THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, August 7, 1994 TAG: 9408040034
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: G1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: By RUTH FANTASIA, VIRGINIAN-PILOT/LEDGER-STAR STAFF
LENGTH: Long : 196 lines
CALL IT Swiss Family Robinson Syndrome: when the desire to be out on a limb is literal and passionate.
Chris Miller has it.
Two years ago, at age 14, he started building a treehouse. Now he's the master of a three-tree complex in Virginia Beach's North End neighborhood.
There are 21 platforms, two rope bridges, two spiral staircases, two ``zip-wires'' for traveling from tree to tree or to the ground, a rope swing and an ``elevator.''
Chris intended to build a simple treehouse with a bridge to his bedroom window. But he's built, torn down and rebuilt sections.
What he's learned could help other treehouse builders.
For instance, solid structures don't work between trees.
``I had an all-wood bridge but whenever the wind blew the trees would go one way and another,'' says Chris, a student at Norfolk Academy. ``The bolts started to come out so I tore that down and built a rope bridge.''
Chris needed two of his friends to help hoist the new bridge 12 1/2 feet into the trees. And it took another three months for Chris to adjust the bridge so he was able to walk on it.
``The squirrels were running across it long before I was,'' he says. ``It took a long time to make sure it was secure and to make sure there wasn't too much sway.''
The second bridge was easier, he says. ``I learned to build it by tying the ropes off to one tree and then adding boards and sliding them over.''
The bridges lead from tree to tree and platform to platform. The biggest platform is a trapezoid, roughly 25 square feet and sheltered by another deck above it.
Some platforms are accessible by spiral staircases. Beneath each step is a triangular support built at right angles to the tree. ``Doing it that way lessened the number of nails I had to use,'' says Chris.
Not that the complex has been expensive.
All the wood came from what his parents call ``The-Great-They-Didn't-Want-It-Anymore-Pile.''
``The whole time he was building I was expecting a police car to show up at the door,'' says Chris' father, Bob Miller.
Fortunately for Chris, most construction sites have a scrap pile of lumber perfect for small projects. Just ask to make sure ``they don't want it anymore,'' he says.
His ``elevator'' is a high-hung pulley that holds a rope with a sandbag and a few weights on one end. When Chris grabs the rope and jumps off an adjacent platform, he glides gently to the ground.
A Tarzan-style rope swing, which is 25 feet off the ground, carries Chris from tree to tree. ``Most people won't try that because it pretty much runs on faith,'' he says.
More secure are the zip-wires. Taut ropes attached to the trees at angles so the climber can go down easily. One is low enough for Chris to go hand-over-hand to the ground. The other zip-wire has a wooden seat so he can sit and slide from tree to tree.
Courtney, Chris' 14-year-old sister, studied for final exams in the treehouse last spring and family friends have walked among the branches.
To keep uninvited guests and small children out, Chris nailed two blocks to a tree for stairs and handholds. They are spaced so far apart, you need to be about 6 feet tall to climb up.
Animals, however, have dropped in. One night an owl startled Chris and a friend as they prepared to camp in the main complex, and a raccoon has been seen wandering through.
Chris has never had carpentry lessons, but the woodworking experience he gained led him to a summer job.
``He got on the phone and started calling contractors until he found someone that would hire him,'' says his father.
Chris landed a job with Dick Dryly Construction. ``There's a big difference between doing something for myself and doing something for a weekly paycheck,'' Chris says.
After a day on the job, he escapes to the treehouse.
From its highest point, 54 feet above ground, Chris can see the lights on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel, as well as the Ramada Inn 12 blocks away.
``The view is so nice I can just go up and stay for hours,'' he says. A PIRATE SHIP, A MANSION
Jesse Wilson likes the view from his treehouse, too. From 15 feet off the ground, Jesse and his sister, Heather Calvert, can see over the privacy fence around their Virginia Beach yard.
Two years ago, Jesse had Swiss Family Robinson Syndrome, too.
He wasn't allowed in the neighbor's treehouse, from which his sister and her friends taunted him. So his father, Chip, started building a treehouse, and all the kids climbed up. All except for 3-year-old Laurel, who is too young to climb so high.
The Wilson treehouse has been everything from a pirate ship to a mansion for 8-year-old Jesse and his 12-year-old sister.
