This Couple Built a Floating Home So They Could Live on the River and Still Work in the City
Jade and Tim traded a small motorboat for a modern float home, designing most of it themselves. It keeps them wrapped in nature without giving up city jobs, and the result feels equal parts cabin, cottage, and calm escape.
They Wanted Nature Without Leaving the City
Their black, two-story float home sits low and clean on a peaceful river, with the city just a commute away. It’s the lifestyle mix they were hunting for: water underfoot, trees in view, and an office still within reach.
They both love water, so the plan was simple: live close to it without disappearing off the grid. A float home hit the sweet spot—daily nature, stable space, and room to build something that actually felt like home.
The Problem That Almost Stopped Everything
Before the house, they lived on a small trawler in a float home community. The catch was brutal—any new float house arriving could’ve forced them out of their spot overnight.
So they made a move. They sketched their own floor plan with an open, minimal layout and kept the footprint small on purpose. Less stuff, more space to breathe.
How They Actually Pulled It Off
A local builder put up a simple boat-shed-style shell on a float. From there, they finished the interior with friends and family—huge help when one of them is a plumber by trade.
Once the decision was made, the project snowballed in the best way. The shell arrived, trades lined up, and before long, they were moving in.
The Part That Makes It Float
The foundation is a block of encased styrofoam—pressure-treated wood outside, buoyancy inside. It’s lighter than concrete, about a third the cost, and built to last decades when fully sealed.
Everything is locked up to keep critters out and water out. On water, weight is the quiet boss; they overbuilt flotation to be safe, doubling what the house actually needs.
The float measures 20 by 40 feet, which is standard for marina slips. The home itself is 30 by 20, with front and back decks that up the hangout space and a total of about 1,200 square feet over two floors.
Step Inside: Open, Simple, Bright
Walk in and the whole main floor opens at once—stairs to the left, kitchen straight ahead, and a clear line to the water beyond. It’s relaxed and uncluttered, on purpose.
The kitchen centers on a chunky island that actually gets used—prep, serving, everything. A propane gas cooktop keeps meals quick without dragging down the power supply.
The living area gets one big, glorious window instead of a dozen small ones. Light pours in and the view does most of the decorating.
There’s an infrared sauna tucked in beside it, a hand-me-down from another float homeowner. It’s a very “this place is for recovering” kind of detail.
A sliding door opens to the river and the feeling hits instantly—you’re outside without leaving home, and the water is right there. It never gets old.
Tim built a covered patio frame to keep the deck dry but open. Evening sun slides under the roof line and turns it into a perfect end-of-day spot.
There’s a barbecue, a little jungle of potted plants, and the sound of the river. Simple setup, high reward.
The Bathroom That Feels Luxe Without the Weight
The bathroom skips heavy materials and still looks dialed. A standup shower with dual heads keeps it functional without stealing space.
Concrete would weigh too much, so they used a concrete overlay—same look, way lighter. It wraps the shower and runs across the floor.
A vintage cast-iron tub adds the soaking moment. The legs got a matte-black spray and suddenly the old thing looks modern.
The vanity is a quiet favorite—built from beach-found cedar. It’s warm, personal, and fits the “use what you have” theme.
Upstairs Is Minimal on Purpose
At the turn of the stairs, the laundry and hot water tank sit tucked into their own nook—small but totally enough. Nothing fancy, everything used.
The stair rail is a piece of driftwood they dragged home and turned into a handle. It’s the little river nod you touch every day.
The bedroom keeps a low profile—no clutter, just a desk for occasional work and smooth built-ins to hide the rest. The quiet is the point.
Storage drawers slide under the bed wall and swallow everything. It keeps the floor clear and the room calm.
An extra queen bed waits for guests, and a wide upstairs window frames the landscape like a painting. Waking up to that view is the payoff.
How It Works Day to Day
They heat the place with a single main heater most days. The bathroom floor has radiant heat, which turns chilly mornings into something nice.
Cooling is almost too easy—open a couple windows and the river breeze handles the rest. No AC needed.
Power comes in at 100 amps, which is plenty for a place this size. It’s marina-standard and avoids the generator hum you’d get on a boat.
Fresh water runs from marina hookups, and the sewage lines here tie into the street system properly. When a marina gets this right, life is simpler for everyone downstream.
What It Cost—and What They Did Themselves
Keeping the footprint tight kept the budget in check. All-in, the house came to about $120,000, furniture included.
Doing the trades made a massive difference—plumbing and electrical in-house, and a brother helping build the interior. Sweat equity shows up in every corner.
The Not-So-Glamorous Challenges
Winter means leaving a tap running so lines don’t freeze. Same for any sewage pump lines—keep things moving or deal with an ice plug.
There’s also the funny one: if you’re tied on one side only, the far windows get washed by boat. It’s a very floating-home problem.
The Wild West of Moorage
They own the home but rent the slip—moorage, not mortgage. It’s a unique setup that works… until it suddenly doesn’t.
The old marina ran $1,200 a month; the new one is $1,500. That part feels a lot like city rent pressure, just on water.
The real shock was a 35% jump with almost no notice at the old spot. On water, rules are loose, and security isn’t guaranteed.
So they did the wild thing: they towed the entire house to a new community. New dock, new neighbors, same calm river.
They settled in fast, and the place already feels steady. Sometimes a move shakes out into something better.
What They Built Beyond the Dock
They also run a small food company—dairy-free coconut yogurt that started scrappy and keeps growing. The house is for recharging so they can sprint again tomorrow.
Why This Life Works
It’s quiet here, but it isn’t isolated. Neighbors trade fixes and lessons, and everyone learns faster together.
In the end, the formula is simple: a lean, light house that floats, a river that sets the pace, and a city close enough for work. It’s a practical dream—built piece by piece, and it holds.