The historic cabin will come down in June, park officials say.

Long after the Boys Scouts and the park district abandoned the sagging frame of Camp Yeomalt, the cabin still buzzes with activity. But not the kind local preservationists like to hear.

“I bet if you put a microphone to the wall right there you could hear them – hundreds of them – crunching away,” said parks maintenance supervisor Roger Belieu, as he traced his fingers along dozens of pinprick holes carved by tiny beetles into the cabin’s log walls.

“They lay their eggs and the larvae work their way in, eating the cabin away,” Belieu said. “Then they fly off.”

Slowly turning to sawdust from the inside, the logs have been pummeled by rain and rot outside. Much of the 70 year-old cabin’s rear room has succumbed to age and infestation, its inner loft collapsing into a pile of planks and dust. Ripped tarps on the cabin’s roof barely hide gaping holes and dislodged shingles.

What time and nature has not yet accomplished, the park district will finish with a planned tear-down slated for June, just before kids rush to the camp for summer activities.

“The cabin’s in such disrepair it’s become a serious safety issue,” said district Director Terry Lande. “We have kids over there in the summer, and I have to make sure no one is harmed.”

Despite various campaigns over the years to save the cabin, the cash to make it happen has yet to materialize. Lande says the district doesn’t have the capital funds to pay for an extensive renovation, which could include jacking up and replacing the foundation, repairing the roof and replacing logs.

“It has to be torn down,” said Jerry Nakata, whose name appears on a plaque on the cabin’s fireplace, honoring the first of many scout troops to use the building. “I hate to see it go, but it wasn’t taken care of.”

Built in 1935, the cabin was a federal Works Progress Administration project employing jobless young men. The “New Deal” program put more than eight million Americans to work before it was dissolved in 1943, leaving many log structures and lodges in parks throughout the Northwest.

“This is a prime example of ‘camp style’ that the WPA was known for,” said architect Sandy Burke this week, as she toured the cabin’s dark interior with park officials and members of the Historic Preservation Commission. “You can see that style in the post beams, the screen windows, the big stone fireplace and the easy-to-build, 12×12 (foot) pitch roof.”

The camp was purchased from Kitsap County by the Boy Scouts of America’s Olympic Council in the 1930s, and served most of its long life as a scout meeting place and overnight camp spot. The camp was officially turned over to the park district in 1987 when the scouts could no longer maintain the building.

A 1988 restoration report commissioned by the park district recommended immediate steps for preservation and cited the camp’s historical significance.

“The cabin serves as a reminder of hard times,” the study by Jones and Jones Architects stated. “WPA-built structures reflect an enthusiasm and pride of workmanship that testifies to the prevailing economic climate and the relief that many craftsmen must have felt to be employed once again and doing work for the public good.”

Local historian Jerry Elfendahl has a dog-eared copy of the report that riles him up every time he looks at it.

“The park district has done nothing, not a damn thing since this came out,” he said, holding his copy tightly. “They’ve been lousy stewards, and now they proclaim it’s going to fall down. That’s not so.”

Elfendahl cites a follow-up assessment by Susan Boyle of Bola Architects in August 2003 that echoes earlier warnings but says the building is salvageable with extensive repairs.

But a second Jones and Jones study completed in the summer of 2003 recommended scraping the original structure for a new “modern rustic”-style building that incorporates the existing fireplace. The architectural firm also diagnosed the cabin with terminal rot, giving it no more than 18 months to live.

“I nearly fell out of my shoes when I heard that,” Elfendahl said. “The park district had people come in who knew nothing about that building.”

Elfendahl would like the park district hold off on dismantling the cabin until funds can be gathered to make the necessary fixes.

While some repair estimates have ranged as high as $500,000, Mike Brundige, a local contractor experienced in building restoration, estimates the main part of the cabin could be restored for just over $100,000, using largely volunteer manpower.

“People are jazzed about getting hands-on (experience), so I think we’d have a decent turnout of volunteers and a lot of cost savings,” Brundige said. “There’s no reason it can’t be repaired and reused for a lot less money than a new building and returned to its original youth-group purpose.”

But residents have been trying for years to save the cabin with little to show for it, Lande said.

“For the last 17 years, we’ve been hearing about all these plans, but nothing’s come to fruition,” he said. “If someone says they can get the money to save it by July 1, then we’ll talk.

“But we’ve been told it needed to be replaced within 18 months (in 2003), so does leaving it make it better or worse?”

If the necessary funds don’t appear, the park district will dismantle the cabin, numbering and cataloging its parts for storage away from the elements.

“We can’t just put a fence around it and sit and watch it deteriorate into a pile of sawdust,” Lande said. “There’s no short-term fixes anymore.”

Members of both the Historic Preservation Commission and the Bainbridge Island Historical Society are investigating funding options, but have yet to find any.

“We hope to give the park (district) some ideas for grants that we hope will be taken hold of,” commission member Joyce Lhamon said.

With less than three months to go, park district planner Perry Barrett said islanders will have to move fast.

“This is urgent,” he said. “The community needs to come together and fundraise. There’s no lack of knowledge and talent on this island and a great interest in history. But, of course, cash is needed and grants are tight this year.

“Right now it’s a public hazard. It’s rotting. It’s not going to be here if we wait much longer.”