``It's the first place we look for someone,'' says Laurie Wilson, the children's mother.
Chip says the treehouse was a weekend project he began two years ago with less than $200 in wood and nails.
``And it's still not done,'' he says of the roofless structure. ``I've bought the rest of the wood and I just haven't had time to finish it.''
The house is a platform secured to a limb, with two 4-by-4s sunk into the ground to add support. Rails around the platform prevent the children from falling.
Atop the platform is a ``room'' with four walls, a window hole and a door. The room is furnished with a couple of old kitchen stools. A wooden ladder rises from the ground, up through a hole in the platform. But the bottom rung was removed so Laurel couldn't climb unattended.
Jesse says he and his friends like to play war games, and ``spy'' on passers-by.
Heather and her friend Rose Haywood have eaten breakfast in the treehouse and watched boys play football in the church parking lot next door. GROWING UP
Some treehouses are around long after the children are finished playing. Like the one Pete Berkhimer of Chesapeake built 10 years ago.
More tree fort than treehouse, the Berkhimer model is a railed deck anchored with heavy-duty bolts to a gum tree. A ladder leads up through a hole in the deck.
``The ladder used to slope more than it does now,'' Pete says. ``But the treehouse has grown up with the tree.''
Now that the Berkhimers' three children are in their late teens, vines are growing up the platform and leaves and pine straw collect on the deck. But Pete's wife, Sharon, says they won't take it down.
``Maybe one day, 5 or 7 years from now, my grandchildren will play up there,' she says. ILLUSTRATION: LAWRENCE JACKSON/Staff color photos
Chris Miller, 16, of Virginia Beach stands on one of two rope
bridges that connect his backyard treehouse.
Miller's treehouse experience helped him land a summer construction
job.
Pete Berkhimer's 10-year-old treehouse in Chesapeake is ready for
the grandchildren.
The view of the Atlantic Ocean from Miller's treehouse complex is
worthy of a high-rent apartment.
Photo
LAWRENCE JACKSON/Staff
Up a tree: Heather Calvert, from left, Jesse Wilson, Rose Haywood
and Laurel Wilson.
Graphic
GOING OUT ON A LIMB
Building a treehouse is a do-it-yourself project. We called
several local deck builders, gazebo contractors and playground
equipment suppliers, and they all said they don't build them.
As one put it, ``When a kid gets hurt, there are no friends.''
But if you suffer from Swiss Family Robinson Syndrome, take a tip
from Chris Miller of Virginia Beach: ``What you build is going to
depend more on the trees than on carpentry skills or materials.
Improvising is the key.''
Here are a few more suggestions from ``Treehouses: The Art and
Craft of Living Out on a Limb'' by Peter Nelson, as reported by
Scripps Howard News Service:
A regular house takes twice as long to build as you estimate. A
treehouse takes three times as long.
It isn't a question of finding the right tree, but of figuring
out what kind of treehouse can be built in the tree that's
available.
Locally, oak, fir, gum and large magnolia trees are right for
building treehouses. Any tree that's too young, too old, too small,
or diseased or rotted is wrong.
The best shape is a tree that opens like a hand at a reasonable
height above the ground.
The bigger the tree, the bigger the treehouse.
If you can't find a single tree, look for a cluster of trees
suitable for a two-, three- or four-tree house.
Any load-bearing branch should be at least 6 inches in diameter.
A treehouse for adults can be any height, but one for children
shouldn't be much higher than 8 feet. The ground beneath it should
be cleared of rocks and spread with wood chips.
Allow for sway. Trees move; treehouses should be able to move
with them.
Don't cut the bark and cambium layer more than halfway around; it
will kill the tree or branch. If you suspend the treehouse from
cables, wrap them in garden hose or use wooden blocking where cables
pass across the bark.
Build the walls and roof on the ground, then haul them up.
For walls, use 2-by-3s, which are lighter than 2-by-4s but strong
enough to do the job.
Consider your means of access. You can pull a rope ladder up
after you, but it's hard to climb. A rigid ladder is easier to
climb, but not as portable. Purists may blanch, but the best
approach might just be a conventional staircase.
Don't use doors at the top of the ladder, says one local
contractor. ``The first thing that will happen is the kids will get
in a fight and one will get bonked in the head on his way up the
ladder. It's an invitation for disaster.''
Ruth Fantasia
by CNB