The barn build started this week. This is something we wish we’d had the time to do earlier in the process of setting up the croft, but at least it’s going up now!
It was chosen for its strength rather than its looks, as you’ll see from the photos here. Now that the panels are going on it looks like a huge sea container.
Perched atop the windiest part of this exposed hillside it needed to be strong enough to withstand our 90 mph gales without flinching. Two years living on the croft has taught us not to underestimate the winter storms when they come, as they do every year.
This barn is industrially rated for high winds and is constructed of insulated steel panels. As soon as the guys started to put it up it became clear that it was a substantial construction, which is a good thing, and exactly as planned, as the winds here would flatten a lesser building in the first storm.
Big bolts
It’ll serve multiple purposes. Part of it will be a workshop for husbands build and carpentry equipment, part storage of croft produce like potatoes and root vegetables, as well as storage of boxes and spare stuff from the house, and part equipment/car cover with a roll top door at one end.
I can’t help feeling that despite its enormous size that we’re going to fill it…
An impromptu offer of a trip on a friends boat came by text the other evening, and as the weather looked fair and we don’t get a chance to get out onto the water often, we jumped at the opportunity.
Incredible light
We drove down to Heaste, a village some miles away, where the boat was moored at the local pontoon. Heaste sits at the head of Loch Eishort, a long narrow sea loch that opens up into the sea, and that’s fringed on one side by the jagged silhouette of the Cuillin mountains in the distance.
Our friends, mussel farmers, steered the boat into the mouth of the loch where the waters mingled with those of Loch Slapin and the open sea, killed the engine and let her drift slowly in on the tide.
Husband gutting fish over the side of the boat
It was a fabulous evening. The mackerel were biting and we landed half a dozen or so in the first few minutes of fishing, clearly having hit a shoal. Beautiful fish, dazzling with iridescent turquoise markings and firm flesh.
Storm clouds gathering
As the sun dipped into the west, black clouds started to gather ominously and the first spots of rain fell. We decided that we’d pack up and motor back in, and it proved to be not a moment too soon as the wind picked up and drove the first spots of rain upon us.
Double rainbow over the hills
The skies were a remarkable colour. Dark clouds infused with the golden light of the low sun, and a double rainbow glowing across the hillsides. It was a constantly changing tableau of light as the minutes passed and we motored back, running just ahead of the storm into safe harbour.
A magical evening, not least because of the weather. Good company, the joy of being out at sea, and the chance to experience Skye’s changing light and weather from a unique perspective.
It must have been around 2am when I became vaguely aware of my husband getting out of bed. I was in that liminal space of being half awake, half asleep, and thought maybe it was a toilet call, so turned over and snuggled back down under the duvet.
This morning he told me that he had been worried that he hadn’t shut the bottom part of the polycrub door that evening, and was concerned that the sheep would get in and raze everything to the ground.
Realising that he wasn’t going to be able to sleep until he knew for sure, he got up, donned his wellies, and wandered stark bollock naked across the croft over to the polycrub to check.
Not my husbands actual legs
I can only hope that he didn’t scare the wildlife! I was most impressed by his dedication to our tomato crop.
If any late night star watchers were out last night and saw a naked man in wellies wandering about on the hillside, please accept our apologies for any distress caused.
Sheep happily grazing around the washing line after being thwarted from a polycrub invasion
This morning I realised that we didn’t have any fresh bread left in the caravan, so after rooting around for ingredients and inspiration for breakfast, I came up with this.
Huevos crofteros
You’ve heard of huevos rancheros? These are huevos crofteros! Crofters eggs! Tortillas, cheese, egg, spicy fresh tomato salsa. After husbands midnight wanderings I felt we both needed something sustaining.
We awoke to a bright but cold morning on the island. There was a heavy dew on the grass, a sea haar clinging to the Sound, and a definite touch of autumn in the air.
Cold, sunny and clear
The butter was cold and hard in its dish in the caravan kitchen.
We clutched our mugs of hot coffee at breakfast for comfort and put the fire on to take the chill off the air. The season is on the turn as we move into September, and I feel a new sense of urgency to be in the house.
Breakfast coffee and all-bran (and yes it’s nearly time for porridge)
The installers arrived this morning to fit the Dekton worktops in the kitchen. They bumped up the track in a rusty old van which looked as if it was struggling to make it, and were unloaded into the house and working away within minutes.
