I liked the old sink with the built-in drain board. Practical. Also, how about that re-used five panel door? The builder got it right, right down to the cast-iron escutcheon plate for the door knob.

Here's a pic of the bathroom:
bathroom detail

My only complaint with the cabin was that the drapery arrangement didn't seem like it had been fully sorted out yet. We couldn't close the drapes (and there were no blinds) sufficiently to keep out the light. This caused us to wake up a little early.

The Bath House

A stay at Summer Lake Hot Springs includes all-you-can-eat soaking, so we started out the day with another soak and I brought my camera.

Here's a picture of the bath house.
bath house, photo 2

Here's a photo from closer in
1928 Bath House

Here's the inside
bath house with rafters

The water pouring out of the old cast iron pipe/spigot for the pool was hot but not too hot. It was relaxing but it wasn't exactly what I consider to be a hot tub soak temperatures.

Standing under the spigot and having the water pour over my head and back was wonderful.
Hot sulphur water


I wished there were a few benches or something similar in the pool so we could sit down and relax. I wondered if that idea was ever tried?

The ambiance of the old bath house structure was simply fantastic. It was great to let my eyes wander around the boards and rafters and daydream. Many people from all walks of life had been here before us. I could imagine tired dirty ranchers using the pool, sharing it with some of the first and truly adventuresome tourists who traveled on Route 395 or whatever dirt road or trail may have proceeded it.

It was pretty disappointing to see graffiti carved into the wood with people's pointless initials and dates. The wonderful fact that people can use the bath house unsupervised and in relative privacy is a double edged sword in that there will always be disrespectful people who can't handle this sort of freedom. I looked around for signs of any really old graffiti. Maybe some of this started in the 1930s and I shouldn't be so judgmental? This would help me view the carvings as part of a historical continuum. All I saw were dates from 1990s and later. So they were just stupid disrespectful people and they don't get any excuses.

After a while we moved outside to appreciate the hotter, smaller soaking pool. It was a crystal clear morning, something we haven't seen too much of over the winter in rainy Portland.
looking south from hot pool

Here's a shot of the outside soaking pool.
hot soaking pool

We had a conversation with a worker who said that there were plans to expand this area to include two more pools. That sounded good to us as long as there was enough water for it all.

The only thing that would be any better (for me at least) would be to discretely add a wood-fired sauna somewhere nearby and to include a proper cold dunking tank. I kind of suspect that that is what the large steel stock tank (in the foreground of the above photo) will be used for.

Here's a link to the flickr set that has more detailed photos of things.

Crusty mid-century modern, a visit to the Sou'Wester Lodge




Can you see those trailers in the background!?

For enthusiasts of mid-century-modern design, the vintage travel trailer possesses serious mojo. There's something about the travel trailer that encapsulates a concentrated dose of Americana. Sleeping inside one of these often-musty trailers is like entering an intimate time capsule. You get an in-your-face exposure to past space-age design ideas and "modern" construction materials. How can you avoid thinking about the history of where these trailers came from when you're brushing your teeth in a trailer's bathroom?

Many people are aware of Shady Dell, a motel in Arizona where you can stay the night in a restored, period-correct travel trailer. Here in the Pacific Northwest we have possibly a better collection of vintage trailers at the largely-undiscovered Sou'Wester Lodge. (Warning: web 1.0!) Like the Shady Dell, you can experience them first hand by staying in them!

A few weeks ago, the family took a short trip to the beach. The pretext for the three hour drive from Portland was to look at a used china cabinet for sale on craigslist in Longbeach, Washington. We figured we shouldn't kill ourselves with the long trip. So we planned one night's stay at our favorite hotel, the Sou'Wester Lodge, located in Seaview Washington on Long Beach Penninsula.

Here is a link to my Flickr set of the trip.

The main part of the hotel is an 1892 summer home built for a former Oregon Senator, Henry Winslow Corbett. At some point, the main house (impressive in its own right) was converted to a hotel. In the 1940s or 1950s, drive-in cabins were added along with an amazing collection of now-vintage mobile home/travel trailers. (There are also RV parking spaces.)

Staying at the Sou'Wester is definitely a diamond-in-the-rough experience. I absolutely love everything about this place but it's not for everyone. The current owners are ex-patriot South Africans, Len and Miriam. They purchased the business sometime in the 1980s and have imbued and transformed the former tourist motel into something much more with their love of art, peace and humanity. Frequently the Sou'Wester hosts lectures and classical music concerts. This earthy intellectual culture might not jive too well if you are a tatooed rockabilly-ist. This is no Atomic Age Disney Land.

The owners appear to have viewed the trailers with some ironic distance. They are certainly protective custodians but they also call them "Tch, Tch," a British-ism for tacky. Over the years some of the trailer exterior walls were used as surfaces for murals and practically all of the trailers have guest art, guest journals and found beach objects. This may have been their attempt to breathe some "taste" into the stay. The decorating attempts to bring something softer and perhaps a more-grounded aesthetic to the sharp modern American design ideas.

Nevertheless there are the trailers in all their shaby glory.
Boles-Aero, three Royal Spartans and a Zel-Mar

While the owners of the Shady Dell probably spend a lot of money and time locating period-correct furnishings and fabrics for their trailers, Len and Miriam are perfectly content with, say for example, a homey late-80s floral bedspread:

Zel-Mar bedroom

And why not? This isn't a museum. Let the Sou'Wester be what it is. A vintage trailer enthusiast doesn't need a perfect restoration to appreciate the trailer underneath. Mostly the trailers are still remarkably intact. The wood in the bedroom of the Zelmar provides an enveloping warmth.

Look past the guest art and you can still make out the original Formica and appreciate an original cabinet hinge or light fixture.
Zel-Mar, looking into the kitchen

When I first experienced the interior of a Royal Spartan, I was surprised by how well integrated the use of natural wood paneling was with the more modern design items such as the appliances and hardware.

It is certainly a surprising diametric contrast from the aluminum-clad exterior. Some of these trailers are indeed very earthy while still being modern. Is this a synthesis of Monty Python's "horrible" Tinny verses "good" Woody? A new world view?



Sou'Wester's Pacemaker trailer is a departure from the warm wood paneling of the Spartans and the Zelmar.

Pacemaker

The interior is angular and I would say is more populux instead of moderne.

Pacemaker interior


Can you get more atomic age than a light fixture shaped like an atom?
Pacemaker light fixture

There are numerous other trailers at the Sou'Wester. I counted at least five Spartans and there are other interesting models on the site. Surprisingly there's only one Airstream and it's a small one. If you are interested in a stay, it might be worthwhile to show up early and see what is available. In the winter there are frequently a lot of options.

The Sou'Wester is right at Seaview, Washington's beach access. While I don't encourage it, this beach is actually a legal state highway and it can be driven on at least up to Long Beach. If you are in the area, we suggest a visit to the Depot Restaurant, about a two block walk from the Sou'Wester, a bit fancy but, hey, you're on vacation. There are also oysters in Oysterville (up the peninsula) and Jake the Alligator Boy at Marsh's Free Museum just up the road (or beach) in Long Beach. Now we're talking tacky!