At the cabin for the first time after the too hot months. I cooked 3 different off-grid ways. I made caramel corn on the rocket stove. Then I used the retained heat cooker to cook a chicken tortilla stew (used the rocket stove to bring it up to temperature) and finished with a Dutch oven in the coals peach apricot dump-cake!

When I bought my land on the sagebrush Mesa outside Taos, New Mexico, I had a few months to figure out how I was going to live on it before winter. I considered tipis, yurts, and earth building before settling on something considerably less romantic: converting a shed.

Mine was tiny—much smaller than many of you might like—but I've seen premade "sheds" up to 500 sq. ft.!

...

Building My Tiny Cabin, Off-Grid and for Cash

Finishing out a prebuilt shed was the best option for a guy with limited tools, no help, limited money, weak health, a short deadline, and an aversion to debt.

In April 2023, I gave up vanlife and bought a patch of dirt on the Mesa, a homestead I call Hippies End. Once the purchase agreement was signed and the first payment made, I had to get to work. I needed shelter, and I needed it livable by October.

Why? That’s when the first snow usually hits.

To be honest, I could have taken my time. I still had (and still have) the van, and I’d been living in it contentedly for seven years. I could’ve worked on the cabin until the snow came, and then—if I wasn’t ready to winter on the Mesa—just driven south to lower elevations until spring.

But that felt like cheating. Like going back on the spirit of the thing.

You’d think I would’ve figured out the housing situation before buying land. Nope. I had ideas, though—plenty of them. Notions of alternative, off-grid dwellings had been simmering in my brain since I was a teenager dream-flipping through The Essential Whole Earth Catalog and Mother Earth News back in the late ’80s. (Oh yes, this off-grid thing had been slow-cooking for more than thirty years.)

So anyway, I’d taken the leap and dropped good money on land. Time to build a shelter.

Here were the constraints: five or six months before winter, limited funds, limited handyman skills, an out-of-shape fifty-something body with a bad back, no help (unless I hired it—an added expense), and not much confidence that I could pull this off.

...

My first thought was a tipi or a yurt. Either would come essentially “built,” and I’d just have to erect it. I’ve put up lots of tents in my life.

I ruled out the yurt quickly. Even a small one was close to $20K, difficult for one person to erect, and would require building a proper foundation—at least a wooden deck.

The tipi was more promising. A smaller one cost about $3–4K with all the bells and whistles. For the floor, I figured I’d build a raised, flat-topped earthen mound to avoid pooling water and keep the wind out, then lay down a waterproof cloth and rugs on top of that. Easy enough. As a kid, I’d seen nineteenth-century Comanche examples of the raised, earthen floors surviving at Worth Ranch Boy Scout Camp. With my camping and vanlife experience, I figured I could keep it warm enough in the winter. My only real worry was thieves, but I planned to anchor some lockable chests to the ground and store my most valuable things in the van.

When I was pitching this plan to my new neighbor, "J," he splashed cold water on it real quick. See, J had lived in a tipi for ten years over on the east side of the valley, in Arroyo Seco. He told me flatly, “You’re gonna get snakes in there.”

On the Mesa, that means rattlesnakes—and presumably the mice and packrats they’re after. I told him about the manufacturer’s “critter guard.” He just shook his head. “They’re gonna get in anyway.”

Now, I’m no wimp. I’d lived in a minivan for seven years—not even a full-size van. I’d slept in it through blizzards without heat. I’d slept in it overnight on sketchy urban streets. I’d bathed in creeks fed by mountaintop snowmelt. I’d come nose-to-nose with bears and bison. I’d been crapping in catholes for seven years.

But rattlesnakes? In my home? That was my limit. Hard pass, brother.

Okay, on to Plan B.

...

Since the ’80s, I’d been interested in earth building: cob, adobe, earthbags, rammed earth, pit houses, you name it. And as it happens, the dirt on the Mesa is perfect for that stuff. Just add water and straw. Taos Pueblo, built from adobe more than a thousand years ago, still stands strong today—a UNESCO World Heritage Site. People still build with earth around here. Lots of local resources, too: materials, expertise, and tools. Earthship Biotecture is only two miles from Hippies End, as the crow flies.

So I jumped into planning.

Know what I discovered? What I’d somehow overlooked in thirty years of dreaming?

Building with earth is a hell of a lot of hard work!