I have worktops! Worktops that won’t melt if I put a hot pan down on them by mistake! I’m stupidly excited by the prospect of that. This pattern of Dekton is called Fossil, and I spent a good ten minute looking for ammonites bedded into the material, but without success. And I still love it.
PS. that long mark that looks like a crack is meant to be there – all part of it looking like fissured stone, apparently..
Now that the worktops are in, we can go ahead and fit the drawers and doors into the kitchen carcasses.
Then start to build the appliance wall. The hob, sink, dishwasher and freezer are here already in boxes waiting to be fitted, and the rest will be on order shortly.
It’s a constant juggle for space. The light at the end of the tunnel is that the barn is going up next week and for the first time since the build began we will have storage space.
This year has been full of experiments of the vegetable variety.
Tomatoes, red hot chillis, mild chillis, carrots, beetroot
It’s been the first year with the polycrub and growing in containers rather than beds. I started rather late in our short season, as the polycrub wasn’t built until the end of April. All of which meant that my expectations were set at a pretty low level for success.
And those expectations have largely been fulfilled ..
However, there have been a few pleasant surprises. Today I harvested my first cobs of sweetcorn. They’re small, it’s true, and there are only a few of them. But when I planted the corn seeds in May, followed by our largely sunless non-summer I really didn’t think that anything would come of them.
Sweetcorn – yay!
And yet here we are, eating sweetcorn from the croft with our supper. I’m a bit amazed that I’ve managed to produce something so seemingly exotic out of our cold, wet island.
I know that all growers are convinced that their produce is wonderful, but I’m a critical grower, honestly. Our tomatoes have been prolific but disappointing in taste this year and there are some plants, lovingly tended, that have not thrived or produced a harvest worthy of a repeat next year. However, this corn was absolutely delicious, an hour from plant to plate. Sweet and very succulent.
I stand in awe of the tolerance that some plants have for less than ideal environments. It gives me great hope for next years food production which will be in deep beds, fertilised with our own seaweed and croft compost.
A world apart in terms of taste!
Fifty seven degrees north. Who would have guessed!
Due to the great sheep invasion I’ve decided that until we can get our croft fences repaired or replaced, any winter vegetable growing will have to just be in the polycrub.
More sheep lurking around the croft
Autumn is definitely in the air, and I’ve been slowly clearing the pots of spent pea tendrils and bean shoots, freeing up space for successional sowings of winter vegetables and herbs.
The tunnel is still pretty full of plants:- tomatoes slowly ripening, beetroot, cucumbers, sweetcorn, carrots, herbs and squash, but now is the time to start the next round of crops if we want to continue eating through the colder months.
Beetroot
I’ve been in there over the last few weeks sowing seeds. The great thing is that they germinate quickly at this time of the year – which is a good thing, as we need them to get established enough to survive the winter in an unheated grow space. I’m trying my best not to have to subsist on neeps and tatties this year.
Leetle vegetable seedlings
So far I’ve got pak choi, winter lettuce, black spanish radishes (exotic, I know – I don’t know what came over me) purple sprouting broccoli, spinach, rocket, more dill and coriander and a few more tubs of carrots on the go. They’re looking lush with promise at this stage, although I’ve been here before..
Carrot sowings
I’ve still got winter cabbage and kale to sow. We can’t overwinter without salty kale crisps and rumbledethumps (a Scottish dish of mashed potatoes, cabbage, onion and cheese, like colcannon) once the weather turns.
More dill
The wormery that we installed a few months ago is now coming into its own, and we’ve been watering the polycrub pots with worm juice every week. It seems to be doing the plants the world of good.
It looks like gravy, which I guess in a way it is. I try not to feel sorry for the worms that inevitably fall into the collection tray full of liquid and drown. It’s a hard enough life being a worm. Husband has an idea to use insect mesh to save them, which we will certainly try in the interests of worm colony morale.
I love the cyclic nature of growing: garden clippings and waste go into the compost or the worm bins, which get added back to the soil to support the next generation of plant growth.
This continual replenishment of nutrients and micro-organisms is essential in helping to build healthy soil, which is truly the heart of everything. I’ll just have to live happily with the scurrying, burrowing beetle and other insect life that it supports, and which I know is a good thing.
Someone once told me that if nothing was eating your plants, you weren’t part of the eco system. I’m pleased to report that we well and truly are.
