The book of Revelations

I know its been a while since I posted and a lot has happened. During the course of this blog there have been times when through either curtesy or prudence it has seemed best not to include various details or “truths” but the time has now come to reveal nearly all, or at least a few titbits that were hitherto omitted.

The woodland project has come full circle so to speak inasmuch as I am now managing the wood alone, apart from my redoubtable sharp shooter Adrian, so just as I started out almost 7 years ago. This not so much an admission of failure as an admission of mutiny and desertion.

Not long after starting work in the wood I started gathering helpers and colleagues as word got out of my activities. This was a great enabler of the projects that I have been chronicling.

At one stage Paulie and Sophie were living in the above Pod accompanied by dogs ducks and towards the end Child.

Simultaneously the irrepressible Phil lived in the wagon, for 2 years in total.

Unfortunately, and as a few told me was inevitable, tension grew up between the residents and the day workers leading to the abandoning of the woods by the day workers and the rather too late realisation that residents should always have been off the menu apart from some sporadic seasonal campers perhaps.

Here is a nearly romantic scene, straight out of the grapes of wrath, with a few months old Peggety with Sophy, preparing for their departure. Paulie spent a month or so kitting out his horse box for them to live in. There were a few tense moments but in the end, after a year months of rain, flood, plague, rats and frogs they were ready for pastures new and are moving north to Sophy’s homeland.

As can be seen the home on wheels gained some woodland content and was none too shabby by the time it passed it’s MOT and rolled away. Not sure where they are as I write.

I hope the plants survived. Note the back door with some of the last planks to roll off the sawmill. Nice work.

So Phil made his way back to Devon and was last seen trundling across the moors. I hope he keeps up his fine green woodworking.

So it could, and has been said that the project has failed, with myself left holding the reigns, with a faulty spine to boot. Actually a lot has been learned by many and much achieved. For now it is a place for my own firewood and Adrian’s stalking passions and the peace and quiet of old has returned and it is nice to spend time down there without the pressure of “all that needs to be done” looming.

My 2 elder sons, one to be seen in the Duke of Chutney’s old driving coat, have an annual party on site. Joined this years by 6 rapid response police cars who suspected a rave, Luckily they got into the spirit of the evening and were hard to get rid of.

In the meantime I have been remodelling the wood back to the “natural” theme, clearing up what all my ex wooders didn’t want or forgot they owned. Its starting to look good. The phrase “I’m so miserable without you its almost like having you here” springs to mind. Sorry!

All the while the barn is being filled with firewood gathered from here and there. I have a supply to keep me warm into the ice age. Not for sale these days and I can now enjoy the real thing rather than the tailings that were not good enough for market.

The lovely sawmill has gone and is probably being far more productive in its new home.

So I am left with my trusty old girl the Fordson Major tractor which just had 15 gallons of fresh gear oil poured into her back end!!!!!

The barn and workshop stand and the wagon is for sale, with no takers yet. I may yet change my mind after working out that it is my most valuable possession after my home, but that will all change when I get round to ordering my Bentley.

Here’s a pic for the old metal fans. Old coolant out, fresh antifreeze in. Many many old tractors have cracked engine blocks. A disgraceful disrespect to objects of engineering integrity that are no longer made. Snorrrrrrrrrrrrre.

Note the clockwise twist made to…

replace an anti clockwise barley sugar. I will add it was not my mistake but I was sort of in charge and lost some sleep. It was decided to fit it anyway as the folly was previously owned by a renowned creative eccentric who would have appreciated the tromp. We are nearly all smiling now anyway.

The main story all started with Ben, who is now building his own woodland and woodworking centre.

He has a wonderful sense of material and craft and will do well.

I am presently concocting stories of wilder places and unruly folk and plan to expose the the web to that in the future and the disappointment of ending a full time job in the woods is tempered by having fulfilled some ambitions; milling timber from trees I felled, working outdoors rather than in and being amongst like minded craftsmen. Or perhaps it was just an excuse to own a tractor or two?

Wagon painted and a strange event

It has been a while now since I last posted and quite alot has happened but I will start with the strange event. Late at night on 25th October I took the dog out and to my astonishment noticed that our gate was plastered with woodlice. Absolutely 100’s. Never seen it before. In fact it seemed so unlikely that I went back and got my camera. Have found nothing about woodlice swarms in my research either. Next I got to the field and to my even greater amazement the air was abuzz with the chirp of grasshoppers. A real chorus. End of October!! The moon was a waxing gibbous, not full yet and it was pretty cold but they knew something. No idea what. Still no idea 5 weeks later and no sign of the end of the world.

Talking of the end of the world, that is due on 21st December and I have a boat in the garage and an outboard motor brought down from Scotland specially. Apparently it will be a watery end so I have done what I can and if it comes by way of rain I have cleared the gutters too. If its rising water then we are 400 feet above sea level and where will all that extra water materialise from. I don’t dismiss it out of hand but do have genuine doubts and have planned a lie in, a big lunch and a family get together.

