ten days in....

ten days in and I find myself unexpectedly in an internet cafe, having read loads of comments on my last post asking how I am getting on, so a quick visual tour of things I have done and I shall write further now that I have charged my computer.  Life is rather basic, but very enjoyable here for the moment.

Strimmed everywhere just to get in

the veggie plot I dug this spring

cleared of weeds, the fruit bushes survived (to left)

with these, that I planted earlier

turned into this in a couple of days

from this

to this, an old pig shed

thrown in for nothing,  completely hidden with brambles

outdoor living

across spain

The next leg of my travels is with Joy.  I dropped the girls off at the airport with all their luggage - bicycle, child seat for car, child seat for bicycle, toys, regular luggage and the van felt suddenly larger, more spaceous.  Well, it would, four down to two and plenty fewer belongings. 

From the east coast of Spain, across Spain to nearly the west coast of Portugal, I am off to visit my brother.  He’s been living in Portugal for just over a year now and I am so excited to see what progress has been made since my visit last year.  We have chatted loads, but to see it all in reality is going to be great.  

Joy and I spent a couple of hours plotting campsites on a cheap map just so that we had some idea of where we might stay on our journey.  The idea is to catch glimpses of places en route rather than to visit them in depth.  Our timescale is limited as my brother heads back to England for ten days soon and we want to overlap before he leaves.

We visited Barcelona for a day before leaving.  It was Catalonia Day, the local region of Spain that is aiming for independence, and a local holiday.  Many shops were closed and tourist tours were limited to the morning so we made the most of those and spent the afternoon in awe of the vast numbers of people filling the streets in clebration/demonstration of the day.  Spot the Catalan flag!!

(still slow internet................º

traveling light as usual.....

Barcelona from the city tour bus

Magic fountain during the day

memorial for when Catalonia lost independence and was  merged into Spain

Catalan flag anyone?

traditional Catalan costume

A happy Joy in front of the official Barcelona football memorabilia shop

sitges

Our early arrival allowed us a couple of extra days locally before moving into a grand apartment in the centre of town.  Jacqueline and Tania’s summer holiday destination along with another six friends who came and went throughout the week.   It was great to see everyone, to spend chilled time in one place, to have everything on the doorstep, sunny roof top terrace,  bars, restaurants, cafes, shops, we could do all our food shopping on our street alone, without venturing further.  The beach five minutes stroll away and in a lovely peaceful location.  One of the great things we love about Sitges is it’s gay friendliness, it feels safe, comfortable and there is a relaxed atmosphere that spreads throughout the whole town.  

Needless to say we had a great time, our time flew by, I don’t think I have ever spent so much time in the sea, nor have I cycled every morning on holiday ever before.  I checked on Percy each day, parked in a free car park up on the hill, a bit remote, but overlooked by blocks of flats and a police station and surrounded by his kind, all was fine when we came to depart.

(still slow internet so no photos yet)

Sitges on the one stormy day we had

The church in lovely evening light

Tania Alix and I checking out the sea front on our bikes

swanky beach bar

Cheers to Jacqueline on her birthday

Alix mastering the trampoline

the coast

Our descent from the hills to the mediterranean coast was stunning, Charmin Garmin our sat nav unit took us cross country through amazing scenery, along tortuous, narrow, winding roads, past rock escarpments, up and down steep sided valleys down onto the coastal plains.  We stopped to check out a Cathar castle and have some lunch before arriving in Argeles sur Mer late afternoon.

Argeles wasn’t at all what I was expecting, I had visited Collioure in the past, the next town down the coast and was hoping for something similar.  How wrong could I have been.    (several paragraphs deleted here)

The positives were that the campsite was well equipped with a great pool complex that kept us well occupied, we had good friendly neighbours and we hadn’t actually booked a week, so we stayed two days before packing up  and heading on down the coast.  It was such a traumatic experience for Jacqueline that even a drive through Collioure couldn’t sway her to stay in France and we headed south into Spain.  Charmin Garmin did his thing as ever and directed us all the way to a campsite in Sitges the seaside town where we were to stay for the next ten days.  He did take us off the major route around Barcelona to give us a sneak taster of what rush hour traffic on one of the major arterial routes was like.  I took a deep breath, followed his instructions and came out the other side none the worse for wear.  I sure am getting used to van driving in foreign countries.

