Traditional Approach

We believe in mobile yurts as originally designed for the roaming nomad. Our yurts are made with respect to the traditions of its Central Asian roots. Living as travellers ourselves, we've found it to be the ideal structure for mobility, comfort, and space. With the design requiring a minimal amount of resources, one does not need much material to create a maximum amount of floor and head space. The yurt is made of components that, when disassembled, can pack onto your vehicle (or yak).

The name "Yurt" is a misnomer meaning homeland. The Mongolian name for the structure itself is "Ger." It is called by other names in the many regions in which it is used. Our design is a Western approach to the craft of Yurt-making, but with the original intent and purpose of mobility in mind. For the transient explorer, living lightly on the land and leaving without a detrimental footprint, the yurt as a structure is unequalled.

Taos Yurt



This is a 13' yurt we recently constructed. We used Redwood, a hardwood that is naturally water-resistent. We finished the wood with linseed oil, a natural water sealer with no VOC off-gasing. The canvas is natural cotton with a water protectant applied to the roof. The center ring is fitted with a copper dome. The designs are inspired by Mongolian, Japanese, and Indo-Islamic cultures.


The Summer Yurt


This Yurt was constructed in Northern California for a summer festival. We bought colorful bedsheets from the thrift store and sewed up a rainbow shade cloth. The lattice wall is fastened together with rivets we made using pennies and roofing nails.


Tio Pancho's Yurt













This is a yurt that Uncle Pancho made for his relatives to enjoy. Living in it for a month enabled us to appreciate and study the craftsmanship that went into this fun-loving yurt. The design inspired our yurt models which have been respectfully named after Tio Pancho.

My Yurt Revelation

When I left California, I set out to adventure in New Mexico. There, I met a guy named Sam. He told me he had a yurt that his Uncle Pancho made. "Oh, those things." I wasn't impressed. We set it up at a neighborhood crafts fair and it was far different from what I thought a yurt was.

It was handmade, the wood was painted colorfully and decorated with flowery exotic designs. It was just the right size and proportion. It shaded us from the intense New Mexico sun. It was cool and comfortable and I was able to breathe. We hung art around the walls, made tea for visitors and had plenty of candy and snacks to share. Mothers came in to nurse their babies. People just stayed to hang out. As I watched each person come inside, I saw their face brighten at the colorful setting we created.

It was my architectural dream. We had set it up with just the 2 of us in 15 minutes. The wooden rafters fit into the center ring like a peg in a hole. The lattice wall held strong as soon as we got all the components together. It was a functional structure but also a thing of beauty. I watched how it changed people when they sat inside. The circular space was peaceful and we had created another world inside a space while outside another busy event was going on.

At the end of the day everything rolled up and fit in my truck and we travelled on.

Many modern yurts miss the point

The first time I saw a yurt, I didn't get it. It was a modern, permanent yurt. It was circular, but it was too big. I didn't understand the significance or purpose of a 30' wide, 12' tall structure. The 2x4 rafters were menacing as they hung over me with their sharp metal attachments. I felt vulnerable. And I felt hot. It was a roasting 100 degree day in Northern California. I looked around and realized the walls were enveloped with vinyl, a material I cringe at the sight and smell of. No one was hanging out in the yurt.

As a student of architecture I was confused. The structure didn't make sense to me. It seemed a lot more work to assemble than a quick temporary tent, and yet it was not a permanent structure that was functional. It created space, but not a space I wanted to stay in. The temperature was uncomfortable and the plastic odor in the air choked me. The materials were rough and lacked any human touch. It just seemed like it came right off an assembly line made by robots. Many modern yurts have lost the original essence of these portable, nomadic structures. A yurt that cannot be easily disassembled and moved misses the entire point.

So I left California not knowing what a yurt was.