On plumbing, meditation & healthful hearts

Tiny housers on wheels tend to think a lot about water, whether it’s from an environmental, financial or logistical perspective. There are unique challenges when you can’t predict your access to utilities with any certainty. But it also presents an opportunity to become much more aware and intentional in how we use resources, and how interconnected we really are.

What is the sound of one hand clapping?
~ Zen koan

[For a great discussion of this koan, see this post by Barry Magid of the Ordinary Mind Zendo in New York City. Strangely, I had just typed in the koan when AT&T cut the wire to my house, severing my internet connection. Hmmm…]

Evolution of my plumbing design (or lack thereof)

I should start off by saying that most tiny houses do indeed have plumbing. It varies by house and situation, but most have running water coming into the house and some way of collecting the greywater that runs out of the sink and shower. They have hot water heaters, either small RV tanks or on-demand units. Many have low-flow flush toilets and some even have washing machines and dryers. A lot of these systems require hook ups to utilities, particularly electrical for water heaters and W/Ds. Some tiny housers install water and waste holding tanks for off-grid living, though these don’t necessarily have to be built in.

So the fact that I’ve decided to go completely pipeless is a bit on the fringe. It’s purely a matter of personal choice. Since this may seem a little crazy to most people, the following walks through my thought process to find what felt right for me.

In her tiny house workshops, Dee Williams (Portland Alternative Dwellings) talks about her decisions to go without plumbing. Partly striving for simplicity and partly a lack of confidence in her plumbing skills at that time, she has what she calls a “gravity-fed” sink (a ceramic urn that drains into a 5-gallon bucket beneath the sink), a compost toilet, and no shower, showering instead at work, the gym, or at friends’ houses. It’s worked for her for the last nine years. That kind of staying power made quite an impression on me.

As I started my own design process, I was quickly confronted with the big issues of getting water in and waste and water out. It’s all a bit more complicated with a tiny house that isn’t fixed to one location with known utilities. You also start to get really aware of quantities. Harking back to the infographic, 25 gallons for even a low-flow shower in a normal-sized house means getting 25 gallons in, heated and out, not to mention the associated utility costs and issues with condensation. You start to see why tiny housers tend to be conservationists.

The gravity sink was a no-brainer. I’m used to camping and compared to that, the set up seemed quite luxurious. I was also fine with the compost toilet, having researched them and used them. Where I got hung up on with Dee’s system was the lack of shower.

I do love my showers and definitely wanted one inside the house. But in addition to the complexities of getting water in and out, not to mention heating it, I was running up against two of my neuroses: my dislike of plastic and abhorrence of mold, both from potential leaks and from vapor condensation. I’m the first to admit I’m probably over the top in my health concerns on these fronts, but I’m building this house so that I can feel good about the materials I use. They’re my neuroses and my house – I can cry if I want to…

A solution presented itself when I read Laura LaVoie’s post on the shower system they rigged in their tiny house, involving attaching a shower head with a pause button to a hand-pump garden sprayer to pressurize the water. I decided I should make one for myself to test it out before committing to no plumbing.

On the very day I was going to go purchase the materials, I came across Mariah’s post on shower options at her Comet Camper site. She had located a small boating supply business that had contracted with the maker of the garden sprayer to make the same kind of shower. It was about the same cost of doing it yourself, plus it came in all black so you can fill it and leave it in the sun to heat up on warm days. So I promptly ordered it.

I admit I was dubious. As I was assembling it, I was worried that my landlady would come in and call Homeland Security. But lo and behold, it worked. It’s not super powerful but definitely provides a decent shower, and best yet, it only took to two gallons to both shower and wash my hair with pauses to lather (and a couple additional pumpings). And hardly any water vapor.

So I thought I had my solution. My fear of leaks and mold overcame my misgivings about having a large quantity of plastic in my house, so I decided to go with a one-piece stall that drained out into a bucket or rolling waste tank beneath the house. I figured I could heat up a kettle of water, add the right balance of cold to the sprayer, and then every couple showers I would empty the bucket. Not high end, but serviceable and pretty self-sufficient.

Since I was testing this over the winter, I did learn quickly that I was reluctant to use the sprayer if the bathroom was cold. To address this, I added an Envi heater to my design, specifically for heating up the bathroom.

[musical interlude while time passes, all cocky and confident in my decision…cue up the Eurythmics song]

I began to wonder if I was doing the right thing when I went up to Portland in April. I needed to buy the stall since the exact specs were going to greatly affect the rest of my design. I did a bit of online research but was oddly reluctant to actually go to the stores. Dee gently suggested going with metal walls but I was determined to have a seamless stall.

Not long after that, still stall-less and back in the Bay Area, I had the good fortune to visit two tiny houses, both beautiful designs and exquisitely crafted. And though both have running water into the kitchen sink, neither have indoor showers.

Colin has been living in his place since last fall and kindly spent several hours with me answering my multitude of questions and explaining his building process. He’s rigged an outdoor shower on the back of his house.

