in search of the kiwi

life in the mountains

2012-02-04T15:28:00.002+01:00

Andy, ready for another powder run

snow cannons blowing snow so fine that it looks like a forest fire

Fresh snow and icicles outside the chalet

The first time it has been possible to ski right back to the front door this season

It has continued snowing for several days now and the bare, green mountain sides are a thing of the past for a while. I hope the sheep made it safely back to their winter shelter. The temperature has plummeted, as it has everywhere in europe, down to a daytime high of -8°C and night times lows nearing -20°C. Now that the clouds have passed, the visibility is excellent and the whole region is blanketed in snow. Some guests due to arrive for dinner (7.30pm) last night eventually made it up the mountain at nearly 11pm. They had used their snow chains since way down in the valley and were still slipping all over the place.

Skiing has been great fun, on piste, off piste and anywhere else that has looked tempting. Its been great fun with Andy although I was so cold that I had to stop early. He just looks over a ridge and tips over, planning his route as he goes, a bit of a view is enough, and with the depth of powder, little chance of coming a cropper. Exhilarating.

Overnight the wind has picked up and chilled everything to the bone. So cold in fact that the central heating oil became so sticky in the pipes within the boiler room that the heating stopped working. The resort didn’t open and most of the loose snow has now been blown off the tops, huge squalls of icy cloud blasting down the mountain, skin stingingly cold, bringing what little traffic there is to a complete standstill.

Half an hour with a blowlamp on the chilly pipes and the heating burst into life again, Holes blocked and pipes further lagged, the frozen washing prized out of the machine drum and crumpled into the drier, the washer then refusing to work some more until the water supply thaws. All the paths that I cleared yesterday into neat gulleys through the drifts need clearing again. Nothing like a bit of energetic work to get well warmed through. I was much more toasty outside that I could have been inside the cool chalet.

Lets see what happens with temperatures forecast to stay low and more snow on the way tomorrow. Perhaps the winds will drop and some of the snow will stay for longer this time. Its great to stay snug indoors in front of the fire and spend some time doing very little. Full after a great Thai curry lunch and only seven guests to look after this evening.

worth the wait

2012-01-31T18:43:00.004+01:00

a rare glimpse of sunshine and a view......

all covered in snow

heading back for more

On occasions it was difficult to decide which way was up as I attempted my first day of powder skiing of the season. It had snowed a bit during the night and much harder early in the morning. I spent a couple of hours clearing around guests cars and a path across the terrace before breakfast, my earlier efforts almost completely refilled by the time I stopped. Now I am attempting to rediscover the joys of fresh snow, it is more challenging than I remember.

The light is flat and visibility is minimal through the driving snow, I recall that scary whiteout day last year and promise myself that I will head in before it gets too bad and continue with my efforts. The snow is knee deep even on the ‘bashed’ runs, increasing in places to nearly waist deep in places. No chance of watching your skis when it’s like this, just head down hill slowly, leaning back in the vane hope of lifting the front of the skis high enough to ride the powder whilst changing direction as gently as possible to minimise spillages.

Fallen over again, completely immersed in snow, not quite sure what I am doing wrong but face planting in such deep snow doesn’t hurt, it’s just a struggle to get back up again, as everything gives. You can’t push yourself up as its all too soft, the trick, I guess, is to maneuver yourself over your skis before standing straight up onto them again, reaching deep down into the snow with a pole until it hits harder ground below. It’d be nigh on impossible to find a ski if you lost one in conditions like these. I hope that I don’t.

Further down the slope I join a more used part of the piste which is all churned up but much easier to ski. Previously used techniques work better on the more solid surface although it is proving challenging for many people and there are more people on the ground than normal. Amazingly there is an atmosphere of fun, I can hear people laughing and shouting out to each other, obviously enjoying the challenge, visibility is a bit better too, good enough to see folk moving at all speeds through the snow, some tumbling and falling, arms, legs and skis at all angles, quickly getting up again, full of smiles, ready to go again. I stop for a few moments to watch a group drop gracefully down the opposite side of the valley hoping to learn a trick or two, before heading on down to the lift again.

Unlike other days, it is a joy to sit down and rest on the way back up the mountain, usually the runs are over so fast and effortlessly the ride back up is a bit of a drag. Not today, I am not as fit as I like to imagine and am using different muscles in my legs to normal. It’s good to take a break. Surprisingly, sat on a chairlift in the driving snow I am as warm as toast, the effort is contributing well and the two extra layers are almost unnecessary, the balaclava, however is worth its weight in gold, keeping the snow from going down my neck and my chin and nose warm. On the way up I hope that my estate agent is well again soon and hope that things will start to proceed with my house soon. I try planning how to install the hot water system but it's not even worth considering today, it's skiing and snow and that is all that is important when you seize the day.

Here we go again, I keep trying to get to another run, but each time I get to the top I have a huge urge to return to the same slope. Eventually it’ll work like a dream, so I try again. I must remember how those people were skiing when I watched them earlier. Over the edge, looking into the distance, putting more weight on the back of the skis than I thought possible and wow. It works, I gain speed and transfer my weight to turn, gently, gently, so as not to cause too much disturbance and around I go, level up and back the other way, gently yet firmly, I turn the other way, catch the rythm and bounce down the slope. Thats the feeling, thats how it needs to be done. I gather speed, snow sprays up from time to time, stinging my face as I carve a deep serpenting line down the slope. It’s dark again. I did something and am now stationary and buried in snow. Light filters through so I can tell which way is up, I move my legs to check that all is intact and I still have both my skis, all present and correct. I struggle to get the right way up against the soft giving snow, resting for a minute or two to get my breath before continuing, exhilaration, wonder, amazement. The clouds clear and I glance up the mountain to see my traces in the snow, I have covered a decent distance and my tracks look great.

Back on my feet and moving again, I’ve rediscovered the magic that is powder skiing, it’s such a different sensation to regular skiing, almost silent and perhaps in slow motion, it’s difficult to explain but wonderful to do. I recall how the mountain falls away below me and head for another area where I know there’ll be deep powder, I cross a major thoroughfare, adjusting my technique for the differing terrain, keeping a lookout through the murky air for other skiers and off down a side track. To the left there is a steep drop that will take me back to the lift, I tip over the edge, fairly slowly and choose my path, the snow is still falling yet I can see further than I have done in a while, choosing my route down a pristine slope to the left, slowly, to the right, slowly, no sudden movements, be definite and flowing, there, what a sensation, that’s what it’s all about and on, and on, tracks ahead, I make a mistake and think about what’ll happen when I cross them, too late, I’m over again, deep in the snow. well wrapped up, the only part of me exposed is my nose, which gets more of a chill, though, as I reach upright again, a large chill slides down into the back of my trousers, coming to rest right where I’ll rediscover it later as I sit on the lift. For the moment it melts a bit then seems to stay away, leaving me to continue downhill, ignoring tracks and managing to stay upright. This is energetic skiing and I am loving every minute of it.

And out onto the relative flat of the piste and relax. Not too much at its bumpy as ever, with plenty of other skiers adjusting to the new conditions. I continue down to the lift and spot the outline of a figure I know. Its Andy, I ski alongside him on his board and he turns to see who is so close, grinning from ear to ear, I know he has had the time of his life this morning too, just by his expression. We stop by the lifts and exchange stories, I was right, he’s used the mountain to the max and is loving every moment of this new snow that we’ve waited for for so long. He helps in the chalet too and grew up near the mountains of California, so is well accustomed to such conditions. I can only imagine where he’s been, and the scrapes on the bottom of his board show that it’s probably been a more hairy ride than mine has so far. We part company, aiming to meet back at the chalet for lunch and continue with the mornings entertainment. Is there too much of a good thing? I hope not.

its going to be like this tomorrow!

now waiting

2012-01-18T19:20:00.000+01:00

I now have a bank account, arranged from a tiny branch in the village which opens for two mornings a week. The bank are in the process of ‘improving’ their service by incorporating a secure foyer for customers, probably so that all banking can be done automatically, so the facilities were even more reduced than normal. I now have to wait until my cashpoint card arrives through the post before I can invest any money in the account, the part time staff do not even have counter cash facilities during the renovation so I have to make another appointment to be shown how to use my cash card. Exciting.

On the house front, after the flurry of activity last week I sent off all my details, followed by my new account details for the notaire, all has gone quiet. I heard back yesterday, from a colleague, that my estate agent is off sick and will be out of action for at least two weeks. They did not tell me whether anyone else would be covering the transaction or that I would have to wait. I have sent wishes for a speedy recovery via the office and a request that someone else continues the process.

Here at the chalet all is quiet. There are eleven guests, an overspill from the hostel down the road that is filled to capacity with over ninety school children. Ours only sleep here, they leave before breakfast and return to change at the end of the day before heading off, down the road to eat with everyone else. They are quiet and well behaved and we have the place to ourselves for most of the week again. Unfortunately we are still waiting on some new snow. About two inches has fallen since my arrival before Christmas and the hillside is becoming more and more green.

Yesterday I spotted a flock of sheep way up on the hillside above the chalet, an area usually blanketed in snow for the whole season. Incredibly, most guests have been in good spirits and content with the amount of skiing that have been able to do. Conditions are getting rather icy in places and thin in others, although the resort manages to produce an impressive quantity of artificial snow and the majority of pistes remain open and enjoyably skiable. Temperatures are dropping and the forecast is for cloud, rain and snow over the coming weekend so we have our fingers crossed and will be ready for some early morning starts should the snow ploughs be out in force before daybreak in the next few days.

I have promised Moira, a dear friend of mine, that I will do a red run for her. I keep trying them out, but think that new snowfall is needed before I can give it sufficient energy and emotion to do it justice. Waiting patiently for the moment......

it's urgent

2012-01-13T12:42:00.000+01:00

As soon as I have posted a blog mentioning the speed that my house purchase is progressing and that I hope it takes its time whilst I am occupied this spring I get emails.

Karine at the agency is keen to get things moving with the Notaire (solicitors) and there are two other interested parties all of a sudden. All of the questions that I have been awaiting answers on for ages are swiftly answered and it is of the utmost urgency that I sign papers soon.

So, I have an appointment with a bank manager today to open a french bank account. I know the closest place to hire a car, not an agency but the local garage a few miles down the road. I have sufficient documents to start the process and the agent is arranging most of the technical details for my initial visit. With bank account in place, the deposit can be transferred and the process of buying can start.

Reality is starting to hit home as the project prepares to come to life. No longer is it the dream that I visit in my head of a cozy little house with its productive vegetable and fruit garden. A swanky yurt concealed behind flowering borders where people come to stay and enjoy the peace and quiet of rural living. Tranquil days tending crops and explaining techniques to inquisitive gardeners who visit for short courses on things gardening. Reality is an old stone shell in a grass field with no water or electricity. I have an idea of what needs to be done to restore the property, experience of some methods and techniques but no expertise in completing the whole thing. Having to arrange everything in french and deal with the intricacies of bureaucracy in a foreign country, discovering how to arrange temporary accommodation on site and get my useful belongings there. To start a garden and work out how to renovate my shell.

If I think about it all at once my head starts to abort mission, I have to decide how to approach the project and give order to the millions of tasks that will become apparent as I proceed. To stay focussed on one thing at a time, to pace myself, allow plenty of time for each phase of the project and to remember to enjoy the journey. Its going to be a time of lists, with lists for each list and research for countless questions and possibilities that will arise as I prepare. Exciting beyond belief and more than a little scary at the same time. Being outside ones comfort zone is supposed to create the best results so, if all goes to plan, something amazing will surely happen.

A spanish guest just came back into the chalet for the fourth time to collect another something from his room. We wished him a good day again and he shared a spanish saying:

“people with bad brains need good legs”

Which, in his case was definitely true, as all his friends waited patiently outside for him to gather everything necessary for a day in the mountains.

fresh air and snow

2012-01-13T09:45:00.002+01:00

Life has been at a frenetic pace for the last couple of weeks, what with the constantly changing of guests, new people working new shifts and needing a bit of guidance here and there, shopping needing doing, the dog needing exercise and when the opportunity arises a good bit of skiing.

For living, it isn’t like being any where else that I know. There are five of us sharing a room, not exactly private but I have no complaints, it is warm, comfortable and cosy. The chalet is fairly open plan, so unless you hide away in the small, chilly staff only TV room you are on show and part of the face of the establishment, so, from time to time it is nice to get away for an hour or so of peace and quiet.

I have been taking it easy on the slopes, enjoying being back in the mountains and in the fortunate position of being able to wait for better snow (fingers still crossed). The scenery is beautiful as ever and it is a joy to be outside somewhere that makes you feel as if you are on top of the world.

Chester and I have walked too, he loves to get out and I try and grab the opportunity to get a bit of different exercise when I can. We headed to Pla d’Adet along a snowy forest track. He is still timid, rushing passed other walkers to relative safety beyond them, often turning back to check them out from behind or charging off into the trees if a group, including children, are just too threatening to pass head on.

A snowy walk is great exercise, especially when your feet sink deep into the snow with each step, it gets the heart pumping, builds a good inner warmth and utilises muscles seldom otherwise used. Believe me, I ached like a good un after my first snowy stroll.

Pla d'Adet is probably the ugliest village I have ever seen, a complete eyesore and from the valley looks like the film set for a prisoner of war movie. A hideous collection of fifties and sixties concrete apartments built on the edge of the slopes solely for easy access to the ski slopes. Thankfully It is out of sight of Chalet Lou Rider and we only visit from time to time.

Once in the village, I took a little tour, I had thought about heading back with the dog as he is erratic and there was plenty of traffic about, but we continued for a while. I was checking out construction methods and styles for my new project, it’s amazing what can be deduced from a completely finished building when it comes to studying its construction. Not that I am any further forward, it’s just good to reflect and gather ideas for when the time comes. On that note, I am still progressing slowly with the little house in the Lot. I guess that the holidays have taken their toll on moving things along, and now that I am installed in the chalet, I have no need for immediate urgency. I just hope that it proceeds in time for a spring purchase.

Plenty of time for many more walks and plenty of reflection on the subject of renovations and the next phase of my live. With the quantity of snow here at the moment I shall be more likely exploring the mountain on foot than by skiing if there isn’t any more weather soon.

its christmas

2012-01-04T15:05:00.002+01:00

Lou Rider in the snow

Goats cheese on toast with honey.......

set for dinner

I arrived at the chalet to find everything in full swing. Rooms full of guests, a new team to get to know and thankfully, for everybody, snow. It didn’t take much time to find my feet and slip back into the routine again. Few things have changed so it is mainly adjusting to the pace of a chalet full of guests with only a couple of days to go till Christmas.

Mark, the chef, is back, full of ideas for magnificent meals and treats over the festive season, deliveries arrive to fill the cellar, store cupboards and fridges in preparation. The new crew are willing and able, all that is needed is to get them up to speed in the way things are done round here and to make sure everyone has a great time.

A week ago the whole mountain had been bare, with cows grazing in the pastures and a warm southerly wind blowing so the snow has come just in time. The pistes are in a good condition for the amount of snow that has fallen and our fingers are all crossed for more snow to come.

towards the mountains

2012-01-04T13:45:00.002+01:00

The record winning LEGO Christmas Tree at St Pancreas Station

Paris at night

Tour Eiffel across the river Seine

There is always a gap in my blog when I am in England and this time has been no exception. It seems too difficult to write, although I am sure it would work fine if I put my mind to it. Nevertheless I am on foreign soil again and I have plenty to write about.

My late winter plan was disrupted somewhat so I didn’t get to spend time back at the straw bale house as I had planned. I came instead directly to Chalet Lou Rider for a third season.

I let the train take the strain, booking a succession of tickets that took me from Dronfield, Derbyshire where I had been staying with my parents, right through to the Pyrenees via London Paris and Toulouse. The journey took a day and a half, overnighting in a proper bed in a hotel rather than a night on a slow train without the option of a cabin, I chose the right option for sure.

St Pancreas station in London was packed with pre christmas travelers and the atmosphere was less frenetic than usual. A crowd had gathered around the largest lego Christmas Tree in the world, a record breaking achievement complete with a sign requesting people refrain from taking souveneirs away with them.

Booking in for the Eurostar stretch of the journey was so easy. Feed your ticket into a machine, pass through a quick security check, present your passport and you’re done. I settled in the lounge for an hours wait and got stuck into my book. Everything was going to plan until twenty minutes before departure. An announcement reported a gas leak on the line out of London and all trains were cancelled until further notice. A while later the same announcement was broadcast along with a request for non urgent travelers to postpone their journeys. I chatted with a french guy who had been in a similar situation before and he explained that if the delay was long, eurostar would accommodate passengers in a decent hotel, refund fares and offer alternative arrangements. He was excited at the proposition of a free trip for a bit of disruption and as I had connections to make I stayed put.

