Imagine being optimistic when buying a charred, abandoned log cabin, and miraculously that hopefulness pays off in several ways. Not only do Paul and Maureen Fattig have an attractive home along Sterling Creek in southern Oregon's Applegate Valley, but he also got a book deal.

Paul Fattig wrote the entertaining "Up Sterling Creek Without a Paddle" (Hellgate Press), based on the couple falling for a "burned wooden shell" on neglected farmland.

On their first visit, their real estate agent screamed a warning not to move closer to the "gross" scene inside the structure.

As Fattig later wrote in his first book: "To call it gross was like saying Hurricane Katrina somewhat dinged up New Orleans. The interior had been blackened by the fire. Scorched Sheetrock hung from the open ceiling. Where it wasn't covered by burned rubbish and ashes, the slate green concrete floor was stained by all manner of objects that had melted onto it."

Rather than turn and run as suggested by the real estate agent, or just peek through the shattered windows, the Fattigs ventured inside, inspecting the inferno's destruction, rain's ruin and vandals' graffiti. An orange spray-painted pentagram marked the living room floor and "Satan" was scrawled on a wall in the bathroom.

They decided to ignore the other obvious faults, including a curious cluster of a toilet, kitchen sink and rusted hot water tank buried by weeds in a part of what Fattig describes as encompassing "debris fields."

Maureen saw possibilities while Paul muttered that he "should have brought a pith helmet."

Worried, for some reason, that they might miss out on this, well, opportunity, Maureen Fattig, who owns Medford hair salon Blades & Co., made an offer that day, then confessed to her husband after their low-ball offer was accepted.

They were surprised the 44-acre property that had lingered on the market for years was suddenly theirs. This became one of many serendipitous experiences on land where hopeful gold miners and pioneers roamed when Oregon was still a territory.

The farm was once a short walk to saloons in Sterlingville, which came and went with the Gold Rush in the late 19th century. Now, the farm is near Rogue Valley vineyards and 10 miles south of Jacksonville's Britt Festival outdoor concert venue.

Paul Fattig, a retired journalist, grins sitting at his desk in a writing den in the loft that hovers above the living room.

When the Fattigs started on the ultimate fixer-upper project in 2001, one of the walls of the loft had been blasted away by fire. A photo taken then shows Maureen posing from the precarious spot.

Other catastrophes that would have dissuaded a faint-of-heart homeowner were the smoke-stained ceiling in the master bedroom, burn holes in the small bedroom and the cremated remains of the kitchen's old electric stove, refrigerator and cupboards. "The kitchen had been cooked," wrote Fattig.

From his loft vantage point, Paul Fattig can now look around at the cabin's replaced wood walls and open log rafters, or out the window to Gilson Gulch. And he and Maureen can feel good that a handmade, century-old dwelling once exposed to the elements is now their cozy home.

The bat and rattlesnake-infested place was first stripped to its peeled log frame, then rebuilt by professionals and the couple who are big fans of "This Old House."

The Fattigs wanted to restore the rustic cabin, not make it into a "rusticratic" mansion, reminiscent of the Gilded Age's Adirondack Great Camps, those wilderness estates built in the New York mountains by the Rockefellers, Vanderbilts and other financial titans.

"Just picture [the George Clooney adventure film] 'O Brother, Where Art Thou?' and you're right there," said Paul Fattig.

Fattig's humorous commentary is contained in his 450-page book, which is a Mark Twain meets Paul Bunyan approach to Peter Mayle's "A Year in Provence."

A passage in Mayle's 1989 bestselling book about restoring a 200-year-old stone house in the French countryside speaks of the discovery of two Napoleonic gold coins.

Fattig unearthed a few treasures, too, on his land, which he once likened to World War II, fire-bombed Dresden, Germany.

During the restoration, where Fattig served as the general contractor, he stumbled upon a child's 1880-era marble. A friend, using a metal detector, found a musket ball and 1907 Indian head copper penny, which has a value of at least $2, according to the online resource Coin Study.

Although the Fattigs never doubted this wreck could be their home, friends and family had concerns. However, coincidences have proven time and again that the Fattigs were meant to live here.

While digging around the small attic above the bathroom, they found antique postcards, written in Swedish. On one, dated 1909, there is a reference to someone who is poor, the word appearing in Swedish is "Fattig."

