perspective

I built a tiny house I can't live in — but I have no regrets

In 2022, I was working in my hometown of Gippsland, Victoria, and building a tiny house I'd designed to live in while I travelled for work.

Almost two years on, things look a little different.

I now live in Darwin, where a tiny house sporting thick insulation and lacking an air conditioner would be an industrial oven. So, the tiny house remains in Gippsland at my family home.

What started as a backyard project to build my own mobile home has become a fly-in, fly-out pursuit now destined to be a farmstay rental.

But I've still gained more than I ever could have imagined at the start of the project.

Unfinished business

When we started building the tiny house in 2021, moving to Darwin was not on my bingo card.

But after a break-up and a great job opportunity, Darwin was suddenly on the horizon in mid-2023.

My construction partner (and father), Big Tim, and I went from steadily ticking off tasks to a flurry of tying up loose ends, including trying to finalise the most crucial aspects of the tiny house.

Tim generally subscribes to the country dad school of expressing emotions: actions rather than words.

During the long days, nights and weekends working side-by-side on the house, he made his feelings clear to me in a way that conversation never could.

It was hard for us both to work so long towards the aim of me living in the house, just for me to move to the other side of the continent.

And yet, a few weeks later, I was ready to leave, but not without the compulsory "going troppo" farewell party in the tiny house.

It takes a village to raise a house

Navigating the final stages of fitting out the tiny house from more than 3,000 kilometres away has been a unique challenge, with tradies, stock and communication made more difficult with distance.

My Gippsland delegate and younger brother Harry has been an integral part of the process, sending me updates on all of the most recent accomplishments, including working lights, running water, and flowing gas.

Harry is a forester and woodworker; I trust his skills and knowledge in so many areas. As a brother, I've always trusted him to do the work in my absence.

Before: Dad and Harry have been putting the finishing touches on the project.. . After: The tiny house interior is finished, at last.. .

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The upholstery skills of my grandma, Meg, have helped realise my lifelong dream of owning a midnight blue velvet couch.

With velvet and innards I sourced, Grandma measured, cut, and sewed it all together.

Mum has been helping kit out all the little details that make a tiny house a home, including crockery and appliances.

Another surprising discovery was my composting toilet, which uses peat moss and a fan. With a separate tank for urine, it doesn't require any water or plumbing to function, saving litres upon litres of water.

Will I be able to rent it? 

The short answer is yes.

We've set up the house in a paddock with a lovely view of the ranges north of Gippsland and Mum and Dad will manage it in my absence.

Tiny houses have long existed in a legal grey area because their construction and sewage can differ so widely, with some closer to caravans and others closer to relocatable modular homes.

But as growing numbers of Australians turn to tiny homes in response to the ongoing housing crisis, governments are starting to notice.

Victoria has loosened laws on building granny flats smaller than 60 square metres, removing the requirement for a planning permit.

Australia's 556 councils each have different definitions of a tiny house, and where and for how long they can park, leading advocates to call for more consistent rules to make moving and longer stays simpler.

But while the Victorian government's new levy on short-stay accommodation is aimed at getting more properties back onto the long-term rental market, it will affect people like me who want to use their tiny house for supplementing income, if only temporarily.

Staying connected — why I don't regret building it

While building the tiny house ourselves probably did not save us much — if any — money compared to buying from a professional builder, the knowledge and the experiences gained have been irreplaceable.

I know this has been possible through the privilege of a supportive family who are able and willing to give their time, expertise, and a physical place to park the house.

It's also been dependent on me having a lack of responsibilities, a full-time income, and plenty of spare time to dedicate to thinking about and working on the house.

Dad still calls me up with a question, suggestion or thought about the tiny house, and while he's got me, takes the opportunity to ask me about life here in Darwin. Our relationship has never been closer.

Going back home and sitting in the space feels surreal; what was once an idea is now a space populated with memories and love, built from the ground up.

Rio Davis is a radio newsreader at ABC Darwin on Larrakia country.