(no photos, very slow internet connection)

london, dover, calais and on

I left Dronfield, and my Dad in good spirits and headed off in Percy on a great adventure.  Headed south to pick up some bits from my brothers house and stock up from the amazing asian supermarket whilst I had the opportunity.  Called in on other family, friends from college, old work colleagues and family friends whilst heading south, spending a good week catching up with folk around my home town of Salisbury.  Then on to London, more friends and framily and to pick up two lovely passengers for the first stage of my journey  abroad.  The sense of freedom with transport was wonderful, not only easy movement from one place to the next, but with all my home comforts on board as well, a truly liberating venture.

I want to write loads, of all the lovely people I reconnected with, the stories we shared and memories that have been reawakened, but I’ll save those for that novel someday and keep speeding along with the story.  Needless to say, it has been wonderful to spend time with so many people, I send love to you all.  Those that I missed, I send love to you too and will endeavour to catch you next time.

With Tania, a great friend of over 20 years and her 4 year old daughter Alix, we are heading down France, with no specific plan apart than, to meet Jacqueline, Tania’s partner, in Carcassonne in a couple of weeks time.  We’ll go with the flow and see where the days take us.  

Sat nav at the ready, not that I’ve ever used one before, it was a bit of a treat as I know how difficult it is to find places and I fear for my safety trying to map read and drive at the same time.  (Garmin, latterly known as Charmin Garmin as he never gets annoyed, is a bit particular, though exceedingly good at finding destinations.  The more we use him the better it gets)

Day 1

London to Dover

Dover - Calais thankfully the sea was calm as I can feel queasy just thinking about being on board a boat.  We watched England’s white cliffs shrink away behind us and the coast of France loom.  

It was great to have a good walk on deck and blow away the cobwebs.

Calais towards Bologne sur Mer, though after an hour or so, decided that it was too far along the coast road after our early evening crossing and stopped short, camping in a farm field for the first night.

Alix’s bed stretched across the forward seats, a fat chunk of foam wrapped in a duvet cover.  The curtains wrapping round the dash to keep the night time well and truly outside, Tania and me on the huge expanse of fold out cushioning in the back.  A great start.

Percy in the shadow of the white cliffs of Dover 

England in the distance,  leaving the clouds behind us

Tania and Alix clearing the cobwebs, Calais behind

Day 2

We got to Boulogne sur Mer and stopped on the clifftops for lunch, looking out over the Channel under the flight path of some very low flying parasenders who were flying on the updraught of the cliffs.  A friendly fellow vanner suggested heading down the coast to St Valery Sur Somme which is where we ended for the night.  Camping de la Croix l’Abbe.  Our first campsite that was a blend of static caravans, cabins, caravans, tents and motor homes.  It all felt a bit new and weird to be setting up and sorting out amongst everyone else, not being a seasoned camper, but as I write two weeks later, am way over that now.  There were other van things that we were still getting used to too, like preparing meals, toilet facilities, getting ready for the night and packing it all away again.  It just needed a bit of routine and encouraging everyone to help.  

The countryside was rolling hills with great coastal views, tiny villages and interesting things to spot.  Alix seemed to have a nap soon after we headed each time and that was to come in very handy later on.

paragliding on the cliffs of Boulogne sur Mer

Day 3

Tania and I looked at the map early on and were shocked to see what little progress we had made, vowed to head off early and make progress.  After breakfast in a cafe down by the harbour we finally hit the road at just gone midday.  Alix fell asleep and I stepped on the gas.  We tried the autoroute for a while which was great, though it ate euros at a surprising rate so we slipped off and joined the old route nationals.  The countryside was flat, the roads straight as straight and suddenly the miles slipped away.

With sleeping child in the back we left Abbeyville, got diverted through the centre of Rouen, my first big city driving on the other side of the road in Percy,  hairy at times but fine, we caught a glimpse of the cathedral, river and several interesting buildings but decided to keep going.  Sleeping child.  Evreux came and went the same way and Dreux loomed as Alex woke.  We promised playgrounds and ice creams, not knowing what we’d find, parked up and had an energetic hour or so in the shadows of the cathedral making great use of the local childrens facilities and eating the best ice creams ever.