The delay was relatively short and the train left for Paris mid afternoon, announcements on the train suggested later connections for passengers and to speak to staff should an alternative not be presented. We sped through south east England, the tunnel and on to the french capital without further delay. I ended up arriving too late to get my connection so stayed overnight in Paris courtesy of Eurostar. An exceptionally comfortable room in a Mercure Hotel just round the corner from my departing station for the following morning. I dined in a bustling creperie took a nighttime stroll to see the Eiffel Tower all lit up for Christmas and made the most of my unexpected stopover. Thank you Eurostar, much appreciated.

parc national regional des causse de quercy

2011-11-20T11:45:00.001+01:00

I have just returned from a wonderful, action packed, though slightly short visit to France. I am back in England to dogsit for my brother for a few days, then visit the rest of my family and some London based friends before heading to the mountains again for winter.

My visit was to Marcilhac-sur-célé, a tiny village that nestles in a gorge valley deep in the Parc National regional des Causses de Quercy. The scenery there is absolutely stunning and the weather was impeccable for November, if I had packed shorts, they would have been well worn.

looking down on Marcilhac-sur-célé from the top of the gorge

I stayed with Brigitte, a wonderful helpX host whose ancient stone house overlooks the valley whilst nestling into the sparse woodland that reflects the barren nature of the limestone region. A calm and tranquil location with great views and hardly a passing car.

terrace with potager and formal garden area beyond

My morning tasks mainly involved chasing well rooted weeds in the potager and garden areas and using my technical knowledge to bring into line a collection of roses, some of which hadn’t been dramatically pruned for a number of years. Neither task was particularly hard work, as extracting the roots of perennial weeds takes time and concentration, else fragments get left behind to grow again and if you go at a climbing rose bush with too much vigour you tend to become hooked up, tangled and trapped far too easily, so a steady, paced approach tends to work best. The results were excellent, possibly a bit more severe than expected, but next year will definitely show results.

Brigitte in the traditional gardener pose

the river Célé passing through Marcilhac

In return, I was incredibly well fed with delicious meals, great conversations and encouragement in my french language skills, which is always appreciated. Brigitte did more than enough to keep me occupied and amused throughout my visit. So much so that I feel as if we hardly ever stopped.

November light over Figeac

We visited Figeac, the largest local town in the area, where Brigitte takes accordion lessons and then plays with a group of musicians, a double treat as I got to have a good look round the quaint old town whilst she was taking her lessons and then sat in to enjoy some great practice music. It was almost like having a private concert, although they did repeat some pieces several times to get it right. It has made me want to find an instrument to play!

We visited friends for meals and evenings out so frequently that it felt as if we never stopped. A great rural community of similarly minded folk that make sure that a good time is had without too much expense. Family popped in and Timon, the two year old grand son was looked after on several occasions, he was great fun and his books proved to be excellent help filling in some of my vocabulary gaps.

the garden of Stephan and his family, they are hoping to become self sufficient and autonomous

It was a shame that I had to leave so soon, as I was beginning to get somewhat settled and could easily have spent another few weeks enjoying my visit. Alas, plans were already made, I have four great dogs to walk twice a day, the chance to enjoy a bit of city life, some time completely on my own, which is a rare occurrence whilst helpXing the whole time and the opportunity to catch up well on all sorts of things that pass me by on my trips away.

beauregard ruin

2011-11-13T18:30:00.001+01:00

After a brief interlude back home I am again in France, this time more seriously searching for somewhere to settle down.

Before I left, back in October, I was staying at Nicholas’ in Ruffepeyre, and visited a ruin on the outskirts of a village some 60 km away.

A small building with solid walls built out of the most beautiful stone, with a tumble down roof in need of complete replacement. It stands adjacent to a communal track, a field away from the village overlooking its land.

There was no running water on site or electricity, but I was promised that both were available and that the ‘house’ had renovation permission that included a small extension. Its terrain faces south, about an acre of pasture in total which I dream of turning into a productive vegetable garden with fruit trees in the boundary hedgerows and perhaps a tiny camping site somewhere shady for the walkers that pass by in the summer time.

I have just been for a second visit with my current HelpX host. Brigitte kindly drove me there, she was excited to see the project too. We visited Limogne market en route, picking up bits and pieces for a lunchtime picnic and I had the opportunity to explore the local region a bit further.

The site is more amazing than when I saw it the first time. I had braced myself for a disappointment as I thought that my imagination may have run wild and created some fantasy place in my head, but it hadn’t. It was almost exactly as I remembered. The land is slightly more sloping, which is excellent news, almost completely secluded from passers by at the lowest point. The funny barn structure is bigger and more solidly constructed, 10 m by 12 m, with an additional 5 m of hardstanding at the front which will make an excellent workshop and storage shed, not to mention immediate chicken enclosure and sunbathing terrace (for my visitors of course). There are still the most tasty of apples on some of the trees, and in the weak November sun, one can see that a good proportion of the land gets plenty of sunlight throughout the year.

The biggest excitement and discovery is on a small, oddly shaped patch of adjoining land. I didn’t get chance to explore during my last visit with the agent, but this time, without any time constraints, my expectations have been verified. After looking at the plans on line, something told me that there was a source of water there. My thoughts proved to be true. A well with an almost complete hand pump, almost completely full to the brim. I reckon the water level to be at about 2 m, so an excavation on ‘my’ side of the fence should reveal similar. My beans and tomatoes will be happy after all.

We lunched in the corner of the land, enjoying the sunshine and the view, my head racing, not really knowing what to think or do. Several hours later, back at the house, I am still a little stunned, in a good way, perhaps it is the excitement of taking this project one step further, or maybe the fear of taking such a large step into the unknown. I am contented to know that my second visit has made the project one step closer and that with good news from the agent next week, I may well be in a position to proceed with the purchase.

what do you think?

2011-11-03T18:48:00.000+01:00

in need of renovation, it could make a beautiful home

south facing, off the beaten track, although one of

the GR walks passes along this route.

October sunshine illuminates this exciting proposition,

an acre of slightly sloping fertile land awaits cultivation and a new venture.

a lick of paint and some new carpet, it'll be fine.

anyone know how to rebuild ceilings, plaster and install a kitchen?

the old owners have even left the tiles to put back on the roof.

All I need to do now is learn the necessary skills.

Images of the second plot of land that I have viewed on my quest to settle down again after four years on the road. My plan is to find somewhere small and affordable with a decent amount of land. I want to produce enough fruit and veg to feed myself year round, hopefully provide courses, or at least an insight into productive gardening and for those in need of a bit of guidance. Host helpX helpers to share the bounty of knowledge that I have accumulated over the years and to live more simply with less demands on the excesses of modern consumerism.

Your comments please....

home alone

2011-10-20T18:22:00.000+02:00

Nic has business to attend to back in London, so I offer to dog/house sit

for ten days and keep myself occupied.

After a few days on my own, the kitchen began to look like an old time grocers store, with jars of preserved fruits, vegetables and a selection of jams for the winter months.

outside in the sunshine beans and walnuts dry

in the heat of the autumn rays

Dolly pretends to keep guard, but she is really waiting for someone to

throw her toy again. She never tires of fetching things.

as I leave the walnut harvest begins to swell, this is probably a third

of what will fall from the trees in the garden this autumn.

fat hen

2011-10-12T17:34:00.000+02:00

Chenopodium album is the botanical name, in england we call it ‘fat hen”, there are probably numerous other local names, but this is the most common. The reason being that it was used to fatten hens for the table. In france it is known as “chenopode” and is used just the same.

young Fat Hen leaves

A combination of prior knowledge, a handy reference book that Aimee and Marc had with them and some of Marc’s archaeological facts have been combined to tell you these facts.

Fat hen plants love colonising disturbed soil, so since civilisations began, this plant has been growing close to humans. It grows quickly, providing plentiful fresh green leaves that are rich in vitamin A, calcium, potassium, and phosphorus, they are also a good source of protein, trace minerals, B-complex vitamins, vitamin C, iron, and fiber. These have been harvested, eaten raw and cooked, until recent times, when larger leafed spinaches and leaf beets became more popular and stole the show. After many centuries of culinary participation, fat hen became a weed.

close up stems of drying seed

A resurgence in foraging and eating the free bounty that nature provides has us (well some of us) leaving this delicious plant to grow amongst the vegetables and around the the garden for later use. It can be harvested from spring through to the first frosts and eaten raw in mixed leaf salads or prepared in a similar fashion to spinach, steamed or sauteed and served hot with butter and salt. By harvesting the younger leaves, the plant then shoots again to produce more tender growing tips again and again and again. Stopped only by drought, frost or being weeded out completely. Even then, it goes to make good compost.

The leaves of fat hen are not the only part of the plant that is eaten. The seeds too, were eaten fresh from the plant and also dried and stored for use throughout the leaner winter months. Archaeological evidence shows that an early settler of the British Isles, perfectly preserved in a peat bog, had been fed a meal of fat hen seeds amongst other things before he was sacrificed all those years ago.

a large clump with new seed forming

There is ample fat hen going to seed around the garden at Nicolas’ so we have been harvesting it by the handful, dry roasting it in a frying pan to remove any residual moisture before storing it away in sealable glass jars for the winter. Aimee has been adding plenty to the bread that she bakes every morning, giving it a good nutty crunch. It also finds itself in the homemade salad dressing, which goes very nicely with a bitter leaf salad and any other dish that we see fit. It seems a shame to let such a flavoursome and nutritious freebie go to waste when it is so easy to use.

blogger stats and stuff

2011-10-10T22:17:00.001+02:00

Well, I've just been having a bit of an explore with this new look blogger and all the bits and pieces that go on behind the scenes and it can supply an amazing amount of information on who looks at what and from where.

From the photograph of my screen, above, I am surprised to see where my viewers are coming from around the world and even what type of computers and software they are using.

Finland and Argentina, I wonder who logged on and what they searched for to find my blog. Hopefully they found what they were looking for. I expect, if I look further it can tell me how long they spent looking at each page and what they searched for to get there.

If the new layout persists on being unpopular, I can probably change it back, though out of the choice of seven, it's the one I prefer at present. Specifically liking the sidebar as it gives an immediate reference back in time rather than a list of dates with no clue of what the posting was about.

young archaeologists find

2011-10-10T13:37:00.000+02:00

Marc looking for treasure

Still at Nicolas’. Marc phoned to see if he and his wife could come and have a look round the tower and possibly stay for a night or two. They have just set off on a trip walking to Milan, Italy, then on to Georgia, after an interlude in India (from Milan) for some archaeological work that Marc has already lined up.

Aimee, Marcs’ wife, a trained ceramic artist, now prefers to pot and is hugely interested in herbalism and has a fantastic knowledge of plants, both cultivated and wild, that are of use in nourishment and healthcare. We got on like a house on fire, sharing knowledge by the bucketload.

shiny new steps and excavation holes

We got through so many tasks, refurbishing the chicken run in its entirety, varnishing steps, harvesting more garden produce, collecting sand from the quarry - no mean feat as the red sandstone rock has to be hacked from a small cliff and loaded into a trailer before being carted back to the tower. It is later reduced to sand with the use of a sledgehammer and more brute force.

Marc was challenged to use his archaelolgical skills to find the corner of an old building that once stood on the site. It started with a small trench, that got larger and substantially deeper than I had expected. A second trench was later started in the same location that I had discovered the foundation of the wall two summers ago. Marc dug and scraped for several days whilst Amiee and I got on with our respective tasks. My quest with brambles and nettles is truly never ending.

siesta time

The young couple fitted in wonderfully, both at ease with the rustic living. It was probably much easier here than their last place of work, an educational centre in Devon that demonstrated life during Anglo Saxon times.

been shelling

Escot Village LINK is a village built in the style of, with the tools available at the time, in an effort to demonstrate how life was back in the day. It’s impressive hearing the stories of what life was like and how our ancestors coped with day to day life, not only before electricity and running water, but before potatoes, tomatoes and many of the foodstuffs that we now take for granted. Who knows how long our current, privileged way of live will last and what will take its place. Evolution is an amazing energy.

A week passes before the two of them decide to move on. Marc has made some amazing finds, including plenty of Roman tile pieces, although no definite corner to the building. We have eaten our fill of fat hen, harvested apples, pears and blackberries galore from the countryside. Had a couple of great cycle ride excursions and many interesting discussions. Long live the village people.

impressive menu options

domaine laurens

2011-10-04T22:21:00.000+02:00

where the fermentation takes place

Slightly different from my last vineyard tour, that was at a high tech mega winery in Napa Valley, California, domaine Chandon if I am not mistaken. Here, in the sleepy little village of Clairvaux, just down in the valley, about half an hour by bike, is a tiny wine shop.

bottle, cork, cap, label and box, all in this tiny space

We, we being Nicolas, Anthony and I, called in to buy a bottle or two on our way to Agnés’ for dinner just as a group arrived for a tour, the lady vintner encouraged us to join the group. We had a wonderful explanation of how the valley comes to be such a good place to grow grapes and a very interesting look around a highly acclaimed wine producers premises. It was all in french so my mental vocab was woefully inadequate but I got the gist.

ready for shipping

The tasting that followed was generous to say the least, both on wines and aperitifs (also produced on site), and so we continued to our evening out somewhat prepared on the alcohol front and equipped with more bottles than we had originally anticipated. I was glad not to have been driving for sure.

tasting anyone?

Nicolas explaining the valley

It was lovely to see Angés as always, and great to be in french speaking company. I am always relieved when the words arrive and my ears can decypher the conversations, well, at least in part. The evening was wonderful, some familiar faces and several new ones, especially the helpXers, the most delicious food and more of that wonderful wine. Santé!

ruffepeyre once more

2011-10-03T22:01:00.000+02:00

the tower of Ruffepeyre

It’s great being back at Nicholas’ tower. I just fit back in and get on with stuff now, without any fuss or bother. We get along well and have huge discussions about all sorts of things, the future of civilisation as we know it, healthy living, how to cook decent food, what is important in life how to live more simply. Nic always has a huge list of tasks that need doing so I pick out the ones that I fancy, plus a few that he persuades me to attempt and life goes on.

shelling beans for storage

I love that he doesn’t really like cooking as I get to take over the catering for a while. It’s always a bonus at this time of year when there is a huge abundance of things in the garden and plenty of weeds and hedgerow plants to put together delicious meals. We have been ploughing through giant marrows, although many have been transformed into delicious marrow and quince jam, liberally spiced with ginger, cinnamon and nutmeg. I’ve also been creating Ratatouilles for canning along with green beans, carrots, windfall apple and blackberry compote, pear compote and am tempted to try caramelised onion jam, although onions do store exceedingly well without any help whatsoever.

harvest time

Hazel nuts are falling again, they are left out to dry for as long as possible in the sun before being transferred to the loft to continue their drying until at least April. Hopefully there will be enough to this year to take to the press to produce some oil. The nuts have to be picked up every day which gets a bit tiresome, so I am hoping on a big storm to bring them all down at once. Possibly the end of this week.

blighted tomatoes

The damp spring has caused chaos with just about every tomato plant that I have seen. Blight everywhere, it seems to be growing through and nearly every garden that I have seen is clinging onto the hope that they will get some ripe fruit. I would be worried that the plants will harbour spores and the longer they are left the more spores there will be to overwinter and attack next year. The easiest way of knowing how the locals deal with such problems is to watch and learn. If the village elders were concerned, they would have rooted out their plants months ago, but to reduce the risk here a large bonfire is planned and the whole garden will have a different location in the field next year.

2Ha Tarn Valley

2011-09-30T21:57:00.000+02:00

Just a few photos to show you what the ruin and land looked like. I have decided that there were just too many challenges and I am not going for it. The main and unalterable one being that the whole site is on a north facing slope fairly low in a valley, with high sides that would obscure the sun for far too long during the winter months, probably leaving the whole site in shade for quite a while. That with the lack of electricity (solar wouldn’t work well in the shade), water, phone line and mobile phone coverage, I think, is too much to be going on with. Not to mention the lack of habitation license.

Other than that the site was just about perfect. 1 Hectare of woodland and another hectare made up of three parcels, the main one being half a hectare of pasture. A great size, gently sloping with stream and woodland, I said that there was a catch and I think that orientation is just that. I would have been very tempted to overcome the other challenges if it had been south facing. Still, not bad for a first attempt. It has concentrated my thoughts and made me really consider what it is I am looking for and what is important both for successful growing and also personally for successful living, my list is now long and varied, with plenty of scope for modification. For now, I’ll just keep on looking.

hosting hosts

2011-09-23T21:36:00.000+02:00

John and Julie were my first ever helpX hosts back in December 2006. I spent a very enjoyable Christmas with them and great selection of helpers, harvesting flowers and enjoying the summer sunshine in New Zealand. It was so good, in fact, that I returned for a second December the following year.

