Designtripper

The Landmark Trust is a pretty amazing organization. It’s a preservation charity in the UK that rescues historic buildings at risk–including “follies,” castles, towers, cottages, and old mills–and turns them into holiday stays to help them survive. Sure, they’re already working with some pretty spectacular stock, but what I appreciate most is the creative approach they take with so many of the properties, blending the old with the new (and often bringing in artists and designers) in order to make it all work. Helen from Design Hunter sent over this newly renovated fortified manor called the Astley Castle (she attended the grand opening). Apparently, the history runs deep: the ancient moated site was entangled with the succession to the throne of England through Elizabeth Woodville (wife of Edward IV), Elizabeth of York (wife of Henry VII) and Lady Jane Grey during the 14th and 15th centuries–and it’s said to be the inspiration for Knebley in George Eliot’s Scenes of Clerical Life. During the second world war it was requisitioned for convalescing servicemen and it was later turned into a hotel before suffering fire damage in 1978 and falling into ruin.

After more than 30 years of abandonment and debate, The Landmark Trust worked with Witherford Watson Matts architecture firm to create a beautiful space that masterfully combines clean lines with crumbling brick. The detail that perhaps best exemplifies the aesthetic: looking out the huge windows of the super-slick modern kitchen, a crumbling interior courtyard formed by ruined spaces.

The Details
The four-bedroom manor sleeps eight. Price starts at $1,870 for a three-day weekend. No TV; gardens abound. Rent it at The Landmark Trust.

[Photos: by Design Hunter (all but second and fifth images) and courtesy of The Landmark Trust. Thanks, Helen!]

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We’re in Maine.  Anyone who has read designtripper for any amount of time knows this is my favorite place in the entire world. Because of that, people are constantly asking for recommendations for houses to rent. We stay in the same farmhouse or beach house on Morse Mountain Conservation every year, but there’s a pretty long list of fellow admirers who come year after year, and it fills up quickly. Because I love lobster and oysters and sand dollars and craggy rock beaches and the salt air, I have been slowly building a collection of like-minded, rustic vacation houses for all of you who have asked–so politely, so regularly. It’s the absolute best place to gather friends and family for a week–or more, if you’re lucky–in the summer. Stay on the coast. And not in a tourist town, please, unless that’s your thing. It’s quiet and heart-stoppingly beautiful, and more often than not, the evergreen trees come right up to the beach. The water is freezing, so you have to be tough. Go in past your ankles, brave soldier. You’ll feel like a million bucks. At night, build a fire. God bless the Maine weather, it’s that chilly in the middle of summer. Spend hours on screened-in porches, sitting in wicker furniture with your feet slung over the armrests, talking and reading. It’s probably the kind of house that carries its history in its bookshelves; mine them for possibility.  Listen to the waves crash against rocks, and sleep. Mark my words: you will be back every year, too.

>>This 1900s bunk house is in Deer Isle with views of Penobscot Bay and all the islands, plus more than 40 acres of woods.

>>A little lighthouse keeper’s cottage on the Isle Au Haut. Super cute with a rugged-rock perch and views to knock you out.

>>I love Vinalhaven, and I love the floral wallpaper in this historic island farmhouse on 38 acres.

>>Another beyond-charming Vinalhaven spread, this one particularly amazing for kids (old barn has table tennis and tons of space for games). And, sigh, I am a sucker for working old-fashioned stoves.

The sponsor of this post, HomeAway, offers the world’s largest selection of vacation home rentals, which provide you with more room to relax and more privacy than a hotel (and most times, for less money).

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I spent the past weekend with a couple girlfriends in this dream of a farmhouse, situated in the agricultural center of the Leelanau Peninsula. The owner Sean rehabbed the old farmhouse, which was built in the early 1900s and owned by the Kovalik family (the same family of farmers the road is named after). Sean grew up in Leland (he went to Leland High School and his mom taught there), and when he moved away–first to Colorado, later New York–he wanted a place of his own back home, so he didn’t have to depend on the sofas of friends and family while visiting. He’d had his eye on this place for awhile, in all its glass bubble window and faded carpet glory. No one was living there, and during the recession, after it went into foreclosure, he was able to buy it, transforming it into this impecable beauty a few years later. The interior is well-done country vintage modern–not a farm lamp or sisal carpet out of place–but if you’re anything like me, being outside in this setting with this set-up is the first matter of business. Hammock? Check. Fire pit? Check. Hulking old oak for shade? Check.

