Two days ago I met some guys from the Woodland Trust and a photographer at my woods. They have asked me to feature in a short, case study video which they will post on their website. The Heritage Lottery funded five-year project that they have been running, is coming to an end in December and I guess they want to show how they have helped small ancient woodland owners like myself.

I got there early to prepare, put my tarp up in case it rained, cleaned the composting toilet (in case somebody had had a dodgy curry the night before) and lit a fire.

It was a relaxed and informal questions and answers session. They interviewed me first, then Robin (the WT project officer who has been advising me since I bought the woods). I made a brew and provided biscuits and we got to work. Here is Robin being interviewed. I meant to ask him to take some shots of me but in the excitement, completely forgot.

I was told to face the interviewer and talk to him rather than the camera. He said that he would mostly be edited out and so my answers needed to include the questions so that they were relevant. It was quite challenging for a novice, phrasing my answers intelligently and clearly whilst trying to remember what he had asked. With no interjections (like you would have in a normal two-way conversation) there is a tendency to run out of steam and start waffling (something I’m quite good at). There were no double takes so I guess I did OK but I won’t be winning any Oscars. They have also asked me to write a short guest blog to put on their website with the video once it has been edited and approved by myself. I’ll post it here when it’s done. Another interesting by-product my woodland adventure. What other paths might it take me down?

The guys left early afternoon and a touch of sadness descended on me. Robin has been holding my woodland hand (figuratively speaking) since I bought the woods just over two years ago. He’s been a tremendous support, a mentor and catalyst to my new woodland management role. I knew nothing about it three years ago and he has organised seminars, demonstrations and trips to other woods which I have enjoyed immensely. At the end of the year his contract with the WT ends. He has become a friend and I shall miss his visits. I want to say a big thanks for all he’s done.

I hadn’t planned any jobs for the day so I spent an hour or so packing up and taking a few photos. I sat on my bench just enjoying the peace and tranquility. A large dragonfly arrived and cruised around the area catching small flies. It flew around a regular route passing me closer and closer (they like to check you out). It passed my face inches away then finally left. I did too.

Autumn is coming and so soon it will be time to get busy with the chainsaw again for another round of felling and thinning out.

The huge broken sycamore limb that had got hung-up early in the year has freed itself saving me the job. Last visit I spent a good hour or so trying to get a line over it to pull it out but with no success. Here it is on the ground.

Some of you might remember my first solo camp when I had a terrible nightmare. It happened again. I was undecided about telling all and sundry about my insecurities but I have no ego to protect and it might be of interest, especially if you have had similar experiences or are considering solo camping. I’m interested in human psychology to some extent and it’s part of my curiosity about “life, the universe and everything” (Douglas Adams – Hitchhikers Guide to the Universe). I’m no expert psychologist (Google is my tutor) but this is what I think might explain my experiences. If you are an expert and think this is a load of cobblers, please enlighten me. Obviously the nightmares are based on deep-seated insecurities. Come on, who wouldn’t feel a little nervous about sleeping solo in the middle of a dark wood protected by a wafer thin layer of polyester? I’ve said it before, I am not frightened of any animals that might be around in the UK. The most fearsome species in my book are homo sapiens and they can be particularly nasty animals. My fears are based on possible intruders – not necessarily intent on doing physical harm, but causing mischief to me as a form of sadistic entertainment.

I wasn’t feeling nervous at all, having camped several times now but lets examine the human psyche a little deeper. There’s a part of our brain that is ancient in origin called the amygdala and is responsible for our personal safety. It reacts to danger and gives us the fight or flight mechanism. It doesn’t understand logic you can’t reason with it because it can’t distinguish between real or perceived threats.

Now let’s look at another fancy word, hypnagogia which is the transitional stage between wakefulness and the onset of sleep (or vice versa). Associated with that are feelings of being awake and asleep at the same time, sometimes accompanied with feelings of paralysis, chest crushing, hallucinations and lucid dreams (clear, realistic). I have had that on occasions when my mind has been overactive at bedtime or something is worrying me. It can be terrifying because your conscious mind is still partly functioning and you think you are awake and experiencing your nightmares for real.

I fell asleep fairly quickly. In that type of environment, the senses are heightened and the amygdala seems to be more alert than when safely tucked up in bed at home. Primitive man had to be that way and would wake regularly after short periods of sleep in order to stay safe from predators etc. Modern man is not all that far removed from our primitive ancestors on the total scale of human development. I napped and woke a few times but was wide awake at 3 am. Still not nervous but finding it hard to go to sleep again. I must have drifted off but got stuck in hypnagogia land. Wiki says that sleeping on your back can trigger it and can also account for reports of people feeling that something was crushing them. I know I was on my back at that stage, the most comfortable position when trying to relax. Suddenly it felt like something heavy had landed right on top of the tent and was bearing down on me. Was it a deer that had blundered into my tent? I tried to shove it away and it left. My thoughts were that it would also be scared and not return. It happened again accompanied with laughing. Sh*t, there are people out there. I tried to shout and tell them to go away (in less polite language). I could see shadowy movements through the thin tent walls but it felt like I could hardly speak (paralysis). I tried to open the tent door flaps but struggled to do so. Definitely somebody moving around the tent. This state of hypnagogia is traumatic because your mind is still awake enough to be thinking logically and I was convinced my eyes were open because I could see the inside of the tent clearly. Well after much swearing at imagined intruders, I managed to open the tent and step outside. I found myself by the side of a beautiful river and walked onto an old bridge. It was sunny. Relief came and I must have made the transition into proper sleep because I awoke at 6 am safe and sound in my little tent. I dressed and opened the flaps for real this time, shuffling my bum to the door so I could put my boots on and see my beautiful, benign woodland. Phew.

