You know that Facebook poll that is circulating right now, about how many states you have visited? Well, I have been to all but Alaska, as well as to all of the Canadian provinces between Alberta and Quebec, and I did so almost entirely in tents. I have camped atop the Rocky Mountains and in the high deserts of New Mexico, amid the sand dunes of Michigan and the Badlands of South Dakota. I have camped in Boston, Atlanta, New Orleans, and once, most frighteningly, in Memphis. (What was that scratch-scratch-scratching sound?)
Camping is in my blood. My great-grandfather was a tent manufacturer, perhaps most renowned for the Dickeybird Kamper, an umbrella-like design made of thick canvas with no center pole that, according to family lore, counted Haile Selassie among its fans. A story for another time.
My point about camping is this: I spent 18 years of my life (or at least the 17 after I started speaking) begging my father to stay in a cabin, any cabin. I still have fond memories of the one time, somewhere on the shores of a northern Canadian lake, that the torrential downpour was of such Biblical proportions that Dad finally relented and booked our family of five into a single room log structure that was heated by a poorly vented stone fireplace. The whole thing almost instantly filled with smoke, with us trapped inside. But I was dry and sleeping on a bed with springs. It was heaven.
For our January issue, we tracked down four much more luxurious cabin getaways a short drive away. Because, really, aren’t you already ready for a holiday from your holiday? (Or maybe from your family?) It is online now. One is an Instagram-worthy minimalist black box in the Piney Woods, and there’s a farm cabin near Waco that was updated by Chip and Joanna Gaines. There’s a stunning ski lodge-inspired retreat built by a Dallas couple in Broken Bow (pictured above). And there’s a cabin compound in Royse City with a crazy origin story that involves a ward of the state and custom bricks from Frank Lloyd Wright’s original Kansas City manufacturer. Despite their dramatic differences, they all share something essential in common, aside from fire pits and picturesque settings.
They aren’t tents. Read it here.
