And they're off!

The final phase of THA began as any great expedition should, with a great big breakfast. Those that knew what was ahead stocked up on calories rather than solely rely on the army ration packs that each were issued. Plans to take the high route were ditched for a more straightforward approach along the beach at low tide.

Soon we were in spectacular scenery left and right

and as ever the weather provided entertainment, here a rainbow over the objective campsite at the burial mound on the coastline. The going was difficult but not impossible

until this point where it turned from a scramble over a rocky shoreline to a full on rock climb. This route was  not the way forward for most so we turned back and regrouped on the shoreline while yours truly explored the lower levels for a path out while Keith pictured here pressed on and had a brief chat with the Grim Reaper who reassured him his time was not nigh but sitting on the cliff face was not an option either. So he shimmied along a bit (Keith not the GR) and returned to safe pastures where we all met up again (minus GR) as I had found the true path and led the camp followers to within view of the campsite.

The chosen site was an old croft settlement that had long been abandoned, the old grey Fergie looked a lot worse for wear. I did check to see if the fuel pump was salvageable but it was a lost cause, the tractors only use now is a moody photographic prop. The rainbow appeared just to let us know more rain was on the way later.

Rocky placed himself mid point of camp to keep an eye on everyone's dinner welfare and so we got amongst the ration packs. The victims volunteers had been given small cooking stoves that relied on solid fuel tablets and an abundance of matches to light. As they each only had five matches each lazyness set in and they opted for a communal camp fire and so ate hot meals and ash while those sensible ones (me) used a cooker and were treated to a gourmet meal of beef goulash and rice as a main course and fruit cocktail and custard for dessert. The custard was from a tin I had borrowed from the kitchen and the old adage of I carried it I eat it applied save for the half of the tin I traded for the use of a tin opener. This adage did not apply to Rocky who ate two cans of dog food and an extra large Jumbone, none of which he carried. Thus full of good food and drinking a luxury drinking chocolate (thats one without twigs, soot, ash and various insects as seen in the offerings around the camp fire) yours truly retired to his tent for the for the night.

The only obstacle to overcome was to try and persuade a very big, very tired dog to give up my sleeping bag.

Seeing things

The weather was kind to us today as the concretathon continued in the Corral OK. The ponies and Thor watched from the battlefield of Oak Bank and urged us to get the job done quickly so they could have dry hooves. The downpour overnight meant part of the morning was spent digging the drainage ditch that will go alongside the concrete pad but by 9.45 George was in action.

I must admit to having a bit of a downer for the first four barrow loads, then a whole host of why am I doing this thoughts for the next four, followed by some really dark thoughts as the next four loads combined with the previous only covered the first three feet. As we were doing over 15 feet even with my math it was going to be a long day.
Perseverance is the key and slowly slowly the mountain of dry ingredients was transformed into a very neat concrete pad. Rocky kept me company for part of the day, he replaced Spotty who dutifully watched every shovel full and followed every barrow load and didn't put a paw wrong. Rocky on the other paw thought his best occupation was to be a trip hazard or to drain the buckets of water.
Mid afternoon saw the days task completed. I chose to ignore the mangalitza piglet digging up the driveway, putting it down to a figment on my imagination. This was a very active figment who just before dark climbed the fence and returned to the pig pen when the evening carrots were delivered.

This time Rocky managed to resist the temptation to add an interesting pattern to the concrete pad.

Out of sight, out of mind

Eventually the out of sight out of mind principle fails completely. In the four and half years we have been here, or thereabout, we have accrued a fair amount of tat and broken items, the majority of which have been put places where they are no trouble. Some in fact have been moved several times to new no trouble places, like my priceless collection of not really broken bikes, all of which with only a few days effort and several hundred pounds would be as good as new. These have been moved from almost barn to the workshop, to the shed that then was demolished and became the Berner Annexe so they then went to to tack room before ending up in the almost barn again where for a few months they have been the favoured playthings of the pigs. The pigs showed very little aptitude for bike mechanics, instead they just copied me and moved them around their domain in a seemingly aimless fashion.
So, having decided that the towering piles of really useful stuff at the back of the stable/house/garden/greenhouses/workshop were now so high that they posed risk to life and limb I conceded that a skip would be a useful item because we might just have enough to fill a small one. Tracey my beautiful and oh so patient wife ordered the largest small one they hire out and ignored my comments of "its a barn, we'll never fill it" (sic Blues Brothers, still the best film ever made) And so the attempt to fill it with my precious things began yesterday (when not chasing cows) and several discoveries were made. Frogs had made a passable home in the box that the trout had arrived in last year and was put for safe keeping behind the stable on the premise that one day I might need a cardboard box that I could carry fish in. No such occasion has arisen and so it is now in the skip. The frogs leapt for freedom once they saw the eviction notice was final.

