Story by Samantha Tisdel Wright

Actually, most of the original homes in mining towns like Silverton, Ouray, and  Telluride were "shot gun houses" put up in a hurry by miners who needed a place to roost their families, and so named because they were long and narrow—a bullet shot through the front door could sail right through the back. No fancy doo-dads, see, to get in the way. There is something awfully pretty about a row of Victorian houses with their fancy trim, parlors, bay windows, and requisite five different colors of paint (if it doesn’t have five colors, it's not a real Victorian, at least by our family's standard!). But, there's also something refreshing about a house that forgoes all that fuss, embracing instead a quality of spaciousness and simplicity that invites in the scenery. Here, we showcase three such homes, and three represent another common phenomenon in the San Juans: living and working space are combined in one structure. 

OURAY. Walk up a long flight of stairs from Main Street, Ouray, to the home of Jeff and Nicole Skoloda, and you may wonder whether you entered an art gallery by mistake. Actually, Skol Studio Gallery is just downstairs, and it showcases Jeff's dramatic metalwork. But the Skoloda's home is just as much a testament to Jeff's artistry, and to the couple's ability to synthesize an urban sensibility with a passion for the natural world. 

In the planning stages of their loft home/main street storefront, the Skolodas looked at remodeled industrial spaces, but their ultimate inspiration was the scenery around them in Ouray. Windows in the living room frame Mt. Hayden and Mt. Abrams like works of art, while Jeff's intricate carbon steel metalwork scrolls its way throughout the house like graceful, articulate, yet untamed vinery, in a manner he describes as "organic curvilinear form."

Two deep window seats, divided by a small balcony overlooking Main Street, anchor one end of the living room, while the couple's open bedroom overlooks both the other end of the living room and a narrow galley kitchen that leads to the back of the building. A free-floating corner of the bedroom suspends from the building's "steel and stick" structure with a curve and twist of metal Jeff wrought for the occasion. 

Handmade balustrades of arched bracing largely delineate the open spaces of the loft ? pairing Jeff's scrolling carbon steel with 100-year-old recycled timbers from a mill in British Columbia. The extravagance of all this is balanced by a certain simplicity of furnishings and décor. Light paints the entire area, both from generous windows and two domed plexiglass skylights. Pale bamboo flooring adds to a feeling of freshness. 

"This house is here to be lived in—nothing's for show," insists Nicole, a speech language pathologist originally from Staten Island. And indeed each carefully chosen accent—a spray of white orchids here, a tiny jewel-like high-tech light fixture there—seems to glow with its own inner sense of beauty, purpose, and belonging. 

SILVERTON. Several years ago, Ernst and Emily Baer were out to dinner, dreaming up ideas for the home they hoped to one day build in Silverton together. Ernst doodled on his napkin, looking for a shape that could hold their vision. Suddenly he happened on the simple and perfect solution: three staggered rectangles. 

Fast-forward to Silverton today, in a quiet neighborhood alongside Cement Creek at the foot of Anvil Mountain, and that's exactly what you'll see—three staggered rectangles of unfinished cinder block with a plain, slanted metal roof. Simple as a child's Lego creation, and in delightful contrast to the tidy Victorians and log cabins nearby. Enter the house and you'll find that the vision those simple rectangles hold has turned out to be playful, chic and gracious—reminiscent at once of a playground and a nightclub—a morphed and modern Swiss chalet. 

Spare yet inviting placement of furniture defines the open floor level. In one airy corner Ernst operates "Elevation," his high-end salon, while Emily's office loft (she just graduated from law school) hangs from the steel-beamed ceiling high above. A fanciful steel bridge angles through space from the loft to the master bedroom. 

"I’d lived long enough in Victorian houses and was never comfortable!" exclaimed Ernst, a native of Switzerland who still speaks with a slight accent. "We wanted a house that could blend simplicity and functionality, with nothing you don't need." 

"We didn't want to spend time maintaining the house," added Emily. "We'd much rather spend our time outside —" upon which she gestured out one of the house's 68 (!) unadorned windows, at the mountains which surround the house in all directions. 

