MYTHS & FANTASY

& F antasy M yths

A STORY OF A SMALL STRAW BALE BACH

By Tom Beauchamp

CHAPTER ONE

Once Upon a Time a not so young man and his family aspired to create a small sanctuary, a bolt hole, a Bach. So he journeyed to the land of the ancestors, amongst snowy mountains and glacial waters and began his quest… Charged with idealism and tree hugging dreams with training by the gods of google, Youtube and a weeklong course in Geraldine, thus he began. Inspired by grandparents of old who built the first house on the lake, pick, shovel and rake he toiled under the hot Mackenzie sun. But camping on site with a young family in the mountain climate was a hard task master, wind ripped the tents, rain pelted and “summer” mornings were often frozen. Progress is slow for the inexperienced and distracted, a practice hut was built whilst waiting for engineers, heads were scratched, sunset walks were taken and pizza consumed. Time, and money passed. Half a year and $100,000. Was there a finished gem? A masterpiece of straw bale architecture? Even four walls and a roof? No - and yes. There was a ten square meter hut, a slab and an empty bank account.

Photos - opposite page: 10m Practice Hut with “Hast Eagle” mural . This page - left: Max Beauchamp and neighbor - Mila enjoying soccer on the Bach Pad . Right: The concrete slab poured.

CHAPTER TWO

A year or two passed, life continued in other parts, our hero, needing more knowledge apprenticed to the world of high viz haters of mainstream construction. He worked, he learned, he saved, he still dreamed. Once again he set out, this time like Odysseus leaving wife and children behind. But in the meantime, a brother had made the hut his home. Had he escaped? Had he run away? Or was he running to something, finding solace and a sense of place? But he was haunted and troubled, and the two brothers clashed. Still, progress was made. Wielding nail gun and skill saw the shape of it began to emerge, a roof topped framing. Then the coffers ran dry again, and it was time to return home to lick emotional wounds, leaving things braced for the winter.

Photos - this page: 10m Practice Hut in progress. Opposite page: Tom Beauchamp applying lime rub coat over earthen plaster mural on the Bach

CHAPTER THREE

The final push began on a New Year’s Day. This time it must be finished and rented, or the new mortgage will not be paid, the golden fleece not won and the Queen mightily pissed off! This fresh road was populated by many a character - Woofers of the useful and useless variety, psychedelic wielding mystics, religious oracles, professional plasterers, satirical sub-contractors, sirens, saints and sinners, clowns and craftsmen, old friends and new from all corners of the world, throwing straw bales mud and lime, wrestling with materials to create form. Slowly, finally a house emerged. Was it a finished gem or a masterpiece of straw bale architecture? It was … my first one, it felt like an epic saga of mythical proportions and now it is a home for other people, and now I am home, and now I am to start another home… “once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.”

Photos - top left: The interior lime plaster in the bathroom by Liam Flannery of Geraldine; Top right: Scarlett Beauchamp / childs play plastering; Below: The finished Bach.