This amazing radio which is over 15 years old and has been on several expeditions with me, lived in the same places as the bikes except that it was in the eaves of the pig sty. Tracey had put it in the skip, I seized the opportunity to turn it on to prove it was not rubbish bit a precious thing, it remained stubbornly silent. An aha look swept across my beautiful and oh so patient wife's face but she watched ever so patiently as in desperation I rummaged aound and found an almost fitting electric cable. Plugged in and switched on with a stick, just in case, however the only shock was that Radio 2 blared across the yard. Reprieve granted it was allowed back in the tack room. One small victory to hoarders!

By yesterday evening the skip looked like this, full of good stuff from the garden, almost barn, back of stable and tack room and contained compulsory skip items like a broken ironing board. Today the main thrust of attack was the workshop. I was too embarrassed to publish a before the great clear out picture but this is it by nightfall and the skip is, ahem, slightly fuller. This picture shows the location of my "little accident" where I fell from the gallery (no stairs or safety rail at the time, and funnily enough as it happens, no ladder, just gravity, a lot of pain and near asphyxiation caused by a helpful Bernese called Rocky who tried to keep me warm while waiting for the ambulance ) had I fell this morning I would have missed the concrete floor and fallen about two feet onto stuff. I am trying not to think about the 400 or so cd's that were deemed surplus to requirements, and the countless numbers of model soldiers (or little men as my better half calls them) cast aside and now reside skipside. What I am concentrating on is the huge workspace now created, the large number of tools "found" and best of all finding all the photographs had been spared the attentions of mice, unlike a lot of my books and comics which seem to have made excellent nests.
Tomorrow we are launching an attack on the upstairs gallery, rumour has it there are boxes that have lain undisturbed since we first got here. Bound to be full of stuff I really need!

And the winner is.....

Today we left Rock HQ to attend a local show, a great opportunity to meet up with other farmers, smallholders and wannabes and compare notes. Firstly we met Champ's owners who started three years ago, same time as us, without previous experience and lucky enough to have sold a business to buy their smallholding outright. Champ here is a lovely Shire Horse who works their land in the traditional way. They also keep pigs and so we were able to discuss the rights and wrongs of modern farming and how tasty home grown bacon is. We didn't get her name but, please believe me, he was another Steve, really he was, and the guy who refurbished Champ's cart was also called Steve.

These two lovely dogs were taken straight from their farmyard and entered into the dog show. We thought it would be useful social experience, a small local show where no-one was taking it too seriously. What we discovered was that there is no such thing as a non serious dog show and some of the entrants had travelled from afar to bag rosettes and dog food samples. The first indication that its all a bit serious was as we parked alongside a couple from Birmingham who were in the process of putting up a tent to accommodate their five Cocker Spaniels, cages and mobile grooming parlour.

Dotty who had never been on a lead until today, seen children or hundreds of adults before coped very well with being prodded and poked by the Judge but steadfastly refused to walk the ring. She came a very creditable fourth and got her first rosette. The Judge told me after that I had a lovely Bernese, for Gods sake get her ring trained. OK.

Next to enter the arena was Rocky, her dad and pictured above psyching himself up for the competition hes on the left). Thankfully the Judge missed him slipping his lead and running away, when Tracey finally cornered the brute and dragged him back he did his circuit of the ring and came first, then fourth in the all comers arena. So we are very happy with them both and Rocky had a reward of a bowl of ice cream. Their rosettes are proudly pinned to the Bernese tapestry in our lounge.