It’s been a busy and successful day. I managed to drive the car for the first time since my recent operation, and drove to lunch at a local community cafe with a friend. It felt so good to just get up and go, and not to have any pain. I almost felt normal again!
Ha. As if I’ve ever been normal..
Our local community cafe, An Crubh
We had a great coffee, sandwich and catch-up, in the way that only two women can, and on the way out I remembered that I had a loaf of Mallaig Bakery Sourdough waiting for me at the community shop.
Driving back along the empty road on the way to pick it up I watched the sun break through the heavy clouds over the mainland and illuminate the Sound, turning the water a glorious, luminescent turquoise.
Gloriously turquoise seas
I pulled over and just had to snap a few pictures. The iPhone can only capture a fraction of the magic of the moment, so fleeting and so transient as it is.
The Sound
It’s at times like these that I hug myself in disbelief that we live here, and that we have this stunning natural beauty on our doorstep.
However, back to earth and home again after the bread collection I was pleased to see that we had the start of the oak doors going up in the house. They still need architraves, skirting boards and a couple of protective coats of Osmo oil, but it suddenly seemed like a proper house. Doors!
The stock fencing around the croft is ancient and very rickety. We have plans to rip it up and replace it with deer fencing as soon as time and funds permit, but for now it hasn’t seemed a huge priority with the house build taking up all our time and energy.
However, recent events may have promoted fencing repairs to move up the priority list a bit more rapidly.
Yesterday evening Husband noticed some ghostly white shapes through the obscured glass of the caravan door as he was walking through to the bedroom.
Little ghostly white blobs on the grass…
Spectral forms they were not, unfortunately.
Rory’s sheep, tempted by the long, lush grass on our unkempt croft, had broken through the fencing and were chomping away like demons right outside the caravan!
They’ve also grazed all the purple sprouting broccoli, red cabbage and kale in the croft beds down to sad looking stumps. There goes our outdoor winter crops. As if we didn’t have enough competition from the deer!
From now on, until we have the fencing repaired or replaced, all our growing goes on in the polycrub only, where at least there’s some protection from hungry mouths. I’m going to try and sow some replacements, even though it’s late in the season.
On a brighter note, good progress is being made in the house. We have the carcasses being built in the kitchen in preparation for the template guys to come in later in the week and measure up for the worktops.
I can almost imagine it now! The hob arrived yesterday and we’ve just ordered the fridge. It’s taking shape.
The floorboard installation is now complete. I’m loving the natural finish and colour now that it’s down, and it’s completely transformed the rooms.
I’m almost daring to imagine furniture in here! Something I haven’t done so far. It’s felt too much like a building site.
The internal doors have also now been delivered, and they’ll start to be installed next week.
We’ve gone for oak panelled doors, some with glazed panels for where extra daylight is needed, such as between the internal hall and the boot room.
Then it’s architraves, skirtings, window sills, the build out of the kitchen, utility and bathrooms, installation of lights and sockets, and completion of the painting… still lots to do.
My main concern is getting in before the bad winter weather hits. Despite all the delays, and recognising that all this may not be finished in time, we are still hoping for October.
The wet non-summer continues with rain and chilly temperatures closer to autumn.
A gap between the rain showers
We’ve had rain just about every day for months now, and I can’t help watching the blazing summer and terrible droughts and water shortages across the rest of the UK and Europe in despair. Whilst we’re drowning. There has to be a better way to share this. Somehow.
Incoming
Whilst I recover from my operation I’ve been reading books, pottering in the polycrub (which at least provides shelter from the rain) and sewing.
Rainy days
I had a sashiko panel and some threads tucked away in my sewing bag from when we first moved here, so I’ve spent many happy, peaceful hours sewing away.
Sashiko panel
Sashiko is just a running stitch, so it’s repetitive and soothing to do. I’ve finished the main panel now, but need to sew a border and frame to complete it, and to do that I’ll need until we’re in the house and the boxes are unpacked. I’ve got material and a sewing machine in storage that will finish this nicely. This was a progress photo from last week. For now I’ll just pack it away.
Nearly done
The floorboard laying will finish upstairs in the house today, and husband is installing the back-boxes for the sockets in the kitchen this week, so although there’s not much to see, progress still continues. We’re getting there!
Ravencroft Skye 