Paul Fattig carefully opens a fragile 1846 prayer book, its brittle pages scorched on the edges. The couple rescued the book from the warming oven of the old wood stove.

After the restoration was completed, the couple left one object in decay on display outside as a whimsical greeting: An antique McCormick Deering bar sickle mower is parked against a pine tree near the front gate.

From here, it takes a few minutes on the grassy path to reach the cabin. During that time, a visitor feels a sense of going back in time, returning to a world when horses and buggies, rather than cars, made socializing a breeze.

The cabin's dark red roof points to the sky over the main part of the house; a smaller, but equally pitched roof covers the master bedroom, which once was its own cabin.

Change, danger and how life evolved around this farmland can be summed up in this one cabin: Life goes on, despite setbacks. There will always be new pioneers willing to pick up the pieces and start a new life here.

Non-writers might also be inspired by this setting to tell a tale. Just look at the shed, where dappled sunlight washes over rows of horseshoes tacked on the front. It looks like something styled by Disney.

Yes, it's easy to imagine being optimistic here.



A conversation with Paul and Maureen Fattig



The Oregonian/Oregonlive: How long after you bought the burned, vandalized, abandoned cabin did you feel it was your home? Was there a series of improvements or one dramatic one that helped you two see yourself relaxing and retiring here?



Paul: The moment we stepped into the old cabin, despite it having been fire ravaged and trashed, we knew we had found the place we were looking for. At the risk of sounding syrupy, it was love at first sight, warts and all.

Admittedly, once we made the offer only after seeing it during a quick lunch break and the offer was accepted without the owner batting an eye, we both thought, "Oh crap! What have we gotten ourselves into?" But when we revisited it and spent a couple of hours wandering about the property, we were far more excited about the opportunity than we were afraid of the challenge.

Still, it wasn't until we moved out of the old trailer from hell we lived in on the property during construction and into the cabin that we were finally able to fully feel at home. But the old place will always be a work in progress. Much like life, I suppose.

Maureen: We knew immediately this was the place we wanted. We loved restoring the old girl and felt liked we belonged as soon as we moved in. Rebuilding an old home allows you to connect with the place's past in a way that building a new house does not.

Oregonlive: You have the enviable luxury of working at home, in a loft above the living room. This must be really helpful, not just to inspire your writing but fact checking about the house. I assume you just had to look over your shoulder, figuratively, to see if the way you described things was correct. What other benefits do you get from working in your rehabbed home? You mentioned the short commute. Other benefits?

Paul: While writing "Up Sterling Creek," it was as though I was living inside the book. In essence, I was. I relish the fact that everything here has a tale, whether it is the 1880s-era marble we found when we turned the soil for our first garden or the 18, old horseshoes we dug up over the years. And Southern Oregon University archaeologists Mark Tveskov and Chelsea Rose and historian Ben Truwe educating us about the old items from the past was really fascinating.

After I completed the first book and started working on my second book, "Madstone: The True Tale of World War I Conscientious Objectors Alfred and Charlie Fattig and Their Oregon Wilderness Hideout," which comes out this September, the loft's magic didn't end. The loft window faces up the valley. When the words aren't flowing, I simply stand in front of it for a few minutes. Invariably I'll see wildlife in the form of deer, turkeys or an occasional coyote. As a lifelong student of nature, I find that inspiring.

Oregonlive: Was there a time when you two felt like throwing up your hands? How did you plow through?

Paul: We knew it was going to be a long haul so we just took it one step at a time. We never gave up, although I have to admit there were a few times when Maureen had to shore up my resolve.

Maureen: We are both optimists at heart. We always found ways to overcome obstacles. For instance, using a drawknife to peel logs was hard but we became fairly good at it. Admittedly, we were both glad when the drawknife work was done.

Oregonlive: What would you two do differently if you had to do it all over again?

Paul: If we had tons of money, we would have probably hired folks to do some of the work we did. But we were on a budget so we didn't have that option. Besides, we learned a lot from those experiences.

Maureen: In hindsight, we probably would have expanded the laundry area a bit. But, overall, we liked the way everything turned out. We have truly come home in this cabin.

-- Janet Eastman



jeastman@oregonian.com

503-799-8739

@janeteastman



