Houzz Tour: A New-Build Rehomes 40 Years of Memories
On a beautiful site north of Auckland, two special buildings were created anew to replace a much-loved family bach
Di and John Struthers have been coming to this spot for 40 years. For most of that time the couple would arrive by driving along the narrow winding road, turning into the grass driveway through the rustic gate, to the pitch-roofed bach they built in the 1970s.
The site of their holiday house is beautiful and boasts one hell of a view, running up from a sheltered bay to a ridge, and over to another sheltered cove on the other side. Over the years, they had progressively altered and changed the bach as their family grew – “a little like patching up a favourite pair of jeans,” says Peter Mitchell of Studio of Pacific Architecture, the firm tasked with updating this beloved property for the Struthers.
The site of their holiday house is beautiful and boasts one hell of a view, running up from a sheltered bay to a ridge, and over to another sheltered cove on the other side. Over the years, they had progressively altered and changed the bach as their family grew – “a little like patching up a favourite pair of jeans,” says Peter Mitchell of Studio of Pacific Architecture, the firm tasked with updating this beloved property for the Struthers.
They needed more places to sleep, places to be together, and places to be apart, as well as more storage for boats. And they needed a new kitchen and a new deck too. In short, the house needed to cope as well for two on a quiet winter weekend as it did for a big celebration of 20 over summer, a process that Mitchell describes as “breathing in and exhaling”, since the family are fabulous hosts and love having guests to stay, but also use the place as a retreat from their busy lives in Auckland.
They wanted it to be different, and yet the same – as Mitchell notes, they wanted to make it bigger but still “a place that would embrace the Rawhiti culture evolved over decades and, importantly, create an heirloom for the next generation.”
They wanted it to be different, and yet the same – as Mitchell notes, they wanted to make it bigger but still “a place that would embrace the Rawhiti culture evolved over decades and, importantly, create an heirloom for the next generation.”
What quickly became apparent was that expanding the existing cottage wasn’t an option. The local council has declared the area a landscape of national importance, restricting the size and scale of what can be built there. Plus, the sheer scale of the project – the total size of the building, including 140 square metres of boat garage, is 644.5 square metres – would create a house that would not only never get consent, but which would be completely out of character for the casual, loose tradition of Rawhiti.
Instead, in time-honoured New Zealand bach tradition, Studio Pacific founding director Nick Barratt-Boyes proposed to rework the existing house on the same footprint, but design a modern sleepout (outbuilding) that burrows into the hill behind the main house, topped by a green roof. The advantages of the approach were many, and manifest: by burrowing into the hill they reduced the impact of the house on the landscape – but it also gave the family a functional house to use for holidays, while the main house was out of action.
After gaining resource consent for the project in 2007 – a process which took 26 months due to the sensitive nature of the place and the need to obtain consents from neighbours – the existing cottage turned out to be more dilapidated than originally thought. The window joinery needed replacing, the roof was made of asbestos, the cladding was suffering badly and the deck was unsafe. The family – surprisingly, given their attachment to the place – pushed Studio Pacific to consider a new building that would capture the spirit of the old.
“Forty years of occupying the site had resulted in rituals and ways of living that were embedded and needed consideration,” says Mitchell. The floor plan in the new bach traces that of the original – partly out of practicality, since they already had a consent to renovate on the existing footprint. But more, it was an emotional decision, so that the new house deliberately carries a memory of the layout – and scale – of the old.
There are “intended misalignments, slippages and quirks,” says Mitchell, and that starts with your approach to the property. This follows the original circuitous route around the side of the house and up a flight of stairs to the back door. “It climbs out of the ground, projecting out to near and distant views.”
There are “intended misalignments, slippages and quirks,” says Mitchell, and that starts with your approach to the property. This follows the original circuitous route around the side of the house and up a flight of stairs to the back door. “It climbs out of the ground, projecting out to near and distant views.”
In a wonderful sort of reversal, the sleepout was built before the house and was finished in 2011 – though construction was delayed by a year after the contractor, Brian Mather was delayed on another project. It was worth the wait: despite the size and sheer concreteness of the sleepout, it’s a beautifully crafted building – here, the roof cantilevers over a small terrace at one end of the building.