This time I was closer to home territory than they were, having flown half way round the world for a family wedding and to explore a corner of europe. They had done a fair bit by the time we met up, an impressive tour of the westerly part of the Pyrenees and Bordeaux with two french helpers who had also visited NZ and then circumnavigating Spain and Portugal in a matter of days on their own. I was charged with showing them as much of the rest of the Pyrenees as possible during their last few days on mainland europe.

We met up in Ceret as the market was packing up and had a coffee and chat with Susan and Geoff whom I had just spent a great ten days with. Grabbed some food at the supermarket as it closed and headed off. John chucked me the car keys, he had had enough of driving in europe and was happy to be chauffeured for the rest of their stay. Managed to find a sport/camping shop that was open and I grabbed a sleep mat for a bit of comfort as I knew that I’d be under the awning of their tent. (Trust the Kiwis, they had brought all their camping gear over and were almost fully equipped for three.)

It was going to be inland to valleys and mountains as the two of them were through with the mediterranean coast as it was all high rise, touristy and spoiled. I disagreed, having just spent the most amazing day the previous week at Colliure and knew that there was at least one unspoiled spot not that far from where we were. We headed inland to a campsite destination and my first night under canvas in a long time.

Setting up camp

The campsite was great, as was our evening and a huge catch up on all the news that had gone on since I was last in NZ. Scary stories about the earthquake and its continuing aftershocks. Yes, it’s still going on to this day. What other helpers have gotten up to, their two sons and their friends and folk that I got to know whilst I was staying. The catch up didn’t end, it continued throughout our time together and was wonderful, almost as if I have another life somewhere else that I hadn’t quite thought about enough. It brought back the most amazing memories and reminded me how much I loved my time down under. A band played outside reception, way into the night, Julie and I went to watch for a while but retired to bed long before they finished. It was great to drift off to sleep listening to them play.

Port Vendres, neighbouring Colliure

After an uncomfortable night, the sleep mat did little to soften the lumpy ground, with less sleep than I had hoped for, we breakfasted and discussed a plan for the day. My enthusiasm for Colliure hadn’t gone unnoticed and we backtracked slightly to a beautiful stretch of unmodernised French mediterranean coastline, John and Julie were suitably impressed and I finally got the swim that I had missed on my previous visit. We dined alfresco, overlooking the fishing port, a local dog doing two circuits for scraps by the time we had finished, before getting back on track.

Wine country, almost all the way. It petered out when we hit the mountains, but continued a good way. John being an ex vineyard owner and wine maker , amongst other things, was fascinated by the passing countryside and I made several unauthorised excursions onto dirt roads to get a better look. Sharon, our sat nav lady was totally unimpressed by my lack of obedience when it came to taking her directions. She insisted that I make a U turn at the next available opportunity on several occasions, otherwise went quiet for a while whilst calculating a new route after my ‘mistake’. Thankfully I had half an idea of where we were supposed to be heading as the mountains didn’t half play tricks on her navigational skills later on. We put it down to an insufficient view of satellites, obscured by solid rock and the amazingly windy roads that we took.

We managed Cos by evening, just up the road from Foix, a town I have passed through on several occasions. Another beautiful, secluded, municipal campsite at an extraordinarily good price. Municipal being the key word, we decided. Sharon had just taken us up the most amazingly steep and narrow road, a short cut that was very impressive even though we were sure that she had gone off on one again. So we were happy to arrive and set up camp again for the night. My morning mattress find was a most welcome sight, not only did it make the night more comfortable, it provided us with seating for our evening meal. I had pulled it from the bins outside the campsite as we left in the morning, managing to squeeze it into the already packed vehicle. Thanks John for putting up with it in the back, it was most comfortable.

Day two was a bit of a trip down memory lane for me. Back to Foix and then Tarascon sur Ariege, where I had stayed with Donna. I pointed out her house on the way up the valley to Col de Port, a saddle that took us over, deep into the mountains. We stopped off for a bit to head further up the hill on foot to enjoy the view. I knew it was there after doing the same with Martin, Virginie, Cat, Freddie and Felix last summer on our way to Andorra. It was as stunning as ever, I love nearing a crest and a wonderful view unfolding in front of you step by step until you reach the top and can see right down the other side as well. The climb was much easier this time, probably fitter but the lack of smoking makes a huge difference too.

Onwards, back to the car and down towards Massat. I pointed out Justin and Emily’s as we dropped down into the valley, no time to stop and I would have feared for the car on their steep, unmade track if we had. I hope they are doing well with their pigs and the twins that were born whilst I was staying. An odd mix, but that’s how it sometimes is in the mountains.

A little stroll round the sleepy little town and on to find a picnic spot for lunch. We made the only shop in town with minutes to spare before it closed for the obligatory hour and a half for lunch. I recalled a raucous evening at the local bar last summer, where the locals were out in force and the music played way into the night. We enjoyed the timelessness of the old town with buildings that had been there long before New Zealand had even been discovered by Captain Cook, their hand hewn roof tiles and shuttered windows aged by centuries of exposure to the elements.

Our route continued down the valley to St Girons, Totnes of the Ariege, with much a similar feel. Either you know it or not, I shan’t be trying to explain it here. But we stopped en route, a quiet patch of grass by the river for lunch, the mattress was invaluable again, I even saw Virginies’ crazy painted car whizz by. Its a small world we live in, or is it just that valley?

Back out of the mountains and across the plains between St Girons and Lannemezan before heading up another valley. The expansive sunflower and maize fields stop as soon as the land starts to rise and land use changes to smaller pastures and woodland, further up the valleys as the mountains rise, the fields are forced to the flatter areas, forests clinging to the steeper terrain, colonised by differing species depending on orientation.

I had forgotten how picturesque this particular valley looks in summer as I have usually visited during the winter months when it is dank, damp and grey. Talk turned to skiing as I set the scene for where we were heading and explained how I had come to spend the last two winters at Chalet Lou Rider. Saint Lary Soulan was beautiful in the sunshine, a ghost town compared to mid winter, but still with plenty going on and a good feel to it. We headed up the steep mountain access road into very familiar territory. It seemed strange to be there in the hot sunshine, to see the ski fields lush with pasture and cows grazing under the lift lines.

Clare greeted us from the balcony with news that the kettle was on for a cup of tea. She had guessed it was our car heading up the hill and was prepared. Clare had one helpXer, Tom, who was staying for a couple of weeks and doing some amazing painting work round the property. Chester went mad with excitement, bouncing, barking and leaping about when he realised that I was someone he already knew, but soon quietened down with the sight of John and Julie, though he did become more sociable later in the evening.

Julie, John, Me (Sam), Clare and Tom

We all chatted in the sunshine on the terrace, prepared dinner and dined with two french guests who were staying for a few days. It sounds as if the chalet is going to be busy next season, with Christmas and the New Year almost completely booked already. It was great that John and Julie had run a vineyard restaurant in the past, as they could appreciate the challenges of catering for a seasonal trade and were fascinated by the set up and how it all worked.

I slept in a regular guest bedroom upstairs and was woken to the smell of croissants wafting up from the kitchen. I imagined momentarily that it was cold and snowy outside and I was about to head off for a day skiing, it wasn’t about to happen with the twenty or so degrees and bright sunshine, but we did head up the mountain for a quick stroll and to explain the extent of the domaine that was used in the winter. Julie, I know, was most tempted to keep her bag packed when she got back to new Zealand and return to helpX and ski through the winter, she’d love it. John, being less sporty was not so keen.

Julie checking out the ski fields and being very impressed

Being a whistle stop tour, we were off the mountain by midday and stopped to eat lunch in a sleepy little village on the way on to the plains. A local chicken joined us almost immediately, determined to be fed. John fed it most half a baguette in the hope that it would leave us alone, but it persisted until we were almost done, then a man from the fruit and veg stall by the road came and claimed her back. We weren’t sure whether he was happy that we had fed his chicken or not.

The afternoon continued hot outside as we headed north east towards Toulouse and our final nighttime destination. The roads were long and straight, passing through still more familiar territory, Vanessa and Lisa’s, Cherry and Chris’, Pascale and Christian’s, all not that far from the route that we took, through fields of maize and sunflowers and sleepy villages enjoying the late summer sunshine.

We hit Toulouse just before rush hour, with the help of Sharon, found our hotel, a tiny 36 euros for a room for three just down the road for the airport. Handy for the following morning and the eight a.m. car drop off, the most compact room I have ever seen, a double bed with a single ‘bunked’ overhead, just enough room for a table, chair and preformed en suite shower room rammed into the corner. It did the job, and for the price, we were happy.

A final meal in the centre of town, reminiscing about the action packed few days that we had spent together and of John and Julies’ whole French, Spanish and Portuguese whistle-stop tour. We sat outside on a terrace enjoying the warm evening air just opposite the restaurant that they had eaten their first meal in France just over three weeks before. I had thoroughly enjoyed myself and feel proud to have been able to share my knowledge and experiences of this corner of the world with two very dear friends.

Sharon gave us one last treat whilst returning to the hotel. She got mightily confused and navigated us five times over the same roundabout, including a detour of more than half an hour. Don’t you just love sat navs.

We slept soundly, returned the car and said our good byes at the airport before continued on our separate journeys. John and Julie to London, Edinburgh and then back to New Zealand. Me, northwards to revisit Nicolas and to see my first possible plot of land.

raised beds

2011-09-22T21:14:00.001+02:00

peeling bark

raised bed detail

equipment

construction finished, awaiting soil

These beds are a bit different to the ones that I have made in the past. To start with there was no wood, neatly cut into planks, waiting to be used, just the surrounding forest with trees aplenty. Secondly, the beds mustn’t look anything, not anything, like coffins. Sue had ripped out the last raised beds that had been constructed as they reminded her too much of death, the way they were laid out like graves in a cemetery, so not a regular rectangular shape then. On top of that, the ground sloped at a strange angle, so with the design I chose, to produce a horizontal planting surface, construction had to adjust to the slope on two planes. There is nothing like a good challenge.

Thankfully, almost by magic, Jordi (I think that’s how it’s spelled) came out of the woods to work to earn some money clearing the forest. He embraced the task of finding suitable timber for construction, rather than the usual firewood demands and before the day was out, had cut and prepared good straight trunks of a couple of dozen pine trees. He expressed concern that they were not going to be left to dry and harden for a year, but assured us that they would last a good eight years, if not ten or twelve, even if used immediately.

I hauled the timbers back to the garden area, sometimes with the help of Geoff, and set too peeling off the bark. This allows the wood to dry and harden faster and reduces the possibility of rot setting in, especially where the wood remains in contact with damp earth for any length of time. Improvisation is often required and the best tool I could find for the job was a scythe blade. I knew it was available as I had stolen its handle to repair a fork whose handle had disintegrated in my hands, absolutely riddled with woodworm. It’s no big deal, as Jordi will no doubt cut a nice length of chestnut and craft a new one sometime. The scythe blade worked a treat, just like a giant potato peeler, sliding under the bark, peeling it free from the wood in long strands. A bit tricky round the knots and sticky from resin, I peeled for a couple of days whilst working up courage to tackle the next stage of the operation.

Cutting and notching the poles so that they fitted together easily was going to require using a chain saw. I know that they look simple to use but I have avoided them till now, graphic descriptions of injuries and visualising the speed that flesh disappears under a fast moving blade has always been enough. Leave such tasks to the professionals and stick to hand tools when possible has been my motto. Here I was offered the full protective kit, so I thought I would give it a go. I consulted several safety videos on line then donned my kevlar trousers, heavy duty boots and gloves, face, head and ear defenders, checked over the machine and was ready.

(Kevlar is an amazing material, it consists of millions of threads, compacted into a thick cloth. Once it is cut, the threads expand to produce a mass of strong fibers that break loose and jam up the moving blade of a saw in moments, stopping it before it has time to do excessive damage. I wasn’t about to test it, but allowed it a small amount of my trust.)

Equipped with a tiny chainsaw I started with straight cuts and tidying up errant branch stubs that had been left during the felling. I soon progressed to forming the angled notches needed to stack the timbers and form the beds. Construction started with the lowest angled corner, building up level by level, adding longer lengths and additional corners determined by the lie of the land and the thickness of the branches. The aim was to build high enough to get one complete layer of wood, defining the outline of the planting area and then to fill the structure with soil. It was great. I enjoyed using the chain saw, progressing with more speed and efficiency each time I used it. (never forgetting how close I was to those flesh eating teeth)

I finished one bed then continued with another two simultaneously, using the offcuts from one to fill in gaps in the other, finishing the construction with a couple of days so spare. The notches were not always perfectly aligned and there were a few gaps here and there, but for garden beds I was more than happy with my efforts, as were Sue and Geoff. Jordi reappeared from time to time and took responsibility for completing the task. We discussed filling gaps in the structures with smaller branches, choosing juniper as there was plenty around and its durability was consistent with the life of the project.

The bark peelings were raked up and spread between the beds, acting as a weed suppressant mulch and a mud free surface to walk on. A trailer load of soil was gathered from the forest, a mixture of rain washed sand from the gutters and rich leaf mould from under the trees to fill a couple of the beds and my time on the project was over.

It’ll be great to return one day to see the rest of the garden beds full of soil and produce. By which time I’ll have taken a chain saw course, when I get back to England, and be ready to tackle some of the bigger tasks.

the most southerly house in france

2011-09-19T21:04:00.000+02:00

It probably isn’t the most southerly house in France, but it is the most southerly inhabited house in the country. Nestled low in a wooded valley looking out across what used to be productive farm of orchards, terrasses and fields to Spain on the other side. Over 7km from the nearest village and accessed down a challenging dirt track, the property is off grid, off water and is only connected to the phone due to a wealthy, earlier owner.

The farm has lain dormant and unused for several decades, probably abandoned before or during the last great war. Trees have grown up and now swamp the whole area, they loom above the fruit trees and a forest disguises the toil and sweat of yesteryear. Terraces crumble and water courses, constructed to distribute irrigation water, lie filled with debris and completely unusable. It is now the product of man and nature, once cleared and tamed, capable of supporting a community of over sixty people, the farm is now all but completely reclaimed by nature. The occasional apple tree evident amongst the pines and chestnuts, yellowing leaves of a vine left to climb and ramble amongst the treetops, escaped from its once controlled environment and free to explore its environment.

Reclamation by nature is fast, it has an energy that does not cease and a determination of untold energy, it does not rest or tire, it rises early and continues each day through rain and shine, at night it harnesses other energies and continues its work through the darkness, endeavouring to erase the mark of man and claim back the land for its self.

The current owners, my hosts, find themselves in this new world by accident. They were searching for a compact house with a small garden on the outskirts of a village, with easy road access to local towns, fully equipped with all utilities on tap and neighbours to pass the day with and invite for drinks. Instead, they fall in love with almost completely the opposite. A large rambling house set in this neglected 54 hectares of woodland, down an unmade track that takes a good twenty minutes to negotiate by 4x4 and a further ten minutes to reach the first small village. No electricity or treated drinking water on site and a sewerage system that consists of a neverendingly deep crack in the rocks where everything has flowed for the last sixty or so years. It gets cut off by snow frequently in the winter and there are no other houses in sight or earshot. For the most part, they love it and I certainly loved visiting.

Saint Laurent de Cerdans, the local village

One foot in France, the other in Spain

Somewhere in this valley is a house

there it is, fully off grid

and right in the middle of nowhere

england in the summer time

2011-09-02T17:42:00.000+02:00

I am back in France again after a great holiday in Portugal, a couple of months visiting family and friends and helping my parents move house in England. I had expected it to be a bit of a break after my springtime adventures, but as usual my life seems even more full on when I return home for a bit of peace and quiet. This time was more challenging with the moving of my family home, parents are now happily installed in their new house just down the road from my sister and everyone had calmed after the intensity and stresses of the move. It has been great to see them move and readjust to a completely new surroundings so quickly after so many years.

There was other long awaited news too, whilst I was in the UK, on a subject that I have written about on several occasions during the last couple of years. News of my visa. The application for a visa started as a quick few months after filling out the application forms that I had to wait till I returned to California and Love Apple Farm. Difficulties with the original application forced an appeal and, unbeknownst to us at the time, a more prolonged period of waiting for processing to occur. The news finally came through from Homeland Security, two years and three months after the original application was filed, the news that the visa has been denied and that I will not be heading back to Love Apple Farm to work, not now or any time in the future. You can imagine my initial reaction, although on reflection, we gave it our best shot and it was not to be.

