Rolling Huts Review

I didn’t know “quiet” was a sound until I stayed at Rolling Huts. Set deep in Washington State’s backcountry where the Cascades tumble into the Methow Valley, a herd of six huts graze in an open meadow.

As a city-slicker who relishes in outdoorsy weekends, the Olson Kundig Architects-designed Rolling Huts have become one of my go-to glamping muses. They bring an industrial-chic aesthetic you might expect to see in a dot.com billionaire’s home to the countryside. Think: Basic-yet-bright bungalows built as a contemporary alternative to camping.

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High on functionality and design, and low on frills, the modular masterpieces—so fetching they could grace the cover of Architectural Digest—feature a minimalist interior with a cozy sleeping section, as well as a main room flanked by an outdoor deck and a basic food prep nook. Here, a set of building block-style moveable seats also double as an extra sleeping platform for kids or friends.

The creative placement of the herd’s personal bathrooms and water source is where Rolling Huts’ glamping grade goes from A to A+. In an effort to maintain a low environmental impact, each hut has a private outhouse accessible via the deck. As for where to find the Cascades’ glacier water? Well, it wells up from the land in a faucet at the base of each unit. (Clean freaks don’t fret: If you crave a little more pampering, like me, a main bathhouse with sinks and showers is a short stroll away.)

Wanting a taste of Washington’s most progressive glampers, I visited in the summer with my husband and our four-legged fur-child. Totally enamoured with every detail of the mod campers, we spent a lot of time photographing every steel and plywood detail pretending we were in-demand photographers on “a shoot” for a magazine.

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Despite the basic kitchens, we ate in every evening. Nightfall was too beautiful to leave as the alpenglow-effect turned the distant mountains a shade of pink—a spectacle we watched from our balcony while drinking Pacific Northwest wine.

In the morning we worked off our vino biking along part of the region’s impressive 120-mile trail system to breakfast at The Mazama Store. Offering a grocery bag full of organic goods, gifts, espresso, wine, and fresh-baked goodies, I will never forget their strawberry scones topped in coarse sugar. Due to these scones, biking to and from the store became part of our morning commute, which we also used as an opportunity to pick up food for the rest of the day including local cheeses and fresh-baked sel de mer baguettes.

Back at “the ranch” over wine, cheese, baguettes, and the quietness of the Methow Valley, we started planning our return—one visit only whet our palate for more—this time in the winter to cross-country ski along the same trails by day, and retreat into our personal warming hut by night.
Insider Information

– If you like a cushy mattress bring extra padding for the foamy provided in each hut. You’ll need sheets and a duvet, too.
– Along with a bar fridge, microwave, and coffee maker, basic kitchenware is provided. If you want to take your meal into Michelin territory, bring tongs, a cheese grater, and wine glasses.
– There is a central barbecue area for cookouts. If you don’t feel like cooking, find a restaurant onsite.
– Several hundred feet beyond the huts, the same property also features 15 safari-style canvas tents in case you crave a more rustic form of glamping.

West Bali National Park Retreat – The Menjangan

Set on beholding Bali’s beauty outside of the major tourist zones, we traveled four hours from the buzzy South Isle to the woodsy West Coast. Our goal: To get away. Away from throngs of tourists. Away from same-same shops. Away from beat-pumping beach clubs.

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We were pining after an actual postcard setting. We found it at The Menjangan (Indonesian for deer).
Positioned in a part of Bali where a slower pace of life is de rigueur—case in point: Donkeys pull carts toting branches along the roadside—the jungle retreat occupying 950 acres of Bali Barat National Park rides the line between safari and savvy; beach and beyond.

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At the shorefront, a small collection of villas built using traditional Javanese architecture sit on a private stretch of sand fronting a beach so blue it’s as if the sea is reflecting the sky. Outdoor bathrooms add a touch of rustic to the abodes, while air condoning and upscale minimalist design mingling white linens and a sturdy four-post bed remind you you’re in a villa.

