Over the (Russian) river and through the (Sonoma) woods

Cross over the river at Monte Rio, then make your way through the woods.

On a remote shore road between Villa Grande and Duncans Mills hides the ultimate grandma’s house, illuminating the darkened November day like an ornate little night light.

This 130-year-old octagonal cottage, a summer place set behind its original wisteria-choked arbor gate and picket fence, is unlike any of the rustic cabins and old houses along the Russian River, whose dark earth tones make them blend into the forest. It’s painted a cheery buttercream with delicate gold wooden accents. An old-fashioned glassed-in sunporch pops out on one side, spilling out into a garden of hydrangeas, 25-foot tall camellias, ferns, a fairy ring of redwoods and some intriguing old specimens like a cork tree.

It’s only 1,200 square feet, including the sunroom. But for Christina Harrison, a lifelong collector of antiques and curiosities who owns an antique store in Duncans Mills, acquiring this historic and hidden gem was the ultimate score.

“It’s just right for me,” she says. “It’s me here.”

Truth be told, it wouldn’t be for everybody. This rare eight-sided house built as a summer retreat in the 1880s is certainly as visually delectable as a Victorian layer cake. In summer, it sits joyously amid the roses with a path that leads right down to the river, where Harrison keeps a kayak and canoe.

But in winter, it takes someone with a strong constitution to withstand the dampness, the dim light and the constant chill in a house solidly built of vertical tongue-and-groove boards milled in Duncans Mills, but with no modern insulation and no heat save for a single small fireplace in the parlor.

Harrison, the first occupant ever to live in the house year-round, makes the ideal candidate. Exceptionally tall with a strong build and springing from hearty Swedish stock on both sides, she is happiest living pioneer-style with a minimum of modern conveniences. No television. No microwave. No cell service. She uses heavy rotary dial phones from the 1940s. Pick up the receiver and you half expect to hear a crisp operator’s voice offering to connect you to Santa Rosa.

For a small house, it can accommodate many. The parlor is filled with claw-foot and needlepoint chairs. Next week Harrison will cook Thanksgiving dinner for some 20-odd assorted family members and friends — including young grandson Grant — moving three tables into the sunroom so all can be together in a place where time appears to have stopped around 1925.

Virtually everything in the house is vintage or antique, from the square grand piano with its 200-year-old tapestry-covered bench to the 1880s hand-cranked washing machine Harrison uses as an end table. Every bit of wall space and every level surface is consumed with furnishings, statuary, Art Deco lamps, Maxfield Parrish prints, wind-up toys and curiosities of all kinds.

Harrison’s tastes trend toward the eccentric. She seeks out not just nice vintage pieces, but everyday objects and appliances from long ago that have outlived their intended use but find a new purpose in her cottage.

Her prized acquisition is a French chandelier that emits light — at one time gas — through the open mouths of wooden gargoyles.

“I definitely love odd things,” she says with a grin.

It’s an appreciation Harrison acquired from her parents Arnold “Swede” and Alfhild Wallen.

“My parents dragged us to the auctions when we were six and seven years old. So it’s what we like,” says Harrison, a striking woman with long silver hair flowing down her back.

She grew up in Castro Valley and lived for years in Oakland and then San Jose, where she attended San Jose State, studying art and biology. She taught school for many years and started a community school for troubled youth, at the same time restoring a 4,200-square-foot Victorian.

It was her parents who paved the way north. A land-use planner and forester, Swede Wallen acquired 600 acres that encompassed the virtual ghost town of Duncans Mills 40 years ago and set about restoring it. After her parents’ death, Harrison and her siblings Nancy Ferreira and Liza Switzer inherited the real estate. For years Harrison ran The Inn at Duncans Mills, industriously selling her antiques right out of the rooms if guests took a shine to a piece.

“It was too much work and too little money, so I sold it. Now I have more time to spend here,” she says of the cottage she purchased in 1995.

The house was built by a San Francisco architect named McLachlan who, according to Harrison, also worked on the famed Sutro Baths near The Cliff House. It served as a country getaway for many years. One of her prized curiosities is something that came with the house — a framed series of comics, each featuring one of McLachlan’s various houseguests and his designated chore during a single happy weekend in 1908.

One of McLachlan’s good friends and fellow Bohemian was horticulturist John McLaren, who developed Golden Gate Park. And it is McLaren, Harrison says, who laid out the bones of the garden where she now frequently entertains, including an annual Summer Solstice bash.

The cottage now faces Moscow Road. But in the late 19th century the railroad tracks went right past it.

Back in the day, the gate was painted orange so the narrow gauge passenger rail that brought folks up from the ferry in Marin knew exactly where to stop. The McLachlans had only to hop onto the train steps away from their door, set within a recessed porch fully enclosed on two sides and with a ceiling.

One of its most striking features is a stunning stained glass skylight over the parlor that bathes the room in colors. Aside from TLC improvements like paint and a new roof, the house remains untouched by time, much as it was a century ago.

“I’ve done quite a bit of work,” she says, “but it’s obvious, everyone has loved this home who lived here.”

You can reach Staff Writer Meg McConahey at 521-5204 or meg.mcconahey@pressdemocrat.com.