Mahanga Bach sits in a sleepy shire a short walk to the beach. Photo / Edwards White Architects.
In the second of his Bay’s Best Bach series, deputy editor Mark Story spends a night at a Mahanga bach with a unique soundscape
If you type “bach” into a Word document it’s immediately flagged as a misspelling.
It’s an alleged typo I’m very fond of.
Possibly it’s because the institution is the only built structure Kiwis can claim uniquely. Outside this country no one seems to get it. I like that immensely.
Still, a clear definition here is elusive.
Can a bach have more than two bedrooms? Does it need a beach, or is a lake okay? Can a bach be urban? Is a “contemporary traditional” bach a contradiction?
They’re questions I’m keen to explore in this series.
My bach beliefs are challenged in the design of this week’s profile property in Mahanga, near Mahia.
A few years back the 2020 build won the housing category in the Te Kāhui Whaihanga New Zealand Institute of Architects Gisborne and Hawke’s Bay Awards. It’s the brainchild of the owners and architect Harry Croucher, of firm Edwards White.
The architectural input got me thinking.
Baches, historically, weren’t commonly designed by architects. In fact, the opposite applied – DIY draft and build was common. A bach’s humility defied design.
Much has changed.
In a short passage of time did we somewhere lose the abilty to live simply, and now need to be retrained in the art?
It’s confusing.
But this bach’s name gives me comfort.
Unlike many architectural works this one’s without a lofty title. It’s simply called Mahanga Bach. It’s interested only in place and function. I’m liking it already.
It’s an off-gridder, on solar and gas but with (mercifully) a flushing toilet.
The large grassy section is a cheerful shire with rolling dells, mounds and hollows. Its highest point affords a view of Mahanga Beach.
At house level, the sea is unseen, but not unheard.
With corrugated cladding and exposed trusses, it initially presents like New Zealand’s tidiest farm shed.
The two bedrooms, large all-in-one living, dining and kitchen incorporating a large covered deck is an almost entirely wooden interior, which lets the outdoors in.
I asked Harry what he considered cornerstones.
“A bach should push you towards a more playful, adventurous version of yourself,” he said.
Equally, it should “push you towards the outdoors.”
There’s an irony then, in that the enjoyment of baching sometimes has nothing to do with the bach. Like a wise grandparent urging, “Go outside and play.”
He emphasised the conversational weighting. “A bach should push you towards each other with larger communal spaces, smaller bedrooms, and shared utility areas.”
The social aspect is spot on, but there’s another irony in that the word bach (according to the most common theory) is an abbreviation of bachelor, whereby single men occupied quaint, uncomplicated dwellings wanting for not much at all.
Mahanga’s weather was everywhere. My evening surfcasting plans were sidelined by unwelcome rain and an angry surf.
But come nightfall, they were welcome. Heavy showers muted the sea’s voice, then occasionally eased and handed the stage back to Tangaroa and the backing vocals of crickets. It was a compelling playlist.
One of my fondest memories of baching as a kid was a rusting Atlas oven that had four elements, with only one that worked.
The sole-heat source forced pared-back eating. A steaming pan of scrambled eggs with onions, tomato soup or corn fritters. Humble food, great food.
Hence, nowadays I gauge a kitchen’s happiness by how few elements there are. This place had only two. That’s one more than perfect, but still joyful and modest.
Likewise, there was no television.
Skimping on elements and a TV is not unlike negative detailing; gaps or absences aren’t just highlighted, they’re celebrated. That’s beautiful baching.
It’s memory-stirring stuff, like a bach’s jerry-rigged DIY clotheslines, strung up here in the shire between a tarata and karo tree.
A “contemporary-traditional” bach seems a real thing. At least in this case. After all, every bach was once contemporary.
Rather than precluding unfussy living, the Mahanga design aesthetic assists the ascetic.
Thank you to Harry and the owners for the helpful redirection.