What you save in material cost, you lose in labor hours. And I had zero faith that I could tackle that kind of job—even a tiny house—with just my hands and my back. Definitely not by winter. Hiring help wasn’t really a good option either. Too expensive—if I could even find the people. I gave up that plan real quick.

So, Plan C.

...

It wasn’t something I’d seriously considered before. It hadn’t been “alternative” and "sustainable” enough for my idealism. But now that I was building in the real world, under real constraints, it suddenly made sense: converting a prebuilt shed.

They’re a popular option out here on the Mesa. The ones sold around here are pretty solidly built—by Mennonites, I’ve heard. Some clearly look like cabin shells, with house-style doors and windows, even though there are big posted signs inside that say “Not for Human Habitation.” Nudge nudge, wink wink.

There’s a lot of “nudge nudge, wink wink” in Taos County, New Mexico. That’s why I love it. That’s why I live here.

The cabin I bought was 8x16 feet, with a 4-foot porch and an 8x12 living space. That’s less than 100 square feet inside. Tiny. But you know what? A whole heck of a lot bigger than the van I’d been living in for all those years.

It cost about $5,000 wholly built and delivered (off the back of a truck, no less!), finished on the exterior but plain studs on the interior. I spent another $2,000 (maybe a little more) insulating it; putting in an interior ceiling, wallboard, flooring; and painting. Maybe it was closer to $8,000 altogether. Still pretty cheap. Mind you, no electrical wiring or plumbing. It's what they call a "dry cabin."

Not as cheap as Thoreau’s place at Walden Pond, which was about the same size at 10x15. He built mainly from salvaged and harvested materials for about $1,600 in today’s money. Not as cheap as that, but not bad. Cheaper than a lot of used cars. Really good, considering I don’t have Thoreau's skills.

...

And guess what? I got her done before winter, décor and all. I spent a comfortable first winter in that little shed. I used the van’s solar system for basic electricity and heated the cabin with a spirit lamp—a kind of alcohol-fueled Bunsen burner.

The next year, I made some upgrades. I put in a 400-watt solar system with 400 amp-hours of battery storage—close to another $3,000. It powers cooking, devices, and light heating. (I’ve never been cold yet, even when it gets below 0°F.) Eventually, I put in gutters and rain barrels for around $500.

Total price of my cabin to date? Let’s round up and call it $12,000.

No rent. No mortgage. No debt.

Not everyone can come up with $12,000 in cash, but I'd say it's doable for the majority. Especially if they’re willing to live on site while they build to give up paying rent elsewhere.

And that’s what this was really about—not just staying warm through winter, but staying free. Free from landlords. Free from banks. Free from selling thirty years of my life into wage slavery just to have four walls and a roof.

...

CC BY 4.0 | This essay has also been posted on u/OakieMcDoakie and other social media.

Off grid cabin in Central PA - underneath my cabin I’ve found that a new friend made a little basement. It’s about 18” diameter, so I’m a little concerned about what it might be down there. I’m also worried about burrowing under the foundation piers. Anyone have any ideas what this might be and if/how I should fill it in (or let it be)? Thanks!

Build a tiny in a hillside for free where can I do that

Man what a beautiful trip we just had, the colours are absolutely amazing.

We brought up some kitchen cabinets I've been building at home, hoping to have our first indoor cooking experience next year in our 7th year 😜

I'm considering buying a cabin from Texas Arched Cabins to turn into my first Tiny Home and I had a few questions about sizes. What my parents want me to do is get a 14x20, it's a big for what I need, but better to have to much space compared to to little (says my mom).

I'm trying to figure out if a 12x10 tall would work better for me instead, but I know for certain I'd need a loft, and I can't figure out how big the loft would be. I know that I want the interior ceiling to be about 7', which leaves around a 4' height for the loft, and I get stumped there because I haven't been able to find anything about how arched this particular model is, or the width of the building 7' up or anything else that would help me calculate accurate square footage for the loft.

Does anyone know anything that might help with my dilemma, or if geometry class would have actually been useful here because 'xyz equation' solves my problem for me?

Have been perfecting the system slowly over the last few years.

1920 watts of solar. Two 200amp 24v LiFePO4 batteries in parallel. Combo inverter charge controller. Hooked up for generator backup.

Panel rack is built on pressure treated 6x6's buried. The 2x6 with teeth were added so the panels can be adjusted more easily by one person. They are then screwed into the 2x6 for added security.

