Woodsman
Page 9
8 September
I feel the quickening. It is around me all the time but most of all at the beginning and end of the day. The lack of light and the increasing dew highlight how unprepared I feel for this winter. The house has so preoccupied me and there’s still so much to do. 11 more weeks and Channel 4 return for the final filming! The pressure is on. I need to rally the volunteers, get everyone to pick up the pace – there is still so much to do. I’m going to install the Rayburn and get it lit so there is some warmth in the house, especially as there are eight tonnes of wet lime going in over the next few weeks. We can then begin cooking and socialising in the evening in the house when the weather draws in more.
The lighting of the Rayburn and having a constant hot oven with trays of roasted vegetables helped keep morale high, and as we approached the final week before the film crew returned I rallied the volunteers and productivity increased. When Kevin McCloud returned, there was a finished house. The final filming went well, although it seems bizarre to have raised the house by hand, only to see a small crane arrive to raise the camera above the house. A large light was lifted up to simulate the moon, and that ended a rather surreal experience. As the film crew left, I found myself with a few moments to absorb the immensity of what happened that year. I sat on the veranda and I felt proud. This creature has built his nest. The next day I began coppicing.
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The following spring was the first showing of the Grand Designs programme and the Lickfold Inn had a special screening. A good number who had been involved with the build and a large number of villagers turned up. We watched the show and then enjoyed a spontaneous party to follow. The show generated a huge amount of interest, far more than I could have imagined. It was discussed both on Wogan and This Morning with Richard and Judy, and I was soon being asked for magazine and press interviews. This dose of instant ‘fame’ did not sit comfortably with me, and I was glad to have the grounding influence of Prickly Nut Wood to keep me focused on what was real and important.
Grand Designs filmed two further programmes with me, a re-visit and a second re-visit, bringing the viewers up to date with an extension and the additions to my family. The second re-visit I agreed to do, providing I was given the opportunity to explain a little more about the coppicing process. The producer agreed, and the importance of the woodland and its management was put across to the viewer.
Grand Designs that year had a large ‘Grand Designs Live’ show in London, and this was televised throughout the week. It involved a public vote and my house was voted the best all-time Grand Design – Kevin McCloud made no secret that he agreed with the verdict. Such attention to a house that I built on a low budget and wanted filmed purely as an educational tool was not at all what I had expected. My house had become a personality. People in the street would ask me, ‘How is the house?’ as if it had feelings or they were asking me about my children. I soon received enquiries asking whether I would build houses for other people. It was a route I believe I wisely avoided for a few years. The experience of building your own house was massive enough, especially when it had taken almost 10 years of basic living before I got permission. But to then have your house magnified in the public imagination into becoming this iconic building meant I needed time away from thinking about further builds – and anyway I had woods to manage.
I continue to get many letters and emails, some of which were beautiful explanations of what the house and the process I had been through meant to people. On some level I touched a latent part of the human psyche through this building, and it became a common thread that the correspondence contained the words ‘I was in tears watching your programme.’ I fought long and hard about what it was that had affected people to such a deep level. Possibly it was the reality of my situation – I was living in a caravan with a leaky roof and I was building a home, a shelter I really needed. So many episodes of Grand Designs seem to be about throwing large sums of money to build a dream house; many people on the show spend far more on a kitchen than I did on the entire house. But what I feel really happened was the woods and the woodland way of life unlocked something in people. Maybe it was related to the instinct I mentioned above, that there was something instinctual in my house and Prickly Nut Wood that people understood and wanted to experience. It may be that modern life has removed us from our natural instincts and parts of us crave the simplicity of living closer to nature. For the past eight years I have run four ticketed open days each year. These are usually booked up to six months to a year in advance, and the continued demand never ceases to amaze me. People come to experience the house but what they don’t realise is that the house is a very small part of their visit to Prickly Nut Wood. I take them deep into the woods, immerse them in the management of the coppice, and when they eventually get to see the house they realise the building itself is a by-product of the woodland management. I think that makes the experience of the house that much more tangible.