Usually, I’m partial to staying on the lake in Leelanau County, but there is something about being out in the wide open country–flanked by cherry orchards, barns and rolling farmland in every direction–that feels so peaceful and remote. The immediate property is surrounded by wildflowers, dried milkweed poufs as big as grapefruits and wild asparagus, curling above the sightline like giant tumbleweeds. Chickens roam the property and head back to the henhouse at nightfall (we boiled freshly laid eggs for breakfast). We picked loads of fresh herbs and vegetables from the giant garden nestled in front of a small rustic barn, which Sean hopes to turn into a little speakeasy some day. We made big dinners and ate around the extra-long wooden table under strung lights and a sky full of stars. There were big plans for cooking and baking (the area is known for its orchards and farms), but in the end, more time was spent in the hammock and the lake than in the kitchen. Next time we want to cook up a storm, the work space will have to be far less appealing.

The Details
Three bedrooms, three bathrooms (one with a sauna, another with a clawfoot tub with  a view of the countryside). Sleeps six comfortably. Prices start at $239 a night. Rent it at airbnb.com.

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I was recently introduced to The Common Pursuit–a new-ish visual compendium of places to stay–after they plucked a bunch of locations from designtripper, including Honor & Folly, for their well-designed, photos-only site. They also featured a couple places I had never seen before, the most impressive a creative woodland retreat in Yorkshire. Tucked into the 20,000-acre Swinton Estate, The Bivouac is dotted with creative, rustic shacks constructed with traditional round-wood timber framing techniques, a few yurts, and some old farm buildings, which have been restored and now house the reception, shop, camping barn and cafe.  Windy Smithy wood stoves, antique rocking chairs, well-worn and handcrafted everything create a snug, outdoorsy-hipster-approved interior with activities to match: wild food foraging, falconry, bread-making workshops, mountain biking and even forrest school (build a den in the woods!). I say this with utmost admiration: this place is a magazine spread in waiting. Kinfolk? Unless Anthropologie gets to it first.

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The summer before I had my first child, I spent a month in Vietnam. Carrying our few belongings on our backs, my best childhood friend and I stayed in an unremarkable string of $15-per-night hotels and guesthouses. We paid little attention to where we slept, spending most of our efforts exploring colorful streets whirring with motorbikes and searching out the best bowls of pho and banh mi stands. In Ho Chi Minh City, we stayed in a small family-run joint, where I spotted a bug the size of a raven crawling up our bedroom wall. During a three-day kayaking tour through Halong Bay, we fell asleep to the sounds of howling monkeys–on a tiny island, in a primitive hut, on a thin mat on the ground, mosquito netting but no bedding. It was that kind of trip.

But it was the heat in Hanoi that broke us. It was 115 degrees–plus a soggy, sweltering humidity–and I had a full-body heat rash. We booked the first air-conditioned room we could find; I no longer remember the name of the generic mid-rise. It didn’t matter. Later (after changing out of our sweat-drenched clothing), we stumbled across the Metropole–Hanoi’s most historic hotel, tucked away behind the beautiful Hoàn Kiếm Lake. Just beyond the most frantic part of the Old Quarter, the French colonial hotel sits regally on a quiet, tree-lined street, barely removed from the fruit sellers in conical hats, locals crowding sidewalks on tiny plastic stools, kids jumping rope on hot pavement, and rickshaw drivers hollering for customers. To this day, I regret not staying in the place where Charlie Chaplin spent his honeymoon, and Graham Greene reportedly penned parts of The Quiet American, which I was toting around in my backpack. Instead, we grabbed a Vietnamese coffee in the wood-paneled bar with white marble tile and big, leafy plants before heading back into the heat. I’d go back for that hour alone. It’s that kind of place.

