Lake Stevens grew in bursts, and every burst left a different floor behind. Knowing which one you are standing on decides the repair.
The oldest of it is downtown. The Rucker Brothers opened their shingle mill in 1907 and filed the town plat in February 1908, laying out a business district and housing for the mill's roughly 250 workers. Machias had been platted two decades earlier, in 1888, and Hartford was already a rail junction by 1890. What survives from those years sits along Main Street, up toward Hartford, and out near the Centennial Trail, and it was floored in old-growth Douglas fir: narrow, tight-grained, and by now sanded two or three times by owners who came before you. On fir that thin, sanding again is usually the wrong answer and cutting in replacement boards is the honest one.
The mill burned a second time in 1925 and never reopened, and the lake became a resort instead. From the 1920s into the 1950s the shoreline filled with beach resorts and summer cabins, and a good number of those cabins are still standing, winterized and added onto a room at a time. That is why a waterfront job in Lake Stevens so often means three or four floors meeting inside one house — fir in the original room, sheet goods in a fifties kitchen, oak in the addition, vinyl plank from the last remodel. We price those by section rather than pretending a single repair covers the whole place.
Then came the suburbs. The city incorporated in 1960 with about 900 residents, the same year Frontier Village opened at Highway 9 and Highway 204, and Hewlett-Packard put a plant up on Soper Hill in 1985. The bigger change came later: the median Lake Stevens home was built in 1997, Cavalero Hill filled in through the 2000s, Frontier Village was annexed in 2007, and a nine-square-mile annexation in December 2009 added more than 10,000 residents overnight. The population went from 6,361 in 2000 to 28,069 in 2010 to 35,630 in 2020. Those late-nineties houses got strip oak, the 2000s ones got engineered hardwood, and the newest streets got floating vinyl plank. Three materials, three different failure modes, three different fixes.
Water is the last thing that sets this town apart from its neighbors. The lake is the largest and deepest in Snohomish County, fed by Lundeen, Mitchell and Stitch creeks and drained through Catherine Creek toward the Pilchuck. Lower Catherine Creek is one of the city's priority stormwater catchments, the outlet channel came over Hartford Drive during a record November rain, and lakeside owners have watched standing water sit on their lawns two winters running — at least some have been told by their mortgage company that they now fall inside a FEMA flood hazard area and have to carry flood insurance. When we get called out near the water, the moisture meter comes out of the truck before the saw does.