A Man, A Rock, and the Sea

We humans seem to have an unstoppable drive to explore, conquer, and dominate…especially when it comes to real estate. From elaborate treehouses built high above the ground, to rural country cottages far from civilization, we practically dare Mother Nature to try to contain us.

This is not a new phenomenon. Back in the early 1900s, a man had a dream. He wanted to live on a rock in the Narrangansett Bay off the coast of Rhode Island:

And so, with the help of an artist, he sketched out the 3-story, 23-room Clingstone Mansion with lots of big windows. Despite heavy skepticism from the public, he made his dream into reality. It was to be a place where no one could bother him:

The man died in 1938. His house stood empty for decades, suffering from brutal weather and vandalism, until it was purchased by a distant cousin in 1961 for $3,600. The cousin is an architect named Henry Wood, and he undertook the monumental effort of putting the home back together (as quoted in the New York Times):

Every spring for a decade or so after the sale, Mr. Wood said, he cursed “this albatross,” his roofless, windowless, floorless, powerless, waterless house. Wrangling what had been a rich man’s plaything, attended by servants and even its own shipyard, into a working couple’s weekend getaway turned out to be much more than a working couple could handle. Eventually, though, as the Woods mustered the talents of their friends, Clingstone and its maintenance evolved into a communal lifestyle, and ultimately a kind of religion.

The house is an exercise in constant maintenance and pseudo-camping. In the early days, power was supplied by a generator, drinking water was brought in from the mainland, and toilets flushed into the sea. Now, solar panels, a wind turbine, and rainwater collection help the house run a bit more efficiently.

Henry has even found a solution for the epic maintenance Clingstone requires: every year around Memorial Day, he hosts a Clingstone work weekend, where 70 friends and volunteers come to the house to do everything from wash the house’s 65 windows to replace the sewer lines.

The house is stunning, but don’t plan on holding your wedding here. Not only is Henry Wood twice divorced, the three weddings hosted to date in Clingstone have all ended in divorce. I suppose the house is interested in supporting the free spirit, not matrimony.

Clingstone’s story is one of devotion, imagination, passion, and maybe a dash of insanity – I highly recommend reading the full account of its history in the New York Times.

Images courtesy the NYT