I was fortunate that my life was so hectic at the time, what with sorting out and packing my parents house, planning visits to countless friends around London and catching up with folk in Salisbury, I hardly had time to focus on the news for a couple of weeks, and by the time I did, the big disappointment had faded a bit. My vague Plan B had adjusted to become a specific Plan A and the last two years of my waiting and learning and traveling around south western France all made perfect sense. Not one moment of those years had been wasted, the knowledge that I had gleaned, both consciously and subconsciously, has sorted itself into an order, my outlook on life has slowly and steadily reformed itself, (I do believe this started from the time I first began to travel) and I find myself ready to begin a new and exciting chapter.

the old house

the giant truck full of belongings

the new house

Mum, Dad and me

The plan, it has been quite a revelation to me, as well as most of my friends and family, but I think that they probably saw it coming too, is another project. This time though it is different. It isn’t about making lots of money and gathering possessions to find happiness, although I do recognise that I will need some of both. It is about sharing the joy and the bounty of life and encouraging others to do the same. I have realised along my journey that I have been more content with a rucksack on my back and a minimum of possessions to contend with than I possibly was before, a simple life with less frills and expectations, less demands for physical things and a more simplistic outlook on what gives pleasure and contentment.

I have absolutely loved sharing my knowledge of gardening and horticulture with others and empowering people to progress on their own, spending time with folk, hearing their stories and getting an insight into differing ways of life. Learning new skills, discovering how the world is changing and allowing myself time to focus on what to do next.

Imagine a small house, surrounded by gardens of vegetables and flowers, with an orchard and probably a stream. Perhaps cats and dogs, chickens, rabbits, a goat, some sheep and possibly a cow or two, although that is getting a bit excessive on the animal front. Outbuildings for storage and shelter, a small classroom, clearings under the shade of trees where people can gather for workshops, a communal kitchen, camping facilities for several tents.

A place where everyone is welcome to come and get involved, to learn and teach and share their knowledge of gardening, the outdoors and of simple living. Somewhere to relax and soak up the atmosphere whilst contributing to the project as a whole. I think that I want to create an environment like that.

At present it is just a dream. I am starting my search for land with an open mind. If it is there I shall find it, if other opportunities present themselves along the way I shall consider them as well. Who knows what joys life shall bring and what adventures will be waiting along the way. To that end I am back in south western France, close to the Pyrenees, continuing my helpX hosted life with my eyes and ears wide open in search of that perfect piece of paradise.

helpx article in the guardian newspaper

2011-08-14T09:16:00.002+02:00

During the last few months I have been interviewed on line by a freelance journalist, Claudia Cahalane, for an article in the Guardian newspaper. She wrote to me on numerous occasions and asked all sorts of questions, I dug deep into my memories and gave the best answers that I could. The resulting article can be found by clickinge here or, hopefully, on the headline of this post. I think that it's great. Thanks Nicolas for the introduction.

The topic was helpx and how it has changed my career, my attitude to work and about any new skills that I may have learned along the way. I flicked back through my blog entries, diaries and photos to trigger memories and supplied Claudia with pages of information, she probably has enough for several further articles, should she feel the need.

We have since talked on the telephone and discussed the possibility of me writing a book, which I am excited yet nervous about. What sort of book? Travel? self discovery? a journal? in what sort of format? what tense? from what angle? aimed at who? or is that whom? It's all rather exciting and I am starting to formulate ideas. If you have any thoughts as a follower of my blog or a first time reader I would love for you to comment. What sort of book would you like to see?

This could be an exciting sideline, or perhaps more of a career change than I had thought until now. It's going to take some time, or it may never happen, but who knows, one day we may be able to read about my adventures in a real live book. I am just waiting to get back on the road so that i can dedicate some decent time to it.

I am not sure how long the article in the paper will be archived for on the Guardian website, it may disappear at some stage and if it does, my links will no longer work.

fresh market produce portugal

2011-08-01T16:39:00.007+02:00

I just love the vibrancy and freshness of produce here in portugal.

You can almost feel the effort and love that goes into all these products

images of portugal

2011-07-09T16:19:00.000+02:00

Two weeks with friends in the sunshine.

What better way to relax, unwind and do a little less than usual.

So much so that there isn't really any text on this posting, or the next probably.

coming down to the beach? the water is lovely.

the pirate ship went that way

when I grow up I'm going to be this big

preparing for a grilled sardine supper

sunset from the apartment

Carvoiero beach and town

Chris and Philippa admiring my next vehicle

modern sculpture in Silves

une vacance a holiday

2011-06-25T11:35:00.001+02:00

(scroll down for english version)

Je suis parti de la maison en paille pour une vacance en Portugal avec quelle ques amies.

De Bagnere de Bigorre j’ai fait du stop a Barcelone. Une voyage sans plan, seulement que la depart avec Julien etait le vendredi matin a quatre heures du matin. Apres ca, une melange des voitures et voyages quelle ques longues, et quelle ques courts.

Le deuxieme voyage etait le plus difficile a trouvée, a cinque heures moins le quart il restait la nuit. Il n’y a pas beaucoup de voitures et, peut etre trop dangerous pour les gens d’arreter.

Un homme qui travaille a la usine d’ Airbus a Toulouse. Un professeur de l’ecole de St Giron, if fait le meme voyage de toulouse a St Girons chaque jour de la semaine!!! Plus de trois heures dans sa voiture chaque jour, il n’etait pas content. Le troisieme voiture conduit d’un homme avec son fils qui va au medecin a Foix. Toutes les voyages avant neuf heures du matin. J’etais content d’avance aussi vite que ca.

L’autre côte de Foix, une groupe qui allez randonnez dans les montagnes, une petite voyage juste d’entrée de l’autoroute. Un etudiant avec une vieille Renault 5, j’aime bien les voitures comme ca. Apres lui, un deuxieme proffesseur, plus content de la premiere, il travaille seulement quatre jours par semaine et il va cherchée les champignons avec deux de ses chiens.

Pendant le huitieme voyage nous avons arrivée a la douaine d’Andorre, la passée sans problem et arrivée dans la ville avant la pas de la Casa. J’ai achetée du tabac pour une amie et une bouteille de vodka pour la vacance et a continuée direction espagne. Une voyage tres court avec un homme qui travaille dans le station de ski, une autre avec quelle ques touristes polonais et apres eux, un père et son fils d’Andorre le deux avec l’accents impossibles!!

La route après la ville d’Andorre la Vella etait presque impossible pour faire du stop. Les voitures passez a grande vitesses et il n’y a pas beaucoup des possibilities pour les arreter, donc, j’ai continuée a pied vers une heure et demi.

En fin, une madamoiselle as arettée, une infermiere qui habite a l’espagne. Elle a decidée de me prendre a la prochaine ville ou j’ai trouvée la route de Barcelone. Encore une attente, beaucoup de voitures mais personne qui veut arreter. Un heure en plus au soleil, personne a arretée et j’ai commencée a penser que c’est impossible de faire du stop a l’espagne.

Une grande pause, sans voitures et ensuite une voiture de Mercedez Benz, en argent avec les sieges en cuivre blanche........ j’ai pensée <>

<> mais j’ai se levée mon pouse, comme toujours, et la voiture as ralentée, et á arretée. L’homme a fait beaucoup du stop quand il etait jeune et maintenant il arret pour toutes les gens qui voyage comme ca. Il va a Barcelone, la ville que j’ai besoin de visiter la soir pour un rendez vous avec une amie.

Apres 16 heures en route, j’arrive chez Donna. Elle est en train de sortir pour faire un soirée avec deux amies que je connais de l’année derniere. Je prend un douche, trouve les nouvelles vestements et sort pour un soirée a Barcelone.

Le Samedi, je me leve a midi, je passe le jour comme une touriste avec Donna, une fête romain, un musée, une marché, beaucoup à pied et le soir à côté de la fontaine magique ou nous avons mangées une picque-nique. A minuit j’ai parti pour la gare d’autobus. A une heure le matin mon voyage a recommencée direction Madrid.

J’ai dormi en route et nous sommes arrivée a Madrid le matin. Immediatement resorti la ville dans un autre bus vers Sevilla ou j’ai arrivée 16.30. aprecervoir Quatre heures comme une touriste, un bon repas, un lit moins cher dans une auberge de jeunesse, ca c’est le dimanche fini.

Le lundi, j’ai pris deux autobusses, un petit ferry d’arrivée en Portugal. Apres ca, deux voitures ‘du stop’ - un viel homme avec les mains qui s’egare... et apres un medicen espagnol qui travaille portugal, deux trains et finalement les dernieres deux voitures ’du stop’ - un jeune homme avec son chien malade, ils ont en train de visiter le vétérenaire et les deux dames, une a parlée anglais, l’autre francais, donc une conversation bizarre entre nous trois. J’ai arrivée a l’apartement ou je vacance avec mes amies deux heures avant les autres. Quelle voyage incroyable.

J’apprend la langue francais, donc si tu trouve les fautes graves, les m’explique SVP.

A holiday.

It’s not a direct translation but an expansion on the french version above.

I left Dominiques straw house at four in the morning with Julien and Théo, they were heading to Paris and I wanted to take advantage of an early lift. Slightly too early in fact but in the right direction. I was heading to southern Portugal to holiday with some english friends by the cheapest means possible within the time available.

An hour into the journey and I find myself at the entrance to an autoroute (motorway/freeway) in the middle of nowhere. Who in their right mind would pick up a hitch hiker there. A great guy did, he was returning from work as a security guard for Airbus and thankful for a chat though not for long. I found myself on the side of the raod again as he headed off in the wrong direction. A school teacher followed, he spent over three hours a day in his tiny car driving from Toulouse to St Girons, he wasn’t a happy bunny and had recently quit the job to get some of his life back and less time in his car.

A brisk walk through St Girons, a town I love, a pastry for breakfast and onwards with a circus worker who was taking his son to the doctors in Foix. He explained that there was a cheap train to Andorra from Foix, so I waited half an hour for the tourist office to open at 9.00am only to discover that it was in fact a bus and not that cheap at all. I profited from it being market day and stocked up on bread, cheese and fruit for my journey before heading off with some elderly french hikers in their minibus. Again a short journey but got me to a good spot to continue. A young french lad whose brother was hitching round Ireland took me a stretch further to Tarascon sur Ariege, more memories of my summer two years ago, he was fascinated by my explanation of helpX and was going to tell everyone about it.

Teacher number two was in a much better frame of mind, he worked four days a week and was heading to the mountains to gather mushrooms with two of his eight huskies, sled rides for the tourists in the winter and they always need exercise.....

Then a lucky break, a longer ride all the way into Andorra. My chauffeur, a motor cycle nut had driven the road all his life and we flew up that mountain pass as fast as the other traffic would allow, exhilarating as a passenger so I can only imagine what the drive was like. A great contact for work in the ski resort if ever I should need. Thanks Vincent.

Had to buy cheap booze in Andorra, a bottle of vodka for the holidays and some tobacco for Joy. A quick stop to enjoy the view whilst eating lunch and hoping all the time that there would be more traffic, the road had gone rather quiet. I walked a while before getting a ride with a resort worker, they spend the summer cleaning the mountains and doing maintenance, his winter job sounded much more thrilling, part of the team that dynamites the snow before avalanches occur, a dangerous and very important job that undoubtedly keeps many thousands of people safe whilst skiing in the mountains. I thanked him on behalf of skiers in general. He turned off soon after the col and left me on the long descent into Andorra town. A polish family took me a bit further but they were heading up a valley to hike for the afternoon. Father and son, andorran, took me through the old town and left me on the road to spain.

Absolute nightmare, traffic belted down the two lane highway towards the border at such a rate there was no way that anyone would be able to stop. There were safety barriers between the road and the pavement and for much of the way, minimal foreign cars that might be traveling afar and the sun was blazing in the sky.

I walked and I walked for what seemed an eternity but in fact probably an hour and a half. The traffic raced past and the road descended through the tiny principality on towards spain. At least I was definitely going in the right direction as there was only one road and it was down hill all the way. Finally another little town with a wide sweeping bend and plenty of chance for cars to pull in. I dumped my large bag and recommenced hitching with my sign. ESPAGNE. The cars continued to fly by, but eventually one stopped, driven by a nurse on her way home. She explained that she lived in Spain and would take me as far as the first town where the road to Barcelona was fast and more direct.

Late afternoon, probably the end of siesta time in ‘la Seu d’Urgell’ so very few people about. I plodded to the edge of town hoping that there would be a suitable hitching place. There were many so I chose one with a bit of shade to shelter in when there were no cars. It’s pointless standing in the shade when there is bright sunshine as the drivers find it too hard to see you, they don’t seem to like people wearing hats or sun glasses either, I have experimented with these possibilities in the past.

Cars passed, vans passed, busses passed lorries passed with very little acknowledgement, let alone a lift. My spirits flagged after a while so I reached for the comedy hitching method that I have seen used by others. It amused me and cheered me no end. The method involves giving a running commentary of all the vehicles that pass with suggestions and greetings for their occupants and reasons that they might want to give me a lift, be nice, smile, wave, tell cars traveling in the other direction how futile your efforts are and how busy every one taking my route and that someone will be along real soon. It probably looks a bit crazy, but it was great fun and got several waves and a cheer from a car packed with locals.

A big fat silver Mercedez Benz came round the corner. “Cars like that never stop” I told myself “ Posh folk don’t want grubby hikers spoiling their upholstery” and it’s usually true. Not this time, a smart business man welcomed me into his air conditioned motor with white leather seats and was rather pleased of the company. He did the journey to Barcelona twice a week and was happy to drop me at a metro station in the city. From Portugal, he had originally visited Andorra to work as a hotel receptionist six years ago and was now area manager for a smart hotel chain.

I arrived early evening and caught up with Donna, she knew that I was on my way but had no idea when I was to arrive. She invited me to stay and I caught the metro over. Quick change and right back out for an evening with friends. We drank at a rooftop bar and enjoyed the sights and sounds of the amazing city, it was almost as if I had never left. Just after midnight tiredness overwhelmed me and I headed back to the apartment to sleep.

I surfaced at noon, we had coffee and headed out like tourists, a roman theme street market, newly furbished museum, old cobbled streets with interesting shops and characters. A brief siesta, wonderful picnic dinner by the magic fountain and off to the bus station again.

Overnight to Madrid, arriving at nine something in the morning. A quick metro ride to the other bus station for a morning coach to Sevilla. I slept for most of the time on both legs of the journey, arrived just after four and found a hostel for the night. Not wanting to miss out I hit the streets until the light faded before grabbing a couple of beers and a bite to eat. What I saw was beautiful, intriguing and well worth a longer visit, I will return.

Had I not arrived on Sunday afternoon during siesta, I would have known to be at the bus station for the next stage of my journey at 7.30 am, I arrived after a leisurely, inclusive, breakfast in the hostel much later than that only to discover that the next direct bus to Faro with space was at midnight. I eventually headed to Huelva on a local bus, closer to Portugal but still a while away. Another two busses took me to the spanish border where a tiny ferry, just big enough for four cars crossed the estuary to Portugal on the other side.

A helpful kiosk attendant informed me that there was over a two hour wait for the next bus to Faro. I could get a train in an hour and a half, but I figured that it would be expensive so I decided to give hitching another go. I had just gained an hour and had till about nine thirty that evening to reach my destination before my friends. It was two in the afternoon.

An elderly gentleman with wandering hands picked me up. He suggested that it would be much better if I had a shower and some dinner and stayed with him overnight, it would be much easier to get a lift with the commuters the following morning. I knew his game even though he was only speaking Portuguese and he begrudgingly left me at a good place to continue. Not long afterwards I was whizzing down the motorway in a doctors’ car discussing european politics in french until he discovered that I was english then we switched languages. An hour or so later he dropped me at a convenient station and I caught up with an earlier train. It took me to Faro, I continued on another train to Estombar, a short distance from Lagoa, where I got a ride in the fastest time imaginable. I left the station put out my thumb, a young guy pulled up, en route to the vets with his giant dog in the back and deposited me, ten minutes later at the junction of the final leg of my journey.

The heat of the evening sun, the smell of the sea, a familiar road and the knowledge that I could walk all the way now and still reach my destination in good time. The pressure was off I had as good as made it. My steps were light even though my packs were heavy, I had thoroughly enjoyed my journey and was content to savour the remaining minutes however they turned out to be.

