Category: croft

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Eating our local deer

The news spread that the local village store had some estate venison for sale this week, so I hot-footed it over to see what was available.

I picked up a 500g pack of diced venison (no haunch of venison for us as we have no way of roasting it right now 😕) and decided to make a venison ragu for dinner in the slow cooker.

Deer are a problem here on the island. They no longer have any natural predators and as such their numbers are out of control. There is talk of reintroducing lynx to the Highlands after many hundreds of years of extinction through over hunting, but nothing has yet come of it because of farmers concerns for their sheep.

What there is in place is a selective culling programme across most estates, and when that happens Clan Venison appears in the local outlets.

It’s cheaper than Highland beef, totally free range and organic, almost fat-free and very tasty. And every deer we eat is one less to eat our baby trees when we plant them next year. What’s not to love?

I cooked the venison with red wine, red onions, chopped tomatoes, peppers, garlic, juniper berries and a sloosh of balsamic vinegar. Four hours in the slow cooker. I forgot to add the chestnut mushrooms that I’d bought.

Divine.

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The stone

Ever since we first walked the croft two years ago and and fell in love with it, we’ve been intrigued with the small, bare outcrop of stone that we have on the southern slope.

We’ve always wondered what it is. We are built mainly on shale, which appears all over the croft. But this isn’t like shale, which is a layered, crumbly rock.

It’s a very hard, smooth rock and with a slightly crystaline structure.

Local geology maps show that we are sited on an outcrop of Lewissian Gneiss, one of the world’s oldest rocks. But it doesn’t quite look like the stripy gneiss that I’ve seen elsewhere in images.

A helpful islander (thank you Julian!) who is also a geologist offered to come and have a closer look for us when he was in the area and confirm what it was. He explained it could be granite, or gneiss – it was difficult to identify from a picture.

He popped over a few days ago and we had a socially distanced chat. He’s confirmed that it’s definitely gneiss. I would have been happy with any diagnosis, but I really happy that it’s what we thought it was.

There’s something comforting in knowing that your land contains some of the oldest rock in the world.

As old as the beginnings. As old as the legends.

That’s just so cool somehow. 😎

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Hurrah for Hot Water!

This is a very short post to mark the momentous occasion, after two weeks of caravan life, of the connection of hot water.

Going for a weekly hot shower in Kyle was fine, but a 25 mile round trip meant it wasn’t really feasible much more frequently than that.

And with the wind and rain whipping around us daily, we get muddier and dirtier than I thought possible.

Husband connected up the pipes and installed a new boiler over the last few days, and after a break in the weather this morning completed the last bits of the connection.

We now have a working toilet, a shower and a hot water tap in the kitchen. Doing my happy dance.

Isn’t it amazing how we take things like this for granted.

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Storm Crows and the Raven

I’m sitting in the static watching the rain and wind bluster across the Sound.

It’s a wild one out there today and I’m happy to be wrapped up indoors and sheltered. Husband is busy installing the boiler (how excited am I for hot water one day soon that I don’t have to boil on the stove!) and the spaniel has assumed his prone position by the fire. It’s not a day to be working outdoors.

In the field looking east across the hillside there are a large number of crows, all wheeling and soaring together, an impressive sight. There must be at least thirty or forty of them, collectively called, I believe, a murder of crows. I’m convinced that they’re playing in the wind.

Occasionally one will take off and hover in almost motionless balance, trying to hold its own against the force of the wind before tipping its wings and allowing itself to be blown backwards and upwards across the hill. The others then do the same in sequence, like dancers in a ballet . It’s definitely a social activity of some sort!

We also have a raven. We may have more than one, as they’re often in pairs, but we definitely have at least one.

I heard it calling yesterday morning, a gutteral, deep sound quite unlike the crows. I’m so pleased to hear that it’s still here. We named the house Raven House because we spotted a couple of them overhead when we first visited the croft.

Such enigmatic, intelligent birds. They seem very at home here on these rainswept hillsides.

And according to legend, where I discovered that they are the symbol on the MacDonald Battle Flag, whose lands we are on, they’ve been here since time immemorial.

I like that.

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Once around the slow cooker

Two chicken breasts, a pepper, and a non-working oven? No problem as long as you have store cupboard staples and a slow cooker.

Spicy chicken with tomato and peppers cooked in the slow cooker for four hours with basmati rice to the rescue for dinner.

Husband brought in the box with my kitchen spices today for unpacking.

As I unpacked I added in a generous scoop of dried chilli flakes, a tin of chopped tomatoes, smoked paprika, onion, far too much garlic to be sociable, smoked salt flakes and a little sugar.

Luckily he didn’t bring in the canned goods box or I might have been tempted to chuck in some tinned pineapple. Maybe that would have been a step too far.. 😏 A tin of borlotti or butter beans would however have been a worthy addition.

The slow cooker did the rest.

Served with a spoonful of Greek yoghurt as a balm to the heat, it was one of those ‘once around the cupboard’ dinners that went down well after a long day.