On the way home we called in at the Stable Sprites smallholding. It looks a bit different to the last time we were there, basically he has been let loose with a small digger and cleared a vast area of trees, rocks and anything he hasn't liked the look of. The desolated site will be seeded with root crops for his pigs. Another of his sows had dropped a litter overnight. Here you can see one of the Berkshire sows having a snooze with her piglets at her tail. The larger piglet in one that is from the other sow and only three weeks old. They grow so fast!

A winters tale

As usual anything above a millimetre of snow and the whole of the UK grinds to a halt. Without fail Councils run out of grit and lack the gritter spreading lorries to keep the network of roads clear and panic buying clears the shelves of the shops as the frantic population worry that they will starve to death before the weekend thaw.

This is the background to this tale of epic adventure, of heroism, of true grit, a tale that encompasses what it is to be a human being on a mercy mission to help another human being in distress, and to get it all done before his dinner is on the table.

Mad Keith the technohermit has established a base camp half way up the North Face of the Bonsai Mountain and has run out of coal. A rescue bid with Rene loaded with coal failed as the ice sheet turned a three point turn into a rather exciting slide that narrowly missed the drystone wall and ditch. Not wanting to leave the hermit to a cold and miserable death I loaded the sledge with two sacks of coal and with the hopefully famous but not last words "I'm going outside. I may be sometime" I shut the front door on the warm glow of the cottage and set out into the night dragging my load after me.

I took four of the magnificent seven with me primarily for company but also to fight off any Lions we might meet on the way. Initially things went very well as we descended into the ice plateau that was formally our lane, gravity assisted the sledge and it required very little effort other than steering it. Problems started once we began the steep one in four ascent of the North Face leading to the Ghost House and the start of the track up to his cave. It was too heavy to drag with my one arm, my left arm is still full of space age mechanno so I couldn't risk straining it and unraveling all the good work of the surgeon, so I had to break the trip into sections and take it one bag at a time. All the while I pondered the number of beasts we have on the farm that are not quite fit for purpose.

For example we have two Bernese Mountain Dogs who are a breed well used to pulling carts in mountainous terrain or sledges in the snow. But here they watched their brave owner battle against the snow pulling a sledge a la Ranalph Fiennes up a treacherous snow slope. We are also the proud owners of at least one horse suited to the role of pack animal, the power to weight ratio of a shitland pony far exceeds mine but its me pulling the heavy load uphill unassisted while it sleeps in a warm and cosy stable. Even our milk goats don't give milk at the moment. These thoughts kept me occupied as I went back and forth with the sacks of coal, each time gaining some some fifty metres.

Halfway into the trek, disaster struck, the sledge lost a runner and tipped over and a bag slid back down the Bonsai Mountain towards the treacherous ravine we had just negotiated. Rocky stopped it tipping over the edge thus earning a few extra dog biscuits if rations allowed should we make it back. We pressed on, battered but undeterred, firm in our resolve to get the coal to the hermit. A few hundred yards further on the sledge went a lot lighter and I had to double back until I found Rocky standing guard over the dropped bag, from his demeanour he was determined that no Lion would get the coal. At this point the Bonsai Mountain levels out and I could see across the valley to where Steve the electricians house shone like Blackpool illuminations on the opposite side. I pointed my torch into what would be his conservatory giving a signal that would only be understood by little Steve his son, who like me is also a superhero. I waited patiently for the response, nothing came, hmmmm, little Steve was either eating his dinner or being read a bedtime story, we superheros need our sleep. I reloaded the sledge and redoubled my efforts to get to the hermit.

Finally we entered the clearing that "belonged" to the hermit, to say he was grateful would be an understatement. He danced a little jig and clapped his hands together offering to pay me for my hard work, I declined, and not just because I thought he would pay me in rabbit skulls.
He seemed put out, surely there must be something he could do for me, I stepped back just in case he tried any funny business.

There must be something I wanted he continued, I silently prayed he wouldn't offer me a cup of tea.

"I know!" he yelled, I fought the rising panic.

" In the summertime, I know what I can do for you!"

Please God no! I got ready to leap on the sledge and make a fast getaway

" I can give you some rhubarb!" he enthused

I breathed a sigh of relief "That would be great Keith thanks."