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For the past 14 years I’ve taken on apprentices at Prickly Nut Wood, and they live and learn the woodland lifestyle. Part of their training, once they’ve learned to cut the coppice, cleave poles and understand the wildlife management of the woods, is to learn the jointing techniques of roundwood timber framing. One year my apprentices Dylan and Rudi were so keen on the framing they asked me if I could find them building work. I had been approached by Pestalozzi International Village, who wanted a small barn constructed for an organic garden scheme. This seemed a good project on which the apprentices could gain some experience and for me to see how they got on. They excelled on the framing and the pretty barn we constructed at Pestalozzi was admired by many. I was then approached by Chris and Lucy Wall-Palmer, charcoal burners from Midhurst, who were putting in for planning permission and wanted to build a house in a similar style to my own. That autumn we constructed the frames of the house, and Chris then took on the rest of the build and has constructed a fine house for his family. With the increase in building projects and the need to comply with legislation, I set up the Roundwood Timber Framing Company Ltd, to facilitate the building of roundwood timber-frame buildings and to train new people in the techniques involved.
The increase in building projects has got me to tailor a lot more of my coppice management to the needs of the roundwood timber-framing company and its projects. For example, new products I now source from the coppice include: roundwood framing poles for our projects and for other people; roundwood wind braces; split chestnut lath; split chestnut shingles; split hazel and chestnut for woven panels in the buildings for earth plaster or beneath handrails. Much of the wood sourced from standard trees in the coppice is converted on a mobile sawmill to produce cladding, veranda floorboards and window seats for placing on top of straw-bale walls. Bale spikes for securing straw bales are another product that has evolved as a result of the demand for roundwood buildings. These materials I mention are predominantly from sweet chestnut coppice, but I have also been sourcing materials from plantations to use for frame construction. I believe there is a good market for larch, Douglas fir, Lawson cypress, Scots pine and western red cedar for roundwood timber framing projects.
These plantations are managed on a clear-fell regime, as mentioned in Chapter 3. This practice involves a first thinning, a second thinning, a third thinning, and then a clear fell. Depending on the species involved, it is about 40 to 70 years between planting and felling. The first two thinnings that are carried out are an economic loss; it is only the third thinning and the clear fell that bring in the economic return. For roundwood timber-framing poles, I am looking for plantations that have not been well managed. In other words, plantations in which the first and second thinnings have not occurred. This leaves tall, thin poles, whose growth rings are close together. These poles will be stronger in construction and will have long lengths, without having put on too much diameter. As this is a new market, trees have not been purposefully grown for this market, so I have had to rely on poorly thinned plant
ations. However, considering that the first and second thinnings provide an economic loss, it would make sense to plant some plantations of useful species for roundwood timber framing in which we leave the plantation un-thinned, saving the economic loss of early thinnings and subsequently removing poles for roundwood timber framing, which have a high value as a raw product. Although it is likely that removal at this time will cause some windthrown trees, many others will begin to put on girth and can then be converted by a mobile sawmill to floor joists, roof rafters and stud work for use in the roundwood timber-framing construction. The whole plantation can be grown to support the construction of new roundwood timber-frame buildings.
The Roundwood Timber Framing Company has constructed a number of other social and private buildings, including the highly acclaimed Lodsworth Larder, a community village shop, and winner of nine architectural and social enterprise awards to date. This shop is constructed from materials sourced primarily from a derelict coppice within the parish, which enabled an ancient woodland to be restored, such that in the following year it sent out a flush of violet helleborine orchids. The oak standards that were felled travelled fewer than three miles in total from the derelict coppice to the sawmill, where they were converted, air dried, then kiln dried, planed, and tongue and grooved, then returned to the building site to form the oak flooring. The construction of the shop involved the training of apprentices, and many villagers were involved in parts of the construction, as well as in the communal moving of the frames. The shop employs two full-time local staff and is supported by community volunteers. It carries out a number of community functions, from postal services and local information to ticketing for local events. It supports and supplies local foods and fresh produce, and has become an important meeting point and social hub within the village.