That same weekend I drove to northern California to visit with Tammy & Logan, who were also incredibly generous with their time and helping me think through my design decisions. Their tiny house was designed by Dee and built by Katy Anderson.

They too have been living without a shower but have kept options open by putting in a shower tray beneath a removable wooden floor, with a drain to the outside. Should they decide at some point, they could convert it into a shower.

Seeing their set up made me hark back to Gina’s tiny house, also designed and built by PAD. I realized my reluctance to buying the stall was I just didn’t want a big hunk of fiberglass in my wooden tiny house. I tried to research whether there were any issues regarding off-gassing of shower stalls but wasn’t able to find anything conclusive. I probably would have just sucked it up but when I started really looking into the sizes that would fit my restricted space, I realized it was going to be hard to get a one-piece unit. If I was going to have a seam between the tray and the stall, I might as well go with the metal walls.

Again I thought I was set until I switched to designing in SketchUp. One benefit of working in 3D is it became immediately clear that the rail that forms the tongue of my trailer runs right under the shower drain, completely blocking it. I was super glad I discovered this before I was deep in construction!

There are some work-arounds. Some trays have drains located off center, but I was bumping into more limitations regarding the overall size. I could also go the route of the washtub or wine barrel approaches, but these didn’t speak to me. I wasn’t even dealing with plumbing and still I felt like I was banging my head against the stall.

Tassajara Zen Mountain Center & Hot Springs

It was with thoughts of rivers, tides, tears, and plumbing that I set off for a few days in Tassajara. A friend and I have been going for most of the last twenty years. We look forward to it all year.

Tassajara is a Zen Buddhist monastery located deep in a rugged canyon in the Santa Lucia Mountains in central California. During the summer, they open it up as a guest retreat. It’s a curious combination of luxury and simplicity, with gourmet vegetarian meals but no electricity. There are a variety of accommodations. We always stay in the Japanese-style tatami cabins. They are very simple, with just a sink and a toilet. You shower about a quarter mile upstream at the baths, which pipe in hot water from the natural hot springs.

I’m admittedly a total Zen dilettante. I don’t formally meditate or practice, but go there to rejuvenate in the baths and setting. The bells, gongs and chants of the monks, accompanied by the babble of the stream, the wind in the trees, and the descending trill of the canyon wren, is immensely soothing. For three days I did nothing but soak, sleep and eat, my body going all rubbery and my mind stilling. It’s just so beautiful there.

A large part of what I love about Tassajara is the architectural style. It’s a lovely blend of rustic California Arts & Crafts with the simplicity of the Japanese wabi-sabi aesthetic. Great use is made of stone, wood and metal, highlighting their natural features and tying in to the surrounding environment. Wikipedia has this to say:

I returned from Tassajara with shriveled fingers, a sunburn, and an unusual peace of mind. While away, I realized that what I really wanted was to create a small, water- and energy-efficient version of the Tassajara baths, complete with all their wabi-sabi-ness. It will depend upon where I end up, but I could create a simple or elaborate bathhouse, perhaps even on its own trailer, that could be located near utilities. Or maybe it’s just an outdoor shower. This would free up my tiny house to be anywhere on a property. It’s counterintuitive, but I would feel much better about having actual plumbing if it wasn’t in my living space (and I can always use my pump sprayer to wash dishes!)

This requires trust that I will find a location where this will work, which makes me nervous. But I think that’s the lesson in here: being open to the unknown. And it will probably work out just fine.

So with that I held my breath, gripped the mouse, and turned my shower into a closet. An enormous wave of relief washed over me. Guess Dee had the right idea all along. 😉

Carrying water

Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water;
After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.
~ Zen saying

Returning to whence we started, I have a few last random thoughts that somehow all seem related, and seem a fitting way to wrap this up:

— The first time I heard the phrase “chop wood, carry water”, and my first introduction to Zen Buddhism, was reading Annie Dillard (Pilgrim at Tinker Creek and later works) when I was young. Her detailed observations of nature and tying what she saw to a larger discussion of our place in the world was one of my biggest early influences, rippling out to today.

— GiraDora is a human-powered washer and spin dryer that is being developed to alleviate health issues associated with carrying water and manually washing clothes, and to help break the cycle of poverty in third world countries. They’ve won numerous awards for their project. More information can be found here and on their Facebook page.

— At Tassajara, we shared of a couple of meals with Dr. César Molina, a cardiologist  and the Medical Director of the South Asian Heart Center at El Camino Hospital in Mountain View, California. He has developed a four-pronged approach to prevent and successfully manage heart disease among men and women of South Asian descent. A link to one of his presentations discussing the scientific basis for using transcendental meditation in the treatment of heart disease can be found here.

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And one last thing ~

Now that I’ve softened you up with big thoughts on the meaning of life, a Kung-Fu quote and a cute kitten picture, I’d like to remind you about the fundraising campaign to rebuild Kim Langston’s tiny house that was destroyed in a fire. I haven’t met Kim but have been very moved by both her tragedy and her determination to rebuild.

So please take a moment to chip in a buck (or more) & help spread the word. You’ll feel great afterwards! 🙂