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I never intended to write about this place. I booked it a couple weeks ago as a last-minute family getaway to kick off the beginning of summer the right way: roasting marshmallows over a fire, swimming in Lake Michigan, catching frogs in the marsh, building sandcastles and spending long, extended daylight evenings on the screened-in porch reading and playing board games. As far as I was concerned, the lodgings were irrelevant. But it ended up being so special and charming, how could I not share it? Especially since I get so many requests for great places to stay in Northern Michigan.

Nestled into a wooded, grassy coastline in Leelanau Peninsula’s Northport, this summer cottage has been in the same family since 1963–and from what I understand, not a thing has changed (except that tall grasses have sprouted up on the beach, making it no less beautiful to look at from any of the three porches). The owner, Theda, used to be a home ec teacher before retiring, and her devotion to handcraft is evident throughout the cottage–in the form of framed needlepoint works, crocheted blankets, embroidered pillows and lots of other sweet handmade details. Aside from the beautiful floor-length drapes made from colorful, super-awesome medieval fabric that matches a pair of armchairs, everything is mismatched and rustic, just like a lake house should be. Theda left freshly picked flowers around the house for us and a basket of farm-fresh strawberries upon our arrival, and she even brought the kids doughnuts one morning from the local bakery. My sister-in-law and I spent a lot of time pouring over the massive old book collection and admiring all the antiquities (a collection of oil lamps and old kitchen tools hanging from the wall). But even more importantly are the things that the house doesn’t have: a TV or wireless internet (and patchy cell service). We couldn’t have been happier.

The Details
Two bedrooms and a breezy, second-story sleeping porch. There’s also a screened-in back porch with beautiful views of Lake Michigan and plenty of worn-in wicker furniture.  Prices start at $1200 for a week (and there are still a few weeks left this summer). Rent it at homeaway.com.

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I saw Wes Anderson’s impeccably set-designed Moonrise Kingdom over the weekend, so the new camp shop that just opened at Wandawega seems particularly on-time. Retro canteens, Boyscout-issue axes and antique rackets! Slingshots! Wooden arrows! Guests at Camp Wandawega ask so regularly where they can find similar camp-style goods (if you’ve seen the place, then you understand) that David and Tereasa decided to open a little shop tucked inside the lodge. The look is pure Wisconsin camp, and you can pick up many of the throwback items that make this place so special. They feature goods that have been made by old-school vendors for more than a century, as well as a limited selection of curated vintage–from stacks of old Pendletons to reed stools.

The shop even has some historic merit. “We’d been told by local old-timers that the camp (formerly knows as Wandawega Lake Resort) once had a souvenir shop onsite that sold notions and simple summer resort necessities. I love the idea of embracing the novelties of a by-gone era and giving campers that chance to try their hand at old summercamp merit badge tasks like whittling their own marshmallow sticks and making their own moccasins.”

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It’s been a bit of a whirlwind since designtripper was featured in this The New York Times story about curated travel a couple weeks ago. Every since, I’ve been inundated with an endless stream of submissions detailing farmhouses, country b&bs, family summer cottages, mountain yurts, mammoth island complexes, and even a floating ferry boat house. While I’m certainly not complaining, there’s no way I can possibly write about all of them–much less visit (although thank you very much for all the lovely invitations). I did, however, finally have time to sift through hundreds of beautiful photos and browse websites. Below, a quick round-up of some of my favorites.

1. Located on a 150-year-old family farm in rural New York (the Genesee River Valley), the Granary is a charming, three-bedroom country guesthouse that once housed wheat and oats. Now, it’s a simple retreat surrounded by wildflowers and wide open farmland, which cultivates hay, corn, wheat, rye, organic vegetables and lavender.

2. The Maison d’Être is a four-bedroom house in rural France dating back to the 1500s. Set in the ancient village of St. Cirq Lapopie (a World Heritage site) and surrounded by an ancient stone wall, the place has the medieval fairytale aesthetic pretty much nailed.

