Tag: highland

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Snow, sills and orange cake

We have snow on the tops at last. I always compare the weather at this time of the year with when we arrived on the island two years ago in the teeth of a storm, and both subsequent years have been warmer. I was beginning to wonder if we’d see any snow at all, but temperatures plummeted a few days ago and we now have a glorious white dusting on the high peaks.

Dusting of snow on the hills

The MVHR and the heating are operating well in the house. It’s already significantly warmer and more stable in temperature than the caravan.

As we shiver and dress in the damp cold of 5°C mornings I hold onto the fact that we’ll be in the house in a few weeks time. No more icy mornings playing the duvet game trying to dress without exposing any bare flesh to the elements.

After a wait of several weeks the wood for the sills arrived this afternoon, cheerfully delivered by our local sawmill guy. In the end he decided that the pews would be rather wasted if we were to refinish them for sills, and that he would prefer to preserve the original patina, so declined to sell them to us and found us suitable 4m lengths of local Douglas fir instead.

4m Douglas fir planks

I can’t say that I blame him, although I was quite taken by the idea of old wood having a second life in our new home. But at least that patina, burnished by the bottoms of the righteous as it was, will be protected.

Husband has been fitting sockets, switches and lights like a demon and will move onto one of the bathrooms next week. Once we are electrickified and have a working toilet and shower, we’re in!

The fact that the house is still stuffed to the rafters with building materials, tools, equipment, wood and boxes of everything that you can think of is another hurdle to get over. Once everything is connected up…

In the meantime I have tried a new recipe in my sloping caravan mini oven. This may be one of the very last cakes I bake in here, isn’t that such a strange thought. My new ovens await, sitting there, smugly level, shiny and pristine.

This is Nigel Slaters orange and poppy seed cake, sticky with a fresh orange and marmalade glaze which I hope won’t taste any less good for it’s signature 45° slope.

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We have warmth!

Ha ha! Happy faces! The sun has returned! The air and the soil have warmed up and as I speak we have blue skies and a soft, warm breeze.

It will be the midges soon, but I’m hoping that being at the top of a hill with more wind than most that we’ll escape the worst of them. We’re prepared, just in case – I’ve bought midge hats and nets so that if we do get bombarded we have a fighting chance of avoiding being eaten alive whilst we run back to the caravan.

Impromptu BBQ

We had an impromptu barbecue last night to celebrate the lovely evening. These shots were taken at about 7pm. As the sun dipped behind the hill at the back of the croft at around 10pm it started to get colder, and we wrapped up in blankets and added a bit more wood to the fire.

The birds are singing, the sun is shining, and husband has thrown open all the doors and windows in the house whilst he is working so that it cools down.

I don’t want to count my chickens, but it seems like summer has come at last…

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Growing beds

We had a dry, sunny, spring-like day this week and we decided to build a hugelkutur bed alongside the wooden raised beds that we’d built last month.

These are permaculture growing beds built over a core of wood or brash, with turf, soil and compost layers. They allow plants to grow where the soil would otherwise be too shallow.

The theory is that the central core of wood slowly decomposes, releasing nutrients into the bed. We will be adding to it annually with top-dressing to keep its depth consistent. This is a no-dig bed.

We built a small 4m bed, starting with a cardboard base to try and suppress the rush growth, and dragged up dead branches from the copse at the western edge of the croft to form the core.

We added layers of soil, compost and bark chip mulch until we had something about 60 cm deep. Some hugelkutur beds are much taller than this, like giant earth Toblerones, but as an experiment we figured that this was big enough.

We’ve planted up the rhubarb crowns in it and I’m eyeing the rest of the bed up for potatoes and perhaps kale over the coming weeks.

We’ll need to lay bark chip paths between the beds as it’s already starting to look like the Somme with all the wheelbarrow and wellie work recently churning up the mud.

If this works I can see more of these being constructed later in the year.

It’s a simple idea and reminds me very much of the lazybeds or runrigs on the hillside above the croft where previous generations of farmers scraped enough soil into mounds to grow food.

These ancient forms of land tenure are said to predate the crofting system, and it appeals to me that this more modern system of permaculture is really the same thing.

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When it rains…

When it rains here, it really rains.

The croft feels like a giant sponge, the grass squelchy underfoot as it tries its best to absorb the huge quantity of water being thrown at it from the sky.

Yes, that’s horizontal rain.

When it’s like this, no waterproofs that I’ve ever come across will keep you dry for long. It’s best to retreat indoors for a cup of tea and wait it out.

We have pools of rainwater everywhere. The burn, which normally trickles gently through the hills at the back of the croft, has become a foaming torrent of water tumbling its way to the sea.

This is an older video from September, with the burn in medium flow. Now it’s about twice as full, I just haven’t been brave enough to make my way down there for a more recent picture.

Wish I could send you some, Green Goddess 🌿.

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Highland Coos next door

In our village there lives a crofter called Angus who keeps Highland cows. These are small, long-horned, shaggy-coated cows of neolithic origin, the archetypal Scottish cow.

Hardy and good natured, as well as very intelligent, these cows are escape artists. Often the call goes out around the village that there is a cow in the road, and it’s invariably one belonging to Angus.

This week Angus has been grazing them in the top field which is adjacent to our croft. One morning we tugged back the curtains in the static to find three large cows staring back at us from a few metres away on the other side of the hedge.

They are curious beasts. As the day progressed, whenever they spotted us out on the croft they’d migrate towards us, shaggy heads shaking and mooing, in anticipation of a feed, I suspect.

I’m very taken by them. Much more so than with the sheep.

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Snowy hills & soul food

The weather turned very cold last night, down to an overnight temperature of a few degrees. We awoke to snow on the high peaks around us and an internal caravan temperature of four degrees C.

To say that getting out of the warmth of the quilt was a struggle this morning would be an understatement..

Slowly building supplies are arriving for the next stage of the house build.

We need to block gaps and start the insulating foil on the walls before we start the underfloor heating, but we await more foil, staples and other materials. With any luck everything will arrive in the next week and we can get started.

In the meantime, without a working oven, I’m relying on our local stores to bake delicious, savoury, carb-rich loveliness to keep us motivated in the form of bacon and cheese scones.

We need extra energy in this cold to stay warm and working. I don’t feel guilty at all for the large bowl of tomato soup and two of these beauties warmed and spread with butter for supper.

Soul food.

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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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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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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..