We dreamed of living a simple life – it nearly broke us

The nightmare would soon be over (Picture: Angela Horn)

‘I don’t want to do this anymore. This way of life just isn’t for me.’ My wife, Saskia, said to me in a defeated tone. 

She assumed I would be disappointed or angry, but all I could say was ‘Oh, thank God!’ 

I was ecstatic. The nightmare would soon be over. Our idealistic ‘off-grid’ living dream had morphed into a hellscape that nearly broke us.

It was 2017, and for the last three weeks we’d been living and working on a remote (think: no transport and no 5G, just patchy wifi) farm in Klein Karoo, South Africa, as part of a house-sitting job. 

The plan for the evening had been the same as usual: dinner and a bottle of local wine to decompress from another day’s hard labour. 

Our idealistic ‘off-grid’ living dream had morphed into a hellscape that nearly broke us (Picture: Angela Horn)

The weather so far had been relentlessly, oppressively hot, but it was finally cooling down, and we felt the need for a hot shower (our first since arriving) in our bones.

We lit the wood-fired water heater and returned to the lounge. A short while later we heard clanging noises and hissing. I peered outside and realised that a pipe had burst – and a torrent of water was streaming past our window. 

Of course, we now know that we’d just failed to release the all-important pressure valve, but in that moment, it felt insurmountable. We had to rely on a cottage guest, Pieter, working long into the night to fix the problem. 

It might not seem like a deal breaker – it’s just a bit of water, after all, and it was just one of many hiccups already faced during our short adventure – but it pushed us over the edge. 

Despite all our grand plans and aspirations, Saskia and I had to admit that off-grid survival simply wasn’t for us. 

We saw it as a practical way to save on rent and utilities (Picture: Angela Horn)

The problems had started from the get go. I once left a hose running during a four-hour trip to town, and we lost complete power one night due to a blown fuse. Broody chickens refused to give up eggs promised to neighbours. 

Our relationship was strong. But the constant challenges weighed on us, and it didn’t take long for us to start questioning our dream.

Saskia and I first met in the late eighties in Johannesburg, but only got together a decade later. Despite being hopelessly in love, it took five or six tumultuous years for us to find our groove. 

Saskia’s family took some time to fully accept our relationship, but most of our struggles came down to the emotional baggage we each carried: old patterns, unreasonable expectations, the need to be right at any cost. 

One thing Saskia and I always had in common was that we romanticised the idea of simplicity. We dreamed of minimal living, and loved the idea of leading fulfilled yet uncluttered lives.

In 2017, we started living as permanent housesitters, meaning we had no fixed address and moved between other people’s homes. We saw it as a practical way to save on rent and utilities, and we planned to do it for a few years to fund our off-grid plans.

So, after landing our first four-month long gig dog sitting in Oudtshoorn, a small town in South Africa, we had a month’s gap before the next house-sit began.

With the help of the dogs’ owner, we discovered farmers heading to Italy for a month who needed people to take the reins in their absence. 

We assumed it would involve a bit of gardening, chickens, fresh air and wine at sunset (Picture: Angela Horn)

We told ourselves it would be a gentle introduction to the simple life that we so idealised. We assumed it would involve a bit of gardening, chickens, fresh air and wine at sunset. 

Wrong. It was a crash course in farming and survival.

There was an enormous veggie garden to tend, an acres-big olive grove to water, the pumpless salt water pool had to be drained, scrubbed and refilled weekly, plus there was a busy holiday cottage to run. And the ‘light weeding’ the owners had casually mentioned turned out to be individually bagging fruit on the trees to keep birds away.

By day three, shellshock had set in, and by the time the pipe burst, just over three weeks in, it felt symbolic. We weren’t just out of our depth, but drowning – almost literally. 

We realised loving the idea of a lifestyle isn’t the same as being suited to it. We finished out the final few days – we’d been truly humbled, but still felt vindicated. 

The garden looked even more lush than when we’d arrived, thanks to our hard work, so it wasn’t a complete disaster.

The problems had started from the get-go (Picture: Angela Horn)

We’re a lot clearer now about the difference between romanticising simplicity and actually experiencing it. 

Needless to say, housesitting lost its appeal; post-farm we were all too happy to settle down renting in Cape Town again. We still moved around a lot between the city’s various suburbs, but always within walking distance of a big grocery store and good coffee.

In 2022 we added a cat to our family and everything changed. Miles is a senior rescue of about 10, who requires a lot of attention and hates being left alone for more than a few hours. We didn’t foresee becoming cat ladies, but for now we’re rolling with it. After never staying anywhere for longer than a year in a long time, Miles has successfully persuaded us to extend the lease on our garden cottage for another 12 months.

Despite the disasters, we still believe in unconventional living (Picture: Angela Horn)

I’m pushing hard to hit the road again afterwards, but both he and Saskia are keen on staying for a third year.

Despite the disasters, we still believe in unconventional living, and are considering van-life or investing in a piece of land and building a tiny house. Both are doable but there’s a lot to consider. We want to avoid stressing ourselves out, and most importantly, Miles.

The experience might not have turned us into off-grid evangelists. But it did remind us why we work as a couple. 

We think big, leap first, and when it all blows up, we figure it out together.

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