3. A family-run hotel in Oia, Santorini, Greece, Esperas Traditional Houses have 18 suites, studios and cave houses built into the sides of the cliffs overlooking the fishing village of Ammoudi. It hardly matters–given gasp-inducing views of the Aegean Sea–but I really love how imperfect and traditional the interiors look.

4. New York-based brothers Ronan and Colin Hannan opened this small, luxurious hotel in a western Belize rainforest a few years ago. My favorite detail is that they hired local carpenters to handmake all the furniture from local hardwoods.

5. I will stay here one day, mark my words (I’m the daughter of a Navy man, who knows every story of every significant boat to sail the American waters in the last hudred-plus years).  The first ferryboat on Puget Sound, the SS  City of Seattle, now called the Yellow Ferry, is a 116-year-old, double-ender, side-wheel ferry boat berthed in Sausalito. It has been in the same family for 55 years, but sadly, the owner passed away a couple months ago. As a result, her children, who can’t bear the thought of selling the place, have made it available for rent–and if the history isn’t compelling enough, the interiors are spectacular. Please stay here.

6. You can never have enough places tucked away for your next trip to New York City. This Federalist townhouse is located in the West Village and has a pretty fantastic atrium-like living room and lush rooftop terrace.

[This also seems like a good time to mention my editorial policy: Content cannot be bought. I have never been paid to write about a specific place. I have done a couple sponsored posts, but I choose where I stay and what I write about. Thank you again for all your interest!]

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It’s been almost two months since I posted about Patrizio Fradiani’s rehab in Civita. There’s been a lot of under-the-hood work going on, like plumbing and electrical, so the progress isn’t as visual as it will be in the coming weeks. The facade is getting restored and all the wooden ceilings and painted brick sandblasted. Interior walls are being built, while old ones are restored, scraped and replastered. They’re installing new stairs, which will allow access to the caves and the garden, and restoring a pair of beautiful old doors Patrizio found in the house. And  the most grueling projects so far: Patrizio decided to “rescue” a portion of the yard, which had inadvertently become a dump for the last 50 years for an entire section of town. “It all had to be done by hand–three guys, three weeks to remove the dirt and debris, but now it has doubled in size and the views are amazing,” he says, like it was nothing. In the process, they uncovered a remnant of an old butto, which is a well that collected old broken pottery for each house, so if you’re lucky enough to come across one, you can see the history of the house through the broken pieces. It’s like an archeological dig. “The one we found in our garden belonged to a house that had long ago collapsed, leaving us with remnants from the 16th century.” I love watching the space take shape. Even in this condition, the light has such a magical quality.

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A decade or so ago, Matthew Hranek (The William Brown Project) and Yolanda Edwards (Travels with Clara, Momfilter) bought a bunch of land two and a half hours from Manhattan. There was a mobile home and a barn. While temporarily living in the mobile home (which is now gone in lieu of a modernist-leaning prefab), Matthew designed this tiny one-bedroom cabin, which was built by a local carpenter using local hemlock and vernacular architecture. If you read The William Brown Project, you might recognize the landscape– homebase for many of his hunting, fishing, butchering, cooking, and general outdoorsy pursuits.

Decorated with the same no-nonsense masculine-rustic-vintage sensibility of The William Brown Project (you know, Hudson Bay wool blankets, stacks of firewood and an animal head or two), the space is exquisitely modest. Exactly how it should be. And here’s the kicker: The cabin, which is perfectly situated on 130 beautiful acres of  trails, ponds (both fishing and swimming) and good old fashioned grass, is now available for rent. There’s a covetable list of amenities (including a Japanese soaking tub and outdoor shower), but even more compelling is what they cabin doesn’t have (wi-fi, TV, phone, ipod dock, mini bar). To book, email Matthew at matthewhranek@gmail.com.