I left you with a partially dismantled wagon and here is the first sign of it going back together again. I had some treated v lining boards that just required thicknessing down a little and the width altering which was not much less than machining from scratch but a head start is a head start.

The wagon began to look happier now that it was “going back together” and my anxiety that all that would be left was the drawbar proved unfounded. The header is oak, the lining treated softwood. Inside you can see the new mirror I made to replace the rather unpleasant mass produced one that came with the wagon. Vanity? No, a real need to remove the odd intruder to the eye which is not uncommon in the wood.

I had removed the windows so that I could paint the window reveals and I took them home to scrape, putty, plane a little here and there for a better fit and paint. I had a little left over international ranch paint which went on well despite being very old. Incidentally they no longer make it which is a shame as it is still sound on some oak windows I painted over 10 years ago. Thinking about it thats probably why they no longer make it.

And there is the outboard motor which has taken me home over many a wave crest and would have been much coveted by Noah.

Here are the doors to the belly box which had succumbed a little at the bottom because the catches had failed leaving them hanging slightly open. In my opinion if the box had been recessed under the wagon a bit it would be protected from the weather better. Remember my piece on design?

You might think I am in wales with all this talk of flooding and here with rain on the lens but you can still see a sanded wagon and primed door. I am not touching the steps as they are near the end and will be replaced with some nice oak ones next year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

having the barn is pretty handy. Without it the paint job would just not have been on this year. The only draw back was not being able to light the stove and warm my toes with a cuppa but you can’t have everything.

The 2 1/2 litres of undercoat just covered the whole wagon and in some ways is a colour better suited to the coal age that the wagon comes from but it is destined to be obliterated by dark green which looks good in the woods and is the colour it came to me in. I think it was originally red which I have seen others in and might do next time.

It was a tight fit getting in and unsurprisingly the same getting  out but it was time. I was saving the auspicious moment for a dry day and as a result had to wait a long time and now that the wood resembles a swamp decided to park it for now beside the barn on something approaching terra firma.

Said firma was not that flat so I spent a few moments with Paulie and his friend Pete levelling the wagon up and with no further delay lit the stove. With camp virtually floating the barn is now the hub so the wagon is well placed for frequenting frequently. Note the small kindling effort that has sprung up this side of the bycicle. You can see the stool and the chopping block as well as some logs sticking out of of the black box. I don’t know who it is or where the bike comes from but thanks for the few sticks of kindling that I took to light the stove. You can also see the fantastic peugeot 505 estate that Paulie and Sophie have acquired. 25 years, 250 thousand miles, not much rust and going well. Nice comfortable car.

In the meantime I have spent a good deal of time trying to sort out my old workshop. It is in an old National trust stable about 5 miles from the wood and 3 miles from home. It is now rented by an architect who has turned part of it into his office and left the other part as workshop. I am allowed  to use it in moderation in exchange for him having free range of my tools and equipment. Since this arrangement started I have probably spent as much time getting the place fit for work as actually working. Frustrating at times but he pays the rent. It has come to the point where I must decide. But I can’t decide easily. The status quo (more latin) which is mess, missing tools but free workshop, build my own at home or call it a day and sell up the whole caboodle. So far I have sold all the tools which I almost certainly don’t need any more, thrown away a considerable amount of clutter and created some space for the architects belongings. But I fear the order will not last.

Anyway here is the lovely bench I made myself 15 years ago and which incidentally precipitated my now chronic worn out back. It always tells me not to leave forever.

And here is another axe which I cannot swing but needed its shaft re-fitting,

And here are some boot pullers in progress for christmas presents.

Lastly there is the David Brown off to a new life in Ireland. It proved a good reliable tractor while I had it but I no longer needed 2 machines and the Fordson is an older friend. Anyway I hope she got there safely and does her new owner proud.

and so to the dreaded Chalara Fraxinea (latin). I handed in my notice as woodland manager before the summer then spent a lazy 6 weeks in Scotland only to return to this dreadful news. Good timing for me perhaps and we shall just have to see how the disease speads but if it reaches here and infects the wood it will be a big problem. It is an ancient Ash coppice and in all probably 80% of the wood’s canopy is ash. I hope to keep some sort of link with the wood and maybe get my own firewood there, perhaps keep the wagon and tractor, we shall see, but I don’t know if the wood will be managed or just left, as it was for 50 years till I arrived. So there is a big question mark hovering over it.

There does not appear much of a plan to deal with the disease and it remains to be seen whether Ash  will be devastated like Elms were. I doubt much can be done to prevent           its  advance and talk of quarantine is, in my opinion, a joke. I will watch and wait. Trees were here before us and will be here after us and are probably laughing at the commotion. I would bet all my axes that Ash will still be here in 1000 years. Maybe fewer of them maybe more, just like  Elm are which spring back up then die back before maturity. Sooner or later elm will develop immunity or dutch elm disease will disappear. So much for trees.

Next time I shall discuss the mud and hopefully make something at the workshop.

k