The Entrance Hall
The doorway looked modest from the trail, but the space behind it was anything but cramped. Ben stepped into a wide entrance hall with pale plaster walls, a smooth concrete floor, and thick oak beams overhead. The air felt still and surprisingly warm. Along one wall, built-in cupboards hid coats, boots, and outdoor gear. A long bench sat beneath hooks for wet jackets. Everything had been designed for a house reached on foot.
Martin explained that the building was not truly underground. It was earth sheltered. Most of the rear wall pressed against the hillside, while the front edge opened toward the valley. The entrance sat between those two worlds. Behind them was soil, stone, and reinforced concrete. Ahead was daylight. A narrow passage led toward the brighter rooms beyond.
The hall also revealed how carefully water had been considered. A grated drain ran outside the threshold. The floor sloped almost imperceptibly toward it. Martin pointed to a small access panel hiding pipes that carried runoff around the house instead of through it. “People think the hardest part was digging the hole,” he said. “It wasn’t.” He tapped the wall. “The hard part was making sure the hill stayed outside.”