The most common question I get at site visits is: "should I go timber or composite?" The honest answer is — I don't know yet, because the question isn't really about the material. It's about you.
Most articles about this lay out a list of pros and cons and pretend that adds up to a recommendation. It doesn't. Both materials are genuinely good. The difference isn't in the material — it's in whether the material matched the kind of owner the client turned out to be.
The lawn question
Stay with me. This is the most useful frame for explaining the timber vs composite choice.
How do you feel about lawn?
Are you a lawn person? Mow your own grass and actually enjoy the ritual — Saturday morning, coffee, hour outside, the lines you've put in the lawn that you'll quietly admire from the kitchen window? You're a maintenance person. You like the relationship between you and the things you own.
Are you a lawn person who pays someone else to mow? You like the look. You don't want to do the work. You're outsourcing the maintenance because the result matters more than the doing.
Or have you ripped your lawn out and put in artificial turf? You don't want to think about it. The trade-off was worth it because grass was a hassle you'd had enough of.
Three completely different relationships with the same outdoor surface. Timber decking is for the first person, sometimes the second. Composite is for the third, sometimes the second. The material isn't better or worse — it's a match or mismatch with how you actually live.
What timber actually is
Timber is natural. That's the whole point and it's also the catch.
If you're philosophical about it, timber has a story. It started as a sapling, grew from the ground, took a few decades to become useful, got milled, transported, profiled, and laid by someone who knew what they were doing. When you walk on a jarrah deck you're walking on something that came from a forest. It's earthy. It's warm. It looks better at year five than it did at year one — different, but better.
Melted plastic doesn't have the same ring to it.
But timber is alive. It moves with humidity. It greys with UV unless you keep it oiled. The colour you choose on day one isn't the colour you'll have at year three unless you stay on top of the maintenance. Some people love that. Others see it as a deck that's failing.
The four timber options we work with most in Perth are merbau, jarrah, spotted gum, and blackbutt. Different personalities, same proposition: warm, natural, alive, asking for a relationship.
What composite actually is
Composite is engineered — recycled timber fibres and recycled plastic, capped with a polymer shell that handles UV, moisture, and staining.
The proposition is consistency. Day one, year five, year fifteen — the colour stays close to where it started. You don't oil it. You don't sand it. You sweep it, and once or twice a year you give it a wash. That's it.
The trade-offs are real, and the trade has a habit of glossing over them.
Composite gets hot in summer. Walk on a dark composite deck in February at midday and you'll know about it. MoistureShield is rated about 35% cooler underfoot than other composites — still hot, just meaningfully less hot. Worth knowing if your deck is in full afternoon sun.
It expands and contracts with temperature. Boards that fit perfectly in winter will buckle in summer if they were laid tight. Not a problem for an experienced builder, but it affects the design.
Offcuts pile up and can't be reused. Composite boards are profiled with specific edge details — once you've cut a board, the offcut is rarely useful elsewhere. With timber, offcuts find homes. Composite offcuts are landfill.
It's more expensive up front. Premium composites range from $150–310/m² supply (Evalast Infinity at the lower end, Pioneer at the top), against $90–210/m² for the four timbers we work with — Merbau at the more accessible end, Spotted Gum and Blackbutt at the top.
The cost picture over time
Timber is cheaper to build. Composite is cheaper to own.
A 40m² composite deck costs around $8–12K more than the same deck in timber up front. Composite needs almost nothing over its lifetime — a wash, the occasional inspection. Timber needs oiling annually (around $1,500–2,000 if you have it done professionally) plus sand-and-recoat every 5–7 years.
Run the maths and the lines cross around year 8–12 depending on which products you compare. Beyond that point, composite has paid for itself relative to timber. Below that, timber is cheaper even with maintenance factored in.
Whether the maths matters depends on how long you plan to be in the house, and how much you value the things that aren't on the spreadsheet — the warmth of timber, the consistency of composite, the doing or not-doing of maintenance.
What I'd choose for my own house
For a back deck where I'd be sitting on summer evenings — timber. Spotted gum, almost certainly. It's my favourite timber to work with — more character than merbau, more variation in the grain. I'd accept the oiling because I'm the kind of person who likes a Saturday morning with a project.
For a pool surround or a deck hosting kids barefoot all summer — Pioneer composite. The realistic timber look is what tips it for me — most of the warmth of real timber visually, with composite's maintenance profile.
For a small front-of-house deck on a heritage home — jarrah. The deep red, the local nostalgia. Composite never quite reads correctly on a 1920s federation home. The eye knows.
The recommendation is rarely "always timber" or "always composite." It's "this material in this spot for this household."
The honest question to ask yourself
Before you ask which material to choose, ask yourself: what do you actually envision your space looking like in year five? Warm, slightly weathered, character-rich? That's timber thinking. Clean, consistent, looking-the-same-as-day-one? That's composite thinking.
How often do you actually maintain things in your life? Not what you tell yourself you'll do — what you actually do. Be honest, not aspirational.
What kind of owner are you going to be? The deck has to match the actual person who's going to live with it. Not the version of you that you wish you were.
Get those right and the material mostly chooses itself.