Wild Hut 18

Location:

Kinnoull Hill, Perth

Whilst relaxing in front of the TV one evening I received a random text from a friend which read: “Al Humphreys is around Crieff on the 14th and is looking for a micro-adventure. If you’re about you should contact him through his website and build a wild hut with him! He’d love it”. I laughed off this crazy notion for a few minutes until it quickly grew substance and formed details in my mind. Alastair Humphreys is an adventurer I’ve followed for some time who has completed many inspirational expeditions across the globe.

 

I thought it would be a bit like asking David Attenborough to come round to your house and make a documentary about your cat, it would be unlikely at best. I eventually decided to bite the bullet and contact Al - I could only embarrass myself I thought, and I was well used to that so where’s the harm!?’ I dropped him a quick email, confirmed details…and within hours it was strangely set in my diary.

Now – on a separate tangent, on the other side of the world, the famous Scottish cyclist and broadcaster Mark Beaumont was embarking on a brave ascent of Patagonia’s highest peak, Cerro San Valentin. Mark is a local lad, and was the obvious first choice for any micro-adventure in Perthshire. He initially had to decline due to his expedition commitments, but treacherous conditions and injury saw them return home one week early from the mountain. Mark was now keen to experience this strange den-building challenge and confirmed his attendance during the long-haul flights back from the Santiago.

To help record the event, I also enlisted my friend Richard Patterson (www.360pix.co.uk) who kindly offered to lend his photographic and log-chopping expertise.

The Kinnoull Hill in Perth is characterised by a dominating cliff-top wood and historic tower high above the bustling little city. It offers panoramic views south and east across the winding River Tay and westwards along the complicated concrete approach roads to Perth. Looking down from the edge you can often see great bursts of black crows exploding outwards from the rock face and bouncing effortlessly around in the passing updrafts.

The folly tower dates from 1892 and was built as a romantic gesture by Lord Grey of Kinfauns. Where most people buy flowers or chocolates, Grey went slightly over-board and attempted to recreate the castles-strewn landscape of Rhineland Germany!

It has also been claimed that William Wallace on occasion used the cliffs below Kinnoull Hill as a refuge when pursuit became too close for comfort. No doubt the so-called Dragon’s Hole, which was a substantial cave high up among the rocks, would have been one of the places to which he could retreat. Scottish folklore also hints at the cave being home to a dragon, although I believe more likely an angry badger.

More recently 14 woodland creature carvings have appeared throughout the forest by the sculptor Pete Bowsher. Unfortunately, the cliff top summit also has a sinister reputation as a suicide hotspot. In 2002, a 31-year-old mother-of-two, pushed her two infant children off the hill's summit while they were strapped in their pushchair, before throwing herself off. It’s a strange and dangerous place with a rich mix of history and dramatic views.

The Build:

We met Al following his talk at the outdoor learning conference in Crieff and had soon found a location for our shelter in the shadow of the old cliff-top folly. We had planned to build a simple A-frame shelter which contained 4 bunks and had a roof made from 4 triangular panels. We dispersed into the surrounding woods to source some large deadwood logs for the primary timber frame. Mark had planned to join us later that day as he had only just returned from his Chile expedition the evening prior.

We created some small A-frames which would support 2 large ridge-poles. We then strung the sleeping platforms to the frame and the basic structure was almost complete. Mark arrived in great time after cycling from his home 12 miles away. The heavy work was about to begin, as was the biting wind and fading light. Richard began work on the fire whilst Mark and Al completed the slats on the sleeping platforms. I began to construct a triangular roofing panel which would hopefully trap forest debris between two timber grids like a giant vegetarian toasty.

The most important part of the build was soon upon us – sausages! We ate dinner around the fire and resumed work on the roofing panels. The panels were fairly heavy and took some effort to cajole into place. By 11pm we had positioned all four of the roofing panels and decided to spend some time embellishing the bumpy sleeping platforms. We gathered armfuls of dry grass and spread it evenly across the 4 bunks which now looked surprisingly warm and comfortable.

Roughing it:

In hindsight, if we had spent 5 extra minutes arranging the initial timber posts we could have made the bunks slightly wider and indeed slightly longer which would have been a great help at this late stage. Instead we spent quite some time wriggling into our bunks and squeezing our feet deep into the diminishing corners of the hut.

