Our beach homes have gone from shacks to stilts and from
fibro to ferro-concrete.
MODEST fibro, timber and tin shacks perched on stumps
virtually on the water's edge with magnificent, uninterrupted
views. That's the lingering memory many people have of the
classic, no-fuss Queensland beach house.
But those humble fibro shacks have all but disappeared from
the coastal landscape, levelled by the development juggernaut
in which more and more people have taken up residence at the
beach permanently – not just for occasional weekends and
annual holidays.
In the early days of European settlement in Queensland,
only the wealthy could afford to build holiday residences,
complete with servants' quarters, by the sea.
As building costs reduced during the Depression and cheap
waterfront land became available, many families built their
own small holiday cottages or fishing shacks, often over a
succession of visits, bringing a greater egalitarianism to
beachside communities.
Fibro-asbestos sheeting, which became popular in Australia
by the late 1920s and was manufactured in Queensland by James
Hardie and Wunderlich from the 30s, was an obvious choice for
casual seaside dwellings.
It was cheap and easy to use by an owner-builder, it didn't
need painting and it was durable in salt and sea air.
Aesthetics weren't always important for a holiday house,
certainly not as important to people as their main home in the
suburbs, according to historian Dr Thom Blake who has been
researching the history of beach houses in Queensland for the
National Trust.
In the 1950s the proliferation of beach shacks prompted an
architect to describe pre-high rise Surfers Paradise as "an
ugly conglomeration of badly designed, unpainted fibro
buildings with smelly septic systems".
Before fibro changed the urban landscape it was timber
which dominated. The suburbs were crammed with spindly timber
houses on stumps with noisy iron or tin roofs and broad
verandas evocative of tent flaps.
Collectively these timber homes were known as Queenslanders
and they set the state's architecture apart from the rest of
Australia's in the late 19th and early 20th century. They
began springing up in numbers in the cane fields of north
Queensland and around Brisbane when new steam sawmills made
timber a more economically viable building material than
brick.
Why the stilts? There were various reasons. The further
from the ground, the builders reasoned, the further pesky
termites would have to burrow before they could wreak havoc in
a house's softwood floorboards and frame.
The metal ant caps added to the top of the stumps weren't
expected to completely stop the termites, just make their
presence easier to detect.
People also built high to capture afternoon sea breezes, to
give a sense of privacy and security, extra storage space
underneath their main living areas and a measure of protection
against the occasional flood.
Plus building on stumps did away with the need for
expensive foundation work on sloping blocks.
There was also some thought among cane planters in the
north that they'd be able to avoid low-flying insects like
midges, and the mosquitoes which hung around stagnant pools of
water.
But anyone who's lived in a Queenslander will know that
mozzies will find their way in, no matter how high you are.
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| A multi-million-dollar mansion
on the ocean front at Mermaid Beach. |
|
Queenslander houses were never one specific style. Many
evolved over the years: roof lines changed, open verandas were
closed, elements were taken from American plantation homes and
the California bungalow style.
But they shared the common characteristics of elevation,
light frames, verandas, metal roofs, timber and decorative
touches.
Queenslanders started to go out of vogue after World
War II, due to a combination of war-time austerity, the
availability of fibro, slate and other materials, new building
regulations and a fondness for low-set brick veneer and tiles
found elsewhere in Australian suburbs.
But they've enjoyed a resurgence in popularity in recent
years, with many old homes being painstakingly restored and
new houses built along traditional lines.
With the exorbitant price of coastal land, beach houses are
no longer plain, sparsely decorated shacks used exclusively by
one family and their friends for fun on weekends and annual
holidays.
They're sophisticated, architect-designed properties,
rented out to earn income and fitted with dishwashers,
microwaves, clothes dryers and the other modern conveniences
of a permanent home.