Cathedral of Evreux

ice cream heaven

Tania in ice cream heaven

Charmin Garmin did well and found us a campsite for the night, one with full facilities which were very welcome.  We ordered fresh croissants to be delivered for breakfast and had a very peaceful night in the countryside again.

quinta libelula

Back in the modern world.  I left from Nic’s, where I have stayed before, four weeks ago tomorrow.  I have had three very interesting weeks away followed, almost immediately by a social weekend, partying and supporting Nic’s rugby team in Toulouse (great fun) and a couple of days working here at the tower, catching up with emails and organising my next couple of months.  That done, I can now concentrate on writing some more.

Nic lives a stones throw from Rodez International Airport, it is tiny and has maybe a dozen destinations, one of which is a summer Ryanair flight to Porto, that is why I am here, I got a cheap return flight to see my bro and the opportunity to spend time with a great friend too.  

I arrived in Porto late in the evening and found a great little hostel to stay overnight.  The following morning I discovered that, not only was it a national public holiday, but there was a train strike and nothing was running.  Thankfully I managed to get an afternoon coach to our rendez vous in Coimbra and spent a bonus morning wondering the streets of Porto in the sunshine.  I didn’t take a map or have any idea of where I was going, but the city is beautiful and I shall enjoy exploring more next time I visit.

Quinta Libelula is a hidden oasis nestling in a tranquil wooded valley, high in the hills of central Portugal, away from the bright lights  and bustle of modern life, where even the sound of a distant car is an infrequent disturbance.  The property, abandoned for many years was once a flourishing farm, producing maize and vegetables for the local villages and an important employer in the immediate area.  Massive early investment in terracing, dams and a complex series of irrigation channels has left lasting marks on the landscape in the form of beautiful stone walls, cool ponds and a series of near flat, fertile gardens that rise up the valley floor, bordered on either side by steep wooded slopes that clothe its steep sides.  A stunning schist farmhouse can be found at the lower end of the property, roofed partly in the traditional stone manner, complete with wood fired bread oven and impressive views both up and down the valley.

I could go on, and it’s all true, but reality, for the moment is in need of encouragement.  The house is a shell, in need of re-roofing, insulation, doors and windows to keep out the draughts (yes, it’s freezing there in the winter) a new floor, a kitchen, bathroom and a few modern comforts.  Windy and Michael are, for the moment camping out on a forestry track, high above the property and walking in every day down a steep woodland track.  There is no vehicular access, this was started whilst I visited and should hopefully be completed by now.  Only then can renovations easily start on the house.  It would be possible to carry everything in, but hardly practical and a huge challenge, especially as a track was always on the cards.  Camping, I can imagine was great fun during the summer and continued to be for the first few days of my visit, but when the weather changed to torrential rain storms and a nighttime high of 8 degrees, my little tent became a haven against the elements.  The boys faired better in their caravan and awning with the four dogs but without decent heating once everything is damp and cold it stays damp and cold until the sun shines again.  Thankfully the weather remained changeable throughout my visit and I got to see a good deal of sun between the inclement days.

Whilst waiting for the track to be installed the boys have made huge progress in rediscovering their hidden oasis.  From impenetrable bramble, scrub and sapling thicket, often ten to twelve feet high or more, they have cleared extraordinary areas of land, finding no end of surprises along the way.  Beautiful stone walls, some with inbuilt steps, water channels and ponds filled to the brim with silt.  Vines, once well trained that now cover huge areas  strangling trees and blocking out the light, olive orchards that, due to a late frost or some other spring phenomenon have not set fruit this season.  I guess next spring will be the telling time to see if they are productive or not. They have gone so far with initial clearing and have enough space to keep them busy for the next couple of years.  At my estimation they have cleared about half the terraced land and have done nothing to maintain any of their hillside forest, a project that will take many years, if ever to complete.

One of the water reservoirs had already been cleared and was an excellent place to bathe, if a tad cold at times, the second, much larger one was being debrambled when I arrived and we spend probably two solid weeks digging silt and debris from its depths.  Measuring six metres by six, with a sloping depth from nothing down to a good two metres in the centre, this pond is high enough to provide the house with a huge volume of water once it is plumbed, providing that it fills through the winter.  It may need some remedial filling as the mortar has decayed somewhat and several trees had grown up from within.  It was a good project, especially on the cooler days but as time went on, decided that my skills were probably better put to use on more creative projects.