Two elderly ladies stopped before I had walked as far as the dilapidated windmill on the corner. One spoke french and the other one english, so for the last ride of my journey we had a strange and amusing conversation in three languages. I spoke to each of them in the tongue they understood and they in turn shared my phrases with each other in portuguese. Five minutes later they dropped me at the sea front in Carvoeiro and wished me a pleasant stay. I strode up the steep hill to the apartment, happy to have to have arrived back in a town with so many wonderful memories and excited at the thought of a holiday for the next couple of weeks.

the day the straw arrived (images)

2011-06-25T11:25:00.000+02:00

the day the straw arrived

2011-06-25T11:20:00.002+02:00

We started work at first light and didn’t finish `till it was nearly dark, stopping for breaks to eat heartily and rest when needed. An impressive team who learned on the job and exceeded all expectations, finishing what was originally thought of as a two day job before the day was through.

Everyone pulled their weight and more. Teams of builders, bale cutters and porters got to learn their roles fast and rotated jobs throughout the day.

Builders constructed the walls and measured the spaces that needed less than full bales to fill the gaps next to door and window frames.

Cutting teams divided bales into the required lengths using giant needles and lengths of twine. The spare sections were also retied and put to one side for use on later sections of wall.

Porters sorted through the mess of delivered bales, choosing the best shaped for direct use, slightly distorted ones for cutting and discarding damaged and damp bales that were unfit for use.

The building took shape incredibly fast, whole sections of wall finished even before the first break of the day. The straw bales stayed in place but were dreadfully unstable, especially the smaller sections. Giant wooden mallets were used to persuade the walls to take the required form, flat, horizontal and vertical with no inward or outward bulges, slopes or slants.

All sections of wall rose to the same height, spacers were inserted where necessary in preparation for later compression. Additional bales were piled up as steps making it easy to reach the higher levels, these steps were dismantled when finished with and used elsewhere or carted off and stored for later use.

As straw building neared completion, scaffolding was erected inside to help get the upper wooden framework into position. The combined teams were challenged to raise huge sections of framework and place them on top of the sections of wall. It had been prebuilt in sections and supposedly slotted together in a predetermined order. As with most things on such building sites it needed some minor adjustments. The walls continued to sway until the framework was joined together into a continuous band round the building. Only when it was all fixed together did the form become rigid and stable and safe to be left for any length of time.

As the light of the day faded, giant tarpaulins were used to cover the new structure and protect it from the rain. It is critical that the bales remain dry and with minimal humidity if they are going to last for centuries when the building is complete.

Finally the work was finished for the day, everything tidied away and there is time to celebrate a little. It has been a big goal and a massive day, but in the greater scheme of things only a tiny step in the makings of a house of straw. I am pleased to have waited for this day and thoroughly enjoyed working with such a great team of people on the project. Hopefully I will return to see the finished article one day, as now I am somewhere quite different.

night in the mountains

2011-06-14T17:22:00.004+02:00

Gerome? what are you doing? this is my photo

the refuge, at last

'a table'

the view was much better in the morning

in both directions

Luca, Julian, Téo, Julian, Gerome, Catarina and Jemana

(hope the spellings are good)

The plan had been in place for the last month at least, but for one reason or another it had never happened. Julian and I had been talking about a weekend trek in the mountains with an overnight stay in a refuge, some good food, a bottle of wine and some good clean mountain air.

A couple of weeks ago we found just the place, so this weekend a group of helpers from the two building sites returned and did just that.

We started the weekend with a bbq on Friday night, probably not the best idea as such gatherings usually end in drinking too much and a late finish, this was no exception. We sat chatting round the fire until a good three a.m. before deciding that we really should get an ‘early’ night before heading for the hills.

Saturday morning started slowly with a leisurely breakfast and a long discussion as to what was going to be needed for the excursion. Food, drink, dry wood, as it had been raining for at least a week and the refuge was high high above the tree line, sleeping bags, water, the list went on and on. The party of eight split into two, half back to their accommodation to gather the necessary and the other half to town to shop. Rendez vous in town for a bite to eat and a beer is always the done thing before such an adventure.

We managed to leave the cars and start walking just before four in the afternoon. Not bad as it is nearly mid summer and it only took us two and a half hours to reach the refuge last time. Six thirty should be fine to get settled in to the refuge, check out the lake and surroundings before settling down for a relaxing evening. It was cloudy but pleasant and everyone was in good spirits.

It took four and a half hours to reach the refuge for a multitude of reasons, much heavier back packs, less fit walkers, a different route and a thick fog that enveloped us two thirds of the way up. The fantastic views were non existent and everyone was either wet from the outside in by the fog or by sweat from the inside out. It was great to get a fire lit and a bit of warmth in the cabin.

Three sets of bunks for eight, not bad, apart from the fact that two beds were already reserved, a father and son who had arrived earlier. I was just thankful that it was only two and not another party of eight or more. Imagine.

Two slept on the floor and we pushed the remaining bunks together, three sharing each level, it was only for one night and after a good meal, a few beers and that climb, no one was in a position to complain. We got a glimpse of the mountains, lit by moonlight, as the clouds cleared and a fit of the giggles just before retiring for the night. Getting to sleep has never been so amusing, there was no language barrier, as no one said a word, it was just one of those amusing experiences. You probably had to be there to know.

Sunshine greeted us, we must have slept well as it was gone eight when we stirred. Another fire was lit for coffee, yes, we even took a percolator. Bread sausage and cheese breakfast and for a couple of hardy souls a dip in the lake. It was truly freezing just to wash in, so I have the utmost admiration for those that went further.

A leisurely Sunday ahead of us, most of the group headed further up the valley in search of another lake. We climbed for another hour and a half, much easier without carrying anything and found no additional water. Some late drifts of snow, an amazing array of wild flowers, it taxed my brain somewhat to find their names, but, as ever, fascinating to see plants that I have sold for so many years in pots in garden centres, outside in their wild and natural environment. Signs of Marmots and Isards, but not the real thing and expended enough energy to be hungry again.

We finished but all of the provisions we had hauled up the mountain for lunch before gathering our belongings and heading back off down the hill. There must have been a good twenty people picnicking by the lake when we left. Imagine how crowded that cabin might have been had it not been foggy the afternoon before. Lucky stars and all that......

The descent was beautiful, we profited from lightly clouded blue skies and views of lush high pasture, mountain slopes of scree, rock slides and occasional patches of forest. Lower down, the remains of ancient summer villages that the farmers used back in the day, more frequent hurds of sheep and cattle and the rushing, babbling stream hurrying all that melted snow quickly down the mountain to be used again. (If you need help with that one, google “water cycle”) Somewhere within the group a discussion started, and although almost everyone is leaving for pastures new during the coming week, it was decided that next time we will start on Friday evening and spend the whole weekend in the hills. But that is for next time....

the other house of straw

2011-06-14T17:11:00.003+02:00

just foundations

frames for windows and doors

protected from the weather

after work

I haven’t really written about the other house, but as we construct the house of straw here, there is another project not that far away that is just starting to take shape. The two owners share their projects, help, expertise, knowledge, wwoofers, helpXers etc by working on each others properties for half of each week.

It all works really well and with a great group of helpers the days fly by, big communal meals at lunch time, the sharing of stories and plans of the future, (I already have some incredible neighbours for when I buy my plot of land here) great discussions and two pre decided teams for football, basket ball and all those other games that we play after close of play in the afternoons.

To date all the work there has been in preparation for the arrival of the straw. Completion of foundations, the wooden pre straw base, frames for windows and doors, the potager to keep everyone well fed and from time to time work on the lunch preparation team. Imagine the amount of grief I got from fourteen french people when they discovered that someone english was going to cook them lunch. Thankfully the meal that Téo and I delivered was a complete hit and is talked about till this day.

There is much excitement as, after weeks and weeks of delay due to the unpredictable weather, the straw arrives tomorrow. Six o’clock start there, so breakfast at five fifteen latest. It’s going to be an interesting one.

wonderful weekend

2011-06-14T16:59:00.004+02:00

modeling pizza dough pants

hot off the press

pizza making implements and brand new oven

that's old, that one

potager revisited

Wonderful weekend with Vanessa and Lisa even though they were in mid flow preparing for a parental visit followed by their landlord and his mother, so as you can imagine it wasn’t as chilled as it often is in Charlas.

Never the less I had a great time, as I do helping friends out and enjoying getting things done. Waking Ziggy the dog morning and evening through fields of sunflowers and sweet corn. Fixing things. Communal weeding and a good chat with lots of tea breaks is as enjoyable for me as a weekend visiting museums and galleries. That coupled with lots of spicy ‘english’ food and a good bit of rubbish television was a real treat after two months of uber healthy living in the mountains.

The real treat was held back to my last day, as it had only just been built and needed a bit of time to dry out. Home made pizza cooked in a home made clay pizza oven. It was the best. I have to build one of these when I get settled as it was marvelous. When I arrived Lisa was removing the sand form that supports the clay dome during construction, so it was literally the first time that the oven had been used. How cool was that.

bagneres de bigorre

2011-05-30T15:48:00.004+02:00

Ferme de la Coume.

Home made cheeses, vegetables and plants for the garden.

All grown the biodynamic way.

Patience is the mother of all virtues

Bread always tastes better when you know the baker

I would love one, but I have left so many behind in the past, I think that

I'll just keep my beenie for the time beeing.

This could be my next local town,

if I keep thinking the way I am thinking at the moment.

Will have to see what happens..........

or is it all a dream?

Une serre fait maison A homemade greenhouse

2011-05-30T14:40:00.002+02:00

C’est un serre fait maison. Seul le polyéthylène a été acheté. Ils ont utilisé le bois de la ferme, les piquets en châtaignier et les branches longues des noisetier, la ficelle est la ficelle des bottes de paille qu’ils ont utilisé pour la maison. Elle marche comme une serre qui a coûté beaucoup d'argent.

It’s a home made greenhouse. Only the polythene was specifically purchased. They used wood from the farm, chestnut fence posts, long stems of hazel, the same string that is used to the bind bales of straw that have been used for the house.

Même la porte et la fenêtre ont été construites avec les matériaux trouvés sur place. Deux ou trois vis et une longeur de fil, plus du bois et du polyéthylène, et c'est tout.

Even the door and window were made from things found on the building site. Two or three screws another length of string, some wood and an offcut of polythene, that’s all.

J’apprend la méthode pour le faire en ce moment, parce que la famille a besoin d’une deuxieme serre. Je la construis avec les autres qui restent ici pour aider la famille et pour apprendre les méthodes d'une vie eco.

I am learning how to do it at the moment as the family needs a second greenhouse. I am constructing it with some of the other helpers who are here to help the family and learn ecological methods.

Nous avons ramassé les tiges de noisetier dans la fôret à la main. C’est important de chosir les branches qui sont bien droites et très longues parce que chaque joint utilise plus de ficelle et beaucoup de temps pour le faire. On doit faire attention aussi de bien nettoyer les tiges de toutes les petites branches et choses pour bien protéger la polyéthylène, sa prend beaucoup de temps aussi.

We harvested the hazel branches from the forest by hand. It is important to choose very straight and long branches as each joint needs more string and takes time. Attention must be paid to ensure that the branches are cleaned of all pretruberances as they will damage the polythene, that is very time consuming too.

C’est bon de trouver les nouvelles utilisations pour les vieilles choses. On a utilisé les vieilles chambres à air, coupé en bandes pour attacher les tiges ensemble. Le caoutchouc ne glisse pas, il se tire bien et les noeuds sont très facile à faire.

It’s good to find new uses for old things. We are using old inner tubes cut into strips to bind the branches. The knots are easy to tie, they don’t slip and the rubber stretches to hold things good and tight.

Après trois jours de travail, la grande structure est presque complète. Il reste encore des tiges horizontales, les branches diagonales et les portes avec leurs encadrements: toutes les choses compliquées qui demandent beaucoup de réflexion. C’est bon de travailler sur l’autre chantier pour quelques jours. Le temps de penser.

Three days into the project the main structure is complete, just a few horizontal lengths, diagonal braces, then the doors and their frames to add. All the complicated parts that take time to think about. I’m glad that we are working at the other building site for the next few days.

variables

2011-05-15T08:02:00.003+02:00

endless discussions

trying out ideas

polytunnel challenge

polytunnel challenge two

challenge two at the end of the day

The car boot sale was great, just the same as in the UK, although more commercial sellers, the biggest surprise was the amount of money they expected for everything. Items that I would have paid 50p or a pound for back home had tags of four or five pounds. I guess that the french just like the thought of doing car boot sales more than selling off their junk. Needless to say I bought nothing for myself and only a couple of pie dishes to ensure that the desserts keep coming every evening. There have been a few breakages since I got here and ovenware suitable for pies and cakes had become a bit thin in the ground.

A varied week in almost every respect. The weather has been from blue skies and sweltering sunburningly hot to thick “Devon” mist, the cold and damp sort that doesn’t feel too bad but after half an hour outside you are soaked to the skin and freezing cold, torrential rain, blustery winds that shook the caravan all through the night and dispersed well weighed down polythene sheeting across several fields, now it is cold and crisp, I am sitting with four layers on and a wooly hat and my fingers are still cold, the sun is up and it will certainly warm well for the day.

Work wise, two very frustrating days trying to work out how to fit the very expensive, brand new, wooden framed, double glazed windows into the support frames that will hold them in place whilst the straw bale walls on the other house are built. They arrived with detailing that differed to what was expected so they wouldn’t fit flush into their housing. Plenty of discussions and trials and abandonments and more discussions and adjustments...... they have to fit as airtight as possible to keep out the draughts, ideally removable during construction so that they don’t get damaged, using as eco friendly materials (that are cheap and readily available here in the back of beyond) finished quickly before the straw arrives and all in french.

A much better day helping a neighbour erect a large steel frame polytunnel in a field, that, thankfully was a hot sunny day, so hot in fact that the steel bars became too hot to handle without gloves on during the afternoon. We got the majority constructed between six of us and managed several beer breaks and a slap up four course barbecue meal at lunchtime too. New french voices and another dose of the thick accent of the region, not to mention all those new words to figure out without a dictionary.

Here, a varied couple of days mass weeding in the potager, its amazing how much gets done when there are suddenly eight people going for it for an hour or so. Tomato seedling planting, seed watering and general garden guidance. Another greenhouse challenge, sorting out a newly started wooden frame polytunnel that had been started a week or so ago and will soon be needed for pepper, aubergine and the rest of the tomato plants. A challenge for team UK, Simon, another english guy and I eventually took the whole thing apart and started again which probably wasn’t what Pierlo wonted to see. I think he would have preferred a finished product although the structure we are now in the midst of construction should eventually be sturdier and longer lasting than the original. Another first for me, going into the woods to harvest enough sticks to build a polytunnel, cleaning them so that there are no pointy bits to damage the plastic outer, then tying them all together in a uniform shape just like a shop bought one. There is always a way to do these things and we’ve found an excellent use for the box of old innertubes that has been hanging around for ages. Then an urgent reutilisation of our skills to help the plastering team finish their task before the week came to an end, the last afternoon inside, damp and covered in clay again, I thought that I might have escaped mud for a week but then again, that is what I came here to experience.

summer is here

2011-05-08T09:12:00.000+02:00

A whirlwind week with helpers changing coming and going, the last week fo school holidays, lots of explaining and new accents to get used to, halfway through the weekend now and a full day ahead of me, think I will leave this blog writing lark till I am in a frame of mind.

I talked about Love Apple Farm last night and it has disturbed my calmness rather more than I had expected. I would so love to go live and work there so very much, but the longer I wait the less possible it seems. The other possibilities/alternatives keep waving at me and wanting decisions too, I am hanging on a thread between one and the others waiting for an answer. Only then can I head off to California or really start searching in earnest for that elusive piece of paradise that is not that far from here. A south facing plot of land with a barn or ruin to be worked on, view of the mountains, Toulouse not that far away, plenty of space for fruit and veggies, some chooks, rabbits and maybe a goat or sheep to keep the grass down. Beautiful weather in a country not that far from home where they properly stop for lunch and don’t go shopping on Sundays.

I could go on but there is a boot sale to look round and mountains to climb before the day is out. The sun is shining and not a cloud in the sky. Welcome to summer everyone.

la maison en paille II the straw house II

2011-04-24T09:58:00.002+02:00

Simon fait une melange de terre argilleuse et de l’eau dans une beignoire avec un malaxeur pour faire le premiere couche. Apres ca, on utilise un melange avec du paille bien coupee et une soupe de maise fermentee de dans. Ca pue.

Simon is mixing clay and water with an electric mixer in preparation for the first layer. Later layers include well cut straw and a fermented maize soup. It stinks.

Nous travaillons a l’interieur a ce moment. Dans les chambres et le grenier. Nous avons finir le premier couche d’argille sur la paille et nous commencons avec le deuxieme couche. Les couches s’accumule de produire une mur tres fort et durable.

