Wild Hut 20

Location:

Avon Water, Hamilton

A good friend Gordon Anderson was keen to experience another wild hut building challenge. We parked the car at Chatelherault Country Park just outside Gordon’s home town of Hamilton and followed a woodland trail which shadowed the River Avon far below. These ancient woodlands were one of the great assets of the royal hunting estate of Cadzow, which came into the possession of the progenitors of the Hamilton family in the early 14th century.

 

We passed some huge gnarled trees which looked like a herd of calcified elephants, and is thought to be the oldest living oak woodland in Scotland. Dendrochronology (scientific tree-ring analysis) has ascribed them to the 1460s (550 years old-ish).

Soon after, we passed another interesting feature - a carved old log which read; “As soon as you take one thing by itself you find it hitched to everything else in the universe”. It was intriguing to find some John Muir paraphrasing deep in these ancient woods. Muir expanded on this point with another less elegant but more descriptive quote; "When we try to pick out anything by itself we find that it is bound fast by a thousand invisible cords that cannot be broken, to everything in the universe.” I’m fairly sure we humans will hang ourselves with these cords long before we understand their critical value.

The Build:

We came to a sharp bend as the path steered away from some steep falling ground. As we left the path in search of a suitable build site, I noticed the cool forest had a thick carpet of wild garlic and tumbled trees. Gordon suggested that our hut concept echoed the form of an old ‘look-out hide’ which was perfectly fitting for this royal hunting estate location. This poetic observation helped to connect the project with the rich history of the woods.

 

As the area is predominantly characterised by a dramatic steep-sided gorge, I thought it would also be fitting to create a structure that dove-tailed with the topography. We decided to create a sleeping platform which could be suspended above this steep gorge by projecting out from the hillside. We scooped up a plentiful supply of fallen deadwood and bound the primary structure with biodegradable garden twine.
 

 

Gordon found working with the twine a minor struggle so I got to work on 4 large sandwich panels as he arranged the sleeping platform. The panels were heavy and difficult to place at high level. As I climbed on the structure in order to arrange a roofing panel I smashed through one half of the sleeping platform. After I patched it up Gordon suggested that at least he now knew which side he was sleeping on!
 

 

We had a deadline for 6:30pm as the Champions League football final was being played that evening and we had ambitions to watch it. We completed the last roofing panel together and hauled it onto the frame. Other than some patching-up, the build was complete by 6:45pm and we headed back along the twisting path for a mixed Kebab and a night of European football action.
 

 

Roughing it:

At around 10pm we hopped back into the car with a football sized kebab wedged in our stomachs, remarking on how lucky it was that the hut was well ventilated.

 

We parked the car in a nearby housing estate and walked swiftly past groups of arguing youths. Our packs were laden with camping gear and we tried not to draw any unwanted attention to ourselves. We crossed the formal lawn at Chatelherault Estate and noticed a fox silently stalking some rabbits in the darkness.
 

 

Back at the hut-site we spent an extra hour building a small sandwich panel each which completed the roof covering. A large lemon-yellow moon shone through the dark woods as we climbed precariously onto the elevated platform and wriggled into our sleeping bags. The sound of the river rushing far below was often broken by the sound of distant cars screeching through the nearby country lanes. Similarly, Gordon’s snoring was often interrupted by the sound of screeching foxes in the fields beyond the forest edge. I’m not altogether sure which was better.
 

 

We woke to a typical Scottish breakfast of mince pie, washed down with some luminous orange Irn-Bru (which incidentally has a warning on the can suggesting it may cause ‘behavioural changes in children’?!) It was indeed the breakfast of champions.

After a loud cracking noise I turned to see Gordon snapping through his bed slats. He pulled his arse back through the branches and re-distributed his weight more evenly.  

It turns out it is very difficult to control your laughter when someone is dangling precariously in their sleeping bag over a steep embankment.

Wild Hut 16

Location:
Pacific Quay, Glasgow

I noticed blue lights flashing and through the rain I could see an ambulance parked awkwardly in the road and a man being held by the throat against the building opposite. A typical Saturday evening in Glasgow I thought! The rain was fairly heavy and had been pouring all day. I decided this was a perfect night for a wild hut adventure.

I had noticed that building work had begun on my favourite little plot of land on the Clyde-side. 25 years of woods and wildlife had been scraped clean in less than a day, revealing old cobbled roads and retaining walls. The new Masterplan for this area includes strategic routes, hotels and office buildings (View part of the design). The thing that struck me was the maturity of the trees that were being cleared. For an inner-city site it looked like commercial forestry at work, with trailers full of heavy timber ready for the sawmill.