So if you’ve stayed with me so far, maybe you can sympathize and understand that it’s not just me being a total scaredy cat. It’s an inbuilt mechanism that is there to help protect us from danger but it can easily get it’s wires crossed. Time to light the fire and get a brew going. The sun was up, the smoke drifted through the trees and all was well again.

The tent was wet from rain, I felt chilled out and relaxed but really I was just dead tired, so I spent a leisurely morning packing all my gear up, drying the tent and a few other small woodland jobs. Another neighbour and good friend A. called around. I showed him “Champion the Thunder horse” and he was over the moon because he had given me the larch plank from his woods and was so pleased that I had made something with it. I did some bramble pulling for an hour then headed home. Despite the terrible night’s sleep, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Maybe next time I should have a few more mugs of wine before bedtime.

I bought a new small tent in a sale a while ago. I wanted something smaller and quicker to put up/take down than my main tent. I’ve been wanting to try it out at the woods and also get in another overnighter before the nights really draw in. I received a text message from a woodland neighbour (I shall just refer to him as S. for anonymity) saying he was meeting R. from the Woodland Trust this Wednesday gone and was I likely to be there so we could meet for a catch-up? S. is a keen bushcrafter and naturalist and has made some stunning wildlife videos and I feel we have a lot in common and I wanted to have a good chat with him. I am always pleased to see R. too, so the decision to go camping again was an easy one.

Arriving early again and it wasn’t long before S. came around. We spent a good hour or more chatting about the woods and nature watching and the subject of badgers came up. I said I had never seen a live badger and it’s on my “bucket list” to see one. S. told me he sees them often at some setts lower down the woods and would I like to go tonight when it’s dusk. “Yes pleeeease”.

After clearing my camp area I put the new tent up. It’s very easy and fits in nicely, barely visible from the track.

R. from the W.T. arrived and we had a catch-up too. After lunch I headed over to S.’s for a look around his plot and more woody/nature talk. Nice to meet with someone with the same interest and passion for the subject. A while ago he built a small pond which has had numerous woodland visitors – roe deer, buzzards, foxes and other birds including the South American rhea that was there a few months ago. A small pond  is on my list of projects. It doesn’t look particularly impressive but it’s a valauable source of water in an otherwise very dry woodland.

I returned to my patch and set-to building my fire ready for cooking my evening meal. Camping and cooking in the woods makes you realise how much we take for granted in our efficient, modern lifestyles and how much work is involved. We can fill the kettle from a tap, throw a switch and have a mug of coffee in minutes. We can open the freezer and bung something in the oven, leave it for half an hour or so and come back to a hot meal. Afterwards, stick the dirty crockery in the dishwasher and go watch telly till bedtime. I like this proper camping, with no facilities, because it adds meaningful depth to my life and reminds me of my human-ness. It is empowering to know that if “push comes to shove” and our lovely, convenient, sanitised lifetyle ended for some reason, I have some survival skills that would stand me in good stead. The way we live now is a relatively new concept and in some parts of the world, people still live so close to the land. People will often say that wild camping and bushcrafting is roughing it but my good friend P. likes to say “No, bushcrafting is about smoothing it – learning skills that make life easier in a natural environment. There were no freezers, electric kettles and dishwashers from pre-history up until a hundred years or so ago and most people today wouldn’t have a clue about making a fire from gathered materials and cooking a meal over it . Anyway that’s the reason I like doing this stuff and actually – I do like my modern home comforts very much but it’s nice to go and play at neanderthal man now and then. I made a new cooking tripod from some hazel rods and had my first cook-up on my new fireplace. Tinned curry and pre-cooked rice – ha! Well what else could a semi-veggie do in the middle of some English woods? Nettle soup and a few blackberries aren’t going to fill me up.

It started raining – (thanks BBC, for getting the forecast wrong again). It eased off though and S. arrived and as dusk fell, armed with our binoculars, we headed off to the badger site . He told me that badgers have poor eyesight but sharp senses of smell and hearing, so we had to position ourselves far enough away and downwind to avoid detection. We stood and watched quietly for over an hour but no badgers appeared. A little disappointing but I really enjoyed the experience and having good company for the evening. S. suggested we try again in Spring when there is less foliage and therfor better visibility.

We called it a day around 9 pm and by this time it was pitch black in the woods. I headed back, stoked the fire and enjoyed a mug of red wine with nothing else to do but savour the experience. The moon and stars were clearly visible through the gaps in the canopy and I was alone in the middle of the woods. All was quiet – except for the aircraft and loud motorcyclists (organ donors as my mate calls them) racing along the back roads at breakneck speeds. An odd contradiction. Time to try out my new tent.

It’s a so-called two man tent but maybe it should be called a two sardine tent. It’s fine for one person though quite challenging just getting your muddy boots off in a way that keeps your tent clean, your feet dry and the biting insects out! It’s a case of sitting with your bum just inside the tent and feet outside, then shuffling backwards as you zip up the door flaps. The next challenge is setting up your sleeping mat and bag etc and undressing whilst in a more or less, horizontal position. Not easy for an arthritic 60-odd year old. but please I can still manage it. Come back for part two.