At the moment we are working inside. In the bedrooms and the loft. We have finished the first coat of clay on the straw and are starting on the second. The layers build up to form a strong and durable wall.

Le travaille n’est pas difficile, juste un peut sale et mouillee. Un peut d’argille est bon pour la peau!

The work isn’t difficult, just a bit messy and wet. A bit of clay is good for the skin.

Apres un bon jour de travaille on a faim et on mange bien. Ici, on fait un BBQ avec Pierlo et sa famille.

After a good days work you are hungry and we eat well. Here we are having a BBQ with Pierlo and his family.

la maison en paille the straw house

2011-04-17T12:45:00.003+02:00

Je reste pour quelle ques semaines chez Pierlo et sa famille pour lui aider avec le construction de leur maison en paille.

I am staying with Pierlo and his family for a few weeks to help with the construction of their straw house.

L’exterieur de la maison est presque finis, elle attend la derniere couche d’argille et quelques fenetres.

The outside of the house is almost finished, it needs a final coat of clay and some windows.

C’est possible voir les panaux solaire dans la toit et les gouttieres qui aide avec le conservation d’eau pour le jardin.

You can see the solar panels in the roof and guttering to help conserve water for the garden.

Elle est une maison de trois etages. Au rez de chaussee il y a une salle de bains. La cuisine, la salle a manger et la salle de sejour sont toute ouverte. Au premiere etage, les trois chambres et un bureau. La greniers, accessible avec les échelles dans chaque chambre donne plus espace pour dormir.

It is a three story house. Ground floor with bathroom and open plan kitchen, dining and living room. The first floor will have three bedrooms and an office. The loft spaces, accessible by a ladder in each room provide extra sleeping space.

La paille dans le toit donne un isolant tres efficace et la maison rest bien chaud pendant l’hiver et frais en ete. Avec moins de chauffage.

Straw in the roof provides an excellent insulative layer, the house stay warm in the winter and cool in the summer. With less heating.

Les bottes de paille rest dans un fondation des briques isolant et ont separer par un structure du bois. On voire la ligne ou les fondations fini et le paille commence.

The bales of straw rest on a foundation of insulative bricks, separated by a wooden framework. You can see where the foundations finish and the straw starts.

A ce moment le mois est Avril et le soleil brille pour chauffer la maison par les fenetres qui face du sud. En ete il monte plus haute dans la soleil et le toit garde les fenetres en ombre, donc conservez l’interieur frais.

It is April at the moment and the sun shines through the south facing windows helping to heat the house. During the summer, the sun is higher in the sky and the roof overhang keeps the windows in the shade and the inside of the house remains cool.

no little piggies

2011-04-14T21:44:00.001+02:00

I have just spent the afternoon sieving mud into an empty bath in the middle of a field. Once the bath was full, water was added and then I spent an hour or so mixing it into a slimy mess. This morning I smeared earlier batch of slimy mess onto bales of straw between rafters in an attic, tomorrow I will be doing the same. Not for vast sums of money, just out of interest and to earn my bed and board. Yes, crazy as ever here, at my new helpX location helping Pierlo and his family to build a home out of straw.

The project has been going for three years now and the structure of the house is complete, as is most of the exterior work, save the final coat of clay on some of the walls. The interior, however is still far from complete. The straw bales are still evident throughout, which is great for seeing how the house has been constructed an to learn the next steps in line there are stairs supported on bricks and there are no walls upstairs at all. No electrics, although quite a bit of the ducting is in place and a few pipes for water, there is still an inordinate amount to do, and for me, an inordinate amount to learn, especially as french is the language spoken here.

There are no little piggies and I have yet to see a wolf, but it really is a house made from straw. According to several books that I have read, the process has been used for centuries, though with the advent of mechanical bailing machines, giant rectangular building blocks of roughly the same size have become readily available. African mud huts use a similar principal, the old wattle and daub half timber framed houses of yesteryear are taken for granted in picture postcard britain, similar too, though, for some reason the use of straw is an uncommon building material today.

There are many reasons that it may be a good idea to build a house like this. Straw is a waste product from farming grain, it has excellent thermal properties and can be bought locally for a reasonable price. Clay is easily purchased from not that far away, is natural, non toxic, easy to handle and dries to provide an good solid surface both inside and out, a few additional ingredients on the outer surface make the surface impenetrable to rain whilst still allowing the building to breathe, shredded, fermented maize and some chopped grass do the trick and with the addition of other earths or possibly pigments can be used to colour internal and external walls. Construction is easy and fast compared to a regular house, almost anyone with enough determination could achieve a decent result. With minimal construction regulations here in france almost anyone can have a go, as far as I can tell, once you have the approval of the local town hall for the outward appearance of the property almost any method of construction goes, follow current wiring and plumbing rules and all is fine. How simple is that? I might even have a go myself one day.

On a me note, I haven’t been in a better place in ages. Not literally, not mentally or personally or otherwise. With all the waiting and uncertainty surrounding my never ending visa application for the states I can’t think that I have felt so tranquil for quite a while. Perhaps it is because my brain is completely occupied with learning so many new things, language, building terminology, different way of life, or perhaps it is the bread, alcohol and almost meat free healthy diet I find myself eating here, delicious by the way, especially if you like nettles and lots of greens. Or the fact that I am in the middle of nowhere, with some wonderful people, where the noisiest thing is the bells on the cows grazing in the fields all around, the occasional dog barking or farmyard machine. Whatever it is, I shan’t bother myself too much with the details, I will just enjoy my time here, another few weeks at least.

going down

2011-04-08T20:08:00.002+02:00

Leaving the snow under the 'new' telecabins

MMmm mountain honey, too warm to get close enough to peek inside

skiing is forbidden in on the roads and squares within the village

Chester dog and Justin, taking a break on the way down

civilisation, well, a mountain village is a lot more than we have been used to

Just for a change Justin and I walked down to the village. Something I had never done before, but often thought about. It took over two and a half hours to descend via a steep mountain path and over three and a half to climb back up to the chalet, the beers at lunchtime probably made the climb back up easier to start with.

I hardly ever go down to the village at all as I know that each time I go I will come back many euros lighter. There is never anything I need to buy, but always a temptation, perhaps a ‘T’ shirt or something to eat, chocolate, or a couple of beers on a pavement terrace. All perfectly allowable expenses, but easily avoided by not being there in the first place. Skiing is free and extremely enjoyable, as is walking and the weather has been incredibly warm for a while.

The difference was amazing, normally we head up the mountain into the cold and snow, I had almost forgotten that spring was on its way and things were starting to enjoy the warmer weather and longer days. The valley floor was carpeted in lush green pasture and as we descended the woodland was brimming with the ground level activity that gets its growing done before the trees are in full leaf. Violets and anemones were everywhere, the occasional drift of primroses, hints of blueberry plants that will carpet whole slopes later in the year. Now and again a warm breath of air, full of the scent of spring, the promise of the summer ahead, bringing back memories of hot days on the moors surrounded by heather, cliff top walks back in England and a sensory reminder of things to look for.

We talked of our different lives, of the freedom in europe compared to South Africa, where it is too dangerous to roam the countryside, especially if you are white, for fear of shootings or theft or kidnap. Of the greed in the world and the workings of big business, marketing and control of resources. Of options and choices and our need to tread more lightly on the planet before it kicks us off by natural means or otherwise. Of our time in the chalet, the lessons we have learned and memories we will take with us. Of travel and moving and the importance of material goods around us. It was great to have such discussions with someone from a different culture, background, age and upbringing and interesting to hear how somewhere else sees itself in the world. (South Africa that is not just Justin himself).

Chester dog was great on the way down and surprisingly calm on a lead. I had only ever seen him ‘loose’ in the mountains, never even with a collar on. He walked into the village next to me as if it was the most normal thing to do. We stopped at a bar for a couple of pints in the sun and he rested with us. A few people came to pet him, he tolerated that too, even the children, although we knew that he was more scared of them than they of him. Other dogs were good to say Hi to, the smaller the more scary he appeared to be. Two tiny dogs appeared from nowhere and he nearly tipped me off my chair in an attempt to escape their interest, though he soon calmed down.

It was good to sit and relax in the village and watch the world go by. Real people with proper lives and places to go, it made such a change from the skiers I become so used to in the winter. I know better now why Cameron came down to the village so often, without a love of skiing, living up there must have been maddeningly boring and inert of stimulation. A small part of me knew that it was nearly time to move on, that and the fact that more snow was melting every day.

The climb back up was a challenge. My legs had been rested but complained never the less. Chester no longer bounded ahead and Justin did moan just a couple of times about how far it was going to be. I convinced him that it was worth continuing if only to loose the calories that we had just imbibed I started discovering things of interest as we took a different route back up the hill. A few dandelion leaves to take away the taste of old beer, a primrose or two to remind myself of the taste, violets because I had never tried them direct from the wild, Parma Violets were once the height of fashion and were, in fact just violet petals coated in sugar. Watercress straight from the stream edge and of course a nettle leaf or two, yes, you can eat them raw and without getting stung, if you roll them tightly and chew them straight away. It passed the time well, gave us a great topic of conversation and enthused me further about finding somewhere new to go. The thought of working on a straw bale house, still in the mountains certainly seemed like a strong contender by the time we got home.

Most of the climb took us up an old farm track, though fields and woodland and in exactly the right direction. The remainder was on the road which was not ideal with Chester, though he was so tired and calm he hardly needed his lead, until of course we were just about to arrive at the chalet. Clare called out and he was off up the road like a shot, as if he had all the energy in the world, rushing to say Hi to his owner and to tell her all about how exciting and scary it had been. Justin and I continued at the same speed that we had maintained most of the way, arriving not that far behind. Mark was busy in the kitchen and dinner was almost ready. There was the rest of a barrel of beer to finish before we all left the chalet and an early night to be had.

going down more images

2011-04-08T20:00:00.000+02:00

church steps with fresh mountain water

primrose colour primulas,

(I only just noticed that, I thought that I had taken a photo of some primroses!)

anemone nemerosa

mother nature doing her thing

probably not this one, but it does need some tlc.

last chance to ski

2011-04-01T19:47:00.000+02:00

Justin and Calvin left a few days ago and the chalet seems awfully quiet without them. There have only been guests for the previous two weekends , no one during the weeks, so plenty of time to ski and do all those other jobs that need doing at the end of the season. All the remaining firewood was moved out of sight so that it doesn’t get stolen whilst the property is left unattended, not that it often is with Chester being around. Snow tyres on the car swapped for another season and a pretty good spring clean throughout. There was a certain amount of disappointment when it was realised that we would not be free to go skiing every day but we made short work of the tasks and profited from some late season snow and completely empty slopes. Mornings are always the best as the sunshine and warm breezes soon turn the south facing slopes to slush, or “soup” as the french call it, though it didn’t deter us from making the most of the sunny days, skiing until end of play, often being chased off the mountains by piste security. I haven’t played cards so often in years and it was good to pass on a few different games of poker rather than the ubiquitous ‘Texas Holdem’ that everyone seems to play these days.

Mark, the chef has gone too, he headed off this morning leafing a gleaming kitchen and a huge pan of french onion soup for Clare and me. That with leftover chicken curry will do just fine for our last dinner here. I am heading off to work on an eco building project for a few weeks, helping to contstruc a house out of wood straw and mud, I am so glad that the spring is here and the days will be warm and long, I didn’t much fancy taking that opportunity during the winter. Clare is heading off to stay with friends for a well earned break before her next guests arrive.

After the slushy mess of melting snow on the pistes yesterday I was in two minds as to whether to go out again today. Last day excitement and the thought of not skiing again for a year got the better of me. The conditions were excellent. It is absolutely amazing what a cloudless sky and a plummeting night time temperatures can do. No slush, perhaps a touch icy in the shade, but the best snow in ages. Clare and I enjoyed the morning much more than we had expected, returning to do each good run that we found again and again in case the next one was not so good, “shame to waste good snow” the sun shone and the sky was blue and everywhere we went was marvelous. Even the slow slopes provided plenty of speed and we covered most of the mountain in record time. As we often do, saving the big black ‘Terrenere’ till later on, earlier in the season it remains icy well into the day, so it’s best left for a while, not so now, the sun is higher and its popularity meant that it had been well used by the time we got there. Bumpy and a bit slushy, it was quite churned up, fun but heavy going. My legs, already tired from a morning at breakneck speed complained most of the way down and Clare felt the same so we decided to head to a mountainside restaurant for lunch.

An hour or so later I passed the top of that very same piste on my way to a more promising run and the top was roped off, I glanced at the signs which warned of avalanche and thought little more of it. Avalanches frequently happen here, especially when the weather is warm so they had probably closed the run as a precaution. I could see several new slides in the distance well away from the path of any marked routes and marveled at the course of nature and the changing of the seasons, I had been there just a couple of weeks ago enjoying fresh powder, off piste, without a care in the world. Would I have done that today, No Way.

I found that wonderful last run and blasted it a couple of times before heading back down to the chalet. I leave tomorrow and still have washing and packing to do, nothing like leaving things till the last minute, at least I know where I am going next. Up the fast six man chair, across to the Mirabelle which was so beautiful this morning, now cut to shreds and smattered with stumbling beginners, unused to the changing conditions and further down the mountain. The narrow snowy ski track passes the bottom of the ‘Terranere’ and I remember the signs. Looking back up the mountain, with high peaks looming above the ski trail I see why it is closed, there was an avalanche, not a huge one, but impressive none the less and completely covering the route that we had taken not a couple of hours before. I thank the powers that look over us that it waited until we had passed by and that I have spend another most wonderful winter enjoying these great mountains without mishap or injury. There are many who think I shall return.

satisfied customers

2011-03-22T17:04:00.004+01:00

Calvin with an amazing electric cheese grater one lunch time

My thoughts precisely.......

Justin, Mark, Calvin, me

Ann and me

The holidays are over and the chalet is quiet once again. There were still several guests staying last week, but it is completely empty now after being filled to capacity for almost a month. Clare, the owner, Mark the chef and I are feeling a bit dazed from the experience and looking forward to a change of pace until the end of the season.

Unlike last year when the team remained the same throughout the season, people have come and gone sporadically this time, which has meant constantly training new arrivals to get them up to speed, checking that chalet standards are met, adapting to new characters and their requirements then saying good bye to folk every couple of weeks and carrying on as usual. Clare described her management style the other evening as “somewhat Basil Faulty” so there is never a dull moment.

Now that the season has quietened off a bit I have time to reflect and ponder some of the characters. Earlier ones that were here when I arrived went before I had really gotten to know them that well. Ildi, the Australian Hungarian girl had been here since December left a couple of weeks into my stay, she was great at chat, chat about anything and everything, even stuff that had nothing to do with you, within hours of my arrival she wanted to know what I thought about her relationship with James, someone who I had never and would probably never meet, having declined to comment I was then offered her mobile later in the evening to have a chat with said James and was momentarily put out when I said I didn’t want to. She bossed and organised everyone in a fun and jovial manner and was great to have around.

Graeme left about a week later, right at the start of the busy season, not entirely his fault, more an issue of visa expiration, another Australian, he had to leave Europe as his visiting time was up. He annoyed me immensely to start with, with his constant questions about random things, he would ask and ask the most trivial and detailed of questions during dinner service or when someone was in the middle of working. He had a great smile and was easily amused which made up for most of his annoyance. I put a stop to me being annoyed and started to enjoy the challenge, beating him at his own game from time to time and supplying him with inordinate amounts of trivial detail that he loved. As the best skier in the group Graeme and I had the best times on the slopes even though opportunities were limited and he was gone before I had really gotten to know him, after his departure I continued to learn snippets from Cameron and Clare and think that we would have had a great time.

Cameron stayed the longest and has only been gone just over a week. Another Aussie with dual nationality, Scottish this time, had come to experience the snow and mountain life at the end of an eight month trip round europe. We found common ground in obscure comedy shows from the past and had lengthy discussions about the state of the world and the influences that come to play. There is nothing like repeating a long lost line from some comedy scene or other to start the banter and laughter going. He was great company even though he was more than ready to return home and get on with life. Unfortunately tried skiing and had not found it the exhilarating sport that some (I) do and was bored with the lack of inspiration living high in the mountains. He should do well with stand up comedy when he gets back to Perth and I may surprise him one day by visiting and seeing him perform live.

