I built my first cabin when I was 18. It started as an idea in my head and slowly became real, a pile of timber and imagination shaped by long days and cold nights. I tried to sell it, and while that first cabin didn’t find a buyer, it led to me building and selling two large huts off the back of it, proving that the work was worth doing, even when the path wasn’t easy.

When COVID arrived, I had a new idea: I could rent out the cabin as a tiny retreat. I added a bed to the back and drove around local campsites, explaining to owners that I wanted to rent a small pitch on their land to host guests. It wasn’t easy. Doors closed, doubts crept in, but that first year went better than I dared hope.

After a disagreement with the campsite owner, I moved the cabin back to where I had built it and got permission to rent it from there. That’s when the dream grew: I wanted to build an Airbnb business. I didn’t have the money for another cabin, so I sold my van to fund it. I worked long hours, saved every penny, and completed a second cabin, which found its own perfect spot.

The following year, I took out a loan to try to buy land. The dream didn’t pan out, but I poured the money into building a third cabin and found a new site. Each step came with setbacks, storms, and moments of doubt. Two cabins stand strong up there on the hills of Woolacombe, weathering the storms, stubborn like I was to succeed. And the original cabin sits pretty in its birth place of Foxdown.

As of now I have three cabins, hand-built, full of character, and carrying a little piece of my journey. They’re made for quiet mornings, starlit nights, and the kind of pause that reminds you that perseverance, care, and a touch of stubbornness can create something truly special.