Logs loomed large early
in this attorney’s life, so he
built his family retreat as a
tribute to all things timber.

By Lori Hall Steele
      As a boy, Don Van Suilichem was a little obsessed with Lincoln Logs. Okay, he was a lot obsessed: He’d tinker with green roofs and ruddy, notched timbers and end up constructing entire mini-log cities.
      And the logs just kept recurring. There were repeated family vacations to a logging camp-turned-resort on the Upper Peninsula’s Lake Michigamme, run by an octogenarian who drove a ‘49 Ford pickup. There were frequent visits to an uncle’s small log home overlooking the Manistee River, a pure Old-School Up-North
cabin with no running water, kerosene heat, pancakes grilled on a wood stove.
      Van Suilichem loved that Northern-cabin feeling, on a cold night, with the kerosene heater running. “You knew those sheets on the bed would be just freezing, and that they’d warm up in no time,” the Bloomfield Hills labor-law attorney says.
      The young Van Suilichem dreamed of one day building his own log home. When it happened, it wasn’t exactly Lincoln Logs. It was more like Luxury Logs: a seven-bath, nine-bedroom, hand-hewn log lodge on six wooded acres along Lake Charlevoix.
      Forget the cold sheets and, for that matter, the cold feet. Radiant heat keeps tootsies toasty as they pad across Chinese slate floors throughout the home. Concern for warm feet is perhaps a nod to Van Suilichem’s heritage. “Dutch families always take their shoes off at the door,” he says.
      The log lodge is roomy enough for Van Suilichem, his wife, Ruth, grown daughters Kimberly, Katrina and Kelly and lots of friends, family and merriment. Though no one runs outside to pump water, and the lodge’s luxury trumps all from Don’s memory, similarities remain, starting with the wood itself: hand-peeled red pine.
      Van Suilichem loves the clean woodsy smell when he opens the door. “It’s different than going into any other kind of house,” he says. “It’s fresh, natural. You open up the door and it hits you. All the stress leaves you immediately.”
      Van Suilichem’s daughters and their friends have the run of the walkout level with three bedrooms, dual baths, a sauna, billiards table and great room. The home’s first floor contains a kitchen, master bedroom, a guest room, office, three full baths, laundry, a
sunroom and the great room. Upstairs are three more bedrooms, each with a private balcony, plus two baths, two sitting areas and a loft bedroom furnished with the twin beds Van Suilichem and his brother slept on as children.
      Despite its grand proportions, the home really does imitate Lincoln Log-style construction: Notched logs fit snugly together. The Muskegon-based Maple Island Log Homes built the home off-site, then numbered logs and disassembled the structure. Workers then carted the whole shebang north to Lake Charlevoix and, in a week, reconstructed it.
      When the last log was placed atop the roof ridge, it was an amazing event, Van Suilichem says. “The whole house shuddered. It just locks in, and everything is firmed up.”
      Inside, two rooms in particular embody the home’s style: The master bedroom, with vaulted 20-foot ceilings, an 8-foot hand-carved log bed and double doors that look into an adjacent office with a stone fireplace; and the great room, with 40-foot ceilings and 30 skylights that add light and airiness. “Log homes,” Van Suilichem says, “tend to be darker. The walls don’t reflect.”
      In addition to baronial dimensions, skylights and glass are played large throughout the lodge, and rooms are brightened even more by halogen lights, which “have almost a clear twinkle in them,” Van Suilichem says. “The light just shines off the logs and gives them a real warm feeling.”
      The furniture also matches the lodge’s proportions. The armoire, for instance, is 1.5 feet higher than average, and the bedroom’s mirror is 10 feet tall. Chests and beds are oversized to prevent them from being dwarfed by expansive walls and high ceilings.
      Northern Michigan craftspeople completed the interior work, such as cherry cabinetry (ruddy reds marry well with honey-colored logs); a goliath river-stone fireplace (peppered with Petoskey stones, coral and other stone treasures); and gnarled cedar and sumac railings, made by a husband and wife who scour swamps for twisted limbs and hand peel the wood.
      The Van Suilichems chose the site for their home away from home because it was in woods—the natural choice for a log lodge—and along an inland lake with Lake Michigan access, so they can take their sailboat on the big waters but also
enjoy a safe harbor.
      Outside, there’s no grass to cut. The home’s original landscaping, which included hosta and daylilies, proved to be “like lettuce” to area deer, so deer-proof ferns, tall grasses and wild roses were planted instead.
      Lake water feeds a pond near the entryway, then a creek cascades over 15 waterfalls en route back home. Crayfish, goldfish and frogs reside in the pond, and blue heron fly in to feast. The family dubbed their lodge The Eagle’s Nest in hopes that bald eagles from a nearby preserve would nest on a platform built especially for them.
      As they planned their retreat, the Van Suilichems agreed they wanted one big place where they could spend time as the family grew older. Indeed, the lodge is like one big Up North camp. It’s not uncommon for 15 people to gather, hitting the outdoor hot tub and snowy trails in winter, and in summer, kayaking, sailing and riding motorcycles.
      “In this day and age, when families tend to split apart and move to different areas, this house will provide a place for them to come together as family in the future.” Donald Van Suilichem says. “That’s the greatest legacy of all.”

No Shrinking Violet
Log homes shrink by about 3 inches per story after construction, and then begin a seasonal yo-yo diet: plumping up in humid summer, getting skinny in dry winter. Northern Michigan’s moody climate magnifies this process as humidity levels plummet to an arid 3 percent and soar to a dewy 100 percent.
      So how do log-home owners, faced with timbers that expand and contract, keep their mitered corners crisp and windows plumb?
      Try instilling a little high-tech into the pioneer-era abodes, suggests the Van Suilichems’ general contractor Ray Wallick.
      In summer, air conditioning (through a forced-air system) can limit rooms to a tolerable 70 percent humidity. In winter, radiant in-floor heating—combined with a traditional forced-air system that contains a humidifier—increases humidity to about 35 percent. And walking on warm floors is divine, “like walking on a beach,” Wallick says.
      It’ll set you back some—about 30 percent more than a traditional heating/cooling system—but will help keep logs from popping seams.

Up North Favorites
Wake-up hug: Eating early morning breakfast at Juillerette’s (1418 Bridge St., Charlevoix, 231-547-9212) is like visiting a “sober Cheers,” says Don. You get a hug, and all the food is homemade. Best bet? Raspberry pancakes with real maple syrup and a side of hash browns with onions and cheddar.
Good eats, cheap: The early-bird special at the Argonne Supper Club (Boyne City Road, Charlevoix, 231-547-9331) is a fabulous deal. The Van Suilichems rave over the broiled whitefish—large and “absolutely tender”—backed by the house salad with crumbled blue cheese.

Lunch to go: Head to John Cross Fisheries (209 Belvedere Ave., 231-547-2532) for smoked whitefish and smoked whitefish pate. Grab a can of beer, a paper napkin a picnic table, and voila—the perfect lunch.
The bazaar: Charlevoix’s Appletree (224 Bridge St., 231-547-2962) is a mecca for unusual home items such as carved-wood weathervanes (Don has two) and hand-blown art glass. Mike Holms, the owner, can key into your tastes and locate your heart’s desire, ordering it special if necessary.
Sunset over the islands: The Van Suilichems head to Mount McSauba County Park at dusk nearly every clear day they’re Up North, winter or summer, for a due-west sunset panorama over Lake Michigan. South Fox, North Fox and Beaver islands are in the picture. This spot is the highest of the steep sand dunes north of Charlevoix; ask a local for directions.

Published in Northern HOME.