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 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.