The concrete has a sense of gravitas and grace, not to mention a sheer sculptural response to the site. The material was left in its roughcast form, the grain of the timber formwork plain to see, which connects what would otherwise be a hard urban form with the surrounding landscape.
The concrete has a sense of gravitas and grace, not to mention a sheer sculptural response to the site. The material was left in its roughcast form, the grain of the timber formwork plain to see, which connects what would otherwise be a hard urban form with the surrounding landscape.
The result is a compound that’s hard to pin down. There’s no concrete driveway and no mechanical gates: you still drive onto the grass through a simple wooden gate and the buildings slowly reveal themselves – one recessive and hunkered down, the other buoyant and cheerful, popping up above the bay. You pause when you see them, wondering if they’re new or old.
In true bach tradition there’s no proper front door, but instead you arrive at a gently inclining ramp, at the top of which is a set of bi-fold doors that open outwards. Through the doors, you can see the water beyond, which was one of the stipulations of the early brief. And instead of a sleek, contained footprint there are bulges and extensions, which seem ad hoc – to the left is a triangular room housing the bathroom; to the right is the master bedroom.
Two small wooden benches either side of the door provide a spot to sit and remove muddy boots, or perch with a cup of tea in the morning sun. The queen palms on the property have stood there for decades.
Two small wooden benches either side of the door provide a spot to sit and remove muddy boots, or perch with a cup of tea in the morning sun. The queen palms on the property have stood there for decades.
This effect is maintained inside with a decidedly mid-century approach to detailing. The windows are big and the house opens out to the view – but the glass is rarely floor-to-ceiling, and is designed to frame the view carefully rather than slavishly. It is a beautifully composed, thoughtful building of layers and implied memory.
The idiosyncratic nature of the design is played out here in the levels. Coming into the bach, the ramp rises up half a level, then you step down three stairs into the kitchen and dining area, before stepping another level down into the living room – following the slope of the hill below you. Another few steps up sits the master bedroom, giving it a view of the sea past the fireplace.
The idiosyncratic nature of the design is played out here in the levels. Coming into the bach, the ramp rises up half a level, then you step down three stairs into the kitchen and dining area, before stepping another level down into the living room – following the slope of the hill below you. Another few steps up sits the master bedroom, giving it a view of the sea past the fireplace.
Part of the beauty of the design is that spaces are human in scale, and flexible: the main bach is not a big house, and its spaces aren’t over-sized. Despite the total scale of the collected buildings, the bach’s main level is a relatively modest 125 square metres, with a 60-square-metre loft – spaces aren’t grandiose, as they weren’t in the original.
The concrete around the fireplace is a continuation of the base of the house and links to the sleepout. Made from poured in-situ concrete, the chimney anchors the house to the site; the markings from the timber formwork have been left exposed, which gives it a rough-hewn, human feeling. A built-in window seat, meanwhile, is the main seating area … and an extra bed if needed.
The concrete around the fireplace is a continuation of the base of the house and links to the sleepout. Made from poured in-situ concrete, the chimney anchors the house to the site; the markings from the timber formwork have been left exposed, which gives it a rough-hewn, human feeling. A built-in window seat, meanwhile, is the main seating area … and an extra bed if needed.
Upstairs in the loft, the structure has been left exposed, with white-washed laminated veneer lumber trusses and plywood inserts. This space has been left undefined, quite deliberately. “The loft of the previous bach was where people slept when larger gatherings filled up every inch of space,” says Mitchell. “It was one great aspect of the way of living here.” Mitchell is intrigued by the idea that, as the family continues to grow, this space will evolve as well.
There are quite a few bedrooms at Rawhiti, but they’re not the main event. In keeping with the house’s modest intentions, the master bedroom is on the ground floor at the back, with a peep of a view through a window on the side of the house – there’s no grand master suite here. The interior here is lined with Victorian ash.
In the bathroom of the main house, the shower fits snugly into that peculiar rounded triangle at the back of the building, with a skylight that washes light down into the room.