In his element

Rocky gets hot and bothered very quickly and is usually found lying on the cold flagstones of the dining room. As the expected snow started to fall this morning he really was in his element.

Black Sheep

First glance you may think that Rock HQ has taken delivery of two large glossy long haired black sheep. Readers will know that we do indeed have a coloured Ryeland called Ebony who stalks the hills for sandwiches and frequently adds to the legend of The Hound of the Baskervilles. Closer inspection will reveal that these are not black sheep but Rocky and Reba the Bernese Mountain Dogs helping themselves to second breakfasts with the lambs.

The lambs are still being pampered since Bonny and Sandy were mauled by a dog fox and most of their wool fell out. Daffodil the biggest one closest to the camera was the only survivor of the orphan or abandoned lambs from last spring. Currently they are all in the old pig sty knee deep in hay, and with the forecast of heavy snow on the way its probably the best place for them.

The hen that Kitler attacked yesterday survived the night despite the hideous wounds on her back and seemed to like her new accommodation in the old rabbit hutch. I checked the cliff behind the cottage today just in case Kitler had been mortally wounded by the plastic food scoop. As I expected he wasn't and hopefully he has learned not to mess with our birds.

Berner Breakout!

They are fantastic dogs but agility is not one of their strong points!

However, if they get an idea in their heads you have a hard job convincing them otherwise. So today Rocky and Reba were in the conservatory, the bespoke redwood effort lovingly built by the nice man who sold us Rock HQ and they decided that what they wanted to do was go for a walk. I personally think they were egged on by Poppy the Golden Retriever who was with them.

Anyway the dynamic duo shoulder charged the double doors leading into the garden and set off on a great adventure which was only curtailed when The Oracle spotted them harassing Mad Keith for crusts of bread.

The Oracle being the good neighbour that he is walked them back presenting three muddy dogs to Tracey and Bethan who were enjoying hot buttered toast for breakfast oblivious to the mass breakout.

Dog tired!

Unable to shake off this flu which has now developed into the sorest throat and worst cough I have ever had I could not face work today. So I spared my colleagues an opportunity of listening to me cough until I vomit or witness the sudden temperature fluctuations my body inflicts on itself so one moment I am wrapped in thermal mountaineering gear the next stripped to shorts and t shirt and looking like I am in a Turkish bath. The only positive I see of the last week of illness is that I have lost weight, and had I been able to prepare all the treats and goodies for the Christmas period would have been able to gorge myself back to full health.

Tracey is also whats technically known as in a right state so I insisted she stay at home as well, there was no ulterior motive as I am more than able to stagger to the kettle and make my own cold cures. On the subject of which the only one that has done any good so far has been a three parts orange juice one part whisky warmed up and sweetened with honey. After a couple you really do feel different if not better.

Being ill has made another rule of smallholding apparent, never be ill together, one of you needs to remain fit enough to deal with any emergencies, that or you have a support network close by. I can do the usual feeding round first thing in the morning in around twenty minutes, going slowly and allowing for time wasting such as tickling piglets noses it takes a maximum of forty five pre work minutes to establish that all the critters at Rock HQ are accounted for and have enough food and water until we get home. Today it took me an hour and a half what with coughing until I wretched, leaning on solid objects feeling sorry for myself and finding Reba and Poppy.

Perhaps sensing I would be unable to shout them, I find speaking in anything other than a raised whisper difficult at present they waited until I was suitably distracted by Apollo who for reasons known only in his tiny foal like mind had piled pooh all around his stable and had done diving forward rolls through it. His white bits were Khaki, all the way up to his forehead. As I tried to salvage the situation and chastised myself for getting such a feces obsessed horse I could see Rocky our male Bernese Mountain Dog sitting quietly by the wheelbarrow clearly adopting the stance of whatever happens next I wasn't involved. I shut the poohy pony away and approached Rocky who went from it wasn't me to being clearly guilty and out into fresh fields of please I tried to stop them don't shout at me. We faced each other over a barrow of pooh, tumbleweed rolled across the yard as the wind whistled through the bare branches of the trees. Rocky gulped and looked down the lane showing me where they had gone.

