The premise of the show?So simple, so friendly, so warm like a spring thaw: home builders Chase Morrill, 45, his sister Ashley Morrill, 48, her husband Ryan Eldridge, 49, and their friends and colleagues Dixie (Matthew Dix) and Jedi (Jared Baker). are working together to reverse aging, sagging, and often dangerous lean. Turn your Maine cabin into a beautiful 3-season property.
Each episode of “Main Cabin Masters,” which concludes its ninth season on Magnolia Network, follows Chase and his crew through the busy spring and summer weeks they spend working on the real estate business that has been passed down through generations. – A covered retreat facing an incredibly beautiful lake or nestled deep in the forest to protect against permanent decay.
A cacophony of saws and nail guns, accented (but good-natured) bickering and bickering between brothers and crew members echoes, and the magic happens again and again. It's the family relationships that attract viewers, but that's also probably the main thing about it all. Typically, at the end of an episode, a drone camera provides a long, sweet, interspersed look at Vacationland. In the fall, the trees begin to change color, the light shines off the water, and the scenery lasts forever. And all the viewer wants is to be there.
Instead, I arrived in Manchester in the dark of December – fingers clenched on the steering wheel of my sister's borrowed, beat-up Volvo – and let Cabin Masters at least solve this problem. It was for a reason. Why is the show's title “?” Everyone in Maine calls a cabin a “camp,” but is it a “cabin”?
“We didn't name the show,” Chase said quickly, sitting with Ashley and Ryan in a cozy back room inside the Kennebec Cabin Company store.
“For us, it's hard to call it a cabin,” says Ashley.
These two are Mainers who transcend generations. Their father was a home builder. They grew up spending time every summer at a camp that most non-Mainers would call the family cabin. When I describe it, it's almost existential. How does a cabin actually become a camp? When is camping not a cabin? So how is it different from a regular home?
The cabin evokes memories of a well-kept second home. Camping is not like that. Dear Chase: “Camping is a place where you can relax and not worry about anything. You don't have to worry about how many people are there. You don't have to worry about scratches on the floor. Or—”
“How pretty,” interjected Ryan.
Camping is not a second home. This is a place where you can be with your loved ones without having to worry about whether the chair fits or what's on the TV (there's usually no cable, and some camps don't even have electricity). But as you can see on the show, there are big differences in budgets and camping situations. This financial change caused Chase to reevaluate what camp was all about. [with] It's not a lot of money. I mean, the camp was the old camp, but now I think the budget is different. ''For example, he had a budget of $50,000 for Season 2's expansive camp, which ended up with a life-sized outdoor checkerboard.
Higher budgets and larger homes illustrate the disparity in homeownership rates in Maine. As of 2022, approximately 10 percent of the population lives below the poverty line. Camping is often passed down from generation to generation, which sometimes gives the “Maine Cabin Master” something of a privilege, but many years of wear and tear (and Maine winters) have seen the toll it takes. Until then.
Ryan says it “doesn't take long” for the shed to fall into disrepair. Even if the building is still functional, it may not be practical for modern growing families.
“We often see kids who grew up going to camp every summer now have kids and want to give them the same experience. But camps aren't big enough or long-term. They may not have the latest amenities to make your stay possible,” says Ryan. “We come and say, 'Okay, what can we do to make this camp usable again?'
NWe don't have the opportunity to make camping available to all families. Ryan laments the loss of a cabin on the Maine coast that has been passed down through generations because property taxes have become too high.
He discovered that the “Maine Cabin Masters,” with their low budgets, true Mainer spirit, and Chase's thrift-minded stockpile of salvaged building materials, were able to help the family pitch in to prevent losses, and that the rescue effort was completed by the “Maine Cabin Masters.”
Part of the appeal of “Cabin Masters” is that the show is a roadmap for fixing your own camp. Ashley says: [camps]they can do simple things like what you see on the show, which is using a jack to level the ground and remove it from the soil. [there’s] It's not that rotten. ”
In addition to unparalleled views, this show also has an easy-going, community atmosphere. Family stories are shared. The crew teases each other about the rival high schools they attended (Connie vs. Gardiner) and who had a better education in measurement mathematics.