Another interesting Roundwood Timber Framing Company building is the Woodland Classroom at the Sustainability Centre in East Meon, Hampshire. This involved the felling of Lawson cypress from a plantation at the centre and moving the poles 200 yards to the building site. The building has an unusual curved roof that was formed by steam bending Lawson cypress poles for three hours each, and then setting them in a jig to create the shapes of the roof. A cordwood and clay wall forms the backdrop, in which a fireplace creates a focal point. A large decked area and canvas drop sides allow diverse use of the space.
Withyfield Cottage at Partridge Green in West Sussex is available for rent as an ecological holiday home and gives the public the opportunity to experience staying in a roundwood timber-frame house. Speckled Wood is a new training accommodation building constructed for the National Trust near Haslemere, Surrey. All the timber was sourced from the National Trust site at Blackdown where the building is situated, and it was featured on BBC’s Countryfile.
There are now a significant number of roundwood timber-frame buildings constructed in the south-east, all checked by engineers and approved by building control. This gives great encouragement as to the viability of this technique. Ex-apprentices are building a house in Cornwall, and I am in contact with people all around the globe constructing roundwood timber-framed houses in their different localities.
So I found a niche in the woodland market, helped without doubt by the popularity of the Grand Designs documentary but solidified by a number of fine, sustainable buildings that have pleasing aesthetics, as well as good ecological credentials. As roundwood timber framing grows and spreads across the UK and globally, the opportunity for more woodland products to supply the building industry will increase and others will manage woodland to support the building industry of the future, which I believe will need to rely more on the local sourcing of its materials.
Roundwood timber framing uses local timber resources, and empowers people to take the initiative in building their own homes and community buildings. It leaves buildings that will degrade naturally, so that future generations will not have to deal with piles of non-biodegradable toxic materials when the buildings eventually reach the end of their lives. When a roundwood timber-frame building is finished, the pile of ‘waste’ consists of wood off-cuts, which are then used to heat the building.
Roundwood timber framing shows it is possible to build ecological buildings that help support the management of sustainable woodland industries such as coppicing and, in doing so, offers a positive method of construction for our current generation without depleting the resources available for the next generation.
With my home completed and a small construction industry of roundwood buildings starting to grow and spread under its own steam, I looked at Prickly Nut Wood with fresh eyes. I had used coppiced sweet chestnut for the roundwood frames of the buildings and although this has helped to stimulate the management of the chestnut woods and bring employment to others working in the woods, what of the other tree species that grow in and around Prickly Nut Wood?
Throughout the woods, there are a number of English oak (Quercus robur) standards that grow proudly above the coppice understory. These significant trees have grown large and dominant, and in many areas where the woods have not been worked for half of a century or more they have shaded out the diverse coppice below them. I mentioned earlier the connection I have with ‘Shakespeare’s Oak’ that stands proudly over the chestnut coppice near to my house. As I have walked the countryside, I have admired oak trees of many sizes and forms. The large pollards and parkland oaks that stand out in the open landscape form strong markers throughout the English countryside. Not far from Prickly Nut Wood on the Cowdray Estate stands the Queen Elizabeth Oak, an ancient tree with a vast circumference, but diminished in height as it begins to shrink back into itself (as we all do when we reach the latter years of our lives). But although an oak may retreat for a few hundred years, its ageing process is extended way beyond our brief spell of life.
A pollard is the term used to describe a broadleaf tree that has been cut during the dormant (winter) season six foot (1.8m) or more above the ground. The tree sends up shoots in a similar manner to coppice but is cut at a height where animals cannot graze the re-growth of young shoots. Pollarded poles are cut on a rotation and used in a similar way to coppiced wood. Pollarding is mainly carried out on old trees for conservation purposes; the poles are generally used for firewood and cutting a tree at six foot off the ground is a more hazardous and time-consuming activity than coppicing, where the felling takes place at ground level. One product still used in craftwork from pollards is baskets made from riverbank pollarded willows.
