(#9) Cabin Chronicles: The Part Where You Get Tired
We figured buying our Yellowstone fixer-upper wouldn’t be an easy process. This wasn’t going to be a buy-it, move-in, start-hosting kind of situation. This was going to take time, vision, renovation, and a whole lot of patience before it would become what we wanted it to be.
But no spreadsheet could fully prepare us for this part: the messy middle.
The long, slow stretch where the novelty wears off, the adrenaline fades, and all that’s left is a whole lot of work and an ever-growing to-do list. The phase that's not quite beginning, not quite end.
A big vision feels so exciting when you start, when it’s alive and full of potential, but then comes the stage of showing up, working hard, and wondering if you’ll ever actually get there.
Wait, what’s the problem?
Let me back up in case you’re thinking, “Wait a minute… You just had a great first rental season and are excited about the renovation plans ahead. What’s the problem?”
Well, here’s a brief overview of the last few months.
Our first rental season ended in October. Right away, we started renovations for Cabin 2’s bathroom addition and Cabin 3’s tiny home build. Jon returned to the office part-time, so I spent three weeks in Gardiner solo to kick things off, map out layouts, and make decisions.
At the end of November, I came back to Texas for a week before we set off together for our 2024 Travel Season. After roadtripping the Florida Keys and spending the holidays with family, we drove back to Texas for a week before returning to Gardiner for more construction.
We were in Gardiner for just over three weeks, working on projects and hosting our first-ever winter guests. A red fox popped through the property while we’re there, which is actually kind of cool. Less cool, the bathroom addition that was supposed to be done before we arrived was delayed. Guests booked the Main House, so we moved into the construction zone… but at least we had running water and were spending our first night in ‘The Wolf’s Den’!
It’s now the end of January (and the end of this 3-week trip) that I’m writing this post. The delays, the decisions, the travel, the constant problem-solving… it’s adding up. We’re tired.
❄️ Fun aside: We got snuck in a snowstorm on the way, every route to our planned pitstop in Colorado closed—New Mexico, Oklahoma, all of it. We ended up parked at a Longhorn Motel (fitting for Texans, no?) in Boise City, Oklahoma, eating Subway sandwiches from the Love’s gas station next door, surrounded by fellow stranded travelers. (Truly, the setup for a Hallmark rom-com or the pilot episode of a small-town apocalypse. Could’ve been either.)
The Unexpected Weight of Year Two
Although we bought our cabins over a year ago, we’re still in the unglamorous stretch between “we bought it!” and “look what we built.”
Most days, we’re the kind of tired that doesn’t go away with a good night’s sleep because it’s not just physical—it’s mental, emotional, logistical. The kind of tired that comes from holding a big vision and trying your best to carry it forward every single day.
Last year had plenty of chaos (like 1000lb boulders and unmarked water lines), but it also had adrenaline.
Everything was new, every win felt huge, and we were just trying to keep up. Preparing for our second season feels heavier now that we know what it takes. There’s no blissful ignorance or first-time energy left to cushion the blow. We have the full picture of what it takes to host guests from 1,200 miles away while in the thick of a renovation, with all its deadlines, dollars, and decisions.
We feel more pressure now, too. Our first season reviews were incredible, and while we’re obviously proud of that, we’re also aware of what it takes to maintain. There’s an annoying but persistent question that pops up when staring at late-night to-do lists or half-finished projects: Can we keep this going?
The Endurance of A Big Dream
We’re learning that this is one of those dreams that requires endurance, and endurance means waking up tired and doing the work anyway. It means making decisions with a foggy brain and a stretched budget. It means watching your timelines slip, and your savings shrink, and still finding a way to keep putting one foot in front of the other because you believe in where you’re headed.
Every unexpected repair means recalculating which projects can wait. We’re constantly questioning whether we've bitten off more than we can chew and whether we should have picked something easier, simpler, or already done. (For our first rental? Maybe. Probably.)
There was the day I called my dad in tears after breaking the bathroom sink trying to fix a simple drain stopper.
There was the night we were woken up at midnight by guests without hot water or a working microwave… in Montana… in February. (Not ideal.)
There were 14-hour days spent hauling junk that wasn’t ours… but also technically was. (See: Reason #128 to think twice before buying a house fully furnished.)
There have been many delays, materials held up, contractors rescheduling, and good work done, but not done perfectly. It’s in these moments that we’re immensely grateful for the people who pour into us with a much-needed dose of perspective at just the right time.
The People Who Keep You Going
They remind us that this dream was always going to require some grit, a lot of faith, and a dose of figuring it out as we go… but what we’re doing is cool. Really cool.
Sometimes it just takes someone who knows you, someone who isn’t knee-deep in the chaos with you, to say, “Hey, you’re doing something brave and I’m proud of you. You should be proud of you, too.”
Or to say, “I know you can’t see it right now, but you’re going to laugh about this later.”
They know this isn’t the end of the story; It’s just a tough moment in the middle of a meaningful chapter. And maybe you will laugh about it later.
About getting stranded at the Longhorn Motel.
About breaking the sink after your husband specifically asked you not to mess with it. (Did I forget to mention that part?)
About the sheer number of times you said, “I think we’re almost done,” when you were… not.
Sometimes, that perspective is all it takes to stand back up, make the next decision, fix the next problem, or haul the next load to the dump.
It often feels like we’ve stepped into a world we weren’t quite ready for, but it has me wondering if there’s any other way to do something new. Maybe. But maybe also: Take the leap. Jump into the deep end. Stash a few life jackets with the people who love you before you do.
When we’re exhausted and when one of us is almost (or let’s be honest, already) in tears, we’re grateful for the people who remind us why we’re doing this in the first place. We bought a fixer-upper outside Yellowstone National Park for what it could become, and even when we’re tired, we still see it.
If we can hold on through the tired parts, through the middle that feels like it might never end… we think we’ll come out the other side not just proud of what we built but changed by what it took to build it.
Keep Reading: (#10) Cabin Chronicles: 7 Things To Do When You Have Renovation Fatigue
Or Read Next: (#11) Cabin Chronicles: The $6,000 Shower Debacle
A beautiful sunset helps, too!
