Peter Braithwaite and his young family have long felt the pull of Terence Bay, a small fishing village just outside their hometown of Halifax, Nova Scotia. They regularly visit property they own there, six acres of rocky, forested land overlooking the Atlantic Ocean and what Braithwaite describes as a “half-bog, half-pond.” Until recently, however, the property only had structures for Braithwaite’s design-build firm, including a cabinetry workshop; there was nowhere for his family to stay overnight.

Then an opportunity to add a retreat presented itself. A few years ago, Braithwaite, who’s also an adjunct professor at Dalhousie University’s School of Architecture in Halifax, was asked to lead a two-week design-build program called Free Lab where students sketch, model, design, and ultimately construct a small to mid-size project. At first, Braithwaite planned to create a communal boathouse with his students on nearby shared land, but after neighborhood pushback, he proposed a pivot. Why not use his own property instead?

From there, the idea evolved into an experimental A-frame residence that would serve as a second home for Braithwaite’s family and a laboratory for his students. Together, they set out to reimagine the traditional form in a contemporary way.

The team spent the first few days developing drawings, sketches, and models. “We all openly discussed and voted on the design we would follow for the intensive,” says Matt Gillingham, a student in the program. Once the direction was set, tasks were divided: creating 3D models, preparing orthographic drawings, testing framing options, clearing the site, setting pile foundations, and transporting tools and materials into the woods. “Everyone helped carry bags of concrete and mix on-site,” Gillingham recalls. “Everyone had an opportunity to dig with a shovel, draw, model, swing a hammer, and build the structural frames.”

Together, Braithwaite and his students reimagined the classic A-frame cabin, stripping away any trace of an old-fashioned feel to create something innovative. The cabin’s triangular shape—“a strong form,” Braithwaite notes—evokes the Canadian landscape, old cottages, and campgrounds. “I think of Boy Scouts. The A-frame is nostalgic,” he says. But the version they designed isn’t so straightforward. The floor plan features a distinctive kink at the center, added to capture more sunlight and open up panoramic views. “This efficient triangular form,” Braithwaite explains, “once you break it like a Toblerone and rotate it 90 degrees, becomes much more complex. You get a valley, you lift it on stilts—it all adds layers and depth.”

The topography and potential nature views required students to consider every opening with care, explains one of Braithwaite’s students, Celina Abba. “We explored subtle shifts—like adding the kink to orient the frame toward the view and incorporating an entry bridge to choreograph the approach without interrupting the volume.” These constraints, she says, became opportunities to learn how to “design with restraint and simplicity.”

At the program’s start, the enthusiasm was palpable, says Braithwaite; an eager group was ready to jump in. “I was immediately drawn to the A-frame build,” affirms Abba. “It offered the chance not only to contribute to the design process but to physically bring something to life.” By the end of the two-week program, the students had framed half the home—an accomplishment for anyone lacking specialized construction experience.

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Once the program ended, Braithwaite faced a few typical home building hurdles before he could finish the job, primarily securing a mortgage, getting a proper building permit, and bringing on a structural engineer. Once everything was in place, he brought in his team to finish the build.

The cabin’s exterior is clad in hemlock boards set on edge, creating a striking texture Braithwaite likens to corduroy pants. Though the finish appears simple, it was anything but. “It’s like putting a lumber yard on your building,” he says. To install the cladding, the team built a jig on the ground “like a comb,” laid out the boards, screwed them together, and craned the sections into place. “An unorthodox, time-consuming way to do it,” he admits, “but I like the result.”

Approaching the cabin, a gangway bridge leads to the midpoint where the structure angles open at the distinctive, aforementioned kink. The front door swings inward to reveal a narrow entry framed by a vertical band of windows and white oak walls. From there, the space transitions into a compact kitchen that steps down into a living area. Turn right from the entry, and “it gets lower and feels wider as you move through the public space,” Braithwaite says. To the left of the entry, guests encounter the bedroom.

Underfoot, the hand-poured concrete floors are ultra-durable and, as Braithwaite notes, “will become more beautiful with wear,” a quality he values. Ground smooth, sealed with epoxy, and fitted with radiant heating, they offer both practicality and comfort. “We poured them, power-troweled them, and then ground them down,” he says. “It was my team on everything; my carpenters even did the concrete.”

Nearly every element was made by hand: wood finishes that came from nearby mills, cast concrete sinks and countertops, and custom windows and lighting. “Very little was purchased, other than the appliances,” Braithwaite explains. “If we could build it ourselves, we did.” Pendant lights designed and built by his firm hang throughout the structure, casting a warm glow on vertical white oak slats lining the walls. Materials, adds Braithwaite, were chosen for their “nostalgic cabin feel.”

Zooming out, it’s clear the design-build process created an engaging, puzzle-solving atmosphere for the students. “One key lesson was how deeply design is intertwined with construction, and how much labor goes into translating drawings into reality,” Abba reflects. “In school, it’s easy to design without fully considering sequence, material limitations, or detail. This experience made all of that tangible. Every decision has consequences on-site.”

Braithwaite says the immersive learning experience laid the foundation for the project’s success. “Architecture students spend much of their time in studios doing things similar to fine arts students,” he explains. “But unlike painters who touch paint and brushes, or sculptors who work directly with their materials, architecture students rarely handle what they design. This was a chance to get away from computers, pick up tools, and be in nature. This gave them a chance to learn hands-on.”

More from Peter Braithwaite Studio:

Foul Weather Is No Match for This Boxy New Brunswick Home—or the Steel Stair Wrapped Around It

This Sun-Soaked Cabin in the Canadian Wilderness Is a Breath of Fresh Air

Camping Turned Into Glamping After a Family Built Twin Tiny Cabins in the Woods

Project Credits:

Architect of Record: Peter Braithwaite Studio

Builder: Peter Braithwaite Studio

Structural Engineer: Andrea Doncaster Engineering

Interior Design: Peter Braithwaite Studio

Cabinetry Design: Peter Braithwaite Studio

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