Always resourceful, Ashley visits local artisans to help with decorating ideas. She ran a home goods store in Hallowell that sold upcycled furniture. To add a personal touch to the cabin, we often use items owned by the camp owners featured in the episode. “I went camping recently and this family is very musical,” Ashley says. “They had an old beat-up piano that couldn't be repaired, so they ended up completely disassembling it and using the piano keys to create a breakfast bar.” (I'm trying to imagine that, but if you've seen “Main Cabin Masters,” you'll just believe it.)
The show is a little more gritty than what typically airs on the relatively new Magnolia Network, but generally uses ingenuity and power tools to restore something dilapidated to a meaningful, pristine state. Match all your carpentry TVs. essence.
“Main Cabin Masters” first aired in 2017 on the former DIY Network, a grittier offshoot of HGTV. DIY became Magnolia, the network of Chip and Joanna Gaines, who turned the Texas-based home improvement show “Fixer Upper” into a bespoke media empire with simple elegance and shiplap walls. . Magnolia has rolled out a number of new programs with a farm-to-table feel. When asked how their show was able to fit all that in, Ryan joked: “We're like dandelions.” Dandelions Grow Through Concrete Just like dandelions, they grow even in the harshest of conditions (Maine winters) and create something that brings joy to those who see them. You also don't have to spend a lot of time getting ready in front of the camera. A typical Main Cabin Masters season can be measured by the frequency of Chase's haircuts and beard trims.
Chase, Ashley, and Ryan are clearly Mainers. It's hard to explain, but seeing their shows and being around them reminds me of getting a flat tire on the way to high school in Maine. Several crusty, flannel-clad people stopped the journey to seek help. Maine's tenderness and airless Maine reality: that's what radiates from the trio.
Chase, the show's central character, attributes his connection to his childhood experiences in a cabin. “Everyone has a spot. Whether it's family, friends, or just a place to go for a week in the summer. Our family camp is just outside of Farmington. We grew up there, so we love camping. always needs work,” he explains. “So I followed my grandfather and father around and helped with the road work at the cabins, camps, and campgrounds.”
He and his colleagues had been in the camp restoration business for a long time when his eldest daughter, Maggie, learned through a friend's mother that a production company was looking for carpenters for a show in Maine. . After checking, Chase applied and soon discovered that his gang was producing a television show.
TCabin Master does not decide which properties are featured on the show. The network does. To solve this problem, Camp is doing the following: You need to make sure you have a realistic budget, a good story, a good location, and a TV-worthy amount of work before and after. And masters don't always get it right.
In 2020, the Environmental Protection Agency alleged that the construction company completed five renovations of residential properties built before 1978 without complying with federal lead requirements. Since then, the team has obtained certification under the Lead Renovation, Repair and Painting Rules, dedicated more showtime to diving into the regulations, paid a $16,500 penalty and agreed to follow the guidelines going forward. “I think we're trying to be smarter because we're in the public eye and people are looking to us for tips and advice,” Chase says.
In addition to following regulations, securing permits can also be an issue. Depending on the location of the cabin, this can take up to a year.
It may sound like a big deal, but it was the same for the masters when they first started filming. Chase wasn't used to being on time on TV or seeing daylight hours and crew wages flash before his eyes. “Once the film crew gets here, we go on their schedule. They set up a call sheet: when things start happening and there's a lot of people just standing around waiting. We're the first When I started in , all I saw were dollar signs,” he said.
After spending nine seasons and restoring countless camps, Cabin Master realized that not every precious camp could be saved. The main one is popular. Chase said he hates hearing stories about his family selling their cabin, only to decide 15 years later that they wanted a space like that. He laments that family sanctuaries are being sold because home prices are rising, especially in southern Maine and along the coast, making it nearly impossible to get back on the market.
“It’s even harder to find,” he says. “Once it's gone, it seems very difficult to get it back.”