Sometimes Progress Isn't Pretty

July 31, 2026•8 min read

Sometimes Progress Isn't Pretty

The last few days have been busy.

Not necessarily exciting.

Not the kind of days that produce beautiful finished projects or dramatic before and after photos.

Instead, they've been the kind of days where you spend hours tearing things apart so one day you can build them back better.

Since I never found the time or energy to sit down and write, I figured I'd catch everyone up all at once.

Tuesday

As usual, the morning started the same way it usually does.

My partner had her coffee.

I had my chocolate milk.

And together we waited for the hummingbirds.

It's become one of our favorite parts of the day.

We sit quietly, looking out the windows, and before long they begin to appear.

One after another they'll zip over to the feeders, chase each other around camp, and occasionally stop at the hanging baskets filled with the red flowers I planted just for them.

It's amazing how quickly something so simple has become part of our daily routine.

Watching them always seems to slow life down for a few minutes.

In fact, writing this is reminding me that I need to refill all of the feeders tomorrow.

Once the hummingbirds had finished their morning visit, we made our usual walk up to the garden.

Everything continues to grow at an incredible pace, and even on a rainy morning it's always worth taking a few minutes to see what's changed since the day before.

By late morning the rain had settled in.

Rather than trying to work outside, my partner and I decided it was the perfect opportunity to move indoors and start tackling the bunkhouse.

We headed straight for the kitchen.

In about an hour to an hour and a half we removed the double wall oven, the range, the kitchen island, and nearly all of the kitchen cabinets.

It was amazing how quickly the room opened up once everything started coming apart.

While I worked in the kitchen, my partner started removing shelving and other components from the second bathroom.

For only a little over an hour's work, we made tremendous progress.

Sometimes getting started is the hardest part.

Wednesday

With the kitchen already well underway, I went back into the bunkhouse by myself.

I removed the large cabinet that housed the double oven along with the remaining lower cabinets in the kitchen.

After that I moved into the second bathroom and removed the toilet.

That was enough for one day.

With my partner heading back toward Long Island for work, I decided not to push myself too hard.

Instead I spent the afternoon relaxing around camp.

After picking up some tools from the main house I noticed we also have pitcher plants by the frog pond. These little plants are carnivorous like venous fly traps.

One of my favorite moments came while I was sitting quietly with the camper door open.

Several hummingbirds were flying around the campsite, and one actually stopped right in the doorway for a moment.

It hovered there just long enough that it almost felt like it was looking inside to see what I was doing before taking off again.

Little moments like that never get old.

Thursday

Today started early.

Really early.

I was awake by six o'clock, and by nine I was already back inside the bunkhouse.

The second bathroom was first on the list.

I removed the vanity and medicine cabinet, leaving the room almost completely stripped.

From there I moved into the master bathroom.

Out came the upper cabinets.

Then the vanity.

By that point...

I felt disgusting.

If you've ever renovated an older home, you know exactly what I mean.

Dust.

Dirt.

Old insulation.

Who knows what else.

I headed back to the camper, took a shower, and ate some lunch.

That should have been the end of the workday.

At least that's what I told myself.

But sitting still has never been one of my strengths.

After about an hour I found myself thinking,

"Well... I could probably get one more thing done."

The master bathroom toilet still had two rusted bolts refusing to let go.

I soaked them with penetrating oil and gave them some time.

When I came back...

Nothing.

They weren't moving.

So out came the reciprocating saw.

A few careful cuts later, the bolts surrendered.

Now both toilets were officially out of the house.

Mission accomplished.

Or so I thought.

Back to the camper.

Another shower.

Yes...

Another one.

By this point I think I was on shower number two.

Maybe three.

I had lost count.

After cleaning up once again, I made the mistake of sitting down.

Within a few minutes I caught myself thinking,

"I really should go see how difficult that bathroom floor is going to be."

On my way back into the bunkhouse, I decided to stop in the garage.

One of the next projects on my list is getting it emptied out, but before I could do that I wanted to see what it would take to get the overhead door open.

Unfortunately, it wasn't good news.

The garage door appears to have been installed much like the old barn door.

There are no rollers riding in the tracks.

Instead, the door has been screwed directly into the framing of the building.

To make matters worse, the wood itself is badly rotted.

At this point, if I tried to lift the door, I'm fairly certain the entire thing would simply come apart.

That changed my plans pretty quickly.

Rather than forcing it and creating an even bigger problem, I decided the smarter approach is to wait until I have everything on site.

I measured the overhead door, the man door, and all of the garage windows.

While I was walking around the garage taking measurements, I also stumbled across a few beautiful mushrooms growing nearby and, even more exciting, a small patch of ghost pipes. They're fairly uncommon, so finding them was a real treat. If you've never seen ghost pipes before, they're fascinating little plants. They don't contain chlorophyll, so instead of being green, they're almost completely white and almost seem to glow against the forest floor. Moments like that are one of the things I love most about this property. Even on a day filled with demolition and dirty work, nature always seems to find a way to surprise me.

Now I can begin sourcing replacement materials.

Once everything has arrived, I'll replace the doors, tracks, rollers, windows, and whatever hardware is needed all at the same time.

The last thing I want is to remove the garage door now and leave the building wide open through the winter.

Even after that, the garage still has a long road ahead.

There are structural repairs that need attention.

The roof needs repairs.

The siding is badly warped and rotted in places.

Honestly, once I start removing the siding, I may decide it's more practical to replace all of it with something new.

Like so many buildings on this property, what starts as one repair often turns into a much bigger project.

At this point, I think the smartest decision is to push the garage restoration to next season and focus on getting the bunkhouse dried in and weather tight before winter arrives.

From there I finally headed into the master bathroom to see what I was really dealing with.

The carpeting came up surprisingly easily.

Which, by itself, was satisfying.

Although I still can't understand who ever thought carpeting belonged in a bathroom.

If you're thinking about doing that...

Please don't.

Under the carpet was the original sheet of linoleum.

That peeled up pretty easily too.

Unfortunately...

What waited underneath wasn't nearly as encouraging.

Water.

Active moisture.

When I stepped near where the toilet had been, my foot went right through the floor.

I already knew there was some rot in that area.

That wasn't the surprise.

The surprise was discovering that the entire subfloor appears to be made from composite pressboard instead of plywood.

To me, that's a major design flaw.

Pressboard and water simply don't belong together.

Once moisture gets into it, the damage happens quickly.

The question now is...

Where is the water coming from?

The roof was replaced last October.

The ceiling above shows no signs of water intrusion.

The plumbing isn't connected.

There shouldn't be water inside those walls.

My best guess is that after three straight days of rain, water is finding its way behind the vinyl siding, getting past a damaged weather barrier, running down inside the wall, and soaking into the edge of the subfloor.

I'll know more once everything is opened up.

Originally, I expected to replace a few sections of damaged flooring.

Now...

I'm beginning to think much of the subfloor may eventually need to be replaced.

It's certainly more work than I expected.

But if I'm already taking everything apart, it doesn't make much sense to rebuild over questionable materials only to have problems a few years from now.

I've said it before, and today only reinforced that belief.

I'm not renovating this place to make it look good for a little while.

I'm rebuilding it so I hopefully never have to do these jobs again.

Sometimes that means taking the harder path.

Sometimes it means replacing things that technically could stay.

But I'd rather spend more time now than spend years wondering what might be hiding behind the walls or under the floor.

By the end of today I was exhausted.

Dirty.

Sore.

And apparently in need of yet another shower.

Not exactly glamorous.

But every cabinet removed...