Ian came and went in a fortnight. A trainee trainer for a financial institution in London, he came to learn to ski, improve his French and use two weeks of annual leave. He didn’t really fit in that well as he already had all the answers and knew how everything worked even as he walked through the door. (no experience necessary). He proudly announced that he was achieving all the targets that he had set himself for his time here without enquiring as to his efficiency or performance, talking over any comment or advice that anyone tried to give him. Chaos behind the bar and a pro at providing guests with random made up information He wanted me to help him learn to ski which I patiently did for half a day before dismissing myself as a hinderance as I clearly didn’t know what I was talking about. His crowning moment was when Clare returned from the town with loads of provisions including a large box of table place settings. He took one look, saw the 500 pieces written on the side of the carton and declared that he would do the jigsaw after lunch. The tension took several days to subside after his departure and I have severe concerns as to the safety of my money if the whole bank is trained by people like him. One piece of advice to you if you read this Ian, you cannot just know everything, often you have to learn it.

Ann was whirlwind of a completely different temperament, the very model of german efficiency, what is it they say on the Audi commercial? “vorsprung durch technic” and there you are, Ann. Before she had taken her coat off she was making notes of how everything worked, she was serving drinks and taking orders before lunch and had everything down to a tee before the end of the day. A day later she was up serving breakfasts and snowboarding like a professional on her first day on real snow. She did have prior service industry experience which gave her a head start in the chalet and a three hour snowboard lesson in a frozen shed somewhere in Holland that helped the boarding somewhat. We spent a couple of days on the slopes together and on the Saturday it was really quiet, there was no one waiting for the lifts yet Ann had to go right the way round the barriers on her snowboard instead of taking a short cut through the ski school entrance. The second time she did this I was just about to tell her to stop being quite so german when she did it herself. She laughed on the lift as we discussed countries traits and the fact that germans are hugely law abiding and find it so difficult even to bend small rules, hopefully she will learn during her time at university in france. She was great.

Most recently we have two young South African lads helping, well, I say helping, they are now that they have been taught how to do just about every task they have been asked to do. I guess their stay has been the biggest learning experience for me. Some people, through no fault of their own have no idea of how to do anything domestic. With a privileged upbringing in a country where domestic help is the norm, why should they know anything. Most helpers have some idea of how things happen and have done some chores about the home. No such luck here. It has been a challenging few weeks discovering how easy it is to assume without meaning to and teaching skills when I have had to think hard to break them down into individual parts. How to clean a bathroom suddenly becomes a minefield of unexplained tasks and washing up miraculously takes five or six times as long to complete. How do you sweep a floor? hold a brush or use a potato peeler? How do you get a duvet into a duvet cover, lay a fire or set a table the same way every time? Frustration has been overtaken by a great feeling of achievement now that these two guys are suggesting things that need doing like setting the table before meals, taking the rubbish out and ironing without being constantly prompted. Unfortunately there is little practice now that we only have guests at the weekends. We make up for it by skiing almost every day on empty pistes, having a great deal of fun and relaxing by the fire in the evenings. Hopefully they will remember their newly learned skills for the future and that we will have contributed to their lives. More satisfied customers and they don’t even realise it yet.

chalet life continues

2011-02-24T18:26:00.003+01:00

This blog thing just isn’t happening at the moment. Since I arrived back at Chalet Lou Rider so many things have been going on that I have just not found the mood or inspiration to write. So I apologise to those of you who keep checking to see what I have been up to. The time to write will return, as it always does and I will resume a more normal service.

Until then, a quick synopsis.

Since I wrote last, there has been snow, loads of snow and some great skiing, followed a couple of days later by some ‘wonderfully’ warm sunny weather, the pistes turned to ice and the mountains lost their beautiful white blankets of cover, returning to an unseasonal brown colour. Days later the same thing happens, a good dump of snow followed by a couple of excellent days for skiing before more warm melty conditions. Diane, a guest, who stayed a week or so ago provided me with some excellent tuition and we skid together most of the time she was here, improving our english and french language skills and having a great laugh together. My skiing is much improved and hopefully I have shaken off some of those lazy habits that I had gathered from last season. Dynamic skiing is the way forward, I love it.

We have just had the biggest snowfall of the winter so far, it came down constantly for over 24 hours, blown by fairly high winds most of the resort stayed closed for a day as the workers on the mountain dealt with a multitude of avalanche threats by blasting unstable snow off the mountain with controlled explosions.

Here in the chalet two helpers have gone and after a short gap, one new one arrived. Ildi took a weekend off, returning fleetingly to collect her belongings, not to be seen again and Graeme had to leave Europe before his visa ran out. So suddenly there were two of us where there used to be four, right in the busiest part of the season. Fortunately the new guy, Ian is a bright spark and is getting to grips with chalet life fairly quickly, he is only here for two weeks to learn a bit of french and also to ski. Cameron and I are filling in with a bit of extra work and have an arrangement with Clare to compensate. New postings have hit the helpX website and reinforcements should hopefully be arriving soon. Cameron is with us for another three weeks before heading back to Oz after a good stint of traveling and exploring the world.

I am amazed that ski fanatics are not queueing up to be here as it is in the most excellent location and there is an opportunity to ski almost every day. Come join us for the remains of the season, in another two weeks the school holidays will be over and the resort will return to its normal tranquil self. More snow is forecast, along with some seasonable cold to replace the warmth that has dominated the region for most of this winter.

change of plan

2011-02-16T18:23:00.001+01:00

So much has happened, I got the ski bug big time and a few days after my first ski trip with Vanessa, I hit the slopes again, a different resort in the Pyrenees, Peyragudes, in fact, again with Vanessa along with one of her english village neighbours and a couple of friends.

The resort was quite different to Saint Lary, dropping off two sides of a mountain ridge rather than nestling mainly in a large bowl, faster more modern lifts, more challenging and longer runs, but further by car and no where local to stay. Luckily we were only there for a day and it was great fun to ski with more proficient skiers too. I was somewhat distracted throughout the day, wondering if I had made a wrong decision, or if I should have stuck to my original plans.

The following day Lisa dropped me in Lannemezan and I got the coach to Saint Lary again, this time it was for a longer term visit. I had been liasing with Clare during the week as an opening to helpX had arisen in the chalet, I needed no second asking and as some of you who know me well have already deducted, I am now installed at Chalet Lou Rider for the rest of the season, doing the same as I did last winter. It has been a hectic couple of weeks adapting to the new routine, getting as much skiing in as possible, fitting into a different team and catching up with all the little changes that have been implemented since I was last here, not many, but enough to tax me slightly at times. The boiler and oil supply were playing up so I spent much of my first week doing my best to stop water leaking into the oil supply and keeping the chalet warm. The weather was unseasonably warm and the mountains changed from white to a browny green in a matter of days, especially at lower altitudes, the heights continue to hold the snow well even with a week of daily daytime melt. Thankfully it has cooled dramatically since then and snow has fallen a couple of times, returning the mountains to their rightful colour for the start of the school holiday season. The chalet, busy with adults last week is now full of families and buzzing with afternoon games as soon as the slopes close in the afternoon. The atmosphere is great and we will be kept busy for quite a while as business is much brisker than last year. I will be making the most of my free time during the day on the slopes and enjoying my work in the chalet.

Late winter school holidays are different here in France to those back home in the UK, for a start, the mayor holiday is in February or March, allowing everyone two weeks off during the ski season, they only get a short week off over Easter, secondly, the country is split into three zones and the holidays are staggered on a rotational basis. The first zone starts, then the second zone starts a week after. The third zone starts two weeks later as the first zone finishes. Thus the two middle weeks are the only ones that overlap out of the month. This season the two more local regions come first and last, giving us a full month of business potential rather than the overlapped format of last year. The chalet bookings sheet is looking pretty full for the complete month already and more enquiries arrive every day. Me thinks that we will be in for a busy time.

Fingers crossed for some more decent snow interspersed with some good cold sunny weather to keep everyone happy. With any luck there will be plenty of snow left way into March when the schools go back and the mountain calms down again.

absolutely amazing

2011-02-05T23:00:00.001+01:00

Skiing was amazing, absolutely amazing. There had been fresh snow over the weekend and the mountains looked beautiful as we drove up to the resort. The snow cover was extensive but not terribly thick, wooded areas stood out as large drifts of dark green against the new whiteness, the sky a bright blue and although it was very cold there was warmth in the morning sunshine. It was easy to see the road winding up the side of the mountain to Espiaube and the chalet, I knew exactly where to look but as ever the hillside hid the buildings from view. We weren’t particularly early but the car park was deserted, probably the fact that it was a Monday had something to do with it, Vanessa and I popped into Chalet Lou Rider to say Hi to Clare and have a quick drink before changing into out ski gear and hitting the slopes. I had left my skis at the chalet at the end of last season, unable to carry any more luggage back to England and happy that someone else adopt them should I not have returned. Thankfully they were still there, unused and ready for my boots once again.

I had a moment of apprehension on the way up the mountain on the lift. Will I still be able to ski? Have I forgotten everything, it has been ages since I stood on skis, I was going to be completely rubbish and fall over straight away, for most of the journey up we discussed where we wanted to ski and tried to guess which pistes were open.

Conditions were as good as the best day I can remember from last year, I didn’t fall over and my skis remembered exactly what to do. Almost immediately I started having thoughts of why I wasn’t in a ski resort for the winter? what was I doing elsewhere when it just felt so good to be out on the snow in the sunshine? As runs disappeared under our skis and lifts whisked us back to the heights again and again I tried to contain my thoughts to the moment and embrace the immediate wonder of the day, it worked most of the time and we had a great day. Unlike last winter when we could just pop back to the chalet and the slopes were available day after day, this was a treat, something we had to make the most of. We timed it right and ate a late lunch after everyone else had finished, the choice was limited and the chips were cool when they arrived but it didn’t matter, we were on the slopes for the day and making the most of it. Vanessa’s skiing had improved since last year, she has already had a couple of lessons and her increased confidence was definitely showing now. We were able to explore areas of the resort that she hadn’t ventured to before, gently increasing that confidence and realising how much fun it all was. People has asked me back in the summer if I had been bored by the end of a whole season in the same resort, I had told them no, and now that I was back, that still stood, it was as good to be back here on the snow as it would be to have had a day on the snow else where.

The late lunch fueled us for the rest of the day, we definitely got our moneys worth and were herded off the slopes as they closed at the end of play. I could have gone on for longer so made the most of the last descent by using the slope to its max. Huge sweeping turns, traversing from one side to the other, enjoying the sun and the view and the fresh air and hoping that there would be more opportunities in the not too distant future for us to enjoy. I stopped more frequently than I had been, in order for Vanessa to catch up, the day was taking its toll, her legs had had enough and she tumbled several times on that last descent, a sure sign that it was a good time to call it a day.

Clare welcomed us back at the chalet with a good cuppa and I spent a few minutes chatting with the new team of helpXers that were there this season. It felt a little strange to be there for such a short time, but great to meet yet more welcoming , friendly helpers and get a tiny glimpse back into the life I had enjoyed so much a year ago. We left in the car, returning to the safety of the valley floor before the icy darkness fell on the mountains once again. Home was only an hour away, where a welcoming log fire and dinner awaited.

waiting for snow

2011-01-30T17:24:00.001+01:00

It’s a dull and grey Sunday afternoon, the fire is giving great warmth to the room and an Elvis movie is playing on the television my hosts are snuggled on the sofa watching and I am hoping for a glimpse of the mountains today. It has been overcast for a couple of days now, with the promise of snow on higher ground, the bitterly cold clear days of last week were great for clearing brambles and walking the dog but the word was that new snow was needed in the hills. If it clears, I will be able to see the pyrenees from where I am sitting and hopefully the new layer of snow will be obvious. Our skis are packed in the car and if the forecast is right we will be heading up the mountain for the first time tomorrow morning for a day on the slopes.

It will seem strange heading to St Lary for a day, last time I was there, I stayed for nearly five months, working for board and lodgings at Lou Rider, a cute little chalet nestling in a valley just below the slopes. I arrived there through helpX in early December and skid for the whole season. This time it will be day trips and a good chance to check out some different resorts in the region.

I am staying with Vanessa and Lisa in their rented farmhouse about an hour from the mountains, the view from the property is amazing, especially on a clear day when the mountains tower above the hills on the other side of the valley. We met last winter when they visited Lou Rider to ski and enjoy the mountains, and have been in contact ever since. I visited the farm last summer and we joked about skiing again this year, I was sure that I would be in California by now and was sure that it wouldn’t happen, but it has. Funny how things turn out.

Life here has a slow, relaxed pace, a bit lazy in fact. We get up after nine, have a cuppa and walk the dog. Plan the day over breakfast. There isn’t a huge amount to do, a bit of garden tidying, maybe some writing, Lisa has plenty of painting work to do, elsewhere, but only three or four days a week, Vanessa marks papers for a college from time to time, a trip to the supermarket, dinner with neighbours, I use neighbours loosely, as many live several miles away, but are friends and so come under that umbrella. We have had some fun nights out, a great evening in a tiny bar that we battled through the freezing cold night to get to, a fifties tribute band that played great music in a bar that was so small and packed that we actually felt warm for the first time in several days. This morning Vanessa and I headed to the local woods to walk with Tim. He has a house in a neighbouring village and knows the area well. We followed the trail through the arboretum and woodland, checking out the occasional named specimen and marveling on the mini canal that brings water to the village, it was built at the turn of the last century and flows for miles, following the contours of the land winding tortuously through the woodland and out the other side. Within the woods, a team of local men were busy felling and chopping timber. Tim explained that it was a community owned wood and all the villagers have the right to remove a certain amount of wood each year. He showed us the section that he was working with another couple of villagers, ten metres by one hundred and twenty five, it stretched up from a muddy track into the distance. The wood that could be harvested was marked in advance by a woodman then the team work their way through clearing brush and scrub and felling their crop, mature trees are left and sold for the commune, the resulting firewood is then theirs to take home or sell on as they choose. He was loving the involvement for several reasons. Learning french, involvement with the local community, a sense of camerarderie, learning new skills and also the cheap firewood. it was a great walk on a dreary morning and inspiration again for plan B should my visa not appear.

two thousand and eleven

2011-01-05T22:08:00.000+01:00

The news was not what I had expected. Another delay, this time caused by the inefficiencies of Homeland Securities themselves. It took me several days of quiet contemplation to fully absorb the news and for a little while kidded myself that a definitive no would have been easier to deal with. Of course that isn’t true all, I would be off in an instant, just give me the news that my visa is ready and I’ll collect in record quick time.

Anyway, I found out from Cynthia, thought I should give her a call to see how she was and if she had had any news. That was back in November when I had figured that the 16 months suggested waiting time was well and truly up and I still hadn’t heard anything. There was plenty of news, mostly good and very exciting, though unfortunately the one bit that I really didn’t want to hear was another delay. Cynthia had been following the progress of the visa online, something that I had been unable to do, and explained that after initial submission, the authorities has taken over four months to pass my paperwork to the relevant department for processing.

The sixteen months that I had been counting down were in fact twenty, and there were still another four months to go. February 2011 is now the crunch date, the time when the next, hopefully, three years, of my life will be decided. A YES means that I head to California and Love Apple Farm as quickly as humanly possible and a NO opens a selection of attractive alternatives that I have yet to put in order or become too enthusiastic about, I may share these with you if I don’t get bored of writing just now.

Good news is that Cynthia and the farm crew are all well and enjoying the most exciting time imaginable, transferring day to day business to a new and much larger location. The new farm sounds like an amazing venture, allowing for huge diversification into fruits, herbs, possibly livestock and other produce. It has a collection of buildings that are being converted into classrooms and learning facilities to expand the educational side of the venture and so much more. We had a wonderful chat about the goings on and I grasped the enthusiasm and excitement even through a painfully disjointed transatlantic phone call. I get the occasional glimpse of the farm through images on the lovely Facebook along with snippits of information, although am cautious of getting too excited about the venture myself, lest the chance of becoming involved in person never materialises. I ache to find out more, to be there and to hurl myself into the project wholeheartedly yet continue to find myself kept at a distance.

Hairbrain suggestions and devious plans have been concocted and banded about to see if I can get to the farm under false pretenses, perhaps I could visit the US east coast for a holiday, then travel on to the west coast, extend my stay for a couple of months and get stuck in. These plans are always highly tempting on the first read, questionable on the second and then reality sets in. Why jepordise the right and legal route? What if it didn’t work, the whole process would be wasted and I would never go. There are only a few more months to go now. How could I get involved again with the possibility that I don’t get to return long term, I just don’t think I could do that again, it stirs up too much passion and energy, I need to keep it under wraps until the time is right or contain it until I have another project to release it onto in its own right. I can fill the waiting with exciting and memorable challenges, learn new skills and enjoy the rich tapestry that lies before me,I can help out, encourage and participate in the lives of others, but until I know for certain the results of my visa application, the life that I want to follow remains illusive.