Great I rasped. Rocky shrugged, cocked his leg on the barrow and went into Rock HQ. He had been helpful enough in his book.

I tried shouting but a strange sound like Faith chewing a live chicken came out, the embarrassment of making such a noise coupled with the pain caused by trying to summon the missing dogs put paid to any further attempts. Incidentally Faith has chewed another live chicken. For some reason she feels the need to rid the world of grey hens. Her latest is currently converting into pate in the rayburn, it was destined to be coq au vin anyway but the poor thing didn't deserve death by setter.

Finally I found Reba and Poppy, flirting with a no eared collie called Ben down in The Oracles yard. He's no good to them having lost more than just his ears in an encounter with a vet a long time ago but he was as keen as they were. I mimed you put that away and get back home to bed you naughty dogs as Ben shot off back to his kennel and the two dog tarts set off at a brisk pace with their tails between their legs. They could tell I was cross with them as I didnt say a word all the way home.

I'm still not speaking to them.

I cant!

Its a Dog's Life!

There are many hazards facing a smallholder, goats lurking in dark corners to mug you for the feed buckets, Ryeland sheep rushing you from behind as they try to get to the food trough, pigs biting your legs as they mistake you for their breakfast, come to think of it many of the hazards do revolve around feeding time.

Aside from the hazards there are the emotions that you surf throughout the day. The highs, the knowing that you are so lucky to be here on this planet in this very spot at this very time feeling like you do, no one will ever experience it quite like you do and once you recognise that moment its gone. Forever.

Today I note a new emotion, not one I am prone to but as I am about to head out into the dark wet evening to check on the horses, to make sure the goats are shut up safely, to put the birds away before the fox takes another and all the jobs associated with the evening routine I am feeling jealous.

I must say I am not exactly feeling 100%, Ben is back on leave and has very kindly given me an irritating cough, runny nose and all the aches and pains normal for man flu. At least I hope its just man flu, not some weird tropical disease he has brought back with him, currently he is not being a very brave soldier lying in bed claiming he is dieing.

I have manfully ignored the symptoms and got on with the farm, taking the water up the hill by the bucket load to the horses who had the poor manners to drink it almost as fast as I could carry it really took it out of me though and all the while I was watched by the Berners.

Poppy busied herself with a toy lion practicing her retrieve by throwing it and then herself down the hill and then running down after it, running up and down to the point of exhaustion. The thought of putting panniers on the Berners to carry the water did cross my mind, they were after all used for such jobs in Switzerland. Eventually all the jobs done I got back inside to a hot drink and got on with house jobs.

So why jealous, well after all their hard work watching me today the Berners have crashed out around the fire and are stuck there like limpets while I have clearly indicated that they should join me again outside. Everytime I walked past Rocky he really concentrated on being asleep.

And as for Reba!

Does Reba look like she is interested in going out in the rain?

Me and my shadows!

Hooray its a Holiday!!

I am lucky enough to have a generous employer who gives me a lot of annual leave so I home alone this week and catching up on jobs as well as getting ready for Christmas.

Hardly alone, there are some 60 animals here that need looking after aside from Ben and Bethan who are "helping" so its just Tracey thats had to go out to work.

Whatever I do or where ever I am on the smallholding as you can see above shadows are never far away.

Always watching.

Coming through!

Apollo and Rocky playing chase!

No fear!

Rocky has never been afraid of horses, when he was a puppy we went visiting some friends who have a number of the beasts and Rocky sat down in the middle of the field with them sniffing him all over, he finally moved when one was about to tread on him.

Apollo is teething so he is having a gnaw on the bark of a log, as you can see Rocky is quite happy to let him get really close.

Hot under the collar

This our big Bernese Mountain Dog Rocky cooling off in the stream.

His mate Reba is in season so he feeling a bit frustrated, she is too young for them to breed just yet so we have to keep a close eye on them both.

This is his version of taking a cold shower!

Animal Olympics

Bernese Mountain Dog 100 metres!

Rocky is a fast mover.

Don't get in his way!

Rocky making friends

I sometimes wonder about this dog, here he is at the dangerous end of one of the Berkshires. the pigs so startled at the sudden intrusion its given up eating, only for a second but its still stopped which takes some doing.