I can’t wait to source some local venison to make a venison stew soon. I’m sure that there is a bottle of port in the boxes somewhere found at the back of one of the London kitchen cupboards before we moved. I’m thinking beef bourgignon but with venison. And mashed potatoes.

We are eating out of bowls most of the time now, like four year olds. It’s just easier.

Just don’t ask me for chicken dippers.

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Mud glorious mud

The torrential storms of the last few days have reduced the area around the caravan to a patch of deep mud.

It was supposed to have all been filled in with Type One, but at the last minute in August before the static arrived we realised that the area prepared for it was two metres shorter than was needed, and an emergency digger evacuation had to take place.

Which didn’t leave us time to backfill that extra area with aggregate. And which has now rendered access to the front door of the caravan almost impassable. It’s like the Somme around there. Wellies sink several inches in.

And of course although the spaniel could go the other way around the caravan to gain access, he always dives straight in to the mud pool. Nice.

So my task today whilst husband was working hard on the caravan was to wheelbarrow tonnes of type one around to the mud patch and shovel it manually into the vast, mud-sucking void in order to gain some traction and slightly drier access.

I couldn’t do it. I managed one barrow load and my knee was so stiff and painful that I had to stop. I’ve clearly over-estimated what I can do seven weeks after knee surgery and after several months of inactive lockdown. Another job for my poor husband.

We need this to be able to manoever the mattress into the static and have a better night’s sleep tonight! Slightly damp sofa cushions aren’t the best way to ensure a restful night, even though we were well wrapped up and cosy in our quilt in front of the fire.

Thankfully the weather gods have smiled on us at last and the next few days are forecast to be mild and mainly dry.

We will overcome. I just feel pretty pathetic right now.

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The First Snows

The weather changes every fifteen minutes here on the island. Squally hail showers is what we’re getting now, although they do blow themselves out and we are left with bright, clear air that makes everything seem scrubbed and very intense.

Work on connecting water and power to the caravan has meant husband has had to dash out between the showers and work as best he can until the next flurry of rain or hail hits.

We noticed the first snow on the high mountains of Knoydart today. Winter is with us.

Heating the caravan to try and dry out the dampness is starting to work. We managed to get the inside temperature to 19 degrees centigrade from a standing start of 4 degrees this morning, and the dampness/humidity levels reduced from 80% to a much more comfortable 50%.

The caravan is single glazed and has no real insulation, which is going to make a Highland winter interesting. I think a couple of thermal lined door curtains, thick socks and our super warm quilt are going to be necessities as snowy days approach..

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Everything aches..

The first job we’ve had to do is to make the caravan habitable. For those of you that have been reading for a while, you’ll know that we were given a free static caravan in September, which was a hugely generous gesture.

However, it was very basic and hadn’t been lived in for a while. We had it transported to the croft and had to leave it empty for a further two months until we were able to move to the island, which didn’t help in the habitability stakes..(if that’s not a word, it should be).

When we opened the door for the first time on Saturday it was quite clear that it was damp and needed drying out before we could move in.

Storm Aiden made the process of working on the caravan too dangerous for the first few days that we were here. It needed levelling properly before we could do anything inside, but the 60 mph winds were rocking it like a boat. We had to wait until the storm passed.

The morning dawned calm and bright and the wind had at last dropped considerably. Husband had managed to secure the caravan so that it was safe to work in, and hooked up the propane supply to the gas fire so that we could start to dry it out. Whilst he worked on preparing the electrical supply I started the seat repairs and the painting.

As we suspected, everything ached by the end of the day. We are more unfit than we thought!

We got back to our B&B room weary in body but happy in spirit. We’re here at last and making progress, however slow that may seem.

We will get fitter as time passes, and despite the aching limbs and backs it’s still all worth it to be here.

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Autumn in the Highlands

We drove the last part of our journey today up to the Isle of Skye. Our trip today took us from the borders of Scotland up through the Trossocks, Glencoe and Fort William across to Kyle of Localsh and over the bridge onto the island.

It was a blustery autumn day in the Highlands, but the wind kept the rain clouds moving, and each outbreak of rain was interspersed with the most amazing light and colour.

The leaves, bracken and heathers were a carpet of russet and golds.

My phone camera couldn’t do them justice at all, especially through the glass of a smeary car window, but I hope these snaps will give you a pale glimpse of the glory that is the Highlands at this time of the year.

We were exhausted when we eventually reached the island, but as there was still a bit of light before the sun set, we couldn’t resist dropping in on the croft to let Bertie stretch his legs and take his first introductory sniffs of the land.

He seemed to like it 😊.

Next a quick supper, a hot bath and a good night’s sleep ready for the work to start tomorrow.

We’re weary but happy. It still feels a bit unreal.

We made it.

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The Big Drive North

The removals van arrives this afternoon and we should complete loading tomorrow. Once it’s gone, we’ll lock up the house, say goodbye to London and start the grand trek north to the island.

The island house is now fully wind and water tight, with electricity and water connections in place. It’s ready for us to take over the next phase building out the services and internal works.

There will be a bit of radio silence now until we arrive, but when I post next it will be from our croft.

At last.