The not knowing sometimes becomes a challenge. This morning I had much less of a plan than I do right now. I was feeling quite purposeless and unrequired by the world until I realised why, I could not see enough of my immediate future apart from knowing that I still had to wait, my immediate train journey takes me from Nottingham where I have just had a wonderfully relaxing and enjoyable Christmas and start to 2011 with my dear brother Windy, his partner Michael family of dogs, lodgers and friends to London, then a week later in the direction of Salisbury to visit my parents, thereafter I had no idea where I was going to be and it was beginning to get me down somewhat. A little research and a few discussions on line and I have extended my known journey through to the end of the month and beyond. An exciting train journey from London to Toulouse for little more than the cost of a cheap flight and without any of that airport security nonsense, the prospect of visiting friends in the mountains, skiing, discovering an area that have come to love during the summer in the depths of winter, I have just opened the door to another adventure and it feels marvelous.

We then spent the afternoon earnestly discussing the prospect of buying a cheap house, perhaps at auction or a bank repossession, this spring, to work on, improve and then sell at a profit. It could be a good plan B, it may never get talked about again but the spark is alight again and that is all that matters.

the potager

2010-10-19T09:12:00.001+02:00

I haven’t spoken much english since I arrived which is brilliant, rather daunting and restrictive when it comes to anything but the simplest conversation but never the less, brilliant. Everyone here is extremely patient, understanding and encouraging and although I make mistakes, I am making myself understood and am able to follow conversations better than I thought I would. French television is great for learning, as the images give good clues as to what is going on, but you need to follow the conversation to really get it. I seldom do really get it, but just enough to follow dubbed episodes of “Bones” “CSI Miami” “The Mentalist” and the like. I have my vocabulary book where I write new words and phrases that I come across and study in my free time. Unfortunately it is so long since I have done any learning like this that I appear to have forgotten how to learn. Practical items stay put much easier than others, drawings tend to help too, the grammar book that I brought with me is OK in the tiniest of doses but my brain turns to mush far too fast for my liking. Can I get a new one please?

When I arrived I was given a few initial tasks and then a choice of possible projects to get my teeth into during my stay. That was good as I had time to mull over the possibilities whilst I cleared several borders of summer annuals, did a bit of general weeding and tidying about the place. It was then that I discovered that I could probably work without a break for the rest of the year and not really make a huge dent on this park.

Revamping the rose garden was discarded first. I am not a fan of roses in the first place and the fact that the whole border was wall to wall Oxalis did not fill me with joy. Oxalis is one of those dreaded weeds than people end up hating with a passion, it is small and quite pretty when it first arrives, probably by seed or hidden in the compost of a purchased plant, it looks as if it can do no harm. At the end of the season when its pink flowers are over and the grey green clover like foliage start to look untidy, is probably pulled or dug up and thrown away, that is when the fun starts. For clustered around the main roots is a gathering of tiny bulbils, they don’t hang on very tight, and unless you know that they are there, most of them will end up scattered over the surface of the flower bed as the plant is removed, ready to start the next generation the following spring. That is what had happened here, probably for the last several years. The border would have looked good for a few months, then wham, up they’ll all come again in the spring, as if nothing had been done at all. Been there, done that with countless other weeds, and given the option, didn’t fancy doing it again.

Pruning and cutting down trees would be much better left for another month when all the leaves have fallen. The sap will have returned to the roots for the winter and salvaged trees will fare much better. Those to be removed will be easier to see, cut, fell and clear away afterwards, it would have been great fun though.

I wanted to leave a lasting improvement behind, and also, hopefully inspire Daniel into gardening with a bit more passion. He mentioned the potager a couple of times and was proud of the tomatoes that he harvested and served at dinner, we had courgettes too a couple of times but it was nearing the end of the season so there probably wouldn’t be many more. There was talk of a lettuce glut earlier in the summer where he had planted a dozen tiny plants from the market and immediately sowed a whole packet of lettuce seed at the same time. The result, hundreds of lettuce ready at the same time, everyone gets sick of eating lettuce and no more are planted. Easily done and a good lesson learned, just sow a few every few weeks through the season, vary the varieties and leave gaps in production so that the pallet gets a break. Do I need to say more? I took the potager challenge.

My task, to create an interesting, easy to care for, well defined vegetable garden in an area amongst the trees. Initially I tried to convince Daniel and Patricia that a sunnier position would be favourable, but after hitting resistance, a lack of suitable alternative sites and spending plenty of time out there, it’ll probably do just fine. The soil is terrific, much better than elsewhere, I learn later from Michael, an old chap that pops in to help with the horses and feed the chickens, he used to live here, and likes to see what is going on, that it is the same the area used to be for vegetables years ago. Much of it has been swallowed by the advancing army of trees, but a sizeable area is clear, cultivated and ready for a makeover.

The idea was simple. Just gather some smart looking, flat stones from around the place, there were enough of them lying about, form a border around the outside of the area, a path up the middle and “voila” one potager ready to go. Set the stones into the soil so that they retain the garden on one side and provide a good edge to mow over on the other, it suddenly becomes easy maintenance and very smart.

In practice it was two weeks of hard work. To start with most of the easily accessible stones were far too large to handle easily, even with two people, then the whole area was much more uneven that initially imagined and thirdly, the underlying soil was hard as rock after the long dry summer. None of this deterred me, it just became more of a challenge. I rolled rocks out of bramble thickets, hefted them over piles of rubble and gathered them for transportation by tractor trailer. Then I set out string lines for guidance, dug, raked and positioned my stones. None of them were the same thickness, so it meant a lot of placing of stones, removing, scraping of soil, replacing, stamping and general faffing about to get each one straight and level. The sides of the first half went in without to much difficulty, the central path was more interesting, it was much more difficult to get the stones back out if they were not immediately flat and level, which, of course none of them ever were. Daniel assisted when he wasn’t otherwise occupied which was a great help and also excellent for my vocabulary skills.

After two weeks the major construction stage was over. We weeded the plot and removed as many perennial weed roots as we could, it’ll make life a lot easier next year, I am sure. Then the rotorvator came out of the shed and made quick work of turning the soil into the most wonderful fine tilth, I hope that I end up with soil like that to grow my veggies in. We moved the strawberry plant collection to their new home, set to and planted onions, shallots and broad beans for the spring, built supports for the raspberries and replanted them to profit from the sun. Demolished high areas of ground and used the spoil to fill in the dips around the outside, ready for a handful of grass seed at some stage. On my last working day we constructed a compost bin near by for easy use, I was asked to signe my name on one of the stones for posterity and over lunch made a long list of other things that need doing around the place for the next lucky volunteers. The weekend off and then on to my next adventure.

fallen splendour

2010-10-15T15:23:00.002+02:00

Finally, the last host this summer and I find somewhere truly french. A once grand, but now dilapidated farmhouse, the locals refer to it as a chateau that was purchased some eleven years ago and is slowly being renovated by its new owners Patricia and Daniel with help from their son Gregory and a constant flow of helpXers.

Daniel met me from the station after a day of traveling and waiting around for connections. A four hour journey by car stretched to nearly eight by public transport was more tiring than working or hiking for the same amount of time. I was pleasantly surprised when the final leg of the journey was only minutes long. It makes a nice change to be close to civilisation and I’ll get chance to walk or cycle into the town of Jonzac before too long.

Back in the day, the house was central to a large wine and cognac enterprise, the farm employed more than fifty workers and owned much of the surrounding countryside. Through the generations the land has been divided and bits sold off to satisfy inheritance’ and the remaining buildings, within several hectares of walled land, fell into disuse some thirty years ago when the seven, then inheritors couldn’t decide how to divide it up. It suffered through normal neglect and then the ravages of a huge storm in 1998 that felled seventy or more large trees and caused untold damage to the fragile unmaintained buildings. It has been an uphill struggle since then, but having seen some of the photographs that were taken at the time, a huge amount of progress has been made to the house and grounds. Personally I wouldn’t have any of idea where to start as the whole project is enormous and seemingly unending.

As we toured the grounds, evidence of former splendour could be seen in the craftmanship of the buildings, flat, finished stone was used almost everywhere, none of your rough walling here, Workshops with successions of arched doorways, some purely ornamental, flank the main house, a separate property stands to one side, with an impressive and steeply pitched roof, probably for a farm manager, the pillars supporting barn roofs are smart and with detail at both base and top, a row of pigsties, full height and with doorways to match the workshops, the whole of the back, or is it the front? of the impressive three storey house is a wonderful terrace stepped across its entire width down onto a great expanse of lawn. When they built this place, they didn’t skimp on fine detail, it mush have been something great during its heyday. Unfortunately, that was back then. Since that time many of the roofs have collapsed, followed subsequently by the surrounding walls. Nature has taken hold and those once tiny saplings, bramble seedlings and shoots of ivy have had many years on their own. The remaining great park trees have been joined by an army of invaders, sycamores, acacias, beech, elder and so on, crowding in and devouring the volume of the farm. They tower over much of the property, blocking out the light, slowly taking back the lawns, the buildings and the pathways. They grow where their seeds landed, up out of the ground, from barn floors, through piles of stones, and swathes of undergrowth, their expanding trunks toppling more walls, their leaves falling in autumn to decay, rot and feed yet more growth, it is an unending cycle. The undergrowth covers up pathways, disguises small buildings and envelops everything in its way. Left unchecked, the whole property would disappear under woodland in no time at all.

Plenty has been done to improve the interior of the house, to maintain decent access and some of the immediate garden areas but much of the rest is “for another life”. I expect that it is the only way to keep some sort of sanity when faced with such a property, deal with what you can and almost forget the rest. Some of the buildings are utilised for stables and kennels for horses, dogs, a goat and a donkey, others for storage and keeping machinery protected from the elements. The rest is handy building material for ongoing projects and for any repairs that need tending to. Daniel tries to keep everything under control but it is far too much for one person to do, he also runs the house, tends the animals, does a great job of feeding the helpXers amnd making sure that they are happy. A full time professional gardener would need more than help and there are enough unnecessary trees here to keep a keen arborist (tree person) happy for months.

more walling

2010-10-05T14:25:00.006+02:00

Crepie colour choices

the form we prepared to lay the paving in concrete,

it didn't get used during my stay

the end of the wall running into the rockery

walls complete, time to move on

Minds change again and it is thought better to render the walls first and then attempt the terrace afterwards as covering the curved walls with crepie could be quite a messy business. Countless colours of render are mixed using yellow and white sand, different cements and colorants before the ideal wall finishes are found. We go to the local builders merchants to get the materials only to find a locally limited range. Changes and adaptations are needed to recreate the mixes needed and the project surges ahead once more.

Not only can I create level foundations, consistent mixes of mortar and impressively curved blockwork walls, I can render them to a passable finish too. It takes time, an understanding of the materials and a fair amount of guesswork to achieve some of these things, especially when the people around you have limited knowledge too, but we are definitely getting there. Who would have thought that a gritty mixture with the consistency of runny porridge would stick to a vertical wall and even more surprisingly that once it has started to harden, if it is slightly wetted and reworked, a passably smooth finish can be obtained. By no means perfect but great for its setting outside a period french farmhouse. It was a messy business and definitely best done before the paving. In fact, I have run out of time, just managing to get the walls finished during my last day at the house. Everyone is pleased with the results and it was great to complete, although I am disappointed to have left without completing the whole project, it’ll be a good project for the next unsuspecting helpXer and Ben to get their teeth into before the winter sets in.

bandas madness

2010-10-04T15:34:00.000+02:00

Bologne bovine fair, a biennial fete, with the feeling of a county show but on a tiny scale. The local farmers show off their cows and bulls, a smattering of stalls promoting local clubs and societies, businesses selling their wares and the suggestion of a farmers market, comprising eight stalls, I bought some locally made wild boar cured sausage which we enjoyed with our aperitifs, but unless cattle are a fascination, it wasn’t much to write home about. Until the evening that is.

There had been an ox roasting on a spit all day in preparation for the fete meal, a huge affair that took over the sport centre and a large marquee. It was billed as a meal for a thousand and it certainly wasn’t far off. Rows of tables were set out and laid up for the evening extravaganza which turned out to be spectacular. Local bands called banda were the entertainment and they did an amazing job, hard to put into words but I’ll try. There were probably eight bands from around the region including one from northern Spain, they took turns in performing early in the evening, each trying to outdo the previous performance, the music was very varied, from pop to jazz to more traditional tunes all as loud as you like and very catchy, many people were dancing as the beer flowed and the atmosphere warmed for the evening. They played and played, the audience drunk and drunk and then, mid evening we were invited to take our seats for dinner. Imagine how long it takes to serve a thousand people. Bread, wine and water were already on the long tables and in good time a starter of locally produced melon and cured ham arrived. The waiters transported them into the marquee on huge trays that held sufficient for each long table of twenty or so, they were efficiently passed down the rows of diners and the meal began. All the time the bands took turn in playing, they gathered at the ends of the tables and filled the tent with music, it was that loud that you could bang a fork on a plate and not hear its sound, impossible for conversation, although between songs we managed to exchange the occasional comment. The wine was initially a bit rough, but by the time the ox arrived it was going down a treat, the same plates were used and huge platters of red beef circulated, accompanied by a delicious sautee of potato, lardons and vegetables. The bands changed, often marching in with a louder tune and drowning out the current players, the performers didn’t appear to stop all night, they just kept on playing, we kept on drinking and the atmosphere kept on getting better. The dessert arrived at around midnight and I knew that my ears would be ringing in the morning, I can’t imagine how they managed to keep getting louder and louder but they did. Songs that I recognised, some that I didn’t some that the French sang along to and others that they didn’t. As the meal came to a close many of the diners got up and danced, the old folk that were normally tucked up in bed by nine sat and tapped their feet in participation or suffered silently for the village, it was expected that everyone was there no doubt. We eventually left, well fed and entertained at about two thirty in the morning, it was only a short drive home and yes, my ears did ring for at least a couple of days afterwards.

Google “Banda” if you want to experience the sound, choose a video clip, set your sound on full volume and you might just start to get the idea......

fig chutney

2010-10-04T15:32:00.003+02:00

Back at Vanessa and Lisa’s. Brian the cat has grown somewhat and is now in control of the whole household. She, yes, she, there is no accounting for the names people give to their pets, stands up to the dog now who is most upset by the newcomer and insists on getting poor old Ziggy to play.

The pumpkin that we had meddled with earlier in the season had grown a treat. Once the flower had withered, the stocking was removed and it carried on growing as if nothing had happened. It is probably two feet in circumference now and is packed with seeds that will come true when they are sown.

Windowsills throughout the farmhouse are covered with bowls and jars of seeds, sitting out to dry and awaiting packets. It was so much fun to return and be immersed in the enthusiasm of vegetable growing, preserving and seed saving and be a small part of life on the farm once again. We picked ripe figs for a couple of hours then spent the rest of the day immersed in canning and making chutney. Jam is a no, no, as neither of them like it, so several batches of red and green chutney were concocted and the tantalising six week wait now ensues before it is mature enough to taste. How will I ever know how good it is? The whole figs in syrup have an amazingly vibrant colour, the bright green fleshy fruit suspended in pink pink liquid contrast so well with the jars of the near black varieties.

The taste of summer preserved for a cold night surprise in the depths of winter. Excitement in country life comes in unexpected ways.

time off from building

2010-10-03T10:17:00.004+02:00

the neverending Gers countryside at the end of summer

Ben and Abi looking like a lovely couple

Cheers to my hosts Chris and Cherry

sailing without wind

Time off I hear you say? Has there been time? Sometimes if feels as if I have been working non stop for weeks, but I haven’t. There has been plenty of time to explore the local area and more than enough things going to keep me occupied during my free time.

A grand meal out on Abi’s last day, to the most dilapidated seventies building with a weed strewn carpark, broken signs and shabby exterior, concealed a wonderful restaurant where meat was cooked on an open fire in the dining room and delicious food emerged from the kitchen. It was so bad from the outside that Chris nearly drove away, but we had a great evening and left more than satisfied with what we had discovered.

We took to a local reservoir one weekend and met up with one of Ben’s friends who arrived with a sailing boat. The setting was wonderful, out in the countryside with woods along one shore, a man made beach, easy swimming in less than cold water and clear blue skies. The only disappointment was that there was a complete lack of wind. We launched and flapped our way out into the middle of the lake with the occasional draught and then came to a complete stop. The water became glassy calm and we just sat there for about twenty minutes, the only movement came from fish, jumping to catch the occasional insect that landed on the surface. After a while we paddled the boat back to shore. It was fun, but could have been much better with a good breeze.

I took the car out several times to explore the local area and also to visit Vanessa and Lisa who were about twenty minutes away in Charlas and on other occasions just chilled with a book.