The Bach, a New Zealand icon.
Created | Updated Jan 28, 2002
The Bach is a Kiwi icon. A kind of "home away from home", usually by the beach or a lakeshore, where the whole family would gather for summer holidays, and weekends between. This tradition is probably as old as New Zealand itself, but really became popular in the years immediately after WW2. In the 1940s and 1950s families with young children were seeking economical summer holidays, and at the same time improved roads allowed travel around New Zealand. The word "bach" derives from "bachelor pad" implying a man living alone under basic conditions, but it was from the outset a family affair - a retreat from work, school and routine.
One of the main features of the bach is that it was built from materials at hand, i.e. a combination of timber, fibrolite and corrugated iron. A New Zealand bloke prides himself on his DIY ("do-it-yourself") skills, and would relish the challenge of building the bach. New Zealand, with its low population density and many beaches, allowed anybody who wished the freedom to find a suitable site and build their own holiday house, a freedom that exists in few other places anywhere.
(Today, less than 4 million New Zealanders share over 15 000 km of coastline, the 9th longest coastline in the world, and the NZ population at the end of WW2 was only around 1 million)
The bach would often begin as a simple shelter. It might be a family's favourite beach, where they returned to year after year. Often they would pitch their tent in the same place each year, before deciding to make something more permanent. The bach might start as a caravan, and get enlarged from there. Hardwood boxes, once used for transporting cars to New Zealand made a good basis for a bach. Old trams (many cities were dismantling tram lines during this period) also have been converted into baches.
The design was functional, a large lounge usually with lots of windows facing the sea, a bedroom for the adults and a stove of some sort. Out the back would be the assorted surfboards, fishing rods, and a dinghy etc. If the land was sloping, these could be stored beneath the bach. A tin with holes in served as a basic shower, hanging from a nearby tree. A water tank collected rain from the corrugated iron roof. The toilet was a long-drop (pit toilet) dug at a decent distance from the bach, and, if the location was chosen well, had a view to enjoy while sitting there!
Furnishings were as basic as the building materials, usually the family's old items now replaced by new ones at home. Old sofas and armchairs usually sat facing the sea view, with a steady supply of old magazines and paperbacks beside. Old mats and scraps of carpet lay on the floor, so it didn't matter if the kids got sand inside. The colour schemes were notoriously dreadful - bright clashing colour paints. This might be because such paints were bought cheaply at hardware store sales, but more likely just an expression of the individuality of the bach owners. Various odd pieces of driftwood and shells became artwork around the shelves and walls.
Lazy, sunny summer days were spent here - surfing, sailing, fishing, running around the sandhills and simply relaxing (the children generally doing the running around and the adults generally relaxing!) A whole generation of "baby boom" children grew up in this way in New Zealand.
Today the bach culture has been modified by the passage of time. Many families are choosing to holiday in a variety of places, rather than one favourite beach, camping or staying in holiday cabins. Cheaper cars and petrol (compared to the 1950s) are allowing holidays further afield. Holiday time seems to be briefer and more precious in the modern economy, and lazy summers are a rare thing. New building codes have been enacted (and are more likely to be enforced) making it more expensive to build and maintain a bach, and turning them into more upmarket "beach houses". A "long drop" dunny would be prohibited hy health regulations (probably not a bad thing, either). Some of the old popular bach spots near the major cities have even become suburbs, accessed by motorways and overwhelmed by urban sprawl.
I wrote in the past tense throughout, reflecting this change in bach culture over the past generation or two, but baches in the old style still do exist in the 21st century, particularly away from the major cities. The handyman still enjoys an outlet, and there is still a lot of pleasure in familiarity - knowing a beach or lake really well. The concept of a retreat from the pressures of everyday life still holds appeal - it's good for the soul to be out of the reach of telephone and TV. There's still charm in simplicity - a holiday where you can be yourself, and not have to mix with a campground full of other people, you know what to expect, and can do what you want. True freedom, Kiwi style.
One of the main features of the bach is that it was built from materials at hand, i.e. a combination of timber, fibrolite and corrugated iron. A New Zealand bloke prides himself on his DIY ("do-it-yourself") skills, and would relish the challenge of building the bach. New Zealand, with its low population density and many beaches, allowed anybody who wished the freedom to find a suitable site and build their own holiday house, a freedom that exists in few other places anywhere.
(Today, less than 4 million New Zealanders share over 15 000 km of coastline, the 9th longest coastline in the world, and the NZ population at the end of WW2 was only around 1 million)
The bach would often begin as a simple shelter. It might be a family's favourite beach, where they returned to year after year. Often they would pitch their tent in the same place each year, before deciding to make something more permanent. The bach might start as a caravan, and get enlarged from there. Hardwood boxes, once used for transporting cars to New Zealand made a good basis for a bach. Old trams (many cities were dismantling tram lines during this period) also have been converted into baches.
The design was functional, a large lounge usually with lots of windows facing the sea, a bedroom for the adults and a stove of some sort. Out the back would be the assorted surfboards, fishing rods, and a dinghy etc. If the land was sloping, these could be stored beneath the bach. A tin with holes in served as a basic shower, hanging from a nearby tree. A water tank collected rain from the corrugated iron roof. The toilet was a long-drop (pit toilet) dug at a decent distance from the bach, and, if the location was chosen well, had a view to enjoy while sitting there!
Furnishings were as basic as the building materials, usually the family's old items now replaced by new ones at home. Old sofas and armchairs usually sat facing the sea view, with a steady supply of old magazines and paperbacks beside. Old mats and scraps of carpet lay on the floor, so it didn't matter if the kids got sand inside. The colour schemes were notoriously dreadful - bright clashing colour paints. This might be because such paints were bought cheaply at hardware store sales, but more likely just an expression of the individuality of the bach owners. Various odd pieces of driftwood and shells became artwork around the shelves and walls.
Lazy, sunny summer days were spent here - surfing, sailing, fishing, running around the sandhills and simply relaxing (the children generally doing the running around and the adults generally relaxing!) A whole generation of "baby boom" children grew up in this way in New Zealand.
Today the bach culture has been modified by the passage of time. Many families are choosing to holiday in a variety of places, rather than one favourite beach, camping or staying in holiday cabins. Cheaper cars and petrol (compared to the 1950s) are allowing holidays further afield. Holiday time seems to be briefer and more precious in the modern economy, and lazy summers are a rare thing. New building codes have been enacted (and are more likely to be enforced) making it more expensive to build and maintain a bach, and turning them into more upmarket "beach houses". A "long drop" dunny would be prohibited hy health regulations (probably not a bad thing, either). Some of the old popular bach spots near the major cities have even become suburbs, accessed by motorways and overwhelmed by urban sprawl.
I wrote in the past tense throughout, reflecting this change in bach culture over the past generation or two, but baches in the old style still do exist in the 21st century, particularly away from the major cities. The handyman still enjoys an outlet, and there is still a lot of pleasure in familiarity - knowing a beach or lake really well. The concept of a retreat from the pressures of everyday life still holds appeal - it's good for the soul to be out of the reach of telephone and TV. There's still charm in simplicity - a holiday where you can be yourself, and not have to mix with a campground full of other people, you know what to expect, and can do what you want. True freedom, Kiwi style.
