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Bach to the Basics

A bach by the beach has been part of the folklore of may generations of New Zealanders, but our holiday homes are now taking on many diffeent faces, as Sharon Newey reports.

 

As a small country surrounded by around 18,000 kilometres of coastline, it stands to reason that we have a deep connection with the sea. We live off its bounty, walk its sandy shores and are revitalised and invigorated by the mere sight and smell of it. We are also a country rich in picturesque lakes and awe inspiring rivers.

 

You don’t have to travel far in New Zealand to find a wonderful stretch of water. We are lucky. In many countries, access to the shoreline is restricted and despite concerns about the ability to reach absolutely all of our coast, there is still plenty of it to go around for our comparatively small population.

 

Living close to the sea is deeply engrained in our national psyche, and owning a bach – or crib in South Island vernacular – by water has a long tradition in New Zealand. Baches of old were mostly humble affairs – fibrolite shacks or glorified garages with open-plan living areas and a couple of bedrooms, with plenty of bunks, opening directly off the lounge.

 

The kitchen bench was made of faded Formica and the cupboards stacked with mismatched Crown Lynn pottery. Outdoor living often meant a deck chair on the kikuyu lawn beside the lone shrub or tree. Televisions didn’t exist but there were plenty of bad paperbacks to read and board games to play. You didn’t have to be precious about the place or remember to take off your sandy shoes.

 

Today, many of those early baches still exist and have been joined by both their humble modern counterparts (either those from a group housing company or quirky architect-designed examples) but also by grander, designer “holiday homes” to cater for those who like a bit of convenience, modernity and luxury with their togs and jandals.

 

For architect Colin Leuschke, beach house design has played a significant role in the development of a New Zealand style of architecture.

 

“When our forebears moved here, they built Northern Hemisphere houses, which were very formal and not necessarily suited to our climate or lifestyle. Our house designs stayed quite embedded in that style for many years,” he says.

 

When Leuschke’s clients first started asking for beach houses (as opposed to simple baches), they were more adventurous in their tastes. “There was no cultural baggage to take into account,” he says.

 

Furthermore, as people experienced how well those beach houses worked, they have transported some of the design ideas, as well as their casualness and modernity, back to the city.

 

Beach house design is like the Formula One of motor racing, he says. It’s where all the experiments are made, then transferred to mainstream cars, or in this case houses.

 

Leuschke also calls beach house design in northern parts of the country “opportunistic architecture” because of the way it needs to respond to the climate. Areas need to be opened up and closed down quickly to take advantage of the sun but to protect from wind or sudden rain.

 

Developing those responses to the climate has seen big technical advances in house design, for example, overhead louvers and stacking. Many holiday homes are also now often the same size or larger than their owners’ main houses.

 

These are “houses at the beach” not baches. Leuschke believes this trend will continue and gain in popularity. “In the city, we might have a few friends around for dinner or go out to a restaurant, but when we go to the beach, we often want to take lots of our friends and family with us.”

 

He says that with the availability of coastal land decreasing and its cost increasing, there will be more generational and extended family use of beach houses.

 

They will be designed to cope – with large central living or gathering areas perhaps, but with sleep-outs or wings for different parts of the family.

 

As Christchurch architect Thom Craig describes it, it’s like a series of tents strung out along the beach, almost replicating the camping ground idyll.

 

A recent holiday home he has designed in the Marlborough Sounds has a large central area with essentially two houses joined to either side. His ideal look for beach houses is that they “touch the ground lightly and engage sensitively with the environment”.

 

They also allow a sensory connection to the environment. “When you are next to the sea, the view is obvious but there is also the smell of the sea and the sound of it. In the city we try to block out noise but in this environment, we should open up to it.”

 

Bach Basics
KEY BEACH
HOUSE DESIGN ELEMENTS INCLUDE:

Informality. A bach tends to be much less formally laid out than a permanent home. For a start there’s no need for an entry foyer, often no need for halls, and certainly no need for formal living and dining spaces.

A big garage that has room for all of the beach toys, bikes, golf clubs etc seems to be a must. It can also be used as a bunk room or a kids’ wet weather play space.

• André Hodgskin talks about a basic bach layout as perhaps having a master bedroom and a big open-plan living space, but including “sleeping pods” that can have varying uses depending on how many people are staying.

Security is an important issue for a place that’s left empty for long periods. It needs to be able to be closed down when not in use.

Living spaces that can open up or close down according to the weather, with flexible elements like louvred pergolas or screens.

• A secondary living space for the kids, like a games room, or perhaps a quiet area for reading or jigsaw puzzle solving.

• Gerald Parsonson is often asked for a bathroom that connects directly outside for children to use coming in from the beach. An open shower on an outside wall on a private part of the house is another relatively cheap option worth considering.

 

“There’s no point in translating what you have in town to a holiday home,” says Auckland architect Simon Carnachan. “It’s all about the difference between supporting a life of work in town and a life of leisure at the beach. It’s an escape from everyday living.”

 

Says André Hodgskin of Architex: “Urban architecture tends to ignore its context, whereas this is the reverse. A bach has loose edges so that it can become more a part of its setting. It shouldn’t compete.”

 

With a bach, the relationship between indoors and out is obviously a key one, to the point where some baches have walls, windows and doors that draw back completely.


“There’s no point in translating what you have in town to a holiday home,” says
Auckland architect Simon Carnachan. “It’s all about the difference between supporting a life of work in town and a life of leisure at the beach. It’s an escape from everyday living. “In the north, particularly, we can do virtually anything outside during summer that we would do inside – eating, cooking, showering, even sleeping.”

 

One of his designs includes beds on rails that can be rolled out to a big porch. That breaking down of the walls not only makes a space easier to use but also helps a bach fit visually with its environment. The use of simple, temporary feeling materials reinforces that and echoes early bach construction.

 

Certainly, creosote-coloured walls, plywood and corrugated iron seem a popular choice for today’s baches. As Bruce MacKenzie of Borland-Lye MacKenzie Architecture says: “It seems appropriate to many people, who appreciate the Kiwi vernacular of early baches made of ply and iron.”

 

MacKenzie has designed several baches in the Coromandel and client requests regarding materials vary. “Some people want the materials to weather and look aged whereas others want bullet-proof, Nasa-grade materials that will look the same for 100 years.”

 

Wellington architect Gerald Parsonson points out that baches traditionally have a “DIY” feel to them, where different materials, whatever is cheapest at the time, are slapped up and where roofs don’t always have gutters. “It’s nice to tap into that casualness and ease,” he says.

 

That extends to the landscaping where a driveway is not necessarily required – simply park on the lawn and step out in your bare feet on to “a big green carpet”.

 

Parsonson says using native plants that need no maintenance, that can just grow wild, is best. He loves the look of classic beachside settlements where there are no footpaths and the grass merges with the road asphalt. Parsonson dislikes the practice of essentially suburban streets and houses being slotted into holiday destinations.

 

“We have a country that is phenomenally beautiful from top to bottom and houses in these areas need to have a connection with the land and its history.” He says that no matter what your budget, a bach can be designed in sympathy with its environment.