He ran into a gate today, full speed down hill charge, realised the gate was closed and tried to stop, slid in the mud and muck and then he did stop, the heavy metal hurdle stopped him in his tracks. Undeterred he backed up and cleared the gate effortlessly, quite a feat for a 110 pound dog.

It has been quite wet here today, we had thought that we had seen the heaviest rain ever, but as ever Mother Nature can top any previous effort.I have had to change clothes three times as my not quite waterproofs failed to keep the elements at bay. All the animals are miserable, either because they are wet, or because they are shut in to keep them dry. We have set a new record at Rock HQ, just for a few days there are 11 dogs here. I am currently being watched by five very wet Berners, who smell fantastic, the way only wet dogs can. We have a very ancient black labrador called Polly who is waiting for her owner to return from Canada to recue her from this madhouse. The rest of them are drying off in the kennels.

Another one bites the dust

Theres been another murder!

You might have thought it had gone quiet on the fox front but Foxy Loxy has been as busy as ever. Since Terrance the Turkey shuffled off his mortal coil the fox has had another Muscovy duck, six black rocks and Devil Hen our 8 year old bird.

No matter how hard we try we haven't been able to shoot or trap the scoundrel and tonight it has killed Bella our blue eyed Ebden Goose, a bird that was the most gentle goose ever. Obviously pet status had been achieved by Bella from the day she arrived at Rock HQ and we had hoped she would produce interesting goslings by pairing with Brandy the Brecon Buff Gander.

We have tried keeping the birds in while we are at work to stop the killing but its had little effect, except on egg production which is about half as the birds like the sunlight to promote laying. I have also taken to marking our territory like alpha males do in the wild, hoping it would deter foxes crossing the perimeter, no effect other than a few patches of dead nettles.

Today was a nice sunny day, Beth was home for half the day so I thought I had better let the birds out. Bella must have gone up to the stream and by the state of her when found was killed about an hour before we got home. She was still warm and only her head and neck were missing. My letting the magnificent seven out of the kennels must have scared the fox off. I found her after noticing that she wasn't with the rest of the geese.

This is Rocky exploring the murder scene a couple of hours ago.

Hot Dog!

Clever dog this one, he is cooling off by sitting in a ditch of running water.

British summer continues!

These buckets were empty this morning, the rain from the roof of the pig sty has filled them, Rocky helps himself to a drink after racing up and down the lane.

Its been a good day though, we got a fair number of jobs done. You have to be really disciplined when on the smallholding, something I find hard, you have to strike a balance between the jobs that need doing and those that you would like to do. So whilst I would have liked to have got the brush cutter out and cut swathes of bracken down, a job that is itself getting quite urgent I forced myself to weed the garden, even more urgent, when there were gaps in the rain.

To reward myself for sticking to such a tedious job I cut down two large hazel trees that currently put the garden in shade, not that there is much sunshine at present, but when it returns part of the garden will benefit from extra light. I now intend to take much of the twenty foot high hedge down from the length of the garden, removing the hazel, sycamore and hawthorn but leaving the three plum trees currently fighting for survival. The pigs watched and then chomped through the cut down greenery.

I then fell victim to one of the rules of smallholding, when a jobs going well don't allow yourself to get distracted. Pretty soon I had lost sight of the task in hand, clearing the hedge and was happily engaged in the very entertaining task of feeding the pigs windfall apples by hand. Their antics and the chase game they play around the trees whiled away the time until the rain made it too uncomfortable to stay out.

I dragged a fresh bundle of hazel up the lane to the goats and sheep sheltering under the trees by the stable. Maggie and the Ryelands tucked in with as much enthusiasm as the pigs. Only Geisha was missing the feast.

She suddenly appeared, clearing the gate across the front of Trevor's stable with ease, not with her usual grace though, more of a sideways jump with an accompanying oof sound. Trevor appeared at the gate whinnying defiantly. Geisha had obviously been helping herself to his bucket of horse feed and judging by the way she cleared the gate Trevor had given her both heels to help her out.

Rocky the sun worshipper

Rocky watching the sunset at Rock HQ.