We visited a local nursery to pick up a few fruit trees.  It turned out to be a colossal establishment producing a huge range of plants and was billed as the biggest commercial camellia nursery en europe.  The black shade netting tents stretched up and down the valley for miles.  We got some great trees and the guys will head back in late November to benefit from the new season bare root stock once a bit more land has been prepared.  Thinking a trip back once I have found my land to stock an orchard as the prices were more than reasonable.

I spent a morning digging over a corner of one of the terraces and replanted some of the seedlings that Michael had put in earlier.  They were doing well but as the season progressed it was obvious that they weren’t getting much sun and the newly cleared area was a way better option for winter progress.  Advice at the local market had me planting cabbages and purple sprouting, leeks and chard for cropping this winter, overwintering onions and garlic for next summer.  By the time I left, they were all growing well and the cabbages had doubled in size.  One can only imagine how fast things will grow in the summer in the sunshine with all that water available.  I only hope that the whole irrigation system can be explained by someone before it is too late.

the temporary encampment

getting the veg planted

my brother's new abode

perched above an olive grove

rediscovering the old irrigation system, the back wall is over 7 metres high

errant grapevines now festoon the trees

evening inspection of the works.  the new track which will allow

vehicular access to the house

getting the fences in for the luxury chicken run 25m x 20m

solar hot water, my second construction this summer

My poor brother doesn’t do well in the cold, or being dirty for that matter and frequently moaned about the useless camping showers they were putting out in the sun in the hope of some warm water of an evening.  I got a thinking of previous projects and places that do so much better than that and in the final days before I left, created a sturdier, larger and hopefully more efficient solar hot water system.  Unfortunately it was mainly overcast on the day I got it running but I did manage to get a pre travel dip in a very cold pond followed by a less cold rinse from the newly installed system, I can’t have smelled too bad as I got an invite to stay from the passengers that I sat next to on the flight back to france.  Still waiting for news of how well it fares after a day of sunshine, I have my fingers crossed.

above Lourdes

view from our new location.  

I climbed one of those distant peaks a couple of years ago.

 I have moved on again.  I have no idea when I will get to post this, as I am at nearly 1000m altitude, high up in the mountains above Lourdes.  The view is breathtaking, the weather good so far. but absolutely no chance of internet access and only a tiny, occasional phone signal.  It’s worth every penny.

In fact, we only found this host a week ago.  The original proposition cancelled and suggested some friends that needed help.  We contacted them and started to make arrangements but things didn’t go smoothly,  easier to abandon a host before arriving than to arrive and find things in complete disarray.. So Vivien quickly did some research and found our present location on a “Chantier Parcipatif’(a building site that welcomes others to learn and help out at the same time) website and there was a positive response within an hour of us asking if we would be welcome.

Our hosts are renovating a fabulous old barn situated several miles from the last village of the valley, way up high, accessed by a dirt track that becomes practically inaccessible in winter.  They, husband, wife and daughter live here part time in the summer, flying in from their current home in Martinique.  This summer they have friend staying with them for the season. Running water is from the nearby stream and for the moment there is electricity when the generator is running.  It is used whilst there is a need for power tools and produces enough extra to chill the fridges, charge lights, mobile phones and run a dilapidated old washing machine.

summer kitchen, shelter and shower room OR car port in winter

the encampment with restored barn in al its glory

Several days later........

We should have been a bit more wary about the mega fast response requesting us to come and help, also the fact that there were no other willing hands about.  It’s not that the place was chaotic, far from it, it was one of the neatest well thought out building sites I have been on so far.  The difficulty that we stumbled upon was one of communication.  Our host was 60% or more deaf and not attuned to building sites or giving directions, his friend was more than willing to dispense advice, whether asked for or not and took every opportunity to direct us, even when we had already been given tasks to complete.  With the generator running almost constantly, plus power tools, chain saws and hammering it was difficult for anyone to have a decent conversation, let alone an in-depth discussion on the finer points of construction detail.  In addition for me, the second language and two new and interesting accents to contend with made even light going a challenge.  So you can imagine how smoothly things went.

Suffice to say, after three exceedingly frustrating days of miscommunications, along with the heated discussions between our two ‘bosses’ as to who was in control, the fact that we could have decided ourselves how to do several of the tasks easier, cheaper and with a more robust result, we decided to leave.  A week early.

