We Bought Rural Land In New Zealand… Now What?

There’s something mildly terrifying about standing on a completely empty piece of land and realising every single thing that needs to happen next is now your responsibility.

No house.
No water.
No power.
No septic.
No driveway.

Just grass, rolling hills, big skies and a dream that suddenly became very real.

A few weeks ago, Paul and I officially went unconditional on 2 hectares of rural land in New Zealand, and honestly, standing there together for the first time knowing it was actually ours felt surreal.

For years, this kind of life existed as a conversation.
A “one day” idea.

Now it’s happening.

And while that’s incredibly exciting, it also comes with moments where we look at each other and think:
“Right… now we actually have to do this.”

After 3 1/2 years of full time travel, living across multiple countries with our children and our two rescue cats, Biscuit and Snowball, we realised we didn’t want more movement anymore.

We wanted peace.

Not in some dramatic, escape-the-world kind of way.

Just a quieter life.
A steadier life.

A life where we didn’t have to think about visas, temporary rentals, airports, moving every few months or trying to turn another Airbnb into a functional long term home.

And after years of renting while travelling, and then returning to New Zealand and renting again, we knew one thing for certain:

We wanted out of the rent and mortgage cycle.

That decision is what led us here.

To a big empty block of rolling green countryside with enough space to build the kind of life we’ve quietly been dreaming about for years.

The vision itself feels simple.

Slow mornings with coffee on the deck.
No alarms.
No traffic.
The kids heading off to work or school in their own cars.
The cats stretched out in the sun in a huge catio connected to the house and deck.
Gardens full of vegetables and herbs.
Fruit trees.
Poly tunnels.
Eventually solar.
Eventually more self sufficient.

Not overnight.
Not perfectly.
But slowly.

We’re not building a perfect influencer homestead. We’re building a life that feels peaceful to us.

The reality of getting there though is a lot.

At the moment we’re deep in the awkward stage where everything depends on everything else.

To get water, power and septic onto the site, we need council approvals.

To get council approvals, we need a building plan.

To get a building plan, we need to decide what we’re building with.

Wood?
Steel?
SIPs panels?
Kitset?
Owner build?
Something custom?

And because we’re trying to do this sensibly and within budget, we’re researching absolutely everything.

Some suppliers are fantastic but wildly expensive.

Others are cheap and disappear into thin air the moment you ask a question.

Honestly, that’s probably been the most frustrating part so far.

The reliable people are expensive, and the affordable ones often don’t even call you back.

So we’ve been doing what most ordinary people do when they’re trying to create something bigger than their current budget.

We’ve been researching.
Asking questions.
Joining Facebook groups.
Talking to people who’ve done it before.
Looking at TradeMe.
Checking auction houses.
Learning how to source leftover materials from other builds.

Bit by bit, we’re piecing it together.

And while it’s definitely overwhelming at times, I think what keeps us going is knowing why we’re doing it.

This isn’t about building the fanciest house.

It’s about creating a life that actually fits who we are now.

Travel changed us.
In good ways.

We learned that experiences matter more than stuff.
We learned we don’t need huge amounts to be happy.
We learned how adaptable we are.
And we learned that peace is massively underrated.

Somewhere along the way, success stopped looking like a bigger house or newer things.

Now success looks more like:

• growing food

• lower stress

• financial freedom

• family dinners

• clean air

• quiet mornings

• and having enough space for Biscuit and Snowball to properly just be cats.

Standing on the land recently, I could already picture it.

Walking out to the garden in the morning to grab herbs or vegetables for dinner.
Coffee on the deck while the hills light up in the distance.
The cats rolling around in the grass.

Paul already planning future projects in his head.

That’s the stuff that sparks joy for us now.

Some of these stories, behind the scenes moments and little pieces of daily life also end up inside The Homestead Letters that I send out each month.

The letters have become a way to document this entire chapter as it unfolds, from building plans and land updates through to recipes, reflections and all the small moments in between.

And maybe the biggest thing we’ve realised through all of this is that there isn’t one correct way to live.

Most people grow up following the same path:
school, work, mortgage, retirement and then hopefully enjoying life later.

But I think more and more people are quietly questioning that now.

Not following the conventional path but seeking a life that actually feels good while they’re living it.

That’s a huge part of why I started writing The Homestead Letters.

The letters let me share this process as it unfolds in real time.
Not just the polished moments, but the confusion, excitement, lessons, funny moments, recipes, ideas and all the little in-between pieces that don’t always make it onto social media.

Because there are going to be many moments where we have absolutely no idea what we’re doing.

But we’re doing it anyway.

And I really hope that encourages other people too.

Not necessarily to buy rural land or build a house from scratch, but to realise that it’s okay to question what kind of life you actually want.

It’s okay to change direction.
It’s okay to want slower.
It’s okay to build something different.

It's ok to not follow what everyone else is doing if it doesn't feel right.

Even if you have to figure it out one step at a time.

Right now, we’re still very much at the beginning.

The land is empty.
The plans are messy.
The budget is tight.
The learning curve is steep.

But for the first time in a very long time, it feels like we’re building something permanent.

Something that’s ours.

And I am looking forward to sharing the next part of the story with you as it unfolds ...