Straw House 1

March 27 is my and Nick’s 7-year dating anniversary. Never in my wildest dreams on that night in 2003 when Nick first told me all about his grandmother’s farm and its vastness did I imagine myself here 7 years later, building a house that was destroyed in one of the biggest earthquakes ever recorded. One of the biggest earthquakes ever recorded. It’s a phrase that gives me chills and probably always will…

On this bright Saturday morning, however, here we were about to build a house. Over the past week, Nick and I have built frames for all of the windows (10 of them) and have begun laying the wood frame that goes around the base of the straw bales. We preserved the original foundation, which was not damaged, but when the remainder of the house was demolished, we discovered that all of the concrete floors were at different levels. The guys who work here releveled the foundation—60 bags of concrete and a truckload of gravel later, it’s ready to be built on.

Nick and I got to the job site very early—around 7:30—so we could finish installing all of the wood pieces before the volunteers showed up. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the day threatened to be quite hot, but at this hour, working outside was manageable. By ten o’clock, this is what the base of the house looked like:

From Straw house and Puerto Varas

Let me explain what all of the bits are. At the very bottom, of course, is the concrete foundation. On top of that, we laid the black tar paper—this seals out moisture rising up through the concrete from the straw. The wood on top of that is also to give the straw a base and to keep it up off of any potential moisture. The frames everywhere are for the windows. These give the windows added stability and also keep them square because bales don’t have a tendency to be square. Finally, the rods sticking up are something of an unorthodox touch, and maybe not one we’d repeat. They are to spear the bales as they come down, keeping them in line and adding more stability to the building in the case of an earthquake. You also find these rods in masonry buildings for the same reason. More about why we’d do it differently next time later...

Around 10am, our architect friend, his business partner and a coworker appeared to begin helping us. Since we hadn’t finished frames for the doors yet, we put them to work doing that and squaring up the joint. This is another thing that in the future I would not worry too much about at this stage. Bales coming down from every angle and being pounded into place have the potential to unsquare even the best-braced frames, plus the whole thing is adjustable until the plaster goes on. Live and learn.

I began to wonder if our volunteers were still coming when suddenly a train appeared on the horizon. A quantity of vehicles I have never before seen on our humble little fundo raced down the stony hills and into the makeshift parking area, and 10, no 15, no TWENTY young men spilled out in shorts, tennis shoes and bandanas, ripping open packs of work gloves and pulling out coolers with drinks and ice. It was as if an army of worker bees had showed up to build a hive.

I stood frozen in awe at the tableau for just a moment before it erupted into chaos. Suddenly gravel was filling the wood base, bales were being moved from the storage site to the house site, a flurry of orders were being given. In all this excitement I nearly missed the first bale being layed, but I caught it like a blink of an eye:

From Straw house and Puerto Varas

And from there it was a marathon. Bale after bale after bale was speared on the rebar, quickly stacking into a wall. I have the muscular strength approximately equal to one of their toes, so I left the lifting to the capable ones. During the course of the day, I ran around cleaning up straw (huge fire hazard), consulting our straw bale bible, and making sure people were fed and hydrated. The temperature climbed and climbed, with not a cloud in the sky or roof above to provide shade. It must’ve been in the 90s.

Suddenly it was after 6pm, and since it’s autumn, the light was beginning to wane. I informed everyone of the hour but no one wanted to move. A last surge of energy meant victory—we finished all of the walls!

Back at the main center of the farm, the complex where our house is/was, we had an asado arranged. A late birthing season led to the availability of a few lamb—a perfect thank-you for this occasion. The wife of a farm employee arranged everything, including a picnic table for 30. Nick and I ran into town to buy wine and soda—the volunteers had brought a truckload of beer.

The sun plummeted in a way it only seems to do around the equinoxes, and we celebrated under the stars with one lightbulb and the full moon to light us. Course after course of roast lamb, potatoes and kept coming, and we toasted with red wine. The house had a shape.