They usually consisted of one long room crowded with bunk beds and opened onto a porch that provided additional living space and, hopefully, a cool breeze on a hot summer night.
Today, contemporary architects are transforming the Texas bunkhouse from a bare-bones, utilitarian space to a cozy retreat. By combining traditional architectural elements with up-to-the-minute features, they’re creating bunkhouses that serve as luxurious guest houses and family getaways. The bunkhouse has been reinvented both in form and in function.
“We’ve always admired agricultural buildings for their straightforward forms, and so we drew inspiration from that straightforwardness,” says Elizabeth Danze, FAIA, principal at Danze + Blood Architects. “The bunkhouse recalls farm houses and traditional structures from the area, but in a contemporary way.”
The result, says architect Henry Panton, are buildings that are “relevant to their surroundings with a strong sense of place.”

Growing Naturally in the Hill Country
One family’s bunkhouse, located in the Hill Country outside Marble Falls, began as a guest house that would provide separate space for family, friends and business guests “so they wouldn’t feel like you were all tripping over each other,” says Danze. The idea of using the bunkhouse as inspiration was the natural outgrowth of the design of the main home, which references traditional Texas ranch houses.
The bunkhouse became an integral part of the site design. A large deck begins outside the main house, continues around a fire pit and swimming pool, and then connects to the bunkhouse. “The bunkhouse has its own identity, its own place in the landscape, while it’s simultaneously connected to the rest of the site,” says John Blood, principal at Danze + Blood.
“The deck is really an extension of the building,” adds Blood. “It’s an outdoor living space and provides a juncture between being completely inside and completely outside.”
The bunkhouse itself couldn’t be simpler: a long, narrow building with a series of windows and doors opening onto a shed porch. Inside, the space is divided into two bedrooms, a shared bath and common area.
Bunkhouse materials have a similar simplicity. The ponderosa pine and white limestone of the exterior recall traditional Hill Country architectural elements, while the interior features stained concrete floors. Above is a standing-seam metal roof. “Ranch houses have a kind of durability and require little maintenance,” says Danze. “So we were looking for materials that had that same durability and low-maintenance.”
The overall effect of the design and materials is a sense that the bunkhouse “grew out of the site,” says Danze. The homeowners and the architects felt strongly that the project shouldn’t feel artificial—“like a house built in town that somehow landed in the country,” says Danze. It should instead “merge into the site.”
Today, as the sunlight shimmers on the limestone walls and warms the pine deck, the Hill Country bunkhouse feels as natural in its environment as the madrone trees and bluebonnets that surround it.

Taking the Inside Outside in Lost Pines
Although the Lost Pines region outside of Bastrop is only about one hundred miles from the Hill Country, the landscape couldn’t be more different. Instead of rolling hills and limestone outcrops, one finds towering loblolly pines and wandering creek beds. The difference in environment is one of the greatest factors in the difference between the Hill Country and Lost Pines bunkhouses. However, just like Danze and Blood, architect Panton sought to create a design that seemed to grow out of its surroundings rather than impose itself on them. “We try to respond to the site, the topography,” he says.
Located on a large, family-owned property near Bastrop State Park, the Lost Pines Bunkhouse also was intended as a guest house. The site is spread out and heavily wooded, giving the bunkhouse a sense of seclusion. “We only cut down three or four trees,” says architect Panton, “so the building fits between those pines. You’re surrounded by forest.”
As well as shoe-horning the building between trees, Panton also had to build over a dry creek bed, a structural challenge with design implications. As a result, the building draws inspiration from the old covered bridges of New England as well as from Texas ranch structures. “It’s basically a bridge into the forest,” Panton says.
The interior of the long, narrow building is dominated by a large, high room filled with queen-size bunk beds. (“Not something you just go buy—we had them fabricated,” says Panton.) A small kitchen, master bedroom and two bathrooms complete the space. All the rooms open onto a two-story-tall, screened-in porch that runs the length of the building. “It’s an outdoor living space that we tried to make comfortable even without air conditioning,” says Panton.
The emphasis on outdoor living continues with a large open-air shower constructed out of warm pine and native stones. Other materials in the structure are characterized by their simplicity and durability. Locally grown and milled sawn-cedar siding combines the advantages of being low-maintenance, inexpensive, and “green.” Other materials include galvanized steel beams and concrete columns.
Panton’s attention to detail on the Lost Pines project continued through the construction process, with the architect serving as the general contractor as well—an unusual step, but one that Panton prefers. “For the client, it provides a single source of responsibility for their project,” he says. “For me, it’s an opportunity to make something. There’s only so much you can put into drawings. When you’re involved with construction, you can oversee the details all along the way.”
And the details are what make the Lost Pines Bunkhouse special. From the slight kink halfway down the long building to the four shades of stain on the cedar siding, every element of the bunkhouse contributes to the whole.

Bringing Back the Bunkhouse
On Texas ranches, bunkhouses are a thing of the past, with ranchers more likely to provide trailer homes for their on-site staff, but elsewhere in the state, the bunkhouse is experiencing a revival. The simplicity of the basic structure resonates with home owners and architects seeking an authentic building that feels at home in the landscape. With these two projects, the bunkhouse may just make a come-back.