Toasty warm inside a rammed earth home

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The thermostat reads 18 C. The thermostat, it should be noted, is sitting on the windowsill of the bathroom. It should also be noted that, due to a faulty part, the heat pump has not been working for two weeks. And despite the recent above-zero temperatures, it is still January in Ontario.

“Let that resonate,” says Graham Cavalier, general manager of Aerecura Sustainable Builders, to the assembled crowd of about 65 people. “Please imagine what that would be like waking up in any of the homes that you live in if you did not have access to heat for two weeks.”

There is a collective shiver at the thought.

But in Heather Boyd’s newly constructed house on Salmon Point Road in Prince Edward County, Ont., about 220 kilometres east of downtown Toronto, it’s as toasty as a late spring day. The home’s walls measure a total of 20 inches thick – six inches of rammed earth on the outside followed by six inches of expanded polystyrene insulation and then eight more inches of rammed earth.

Aerecura founder and chief executive officer Sylvia Cook adds that the assembled crowd is helping: “At the moment, you guys are providing tremendous amounts of heat that is going to benefit Heather for weeks to come. All of your BTUs are getting absorbed by the rammed earth, and, as it gets cooler in here later, that will come back out.”

That’s the thing about rammed earth. It’s logical. It works. And it’s ancient. Evidence of rammed earth has been found as far back as the Neolithic age, and, in Ontario, the oldest known example is near Barrie in Shanty Bay: St. Thomas Anglican, built in 1841. That’s why, when Ms. Cook, a physicist and teacher, was looking for a building method to use for her abode more than a dozen years ago, she glommed onto rammed earth and built the province’s first insulated example, while founding the company with her son, Mr. Cavalier, at the same time.

The process, says Mr. Cavalier, is deceptively simple: after the foundation is made, forms wide enough for a person to stand in are constructed; local sand and gravel is poured in, a little at a time, which is then compressed using pneumatic tools; in that mix is 5-per-cent cement as well as a waterproofing agent; the artistry comes from tints that are added to create the ‘waves,’ which can be “any colour based on the additives.”

“The complexity of creating rammed earth has a lot more to do with ensuring proper compaction,” he continues. “You can hear it, you can feel it when you’ve properly compacted it, and that comes with experience.” He then points to a few reddish bands in particular behind him on Ms. Boyd’s feature wall. “Each of these started out about 30 per cent taller … so there’s a fair amount of labour that goes into these.”

And that labour costs. In this case $1.2-million, for construction. But, then again, Ms. Boyd’s house is really two rammed earth houses, one of 1,800 square feet and another of 950 square feet, joined together (in the middle) by a non-rammed earth sunroom of 450 square feet. The rationale is that she and her husband, Dennis Baril, will live in the main house, and, while they’re still spry, treat the smaller house as a guesthouse. When they become much older, a live-in caretaker can occupy the 950-sq.-ft. house comfortably and independently when not needed.

It will be a good place to age. Not only do rammed earth buildings keep a consistent temperature (of about 18 C) no matter the season, they’re also pin drop-quiet, fireproof, floodproof, and mold and mildew-proof.

So why aren’t all buildings built this way?

“I believe every municipal building, every public works building, every hospital should be,” says Ms. Boyd, a licensed trademark agent and owner of Pillar IP. “Do you see any drywall in this house? Drywall is the devil, it causes so many allergies. … I came here and I have no allergies anymore.” And, since rammed earth can reach up to four storeys without requiring “different engineering” (according to Mr. Cavalier), it would seem logical to start with hospitals, at the very least.

As the speakers take a break (the open house was hosted by Aerecura and Chestnut Park’s Faye Moxam), most attendees break off into little tour groups. And almost every person – at Ms. Boyd’s encouragement – reaches out and strokes the surprisingly smooth walls. They’re cool to the touch and feel as solid as a bank vault. They instill a sense of peace and reassurance.

When the crowd reconvenes, they meet architect E. Jane Wilson via Ms. Boyd’s laptop; Ms. Wilson lives near Ottawa and couldn’t make the drive. She says: “We have a lot of places where things like fire and major storms have a real impact on our lives, so we have to build with that in mind. … The goal is not to have a box that you feel like you have to change the bathroom every 3 1/2 years to keep up with fashion. You need to think futuristically, to be able to make something that is going to last, and be valid, and be loved, for quite a while.”

And since rammed earth walls must be joined to windows, doors, floors and a roof (this one is made of prefab panels by Canadian company Simple Life), adding the skill of a LEED-certified architect to the mix is a necessity.

As attendees say their goodbyes and exchange those sheltering walls for the windy, cold and humid walk to their cars, another necessity comes to light: the need to spread the word.