If there was one thing I knew for definite about Mark Beaumont – is that I was never going to win the battle for feet space with his cycle-strong legs. The whistling wind picked up which soon complimented our chorus of synchronised snoring.

Far below us the cars moved like a river of red light towards Perth, turning yellow on whirlpool roundabouts. Dawn light soon filled the hut as the team woke to a cold bright morning. To the east the River Tay appeared milky-white with reflected sun light en-route to the sea. We gathered our gear and wandered back through the woods slightly tired but refreshed.

It was a pleasure to spend some time with people who are essentially challenging the boundaries and pushing the limits of human capabilities. The only thing I was challenging was the patience of the other commuters on the train home as I filled the carriage with the smell of damp earth and smoky campfires.

 

Click below to view a 360 Virtual Tour - by 360PIX

Wild Hut Microadventure by Alastair Humphreys:

 

Read Mark Beaumonts Blog:

http://markbeaumontonline.com/my-first-lesson-in-wild-hut-building/

Wild Hut 17

Location:
Edmiston Drive, Ibrox, Glasgow



Some colleagues showed a mild interest in building an ‘urban hut’ in Glasgow and with some minor preparation we were soon on the subway after work - bound for Glasgow’s south-side. These colleagues, Ewan Proctor Mason & Gordon Anderson are both season-ticket holders at the infamous Rangers Football Club. They were both aware of a small tract of redundant land to the west of the football stadium which could potentially harbour enough materials for a wild night out.



This part of Glasgow has a very unsavoury reputation, not only for match-day hooliganism but also for real-life murders. There is a noticeable breakdown in the urban fabric here with derelict buildings, storage units and high-rise tower blocks. One of Scotland’s most infamous murderers; Christopher Hutcheson, had once lived in a flat nearby and was thought to have tortured and killed some drug addicts for not paying their bills. He apparently garrotted one of them, chopped up the body and buried them in the back court. This psychopath also attacked people in the courtroom when standing trial. At least he was consistent.



It was with this sinister backdrop that we crossed the stadium overflow carpark and entered a tiny patch of dense woodland. A new railway yard had been extended recently which decimated 80% of this forgotten wild space. The last remaining thicket was situated at a lower level beneath the street and was bound by 2 redundant railway lines to the east and west. One of the old tracks was completely flooded and looked like a deep soupy canal with a fringe of green reeds. The other, to our dismay, contained 2 silhouetted figures spray-painting on the tunnel wall.

 

Much to the displeasure of Ewan and Gordon, we almost universally decided to stand our ground in the hope that they would eventually move off. Without much consultation, I nipped down the embankment towards the group, shown my torch at the pair and started gathering some of the branches which lay strewn on the wet forest carpet. I made sure I was overtly noisy and they soon got spooked and climbed up to the road bridge which overlooked the forest. From their perspective, they were suddenly blind-sided by strange cutting noises and flashing lights.

They tried to provoke a reaction from us by throwing something down then shouting and whistling. They couldn’t figure out what they were dealing with as we stayed quiet and were spread out through the forest. An evening of bushcraft didn’t fit within their frame of reference and so they were obviously uneasy and well-spooked with the situation. After a short time, they mounted their bikes and shouted down – “whit yah dain cuttin aw that wood ya beasts?...ya pure beasts!”  This was the last we heard from them as they sped off westwards towards Drumoyne. 

The Build:
Gordon had conceived the hut design to incorporate 3 sleeping platforms beneath a faceted roof and triangular walls. These all tapered back to a single point meaning that this particular concept was incredibly light on materials. I adapted the entrance for ease of access and built a computerised 3D model. It was just the trick for an evenings build!

For such a tiny patch of forest we were not short of building materials. We gathered enough timber for the whole structure in a very short time and piled it on what looked like an access ramp to forgotten railway platforms. There was a strange fenced-off section of dried plants which looked at first glance like the alien invader - Japanese Knotweed.

 

 

Suddenly strange whistling rang out from around the forest perimeter, covering any possible exit routes. 2 or 3 people where whistling to each other from the bridge to the north and carpark to our east. We watched the situation quietly, somehow feeling that we were being surrounded by a group of youths. As quickly as this threat built-up in our minds it dissolved back into the surrounding city streets and the forest returned to quiet.

We quickly pieced together the structural frame and laddered the walls and roof with twigs, ready to hang the outer skin.