[All photos by Matthew Hranek]

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I’m certain he will hate that I’m saying this, but former chef Marcus Nilsson is kind of like the original Todd Selby of the food photography world. He’s been doing that thing for years–where the natural, peripheral mess of things is part of the photograph, part of story. A few months ago, we were lucky enough to welcome him to Detroit for a story in Food & Wine (out this month) about our humble little block of food- and drink-related businesses. The Slows chef, Brian Perrone, whipped up a bunch of BBQ at Honor & Folly and we shared a big meal at the dining table overlooking the old train station across the street. It’s the best seat in the house. We entertained everyone with funny stories about the old days (all of eight years ago) when we had to drill our apartment doors shut behind us, because there were no locks, and there wasn’t a single working streetlight. Marcus and crew also visited Sugar House and Astro downstairs, and the photos he took of Astro are my favorite, especially Jess Hicks’ almond-polenta cake with lemon (photo below; recipe here). Alison Attenborough was the food stylist on the project, and besides being incredibly charming and witty, I appreciate her subtle, natural approach.

Going into it, I was a little worried about how the block would be represented. Food & Wine can be pretty fancy, and there’s a certain rough-hewn quality to Detroit that usually gets exploited or ignored. I thought perhaps they’d try to gloss over or airbrush away, but everything looks exactly as it should (firemen hanging out with little lattes in front of Astro? Not staged.). There’s an honesty to Marcus’ photographs. He sees what we see–that there’s beauty in the contradiction–and he manages to capture the heart behind the efforts. Below, some photos from the shoot–a few from the magazine and others that didn’t make the cut. (Important note: I urge you to thoroughly  cover every square inch of his blog, where he collects all his best travel and food work, ranging from somber chef portraits from Denmark’s famed Geist to a stunning spread of food markets and vendors in Marrakesh.)

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Every year, Netherlands-based contributor Ben Lambers finds a reason to visit his favorite haunt in Belgium, the Boulevard Leopold. He recently got back from a work trip to Antwerp and couldn’t resist taking more photos of this impeccably outfitted 19th-century building in the Jewish district–and its endless, creative vignettes played across every available bookcase, mantle and tabletop. “It changed owners a few years ago,” he says. “But luckily, they didn’t change the atmosphere.”

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It’s not just that I love the idea of relaxing country house hotels (I do–especially when they’re covered in climbing wisteria), I’m also drawn to thoughtful, self-sustaining food-focused experiences that immerse you in your surroundings. Planted squarely in the middle of the New Forest in Hampshire, The Pig hotel is both. In fact, the owners refer to it as a “restaurant with rooms.” The chefs and on-site forager source 80 percent of the ingredients from their local woods and nearby beaches;  long walks wind through the gardens, greenhouse and forest; and there’s an onsite pig farm and chickens. You can even borrow a pair of Hunter wellies for the occasion.

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I am not sure I’ve ever seen a hotel so beautiful, so tastefully glamorous–with splendid (and equally sordid) historical stories to match. The talented husband-wife photo team, Andrew and Gemma Hart Ingalls (also behind the blog, the Epicures), sent over these photos of Häringe Slott, a stunning 17th-century baroque castle-cum-palatial hotel  40 miles outside Stockholm in a nature reserve. Historic lore suggests that Viking Sote first claimed the Häringe Peninsula as his property in the 11th century. Since then, according to the hotel’s site, “common denominators for all of the owners have been megalomania, extreme wealth, crazy investments, excessive spending, glamour, decadence, scandals and partying.” It has passed through the hands of kings, counts and a few strong-willed, unconventional lasses, who operated illegitimate bars, orphanages and other gender inappropriate endeavors. At one point, all the furnishings were sold by one owner, only to be researched and re-purchased by another one years later.

Beyond interiors spun of pure decadence and grandeur, the property is also home to Sweden’s first outdoor pool with a slide from the second floor bathroom, a bowling alley, underground tunnels, and limestone statues of Nordic gods. These days, it’s owned by the Ljungberg family and part of the exclusive c/o hotels chain.

Andrew and Gemma spent their days meandering the various labyrinths, nooks, crannies and wide-open spaces. “We would wander up to the second floor of the main building to enjoy a cup of tea or coffee (served all day) in one of the many drawing rooms, or walk out on one of the many well marked trails, past horse farms and swimming spots and fields of wildflowers. We even found ourselves sampling the ripe plums and pears from the espalier–trained fruit trees that peppered the property.”

[All photos by Andrew and Gemma Hart Ingalls]

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