Our hosts were surprised and individually both strangely sympathetic to our plight and apologetic for the behaviour and attitude of the other.  Neither really got the gist that it was of their making and will probably continue in the same vein in the future.  An interesting week that did little to forward our cause in finding land, but a great deal in learning about communication skills, taking control and team guidance.  Duly noted as we move on for an unexpected long weekend of recreation.

making things

Tying a yurt wall

the floor deck being constructed in sections so that 

it can be moved into position later

yurt walls and willow working in the background

sunset dinner location

Woodworking?  Not yet, I spent my third and fourth day in the kitchen helping deal with two slaughtered pigs.  Processing offal into pate and faggots.  Not something that I had expected, but as life never goes exactly as planned, a good bit of experience which may well come in handy at a later date.  Sausages followed, but I managed to escape outside to help with yurt walls that had to be retied.  It’ll be slicing bacon next, once it has cured for a while.

The project is picking up pace here, eight days to go and still about a months work to complete.  I am looking at it as the possibility to gain experience and to embrace the madness that is sure to arrive as and when I get my own place.  I have been here ten days and have worked every one of them.  However hard we work there always seems to be more to do, new challenges to face, unexpected problems to resolve and endlessly changing weather to keep us on our toes.  There is no stress, no harsh words or pressure the team jovially embrace the challenge and several have prolonged their stay to see it through to completion.  Wendy and Matt, the hosts look after us all admirably and we end each day with a great meal, plenty to drink and a good evening round an open air fire.

I don’t think that I have ever spent time with such a committed bunch of volunteers.  My time in the vegetable garden is over and my ‘expertise’ with straw bale construction is being stretched to the max.  Being the only person here with any experience of working with this medium all eyes are on me for the wall building and shaping the walls of the round house.  I am so glad that I have read so many books on the subject, even things that I have never done seem to be familiar and the project is coming on a treat.  Everyone seems to have fallen into specific rolls, each contributing their unique skills.  With a boat builder, architect, stonemason landscaper, bodger woodworker, conservator, pub manager and all round handyman on the case, it appears that every base is covered.  We have some great conversations and discussions, everyone puts their point of view forward when they think it is needed and the project advances.  Steps are built, retaining walls are fashioned out of old tyres, planting is organised, whittling, weaving and construction continues.  There are always numerous books open on the giant farmhouse table for reference so we eat outside under the shade of beautiful elms next to a field of sheep or if a beautiful sunset presents itself we move ourselves to a prime viewing on top of the hill.

dear dicken

A post I should have added a couple of months ago;

Dear Dicken

Huge apologies for cutting our conversation short the other evening.  You just happened to call as I arrived with a friend at someone’s house for dinner and it felt rather rude to keep everyone waiting for introductions etc.  Very French that nothing can happen out of order or if someone is missing.  I once waited 15 minutes, drink in hand, before taking a sip or saying “cheers” because one invited person was absent!!! (No one would continue)

Anyway, you’d have loved the evening, we sat outside under some bushes in the corner of a garden with beers and wine, built a little fire, fashioned a tripod and suspended a chicken from a string just alongside the glowing embers.  Slow food at its best.  There were three of us, me, Simon a chap I met last year on a participative eco building site, the same straw bale site that I stayed at again this year and Marcos, an argentinian carpenter who has lived in Spain for the last fifteen years whom is now earning a living in France whilst the economy dissolves into ruins next door.   We chatted in french and stoked the fire and spun the chicken from time to time, basted it with olive oil, rosemary and garlic and watched it slowly turn from pink to a crispy golden brown.  Day turned to night and it spotted with rain but the theme stayed the same, we were having a bbq and nothing but a torrential downpour would stop us.  The chicken was eventually ready after just over two hours of gentle cooking, it was delicious, absolutely amazing, succulent, juicy and not like any other bird I have tasted.  The whole thing was demolished amazingly fast, with much finger licking and appreciation for the chef, host and for Marcos and I, who had never seen such a feat before, slight awe that it actually worked.  Simon, by the way has a natural knack for outdoor cooking, lives a fairly nomadic existence in a VW van and is always on the lookout for new ideas.

Having written the last paragraph I am suddenly wondering if you are vegetarian, I can’t remember at all.  Apologies again if I’ve made you feel slightly queasy, but as I am dually writing to you and for my blog at the same time, it’ll stay.

Continuing from where we left off.  I have just arrived back in Blighty for a while, it’s as cold and miserable here as it is in SW france, so you aren’t missing much on the weather front.  I worked the winter in Saint Lary Soulan, if you pass through the pyrenees you might come across it and have most recently been helping a couple of families with their eco straw bale building projects.  Fascinating, great fun and an interesting way to pick up new skills and learn the language.  I shall be heading back at some stage in the next year to see how they are progressing and give another helping hand.

