It still feels a bit surreal writing this, but we’ve finally moved into a proper workshop. Four solid walls, a roof that doesn’t flap in the wind, actual lockable doors and even a bathroom. A slightly horrifying bathroom, but still.
For the first time since we started this project, Moose and all our tools are under cover in a space that’s ours. No tarps, no mud, no storm warnings. Just a big echoey box full of potential.
If you’d rather watch than read, skip to the video here.
When we first walked in, it was completely empty. Just 9.5 metres by 9.5 metres of concrete floor, tall ceilings and our voices bouncing back at us.
We had that weird mix of excitement and “what have we done” that seems to follow us around every time we level up this project. On paper, this is exactly what we needed. In reality, standing in the middle of it, it just felt huge.
This is our new home for the next phase of the build. Moose will live here, the tiny home trailer will be born here, and we’ll spend countless hours turning it into the perfect, warm, comfortable workplace.
The plan was simple: drive Moose out of the way, back our rental Luton van’s tail lift into the shed, and chuck everything in the back, mainly so we wouldn’t have to struggle lifting all of our heavy workbenches down the big step and across the yard. Except we forgot about our gazebo. Right up until we almost took it out with the roof of the van. We’re leaving the gazebo and scaffolding workshop where they are for a couple of weeks, at least while we figure out what to do with them… so we had to lug the heavy stuff much further when we’d like. But we employed our engine hoist to do a lot of the really heavy lifting, the welding bench especially… that things weighs about 150kg!
Our old workshop was crammed, absolutely full to the brim with ‘stuff’ – Once it was unloaded at the new unit, it looked like we hardly owned anything.
The other mildly terrifying part of the move was getting Moose transported to the new place. If you have ever watched your pride and joy being loaded onto someone else’s truck, you will understand the feeling.
From the ground, Moose looks big. On the back of a much bigger lorry, he suddenly looked tiny and extremely fragile, like our oversized child going off to college.
There was a lot of holding our breath, a bit of “please do not fall off” and a surprising amount of pride when everything lined up first try. Pete was convinced he was going to embarrass himself in front of a proper trucker, but it all went smoothly and Moose thankfully made it to his new home in one piece.
Day two was… long.
We discovered very quickly that we really need to get a forklift truck of our own. We had help loading all our truck parts on but it was just us at the other end. Everything was heavy, everything was awkward, and the tail lift only solved half the problem. With our engine hoist, we offloaded our Atego axle (the one that we stripped the airbag suspension from) in a timely 2 HOURS. Why we did we bring this with us? I don’t know. I think we’ll sell it… we’d better sell it!
We ended up using our welding table as a makeshift sled to drag sheet metal out of the van and across the floor. It worked, but it was not exactly a productivity hack.
By the time we finished the last load, it was 1:30 in the morning. We were sore all over and ours arms no longer worked properly, but we looked around at the piles of tools, boxes and random metal, and for the first time the unit looked less like an empty echo chamber and more like our chaos.
The unsung hero of moving day was a very glamorous bit of kit: a second hand pallet truck.
We found it on eBay at a local business that was shutting down, and when we turned up to collect it, the guy basically told us everything was for sale. Dangerous words for two people in the middle of a huge build.
We walked out with the pallet truck, some seriously sturdy saw horses, a giant dust extractor for the future woodworking area and a bin full of odds and ends that made Pete very happy:
All of it was unbelievably cheap and exactly the kind of kit that will make life easier once we start building the trailer and fitting out the workshop properly. Easily one of the best little side quests we have done in a while.
Leaving the workshop as one big open box would be a nightmare to heat and keep clean, so the idea is to split it up and use the height properly.
The rough plan looks like this:
Underneath the mezzanine will be workbenches, storage and the messier end of the workshop. We want some areas that can stay relatively clean for filming, electronics and office work, and other areas that can be as filthy and noisy as they need to be.
Moose will eventually live in one corner of the unit during winter, and the rest of the space will be reserved for building the trailer. We have about nine metres to play with, which gives us a hard limit for the trailer length and a very real visual reminder when we stand at one end and look across.
It is both exciting and slightly terrifying, which seems to be the running theme with this whole project.
Even after a couple of long days and very late nights, it has not fully sunk in what we have managed to set up here.
This unit represents such a big step for us. It is not just a secure space to store tools, it is the place where the next part of the dream happens
Standing up on top of the bathroom, looking down over Moose and the piles of tools, the whole thing feels huge. A bit ridiculous. Full of potential.
I keep switching between wanting to get stuck straight into the next job and wanting a very long nap.
But this is it. We are in. We have a workshop. We have a mountain of work ahead of us and the space to actually do it.
Time to roll up our sleeves and see what this place can become.
