"You're staying at Jim Martin's rustic place, ALONE??" the clerk asks me in semi-horror as I place bread, pasta, bottled water and fresh fruit on the counter by the register.

"Have you seen it?" I ask, getting what I know will be a negative shake of the head in return. The clerk follows with a story of a couple who had relayed their dismay after staying there, having to actually hike to an outhouse in the middle of the night! I just smile. Adventure has always been tempting to me. This was one I wasn’t about to pass up.

I’ve arrived in New Plymouth, Ohio, for a night in a 200 year old cabin in the Hocking Hills area. I gaze up the trail, preparing for what I hope will be one trip only of hiking in with necessary items from the car. There is no driveway to the cabin, but there is a meadow where the car can spend the night. I park backwards, so my front-wheel drive can more easily pull out the next day, in case of rain during the night. I pull what I need in clothing and toiletries from the car, repacking it into a small duffel bag and balance it with the grocery bag from the store. A third bag holds a flashlight, my journal and pen, a camera and a small coffeemaker, grinder and coffee beans.

I begin my short hike toward the cabin, past a lake with water lilies, where I hear the echo of frogs croaking, along with an occasional splash. As I approach the half-way mark up the trail, I see the shadow of a structure in the distance that looks like a page from a history book. Across the water and just through the pine trees is the two-story log home that Jim relocated and restored from Gatlinburg, purchased from the woman who had grown up in it. It is rustic and intriguing and my heart beats a little faster in anticipation. I rearrange my bags of supplies and continue on. Walking closer I see the large porch in front, rocking chairs placed conveniently for gazing out into the woods.

I enter from the rear of the building, as the front door is locked not by a modern lock, but with a board that inserts across the back. As I step inside the one room cabin of hand hewn logs, I know immediately that I’ve entered a time of years gone by. Every item is reminiscent of the past, from the antique stove to the large wood table in the center of the room. There is no running water, but there is electricity, so I place the groceries in the old-fashioned refrigerator and take out a container of bottled water. The kitchen provides a pump and sink, but I’ve been warned the water is not drinkable. I decide to play it safe and use bottled water, even for boiling pasta and brewing coffee.

Climbing the stairs to the loft, I find a comfortable double bed, an additional set of bunk beds, quilts, old chests and rocking chairs. I am apprehensive only about the 200 yr. old "bathroom," which is a short distance from the cabin. The trail to it is wide enough for daylight, but I am told this is snake country, bear country and whoknowswhatelse country. Yet, opposed to the couple who had reviewed this cabin to the store clerk, I find the history and authenticity interesting and educational, which is why I purposely chose this cabin over a much newer one with first-class amenities.

Setting my flashlight by the back door, I settle in for the evening. Pulling a heavy pot and a bowl from the selection in the kitchen cupboards, I succeed in fixing pasta and sit with my meal, curled into a rocking chair on the porch. Evening descends with a hush across the woods. Fireflies twinkle in the shadows of the nearby trees and a sense of immense calm washes over me.

As night falls, I move inside and spend the evening writing and reading, finally deciding to brave a trip to the outhouse, which turns out to be exceptionally tidy and much less primitive than I had feared, even sporting dried flowers and framed pictures. Shower facilities are shared with another cabin on the property and located in building nearby.

Like a true pioneer woman, I bolt the wood slats before climbing up to the loft. I anticipate some nervous sleeping, being not only isolated but in an apparent time warp, but to my surprise I sleep soundly. There are no raccoons scurrying around on the roof or any other wildlife that I can hear. In the entire stay at this quaint cabin, the wildest creature I encounter is a small gray tabby kitten who shares the porch with me. Morning arrives and I am grateful once again for electricity, as I pour myself a mug of fresh ground French Roast. Check-out time is not until noon and I remain until the last minute to enjoy this unique lodging, as well as the peaceful surroundings.

I will admit that this cabin is not for those travelers who seek only luxury in accommodations. They won’t find a Jacuzzi tub, fancy bath soaps, goose down comforter or room service within these sturdy log walls. But the beauty of the Hocking Hills area makes this a spectacular getaway and the lesson in history is fabulous. I depart very thankful for my chance to stay at this retreat from the modern world.

Yesteryear Log Cabins offers a chance to take an inside look at a simpler time in life, surrounded by nature. Catch and release fishing is allowed in the cabin’s private lake. A fire ring and outdoor picnic table are also provided. There are many nearby state parks to explore, including Old Man's Cave, located on Route 664, where I stopped to take an easy hike and admire the breathtaking scenery. For a longer expedition, the six mile Grandma Gatewood Trail will take hiking enthusiasts to Cedar Falls and Ash Cave. And, if shopping must be done, there are several general merchandise stores which carry local art. And yes, one is the store where I purchased the groceries, where the clerk now has my "yes-I-survived-the-night-and-even-loved-it" positive review.

Yesteryear Log Cabins
66437 State Route 56
New Plymouth, Ohio 4565
Phone: (740) 385-1952
Website: www.honeyfork.com/YESTERYEAR/index.htm

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Local Wildlife