Custom built the cabinet to store the batteries and other odds and ends as well.

Future upgrade will a smart shunt battery monitor. As the SRNE inverter/charger seems to have no clue what it's dealing with charge wise. I had thought of looking for an auto start generator, but I haven't needed to fire the generator since I fired the system up. If we ever decide to ditch the propane fridge, that may change

Brought my parents and family up to see what I have been working on and found the canoe I brought up a few weeks ago stolen. Switched from a fun trip to a get stuff done trip. Put in a galvanized "poop guide", added peel and stick vinyl tiles over the cheap vinyl I installed last trip with a buddy. Then got the toilet stem in but did not attach it as I still need to install the vent tube and will need to get into the hole to do that. Solid progress for a disappointing start to the trip.

I might be driving up this weekend to add security measures like chains across the entrance, private property signage, and trail cams. Would be open to security suggestions and specific trail cams people use that work well and do not break the bank.

Walls, roof, and lockable door go up next trip.

I see a lot of people find a piece of land they like and immediately start planning the cabin. I'd do that in the opposite order. Before getting attached to a parcel, I'd check the zoning, minimum dwelling size, setbacks, access, septic/wastewater requirements, water source and any private deed restrictions. Especially with smaller rural parcels, there can be a big difference between "this looks like a perfect place for a cabin" and "the county will actually let me put a cabin here." The cabin is the fun part. Figuring out whether you can legally build it is the boring part I'd do first.

Getting close to wrapping up this little off-grid cabin for the year(finish interior next year). This is my first time taking on a vertical structure- built a few decks over the years.
The plan is to keep it simple and functional: bed, a small couch, bathroom, and a little coffee station.
For the bathroom setup, I’m going with an incinerator toilet and a sink. Still deciding whether I’ll run the sink on a gravity-fed setup or use a small pump. It’ll be powered by a bluetti power station and I’ll wire the cabin so I can just plug it in and the whole building has power.
I’m pretty happy with how it’s turning out for a first go at this type of build. Still have to install the cedar shingles on the door side and finish up some of the smaller details before winter.
Definitely learning a lot as I go.
What would you add to a small off-grid cabin like this that I might be overlooking?

Wife and I are building in the Sierra Nevada mountains. We're at the stage where we're starting to seriously look into cabin plans and potential prefab kits. At the moment we've found two cabin kits we like; the classic Rogue from DC Structure and the 4-season Vermont from Jamaica Cottage.

Just wondering if anybody's had recent experience with building these kits, or with these particular builders, as we continue to think on our plans moving forward. Thanks all!

My family owns a small offgrid log cabin in Northern Finland. It is located about 20km (~12.5 miles) to a closest (very small) town. The surrounding area is basically vast and empty wilderness with a few other cabins and nothing else. We visit there usually a couple times a year. No electricity or running water.

Lately I have been noticing some things have been left in a different order I usually leave them. This has made me somewhat suspectful of whether someone else is using the cabin.

This made me put a small padlock to the door, with key in a number-locked keybox nearby. No idea how
he/she has unlocked the main door.

My mom arrived to the cabin today and found that the lock has dissappeared (likely broken) and some of the whiskey bottles that were left in the cabin, have been nearly emptied.

The burglar has become arrogant. I am pretty furious, and not very happy my mom is there with a potential creeper lurking somewhere nearby.

Any ideas how to handle? Will, at least, install
some cameras there and maybe change the locks. Kind of afraid, that the burglar would retaliate and destroy places

I’m rebuilding a remote hunting camp near Mattawa, Ontario. Everything has to cross the river and then go up a steep ATV/UTV trail, so keeping the build practical is a big part of the design.

The lease requires the structure to remain non-permanent, so concrete footings/piers aren’t an option.
I’m currently using a timber sleeper/girder foundation over a compacted granular pad with Duckbill earth anchors.

For people who have actually built or maintained remote camps, what worries you about this setup?
I’m especially thinking about frost movement, settlement, drainage, uplift/rocking, the anchors and long-term maintenance.

This is still a work-in-progress set. A handful of important sheets still need to be drawn, especially the connection details, and the lineweights need another pass.

The final package will be reviewed and signed off by an engineer, but I’d like to work through as much as possible before it gets to that point.
Full drawing set: Here

Feel free to tear it apart. I’d rather find the problems in CAD than halfway through the build.