The shower jet rail system and mixer are both from the Tahi range by Methven, and the tiles are Lava Polar from the Tile Warehouse.
The shower jet rail system and mixer are both from the Tahi range by Methven, and the tiles are Lava Polar from the Tile Warehouse.
Across the courtyard, a flight of beautifully poured concrete stairs connects the sleepout and the main entry to the bach. The sleepout sits at an oblique angle to the main house, following the contours of the hill and peeking around the house to get its own view. That physical separation, up half a story, continues the journey that starts – for the family, at least – at the beach.
While dramatic, the decision to bury the building came with innate advantages – Rawhiti is decidedly subtropical, and has warm humid summers. “Sliding the sleepout into the hillside was the first step in responding to this,” says Mitchell. The building has a thermal mass which is further moderated by the green roof, meaning its temperature stays constant year-round. (In a recent study with Victoria University measuring the thermal performance of eight Studio Pacific buildings, the Rawhiti Sleepout came out top.)
Most of the building is concrete – floor, walls, perimeter walls and roof, which is 65 per cent ground blast furnace slag (a byproduct of the metals industry). This significantly reduces the carbon emissions from the project, and increases the durability of the roof.
Most of the building is concrete – floor, walls, perimeter walls and roof, which is 65 per cent ground blast furnace slag (a byproduct of the metals industry). This significantly reduces the carbon emissions from the project, and increases the durability of the roof.
Inside that hard concrete shell, a long hallway runs along the spine of the building, lit by deep light wells that also promote air circulation. Inside that, Studio Pacific inserted a timber box to house bedrooms – the combination of shiplap timber and poured in-situ concrete connects the two buildings in a subtle way. Quality workmanship is evident here – the level of craft in both buildings is extraordinary.
A system of timber shutters along the western front helps with any heat gain – not to mention privacy – from the hot afternoon sun, as do high-level louvres and automated windows.
Bathrooms in the sleepout share a similar language with those in the bach – here, the shower head is from Methven, while the tiles are Nautica Linea mosaic tiles by Sanwon from Tile Warehouse.
Bathrooms in the sleepout share a similar language with those in the bach – here, the shower head is from Methven, while the tiles are Nautica Linea mosaic tiles by Sanwon from Tile Warehouse.
Since the project was finished in 2014 – 10 years after it was started – the family has delighted in their time at Rawhiti. Friends and neighbours feel like it has been there forever – and the clients are spending more and more time in the house, where previously they used it only for summer holidays and the odd weekend through the year.
Most importantly, perhaps, they have even less desire to leave when they’re there than they did before the renovation. It’s becoming more of a home for them than simply a holiday home
TELL US
Have you renovated or rebuilt the beloved family bach? Tell us all about it and share photos in the Comments section.
Most importantly, perhaps, they have even less desire to leave when they’re there than they did before the renovation. It’s becoming more of a home for them than simply a holiday home
TELL US
Have you renovated or rebuilt the beloved family bach? Tell us all about it and share photos in the Comments section.
Who lives here: Di and John Struthers, their adult children and grandchildren, their dog – and a lot of visitors
Location: Rawhiti, Bay of Islands, New Zealand
Size: 644.5 square metres; 6 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms
Designer: Studio Pacific Architecture
Year built: 2010 to 2014
It’s the kind of place that stirs the soul. Rawhiti, three hours north of Auckland, is a bush-covered peninsula surrounded by water on two sides, where the views are of small sheltered bays and red-bloomed pohutukawa trees, and as the sun sets over the bay the water looks like beaten copper. The climate is gentle, with humid summers and mild winters. It feels like a world apart – in a country that feels a world apart.
Before the property was renovated, the bach was pretty simple. There was a big loft upstairs where guests slept when there was a crowd, and there was that view. There was a back gate (above), which led out across grassland to the other cove, and there were fish to catch in the bay and stories to be told on the deck on warm summer evenings. By 2004 – with children and grandchildren visiting regularly, sometimes on their own – the Struthers needed more room, so they approached Wellington-based Studio Pacific to talk about upgrading the bach.