Bridging the Gap
A family’s lakeside summer home in Quebec is well-connected to the property’s original cabin.
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Sharephotos by: Claude-Simon Langlois
August 1, 2008
In an otherwise unpredictable world, a vacation home can become a treasured constant—a place of shared memories where the berries are always sweet, the sunsets beautiful, and the times good. But what happens when a family’s cherished retreat reaches the end of its functional life? That was the question facing Gavin Macrae-Gibson and his wife, Anne Balcer, when their beloved 1950s lakeside summer bungalow, which had been buffeted by the harsh winters of Quebec’s Laurentian Mountains, fell into disrepair. "We had a strong emotional attachment to the site, to its views, and even to particular old trees," says Manhattan-based architect Macrae-Gibson, explaining why they decided to rebuild rather than buy other property on the lake. "My wife has been going to that spot since she was a child, I’ve been going for years, and our two teenage sons have known it their entire lives."In designing a new 5,000-square-foot vacation home that could also be used in the winter, Macrae-Gibson melded two regional architectural influences: an Anglo-Canadian tradition of close-to-nature, wood-framed bungalows with deep, screened porches, and a French-Canadian tradition of manoirs—farmhouses with massive stone walls and steep roofs with curved eaves dating back to the 17th and 18th centuries. Overlaying the entire design is a modern concern with treading as lightly as possible on the lake’s unspoiled environment. The lake is so pristine that its water is used for drinking without need of purification or filtration, and the surrounding forest of fir, silver birch, maple, and other trees shelters loons, owls, mink, eagles, porcupine, and moose.
Summer access to the home is by boat only, but in the winter, cars can drive over the frozen water directly up to the house. From the private wharf, a boardwalk passes through wild lupine and fern to a new guesthouse, which occupies the footprint of the former bungalow. Three large guesthouse windows were salvaged from the bungalow, and the view from one corner of the guesthouse’s deck matches that from the space’s old kitchen table. Solar panels on the roof power lights on the property.
Standing higher on the site with a commanding view of the forest and lake is the new main house, a two-level structure over a basement. The house is reached from the guesthouse via a 60-foot-long suspension bridge made of stainless steel cable, pressure-treated Douglas fir, and nylon rope. "The bridge adds to the lightness of the house," says British-born Macrae-Gibson, who studied architecture at Cambridge and Yale. "You approach the house floating over a wildflower meadow, and you enter it from the air."
Elements of the French-Canadian manoir tradition are evident in the home’s extra-thick, insulated walls; large interior beams; and the aforementioned curved eaves. These elements are combined with basic construction techniques of lightweight wood framing, derived from the region’s early-20th-century Anglo-Canadian bungalows, which make it possible to have larger openings to let in light and air. Clad on its exterior with dovetailed, three-inch-thick planed pine logs, the home is bordered on three sides by generous screened porches and walls of windows.
Because the house is aligned along a north-south axis with windows facing both east and west, the sun provides light all day and passive solar heat on chilly mornings. Second-floor windows draw breezes through the screened porches, eliminating the need for air conditioning. "The house doesn’t get hot in the summer," says Macrae-Gibson. "And the wood-burning stove in the living room keeps it warm in winter."
The house’s design is open, with many gathering areas. In the 12-foot-high living room, which grants views in every direction, and in the adjacent dining area and on the screened porches, Persian tribal carpets cover high-gloss maple floors, and the furniture is a comfortable mix of new pieces and old treasures, such as an antique Victorian wicker table and chairs that once belonged to one of the lake’s longtime summer residents. A grand, maple staircase connects the great room with a second-floor sitting area, the master bedroom, and sleeping lofts. Forming part of the stairs’ balustrade is an ash tree, one of several trees taken from the property and fashioned into decorative and functional elements throughout the house by a local craftsman (see "Second Look").
Macrae-Gibson says the open design of the house works well for all of his family’s frequent summer cooking and entertaining. "People in Quebec put an awful lot of emphasis on community," he says. "And they place great value on spending time with their friends. That’s how we live our summers at the lake."
Macrae-Gibson Architects, 212.294.2940, www.m-ga.com