I followed a familiar little trail through the undergrowth until I arrived at the edge of the destruction. I remember following a little fox along this wooded trail with the surrounding branches full of screeching Magpies and Wood Pigeons. The Grey Herons who once stood like concrete statues in the tall reeds will never return. It looked like a tsunami aftermath – just thick mud and a tangle of broken trees.

I don’t like to get sentimental over one patch of scrub-land but I think urban density needs to be tempered with negative space - areas for wild resurgence. On the plus side, there was enough chopped materials here for all 100 huts so I wasn’t complaining for long.

The Build:
I decided to build quite an elegant triangular form. It consisted of two simple A-frame structures, which supported a triangular sleeping platform with roof above. Both the sleeping platform and roof tapered back to a single point. This reduced the material requirement and made it quite a quick and efficient build.

I constructed two free standing A-frames and strung the bed and roof structure together in super-quick time. I was slowed down considerably though as groups of screaming youths passed on the road above every few minutes. I felt really exposed with the lack of ground cover and crouched down behind stacks of timber like an animal shunning human contact.

The rain hadn’t stopped all night and it would be safe to say I was pretty wet. I was knee deep in mud through much of the foraging and could feel my face was caked in it too. It felt a bit like commando camouflage but I knew I would feel stupid walking home. I had the look of someone who had attempted to drink a puddle.

I laddered the roof with straight lengths of wood, using gravity to hold them in place. I then used upturned moss and turf to form a skin over the roof timbers and hold them in place. This ‘wattle and dob’ style roofing was quick and extremely effective. I built a short windbreak with some broken evergreen branches and the full hut was complete in only 3.5 hours.

Roughing it:
The rain hadn’t stopped all night and I pulled off my squelching wellies and wriggled onto the sleeping platform. It was a good test for this little hut as I’m sure even my tent would have packed in during such a heavy and constant downpour.

I put on a hat and snuggled down into the sleeping bag feeling the odd drip find its way through the layers of debris. The wind seemed to change direction from west to north-west, but the windbreak was well positioned around my head. I wondered how I would fall asleep – I was wide awake and there is a row of glowing flats on the road above. Taxi’s sped past every few minutes and people laughed in the rain on their drunken walk home from town.

Before long I was fast asleep and only woke to the sounds of birds chirping the following morning. I opened my eyes to see a black shape darting around the mud below the hut. It was still dark and I was sure it was a rat. It moved again and to my relief it was a blackbird searching for the early worm. It was odd to see bird-life in the darkness. It was almost 7am and the sun had not yet risen.

I watched the blackbird dart around the ground instinctively and wondered if it was following the same route it had done for years through the old forest? I wondered if by studying the bird’s movements you could build up a picture of how the forest was arranged before it was destroyed a few days earlier. I wondered if the residual mental maps of these birds could reveal the historic forest landscape through their confused movements, like a ghost or x-ray. Animals are highly adaptable I thought. Which is lucky as their eviction notice came in the form of a chainsaw.

It was soon light and as I walked home I felt like a travelling mud-wrestler. I passed about 10 people who looked at me with some concern. I checked my reflection in a car window and realised that my head looked like a chocolate truffle with bed-hair. I cleaned my wellies in a puddle and felt a lot better.

Wild Hut 14

Location:

Carbeth Loch, by Strathblane.

 

3-Man Shelter:

I was very fortunate to be contacted by the producer of BBC Scotland’s radio show ‘Out of Doors’ – Chris Sleight. He seemed keen to feature the 100 Wild Huts project on his show. People have often said to me that I ‘have a face for radio’ so this seemed like a great opportunity. I also somehow managed to persuade the producer to help actually build a wild hut and sleep rough for one night. He agreed to come along, although I’m not sure he initially grasped the lengthy timeframes and workloads involved.

I was keen to explore with him the craft, the architectural quality and the experiential impact of creating a shelter and sleeping rough outdoors. I had a growing concern though that I would sound, to a national audience, like a bumbling idiot or indeed just an eccentric fool! It’s probably a fair reflection though as eccentricity and I have been happy bed-fellows for some time.

We pulled the cars over in a lay-by close to Carbeth Loch on the West Highland Way. Carbeth is around 11 miles north of Glasgow and fairly close to the orbital towns of Milngavie and Strathblane.  Ironically, Carbeth has a history of hutting dating back to the1920’s. Around 140 self-built retreats are scattered around the loch and surrounding area which has taken on the appearance of a caravan holiday park built by beavers.

