The idea of buying vacation property began as a way to dump dollars. We had already converted rainy day cash into the obvious hedges against inflation. Taking a modest loan now while interest rates were still historically low, and while the real estate market was down, seemed like a reasonable method of building equity over the next few years. The notion of owing interest to the banksters does not bode well with me, but if we were lucky--and we had been lucky thus far during this great recession--we would pay it all back quickly.
Owning a piece of land in another state serves several purposes. My boys could enjoy camping there anytime, we might someday add a trailer or build a vacation home there, we could sell the property when the kids go to college, or use it for retirement. It was similar to a tactic my own father had employed with a small lot in Ocala, Florida. In the very worst scenario, having some property in another state might offer refuge if the pending Zombie Apocalypse ever materializes in our hometown. At least in my head.
My wife was quick to come on board with the idea. Our family had vacationed in the area at least four times. In fact, it is likely that our youngest child was conceived on the first trip. My wife is more the cabin camper than the tent camper, so my dream of owning a large parcel of land soon became our dream of owning a cabin or chalet. I would have to stick to stick to my guns and insist on one with a wood stove. Wood stoves will offer a sustainable means of heating and cooking during the Apocalypse.
I insisted too that the property be at least larger than a postage stamp and have few restrictions, if any. I was not about to leave my primary residence in suburbia for a vacation destination with fewer freedoms. That would grate on my libertarian side. And who knew when economic conditions would compel us to hunt, forage, and grow food.
So began the search. A great deal of credit must be given to the websites Zillow, Realtor.com, Sawbuck and Trulia, with extra praise to iPhone application of the latter. From the comfort of home--often the comfort of our bed--we browsed hundreds of listings. Over the summer we drove to the area five times to see more than two dozen places in person. We saw big places, small places, high ones and low ones, old and new, dry and dank.
The experience brought us closer, at least my wife and myself. Twice the kids came along. I'm not sure they ever understood "hunting for a house". From their perspective we kept finding houses and then looking again. One son had the chance to test the roll of emergency toilet paper from the survival pack in my vehicle. He returned with us two weeks later only to discover a bee hive at home home. The other son finally admitted that it didn't really matter what the dwelling was like so long as he could play in the river. Thankfully their grandmothers babysat during the other trips.
My wife favored properties with amenities and a view. We narrowed in on homes with a scenic overlook or a water feature. Since we had made the "mistake" of once vacationing on the river, and because scenic overlooks typically mean treacherous mountain roads, we began to narrow the search to places on the river, or with deeded river access. Structures with expansive windows, modern appliances, and easy access to town began to bubble up the list fast. If it were up to me, we'd have been fine buying a parcel for a tent in the middle of nowhere.
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