To achieve this goal, the Baers made what some may consider radical choices about their building materials. The house has no studs, no stick framing, no drywall. The entire thing is made of cinder block, steel and concrete. Three semi-loads of steel, to be exact, and seven batches of concrete just to pour the floor alone. The cinder block is filled with expanding foam insulation, and parts of the interior walls are stuccoed and painted, while others remain bare. 

"We wanted to let the materials speak for themselves—we didn't want to cover things up," Ernst said. And in this, the house is a reflection of Ernst and Emily themselves. 

RIDGWAY. The last thing Shannon McCarthy expected when she purchased the Sherbino building in Ridgway was that she would live in it. But a fortuitous (and unexpected) set of circumstances led her in that direction. A very rustic (as in uninsulated!) lean-to style cabin huddled at the edge of her two-building complex (the historically restored Sherbino Theater and old drugstore on the corner). When Shannon decided to move in, the shack was unacceptable, so she tore it down. In its place is a fun, funky two-story blue residence that has had the town talking, trying to figure out what it would be when it grew up. Shannon isn’t sure herself yet. But whatever it will be, it will be fun and funky, like the "Fun Lady" herself. If you've ever visited the theater or taken a gander at the costume room in the back—Shannon’s personal dressing room—you’ll understand. 

"I’ve got lots of windows but no closets," Shannon pointed out on a tour of her soon-to-be-finished home. "And there are going to be two tubs, one a double-ended, claw-foot antique bathtub and the other a company hot tub upstairs on the balcony. I'll put in a privacy fence up there, high enough so we won't be flashing the neighbors, but not too high, so it won't spoil those lovely views." There won't be any square spaces either.

Shannon prefers arches and angles. And no doors, except for the required firedoor between the house and the corner drugstore. But that she disguised by retaining the old wooden doors that were there first. "Most of the time they'll be open, anyway," she said. "I’ll be in the theater, or the "Corner Drugstore"—that's what I'm gong to call it—most of the time, so this new part will fit right in!"

LOG HILL to MONTROSE. Using natural materials to build a dream home that encompasses our majestic mountain views...and the 19th hole as a bonus...is the dream of many a "Log Hiller." This heavily wooded area above Ridgway Reservoir (accessible by a steep road winding up from the highway to Telluride and connected by back roads to Colona and Montrose) was once the location of several logging operations and cattle ranching. Rapidly diminishing herds of cattle still roam a few pastures, but most of the logs—at least the big ones—have already fallen to the lumberman's saw. Now you see them on homes instead of standing beside them. 

And, what you often see is a cedar log home. Top of the line is the Lindal Cedar Home, like the private home showcased here. It's a sleek contemporary  custom design with soaring ceilings, sweeping decks and lots of special architectural features. 

"We specialize in cathedral ceilings and large expanses of glass, bringing the beauty of the outdoors into your  home," said Brent Hughes, who with his wife Stephanie, owns the local, independent Lindal distributorship,  Majestic Peaks Custom Homes of Montrose. The Hughes also live in the model home on Highway 550 just  south of Montrose, so they know how advantageous cedar homes truly are. 

Lindal products are not cut from local wood, but built from cedar harvested in British Columbia, kiln dried, cut, and planed to a radiant finish. Kiln-drying takes the moisture out of the wood so it doesn't twist and crack.

In addition to providing signature products, including all-season sunrooms, the Hughes offer home design and engineering services, including a collection of architectural styles and new home floor plans.

Photos  top to bottom

1. Jeff Skoloda’s home is testimony to his architectural detail in metal sculpture. © Kathryn Retzler for SJPG. 

2. The home is a simple and as intricate as a child’s Lego creation, with suspended bridges, hanging beams and plenty of windows to invite the views inside. Right: © James Burke for SJPG. 

3. Shannon McCarthy's home. SJPG photo. 

4. Soaring ceilings and lots of glass take advantage of the outdoor views in this Lindal Cedar Home, Log Hill Mesa, overlooking the Sneffels Range. The kitchen and dining area have skylight lighting in addition to large widows. ©Kathryn Rezler for SJPG.
 

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