We had noticed that the flooded railway tunnel had a healthy fringe of reeds which we could bale together for roofing tiles. We grabbed some food and completed the outer skin by 2am.

Roughing it:
Due to restricted internal space, we entered the bunks one at a time – awkwardly spreading our weight across these springy twig platforms. Much to my amusement Gordon’s bunk was around 1 foot too short. His feet had to rest on a higher beam in the back corner of the hut. He seemed mildly comfortable although was unable to move all night from this single position. We soon forgot the night’s earlier disruptions and fell asleep as the forest returned to a calm silence.

After a reasonable nights sleep, we woke at first light and packed our gear. Although the weather was reasonable through the night, the hut would have provided some decent shelter and indeed kept us high and dry off the wet forest leaf litter. We had found one of the cities many ‘green lungs’, a wilderness island surrounded by urban infrastructure. We were satisfied with what we had managed to achieve in such a tiny oasis and had successfully scared off the sinister locals. We left the security of the forest gully and re-emerged on the busy roadside looking like cheerful tramps.



Wild Hut 13

Location:

Mugdock Woods, Milngavie

Around 12 o’clock I arrived at Mugdock Woods to the north of Glasgow with a good friend Arran Brown for another crazy hutting weekend. Arran had never slept outside and was strangely sympathetic to the notion of building a hut just for the sheer experiential impact. He is currently self-employed so these new skills may have a practical usefulness in the economic downturn. We followed some muddy trails (more commonly known as the West Highland Way) until we arrived deep within the forest and surrounded by plenty foraging materials. It was a gorgeous bright winter’s day and strangely mild for the time of year.

These woods skirt the satellite towns of Milngavie and Bearsden, which results in thousands of jolly walkers filtering through the damp forest from various nodal car parks and leafy boulevards. We picked a relatively quiet place for the build and were instantly confronted by a team of clambering kids who had noticed our unmanned rucksacks and obviously hadn’t noticed us. They instantly veered off in a different direction and were soon replaced by a caravan of dog walkers and their associated unruly dogs that sniffed through our rucksacks like hairy customs officers. The locals were all morbidly inquisitive and over-friendly considering its proximity to murderous Glasgow and the fact I was wielding an axe.  We longed for the tranquil veil of darkness.

The build:

I had sat up the previous night brainstorming ideas for this two-person hut construction but hadn’t finalised the design until the next morning. I had scribbled an irregular shaped triangular pod which all tapered back to a single tree. This should allow plenty head room, fit 2 beds and be fairly enclosed. It was also light on material with only a handful of structural members required. Arran seemed happy with the conceptual approach and we set about arranging the basic structure with some wet mossy branches and garden string.

The basic frame was lashed together in only a couple of hours and we set about bailing the dried bracken for use on the walls and roof. This was time consuming in the rain but by 6pm we had covered around 3 square meters of walling each with only the roof and gable-end still to complete. We downed tools and headed to Milngavie for some food. Many beers later we somehow found the hut-site again in the blackness and set about completing the roof and side panels.

I noticed some random movement beneath the bracken and for the next hour I wondered if I might uncover a hibernating Adder. I had a friend who was bitten by an Adder fairly close to these woods when he was lifting boulders as a kid. Being elbow deep in boulders and moss in the dark is always unnerving as soon as you think about snakes…the beers didn’t help. The fact it was winter though makes a sighting completely implausible. A fear of snakes is fairly healthy though, I have a friend who is scared of cows! How is that possible? We completed the roof and soon laid sticks out for the sleeping platforms. The hut was complete by midnight and the sky cleared to reveal a cosmic array of tiny lights.

Roughing it:

We rolled our sleeping mats out and lay down. The sleeping platforms were completely rigid and the hut façade seemed fairly weather-tight. This was one of the best sleeps yet it has to be said. There was a great feeling of enclosure and the air inside the hut seemed still. We hadn’t bothered spending the extra hour required to build a front door which may have been even better. Still, the structure was roomy and fairly sheltering from the elements.

I jokingly mentioned to Arran that we will probably be woken in the morning by a big dribbling dog peering through the doorway…and with sorry-synchronicity a giant brown gasping K9 face poured itself into the hut at 9am with sniffling intent. I explained to the dog that it should probably best leave and it reticently took my advice.

Other than Arran’s snoring (sorry Arran) it was a comfortable night’s sleep. We packed up our gear and swam against the tide of dog walkers and joggers back to the train.