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A mile inland from Sentigi beach the rest of the retreat lingers in the jungle’s shadows. At the Monsoon Lodge, 14 thatched-roof rooms and two suites invoke the glamping aesthetic courtesy of alang-alang grass roofs, Bengkirai wood floors, and the lush setting (read: It’s not abnormal for a gecko to scurry across your ceiling) hugging a glowing pool and hot tub lit by rays of midday sun sneaking through the thick foliage.

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Safari vehicles link the Beach Villas, the Monsoon Lodge, and the Bali Tower, a five-tier structure busting high above the bush. Most days, we chose to wake up with the jungle and eat our breakfast at the Bali Tower, one of two restaurants onsite. (For the record: Savoring fresh fruit on a perch peering over the lush landscape has made breakfast every day since, a tad lacklustre.)

breakfast at the bali tower

After breakfast we made our way to the beach; sometimes on foot, sometimes via safari truck. It’s in moments like this you’re reminded you’re glamping in a national park. Deer roam about freely, monkeys hang from trees, and birds provide the ultimate far-flung soundtrack.

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Aside from one mid-afternoon monsoon “forcing” us to read in our outdoorsy abode, we spent our days alternating between sand and surf. Each morning at 10 a.m. we’d plant ourselves in our preferred lounges under one of the many trees providing shade at the beach. From here our daily itinerary was simple: Snooze, drink Bintang Beer (the local brew), cool off in the Bali Sea, or walk to the resort’s nearby jetty to don our snorkel gear.

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When the sun set, we didn’t long for a scene or street full of restaurants. At The Menjangan, you crave what’s there: A five-seat bar at the beach, and a 10-table restaurant resting above the water. Here, under the glow of blue lanterns we ate local fish, sipped fresh-fruit cocktails, and celebrated a place where everyone had come for the away-from-it-all setting (and nobody cared if your hair still sported an ocean-sculpted hairdo).

Eco-Conscious Glamping

One of the many reasons I’m hopelessly devoted to glamping is the eco-factor, a by-product of staying in a natural setting. Having glamped on almost every continent, I’ve yet to meet a chic campsite that isn’t small scale, low impact, or energy efficient—a trend hinting at a green sensibility that’s becoming increasingly important to travelers.

It was during one of my first glamping experiences on a vegetated cay in the middle of the Great Barrier Reef that the chef at the upscale eco-isle pointed out fishing boats in the distance. “Today’s lunch (of pan-fried barramundi) was delivered ashore from one of those vessels”, he explained. Dining fish-to-fork at a table made of local wood has made every other meal (ever) hard to measure up.

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Sustainable situations like this are the rule versus the exception when you choose to glamp. Such is the case at the Four Seasons Tented Camp Golden Triangle, where upon arrival I was handed a guava welcome beverage in a cup chiseled from the local forest’s bamboo bounty.

Beyond bamboo tumblers, the luxury retreat also includes elephant treks through a conservancy they set up to rescue the gentle giants from a life of begging and forced labor. In a feel-good twist, a portion of every guest’s room rate is donated to protection efforts.

Kamu Lodge
Across the Mekong River in nearby Laos, Kamu Lodge may be remote, but the modest wilderness escape doesn’t skimp on eco accoutrements. Each of 20 thatched-roof tents is topped in solar panels to light each abode at bedtime, and keep the fan running during hot jungle nights.

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At a lower longitude, Longitude 131 to be exact, the namesake resort sets a different example of social and environmental responsibility in the form of extensive consultations with the Aboriginal Areas Protection Authority to support the cultural heritage of the area—only 6 miles from Uluru—as well as the World Heritage Site’s flora and fauna, so precious, the entire 15-tent camp can be dismantled and relocated if need be.

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Back in North America, my most recent brush with wilderness lodging took me to the sun-drenched beaches of Tulum, Mexico where at Papaya Playa Project, boho-chic beach bungalows built using local materials go so far as to fashion free-standing towel racks out of wind-swept branches and string. I took a photo in hopes of making a similar structure for a rainy-day DYI project.

It’s incredible how contagious stewardship can be when paired with passion and creativity.