The oak has been intimately tied up with our history and culture – from the wonderful hammer-beam trusses in Westminster Hall through to the solid cottage furniture that now sits in the windows of antique shops in the nearby town of Petworth – and our relationship with it has charted the growth of our civilisation. Oak, like sweet chestnut, contains the reserves of tannins that makes it such a durable timber, and one that for many centuries has been the first choice for buildings and for the ships we used in times when we exploited the lands of others for our gain.
From houses to ships, whisky barrels to church steeples, tables to charcoal, the oak tree has supplied our needs and the tannins from its bark has cured skins for our leather. To consider that such a monumental tree could be disappearing may be hard to contemplate, but our oaks are under attack more now than ever before. The pathogen known as Phytophthora ramorum that causes sudden oak death has attacked and killed many oaks in North America, and its arrival in England, where it is able to use rhododendron as a host plant, threatens our sturdy giants. English oaks have, however, shown some resistance and the Phytophthora has jumped species and is now focusing on wiping out the Japanese larch (Larix kaempferi) plantations of Wales and south-west England. But our oaks are also under threat from defoliation. An increase in the number of caterpillars as a result of milder conditions seems to be one contributor, and although oak usually recovers with fresh leaf growth the following year, the stress and lack of growth, and the tree’s inability to photosynthesi
se, will take its toll. The oak processionary moth (Thaumetopea processionea) arrived in 2006 from Central Europe. It not only attacks oaks, but the caterpillars have tiny hairs that are sharp, barbed and contain a toxin (thaumetopein) that causes irritation and allergic reactions in humans.
Oaks are not alone in suffering the risk of new diseases. Ash (Fraxinus excelsior) is under severe threat from ash dieback (caused by the fungus Hymenoscyphus pseudoalbidus), and many of our coniferous species are being attacked by one pathogen or another. I am astonished that we allow this to happen. These diseases have arrived in the UK, mainly by having been carried on plants we have imported, and possibly by unclean shoes and footwear carrying disease from forests in Europe across to the UK. I remember visiting Australia about 12 years ago and being impressed by the vigilant biosecurity measures, which involved spraying new arrivals to the country. Sadly, we’ve already let many diseases onto our island, but we must not hesitate from tightening up border controls and ensuring that we learn from the sensible and cautious precautions that are being used in countries like Australia.
As our oaks struggle to adapt to our changing climate, the trees themselves still need managing, and in the derelict corpses around Prickly Nut Wood I often need to thin five or six standards per acre to reduce the canopy cover over the coppice to around 10 per cent. This extra light allows the regenerating coppice below to re-grow with vigour, and creates a more productive and biodiverse woodland. The oak standards are far from perfect timber trees and the ones I fell vary in quality. The soils at Prickly Nut Wood rarely suffer from shake, so the timber is usually sound and the bottom of the butt up to about 12 feet is often of good quality. The continual felling and re-growth of the coppice has ensured no side branches have disturbed the stem and hence once it becomes timber it has no knots. These good-quality bottom butts I mill up and put in stick to air dry for furniture making in the future. The next part of the stem is often also a timber log, but of poorer quality. Timber logs with a few knocks will be milled ‘through and through’ into planks and then air dried for about six months. After that they go to my local timber mill where the timber will be kiln dried into tongue-and-groove flooring that will be used in future buildings. Some of the trees will be milled into three-quarter-inch boards with a waney edge on one face, and these will form the cladding that is so characteristic of the rustic look for which roundwood timber-frame buildings are becoming so well known. The branches are corded up into lengths for firewood and charcoal production, and slowly the tree is processed and its presence removed from the wood. When felling a large oak, it is hard not to be impressed by the sight of the growth rings. I count them not just to age the tree, but also to follow the patterns of its growth. The gaps between the rings tell their own story – open to interpretation – of good and poor years of growth.