Inside Ben and Sabrina’s Enesti
January 25, 2010
In 2008, Ben and Sabrina built a modified version of the Enesti. Take a look inside.





Salvaged RV into a Tiny House
October 30, 2009
Salvaging an old or destroyed RV trailer can be a great way to furnish your tiny house. Many salvageable items can be claimed from an old trailer to be used again in a tiny house on wheels.
The above photo shows a 32 foot trailer that was listed in Kentucky for $600. The side was ripped off but the owner still had the sink, tub and other appliances available that were included in the purchase. Watch your local craigslist for bargains like these or check around your town, you may find someone who would be happy for you to take it, just to get it out of their way.
The base trailer was not damaged so the the outer shell could be completely removed and you would than have a 32 foot trailer to build your tiny house on. You could than salvage all the internal items, such as the electrical control system, plumbing and water supply. Re-use the furniture and cabinets and incorporate the kitchen appliances and bathroom toilet and tub into your tiny house.
What is not salvageable you could take to the dump or donate to a local charity organization. Below are a list of three things that you should consider as options when using an old RV.
- RV components are designed to withstand trailering long distances, are made to be turned off for many months, so they are very durable.
- Most RV’s utilize 12 volt direct current systems or DC electricity, so generally use 12 volt appliances. However they usually have an inverter for when they are plugged into a grid which converts everything back to AC usage. Most inverters will transfer back and forth automatically.
- Many RV’s have portable gas stoves that can be moved in and out of your home. Many of the new bathrooms are one peace and incorporate everything in them form tub to toilet, so this can make setting up your new space a relatively easy process.
So keep your eyes open at your local craigslist and ebay for a great deal and you may find that you will have just about all the items you need for furnishing your tiny home.



Utilities in a Tiny House
June 22, 2009
This is an excerpt from my new book.
This is a six part post. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 … more to come.
Utilities
Like the rest of the house, utilities and appliances were designed with simplicity
and sustainability in mind. They met my modest needs but would be
considered primitive by conventional American standards. These rudimentary
utilities certainly would not appeal to everyone interested in living in a
small home, and it should be made clear that living small does not require
deprivation. Hot and cold running water, a microwave oven, and cable TV are
all available options.
Water: Tumbleweed was supplied by a simple, gravity-fed plumbing system. A two-and-a-half-gallon pot sat on a metal shelf just above a horizontal section
of stovepipe in the overhead kitchen cabinet and drained into either the
kitchen sink or shower through a Y intersection in a short stretch of rubber
hose. The water was kept warm as long as the heat stove was on, and it
could be made hot by setting the pot directly on the stove or a burner. The
pot was filled at a nearby spigot. Gray water drained directly into the garden.
Heating and Cooking: The best source of heat most structures can use is that of the sun. I installed windows on all but what was intended as the north wall of Tumbleweed for good solar gain. A covered porch on the south side kept the heat of the high summer sun out while letting the lower winter rays flood the house with their warmth. A gas heater kicked in on cloudy days and cold nights. I chose a gas stove over a wood one mostly because gas stoves only require about one-sixth as much clearance from flammable surfaces. This, in turn, allowed me to have pine walls without having to put my heater right in the middle of an already tiny room. The cleanliness of gas also seemed to make sense in a small space, and I liked the idea of precise control with a thermostat rather than the frequent stoking that a small wood stove requires.
The propane tank that fed the heater also supplied an R.V. cooktop. It is upon
this same double burner that a camp oven was set for baking.
Toilet: My composting toilet amounted to little more than an airtight bucket, a can of sawdust and a couple of compost piles outside. Sordid story short,
the bucket was used as an indoor toilet and sawdust was put into the mix
to absorb odor and balance out the carbon-to-nitrogen ratio. This bucket
was emptied onto one compost pile or the other every so often, then rinsed.
(Please see J.C. Jenkins, The Humanure Handbook, for details on this and
other methods of composting human manure.) While the idea of carrying
one’s own poop (or anybody else’s for that matter) to a compost pile off
away from central living quarters may sound both inconvenient and plainly
unacceptable to most Westerners, its appeal for more than a few will be its
absolute efficiency. Without electricity, running water, or waste and only small
inconvenience as its price, a cleaner environment and soil-building compost
are made available.
Electricity: By now, these description of rudimentary plumbing and a plastic chamber pot may have made it sound as if my house was more derelict than
homey. But, as I have said, these utilities were of my choice, and for me,
choice is, in itself, a luxury. In fact, there was plenty of room for modern conveniences.
The integral CD player, TV, and VCR disqualified the house as
an ascetic’s shanty. These appliances, along with six lights, two fans, and a
radio, were all powered by the sun through a single solar panel. I chose not
to mount the panel on my roof but kept it separate. This allowed me to situate
the house in a shady place during the summer while collecting energy at the
same time.
The Small House Book
by Jay Shafer
Happy Trails
May 29, 2009
I’m writing from Cheyenne, and I’ll be in Boulder by lunch time. Thanks to everyone for their enthusiasm. I get recharged every time I pull into a city and see all the smiling faces or get the thumbs-up from other drivers. Special thanks to Ginny, Sheila and Judy for letting me stay at their place in Salt Lake, and to Mark, Jodi, Scott and the good cop for spontaneously coordinating the parking and all.
I meet so many good people through these open houses. Thank you all.
Happy Trails.
Jay Shafer
California![]() Nevada |
Utah![]() |
Utah again![]() |
Wyoming![]() |
Living Large in Small Spaces
April 23, 2009
This is an excerpt from my new book.
This is a six part post. Part 1 | Part 2 … more to come.
The Airstream
I have been living in houses of fewer than 100 square feet for nearly twelve years. The first of my little abodes was a fourteen-foot Airstream. I bought it in the summer of 1997 for three thousand dollars. It came as-is, with an aluminum shell as streamlined and polished as what lay inside was hideous. The 1964 orange shag, asbestos tiles, and green Formica would have to go. I began gutting, then meticulously refurbishing the interior in August, and by October, I was sleeping with an aluminum roof over my head. The place looked like a barrel on the inside, with pine tongue-and-groove running from front-to-back and floor-to-vaulted ceiling.
I settled in on a tree-lined ridge at the edge of a friend’s alfalfa field. It was a three-minute walk to Rapid Creek Road and a ten-minute drive from there to Iowa City. I carried water in from a well by the road and allowed it to drain from my sink and shower directly into the grass outside. I carried my sawdust toilet (i.e., bucket) out about once a month and took it to the sewage treatment facility in town. My electrical appliances consisted of a fan, six lights, a 9-inch TV/VCR and a small boom box. A single solar panel fed them all. It seemed that this simple existence would provide all I needed.
Then December came. I had reinforced most of the trailer’s insulation, but some areas remained thin. I spent over a half-hour each morning, from Christmas until Valentine’s Day, chipping ice and sponging up condensation from my walls, floors and desktop. This went on for a couple of winters before I began construction on the tiny house I have since come to call “Tumbleweed”.
The Small House Book
by Jay Shafer








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