Twenty-one years ago we bought Liptrap Loft from Jim. He'd spent a long time finding land that felt right, then lived in a tent on it while he designed and built the place by hand. He built it first and studied architecture after. Every detail is his.
When we bought it, Jim remarked that the cabin needed people. So we opened the door.
It's unusual. Spare where most people expect plenty. Some guests tell us it's unlike anywhere else they've stayed. To them the simplicity is the point, not something to forgive. Others arrive expecting something different, and see the gaps before they see the point.
Nobody has a mild reaction. People either love it, or wonder what on earth we're doing.
That was even truer when we started. Luxury then meant shiny, new and more of everything. Spare wasn't a style yet. It was a niche, and a small one.
The guests who wondered taught us more than the ones who loved it.
Trying to be for everyone would have undone what Jim built. So we stopped trying. We kept the place and its philosophy as they were and found the people it was right for.
The ones who loved it had usually stayed in plenty of places, often far off the usual routes. They'd read the listing closely and knew exactly what they were booking. They didn't need us to explain it.
Stay a few nights and you start noticing. The duck walk out to the bath. How much light there is. The building asks you to pay attention, and that was Jim's point. Notice small things and you end up somewhere else, without trying.
Jim said the cabin needed people. He was right. It just needed the right ones.
It became popular anyway. Still not for everyone. Still exactly what it was meant to be.







