Opinion: Time for a Building By-law to Preserve Barrier's Character?

You all know the place I'm talking about. Towering over one of the most picturesque beaches on the motu, there's an enormous house, perched awkwardly on stilts with little earthworks. It's impossible to avert your eyes when driving to Tryphena. The structure feels almost antagonistic in its presence. One has to wonder, how did it even get approval? It looks like it belongs in an East Auckland subdivision, not here. It's as if it was plucked from a GJ Gardner Homes catalogue and air-dropped by an Orion.

Ironically, its owners look down upon some of the best architecturally designed homes on the island. These homes, regardless of budget, are thoughtful, each with its own charm. Yet here stands this monolith, jarringly out of place.

With the island becoming busier and more Aucklanders seeking their slice of paradise, the question arises: Is it time for the local board to intervene? Should there be a by-law ensuring that new constructions do not turn our haven into the very chaos newcomers are trying to escape? A by-law where houses of a certain size and in specific locations require special approval, where roof lines and designs need to blend with the surroundings, going beyond the existing colour rules.

Aotea is known for its quirky architecture. We have people living in converted school buses and shipping containers, alongside homes that grace the covers of magazines and win architecture awards. I'll provide some links to these inspiring examples. The new rules allowing builds up to 30 square meters without a permit have led to some creative and affordable wonders. Necessity truly is the mother of invention, and Aotea's budget-conscious creatives have mastered the art of building with flair. The 'woolshed chic' of black colorsteel on timber can be breathtakingly simple and beautiful – assuming, of course, you have the means to build at all.

But what I'm addressing here is the burgeoning trend of oversized baches – those built to house big boats and entertain families for a few months, only to stand empty and imposing for the rest of the year. These structures, lacking in any regard for their surroundings, leave a permanent scar on the landscape. The rest of us, who live here year-round, are forced to endure these blots on our landscape.

Isn't there something we can do about this? Isn't it high time the local board tackled this burgeoning issue? For now, perhaps our only solace is the hope that our lush bushland, with its mānuka and kanuka, will eventually shield this monolithic monstrosity from view. 

These people seek refuge on our serene shores, but paradoxically transplant the same urban blight here.