By Ken Robinson

The house at 16705 Maplewild, the one that the City of Burien condemned this week, was once my home. A little more than 20 years ago, my wife and I lived the beach-side life of Three Tree Point in what was then a rental. The house was owned by Bud and Sally Nelson. The Nelson's lived at the top of the hill on Maplewild where the road is at its highest point above the beach between Burien and Normandy Park.

They lived in a house designed by Bud. He designed the one on the beach too and they briefly lived there while their larger house above was being built.

Living on the beach in that locale requires some degree of sacrifice. There is no garage to pull into off Maplewild. You park on the side of the road snugged up against the embankment (and hope no one breaks into your car at night). Then, with whatever you might be carrying, you set out on a dark, dirt trail met by steps made from railroad ties, 95 of them, to get to your front door.

You learn to go the grocery story daily because the prospect of carrying five or six sacks of groceries down the hill is daunting. And you don't want to have to make multiple trips.

My wife and I were both office workers. We dressed in suits and tassle-toed shoes. Making the trek down through the wooded hillside in fancy clothes took on a Twilight Zone quality in wet weather. Shoes came home muddy and suits wrinkled. The monthly dry cleaning bill was substantial.

When we saw the TV news pictures this week of neighbors helping remove furniture from the condemned house, we were put in mind of the time we moved, by boat. Once we got a load of the steep hill, we knew that carrying a sectional sofa down the step would be a nasty job. And because my wife's dowry was what might be the heaviest oak dresser set in the world, we decided to take a water route.

We moved our household goods to a staging area near the tip of the point. We had a 12-foot dory named Hunky that would be our conveyance. We made multiple trip from the staging area to the house and had only to land the boat and carry the goods up a short flight of stairs and into the house. I had a helper who worked for pizza, chicken legs and beer. During one journey, the unwieldy dresser drawers containing my wife's unmentionables were stacked up in the bow. But a rogue wave from Japan smacked the Hunky and she broached. The undies went overboard. There was little I could but watch as they floated away, undulant as jellyfish on the waters of Puget Sound.

Once we were all moved in, we loved living there. We did not get a lot of guests more than once. But we did get odd guests once in a while. One day a guy canvassing for some world peace organization knocked on the door to ask us to participate in a survey and consider donating to the cause. Now, this guy, a young man of perhaps 22 or 23, had to come off the hill, find the Indian Trail that runs along the hillside from where the land turns at 172nd all the way north to where the road goes up to Burien, about two miles. And then come down the steps to our house, and pester us with his survey. I found it strange that someone would think to accost people who clearly have a preference for a hermitic lifestyle. That's why people move way out in the country and why some people move to hard-to-get-to places on the beach.

We had many memorable days there and most of them were marked by the natural beauty and wonder of Puget Sound. We saw sea lions and seals, sea birds, snowbirds (there was a retired couple that walked the beach often) and geoducks and clams and other critters.

The bedroom is upstairs. When moved in, we didn't have curtains. But we noticed that the neighbor to the south could see into our bedroom from his house, built higher on the hillside but quite close, close enough to give him a real show if he was so inclined. We had to tack sheets to the windows until we could get curtains.

We had our own drama with weather while living there. High waves in wind storms regularly hit the house and washed the front room windows. It was exciting and a little scary. But not too scary. Unless your house begins to tip. That never happened to us, but we did get water in the basement where were storing books and financial records. When we went to do our taxes that year, the IRS did not seem to believe that our previous year's financial records were destroyed by sea water. Now, I would be happy to vouch for the current occupants of the house.