The community of huts were established as a retreat from the stifling effects of Glasgow and Clydebank’s heavy industrial heritage. This is a notion I’m sympathetic to. They recently completed a community land buy-out: “The hutters would like to extend an invitation for people to come along and explore Carbeth.  In the next 2 years the hutters will need lots of support, funding, media attention and solidarity.  There are also opportunities to buy huts and sites and join the hutting movement into the future.”

 

  

I also invited a university friend Richard Patterson to help with the build as Chris would be occupied with his BBC recording duties and to our delight he even agreed to cook us dinner! My friend Richard has a company which specialises in ‘Virtual Tours’ (www.360pix.co.uk) and was interested in shooting some 360° photographs of the hut interior on it’s completion. The build was not only being recorded ‘acoustically’ for radio purposes, but also recorded ‘panoramically’ for visual purposes (I also offered to complete the full set and record the smell and taste of everything!...they weren't impressed).

  

We gathered our bundles of gear and ascended a steep track which led up into some mixed woodland. The elevated spot we picked for the build was fairly close to a crop of dried bracken and a tangled spaghetti of fallen branches. There seemed to be a natural ledge cut into the hillside, with a steep forested slope ascending to the east and dropping sharply away to the west. The temperature was threatening to plummet to -4 and we knew we had to keep busy in order to stay warm.

  

The Build:

The forest seemed to be fairly unmanaged and the volume of storm-felled timber was a pleasure. As I waffled mindlessly for the radio production, Richard flew into action and gathered most of the timber required for the entire build in less than an hour. As is the normal routine now, we bundled the timbers into ‘structural’ and ‘non structural’ piles. After some initial recording Chris and I got to work and lashed together a series of simple A-frame sections. We then laid out a number of long timbers - strategising about the sleeping platform and roof construction.

On completion of the first platform, we positioned it in a clearing between the trees. Unfortunately the sagging structure jiggled sideways like wobbly jelly. Keeping the components upright and straight is a bit like pushing custard uphill. Finally after a few more turns of the garden twine - this first part of the structure was now free standing(ish). Richard completed the 2nd mirror image component and we aligned them in position ready to bridge between with the third sleeping platform. After a few more timbers were added – the whole structure became rigid. As more wood was overlaid the joints tightened with laminating rigidity.

Due to limited tools Chris found all the timber for the bed platforms as Richard and I bailed the bracken tiles for the roofing. We worked efficiently as a team, pausing from time to time to partake in interviews. The bracken was icy and interwoven with shards of frozen snow which made it awkward to bail. After some outstanding sausages for dinner (thanks Chris) and many hours of tiling bracken the structure was complete and ready for road testing.

Richard had started a campfire inside the hut which had a great warming effect although also threatened to choke everyone in their sleep and sizzle holes through their sleeping bags. Being the most intelligant of the 3 – I picked the bunk directly in the line of wind-driven smoke and ash. It was indeed the warmest bunk but the smoke inhalation took the edge off my enjoyment.

Roughing it:

The fire subsided as we lay down on the beds of rolling logs at around 1am (-4 degrees). We recorded a short interview before bed and were all in agreement that this was quite a pleasing hut-structure and were satisfied with the outcome and efficiency of the build. An owl was hooting from a nearby tree, which was soon replaced with synchronised snoring from 2 nearby bunks.  

An hour or two later I was awoken with the padding footsteps of a heavy animal just by the hut. It seemed to approach the hut then amble off through the undergrowth. The next morning Chris had also heard something snuffling around our bags outside. He thought it was perhaps a fox or deer, I wondered if it might have been a badger as it sounded heavy?

(Now…I mentioned the possibility of it being a badger on the radio interview and then frantically searched the internet on my return home incase badgers hibernated all winter…I didn’t want to sound both stupid and eccentric all in one 6 min radio programme.)

An orange haze glowed on the horizon as the sun glanced through the dark forest. We stirred in our bunks early and recorded a final section for the radio show where I blurted a few incoherent words whilst trying to sound awake. We said our goodbyes to Chris who had a busy schedule including the school run that morning and a full day's work. Richard used the welcome dawn light to take some 360 panoramic photographs and we packed our gear away.

I mentioned that it’s always astounding how many people show an interest in the simple act of building a make-shift roof and bed in a wild place. It must be an integral part of being human, a natural instinct that can only be engaged with through the act of exploring and building. Richard suggested that the radio chap had gone now and that I could stop talking rubbish!

View 360 Tours of this hut courtesy of 360PIX

http://www.360pix.co.uk/tours/100wildhuts/

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.