Page 10 - pākuViews Summer 2013

There is something about the archetypal
Kiwi bach that occupies a hallowed
place in our national psyche. This much-
loved cultural icon incorporates the
quintessential experience of getting away
from it all, BBQ in tow. A place of escape.
A place to unwind where rules are relaxed,
social distinctions blur, and routines and
formalities have no place.
The whoop of the Tui, the plaintive cry of a
Bellbird, the crashing of waves and smell of
ocean spray; the heat on your skin; the rustle of
a thrush in a flax bush; the crimson bloom of the
Pohutukawa tree — this is the essence of life for
the nature loving Kiwi.
After World War II, as better roads made
remote places accessible, Kiwis began building
haphazard “baches” in all sorts of scenic places.
In those days, they were cheekily described as
“something you built yourself, on land you don’t
own, out of materials you borrowed or stole”.
This “make-do-and-mend” initiative that fueled
this DIY bach construction was a reflection of
the scarcity of resources in post-war societies; it
was necessity that influenced the “she’ll be right”
school of architecture. It is testimony to the values
of independence and self-reliance, examples of
what one can achieve with weekends free, a full
tank of petrol, and no sign of building inspectors.
That stylish something...
The classic bach is almost deliberately anti-style
conforming to a frugal aesthetic. Its architecture
has been recognized internationally as a ... um ...
unique building typology. The original bach is an
eclectic mix of DIY techniques full of individual
characteristics, the antithesis to the stamped
sameness of suburban streets.
Vintage baches were often thrown together
from old hardwood car cases, retired trams, and
other materials that came to hand: fibrolite, old
weatherboards, corrugated iron and recycled
windows and doors. Some baches used a
caravan as the core of the structure, with
extensions tagged on. The most authentic will
still have a “long drop” toilet out the back.
The bach, typically small and modest inside and
out, was painted with leftovers or paint-shop
specials, decorated with whatever washed up
on the beach and hand-me-downs from the real
house. Like family museums, baches are full of
old furniture, fading photos, kitsch art works,
collections of shells, discarded jandals, beach
equipment, fishing gear and knick-knacks from
previous decades.
What’s to do??
Barbeques and picnics, chilly bins full of
sammies and cold drinks. Homes spilling over
with family and friends bringing their cars, boats,
tents, and caravans. Kids playing cricket on the
lawn and selling lemonade. Time at the bach
helps redefine life’s essentials in our modern
culture of excess: a trip to the bach serves as a
reminder of what we can live without.
A cat-nap in the hammock ranks at the top of
one’s to do list, if one even bothers with a list.
Even kids, exhausted from their exploits in the
salty air of the beach, could be found napping in
the hammock.
Time marches on, even for baches
Though some of our much-loved and well-worn
utilitarian family baches are still hanging in
there, factors have conspired against them. The
demand for a slice of paradise has made the
bach a luxury; now seaview lots are premium
priced and no longer affordable for the average
Kiwi family.
As towns spread, local authorities and building
inspectors no longer turned a blind-eye to bent
rules. Secondly, the soaring price of coastal
land meant that many old baches have been
knocked down to make way for residences more
in keeping with the land value, or land has been
ordered restored to it’s natural state. Thirdly,
New Zealanders have simply become more
sophisticated and house-proud — some just
don’t want to live without a dishwasher, television
and mobile reception.
However, many old baches have been restored,
given new life with a “shabby chic” makeover.
What was makeshift became a “theme” in an
interior decorating sort of way, complete with
top-to-toe colour coordination and designer
accessories.
If you browse around any of the bach themed
books, blogs, and websites, you’ll see the full
spectrum of “bachology”, from livid ’70s orange
and brown to super-stylish glass and concrete
minimalism.
Like it or not we have entered the era of the
“beach house” — a new wave of contemporary
design and modern standards. Many though, still
manage to retain the same sensibility of relaxed
simplicity seen in the vintage bach.
May the spirit of the bach live long in our hearts!
May the Bach be with you!
8 PAKU VIEWS ISSUE 6 SUMMER 2013