In the mean while, I shall spend May circulating between friends and family, catching up with news, helping out and house sitting as is my habit when I visit the UK.  It is great to have the time to really visit people properly and catch up.  Spend the time to help out and get things in order for my parents and give them a bit of a break from everyday life and to share the spirit of my adventures.

Come June I shall head back to france to rendez-vous with some friends in the Dordogne.  We are going to spend some time together, probably WWOOFing or HelpXing and looking for some suitable land for an independent yet joint project together.  The possible plan is to combine our meagre budgets to buy some land together.  Divide it up so that each has their own separate plot for building along with a shared area for garden, orchard etc shared communal facilities, building and garden machinery and tools etc and shared labour, energy, ideas for constructing our dwellings and living a simple life thereafter.  We can appreciate the benefits of community but we don’t want a commune where everything is shared and no one takes responsibility. Its an exciting proposition and I am looking forward to spending time with Julian and Sandrine to see if our plans are along the same lines.  It may be amazing or just a damp squib, will have to wait and see.  I also want to spend some time on a commune or similar to help out and see how everything fits together, I have hears so many stories of disorganisation, lack of direction and excessive pot smoking I’d like to see for myself what it is like in real life.  Just for a week or two.  If you have any ideas or know of any locations that welcome volunteers in the region I would love to know.  Also, before I start my building project I need a bit more experience on roof carpentry and roofing, I think I have the basics but would like to have the chance to practice and learn first hand.  There are plenty of leads, I just need to do a bit of planning so that I am vaguely in the right place at the right time.  That’ll be another map of france with scribbled notes all over to see if I can fit some sort of plan together.

Up until now I have been on foot, hitching or taking the train from place to place.  Good, cheap and fairly dependable but hitching takes time and is very variable.  Covoiturage is good for longer journeys between larger towns but to get deep into the countryside to check out land and to arrive at appointments on time I am contemplating some wheels.  The chef where I was working through the winter has a scooter, he lives near Bergerac and it takes him a good nine hours to get to the mountains.  A bit of a trek but amazingly economical.  He is then mobile whilst there and isn’t stranded without transport. With the right clothing I reckon it could be feasable.  I’d have to minimise my luggage, get a couple of paniers, a helmet a comprehensive map of the region and off I go.  Longer term I could then get a van for bigger trips and keep the scoot for nipping about locally.

So, how about you?  I saw you and Windy discussing properties and opportunities on line earlier in the year so am wondering what your thoughts are?  Needing a change? Looking for inspiration?  tell me more.

It’d be great to catch up later on, when I am back in France, but the whole place is vast.  What are your plans?  Where are you heading?  How long are you there for?  Are you WWOOFing or HelpXing? perhaps we could find a mutually interesting host to stay with for a while?  

Drop me a line and let me know everything.

In the mean time find loads of things to have fun, enjoy what you do, look after yourself and travel safely.

Take good care.

SAM  

roast chicken on a string

 Light a small fire.

Find three lengths of wood and fashion a tripod using 

an old inner tube to hold it all together.

Run a length of string from the leg furthest from the fire to the top,

through a loop of string and down to the ground.  

Attach the string to the back leg through another piece of knotted inner tube.

 Wrap a roasting chicken horizontally and vertically with a length of copper wire.

Attach the wired chicken to a loop on the end of the string with a hook created from a 

short length of said wire.

Pull the string through the inner tube knot o the back leg of the tripod until the chicken 

is positioned several inches from the ground.

 Adjust the tripod so that the chicken hovers next to and not over the fire.

(the dripping fat then lands on the ground or in a pot rather than in the fire causing flare ups)

Spin the chicken on its string.

Construct a reflective windshield using recycled silver paper to reflect the heat

and protect the foul and fire from draughts.

 Keep the fire stoked and the chicken spinning until it is golden brown

and the juices run clear when speared with a knife.

Use the fire to cook other ingredients for your feast whilst the chicken is roasting.

When ready, unhook the chicken, detach the wire, carve and

feast on a treat well worth waiting for.

I did this with Simon back this spring whilst staying at the straw bale houses, it goes with Dicken's letter and is a wonderful reminder of how simple things are often the best.