Greetings!

I figure, since this is my second guest post, I should probably introduce myself a bit.

My name is Kerrilee, and I met Malcolm & Rachel on my six-week travels this past summer. They were awesome, and let me stay longer than I had originally asked to stay.

So, now that I’ve been back home in New York, teaching preschool and hanging with my girlfriend (Melissa) and cat (Pan), I’m happy to say that they’re still awesome and inviting me into their lives and this project.

Here’s a play-by-play of what Power-Off Weekend looked like from this side of the Atlantic.

Setting the scene

Where we live: a 900 square foot, 4th-floor apartment, 15 miles north of Manhattan, with a view of the Empire State Building from the bedroom window in the winter when there’s no leaves on the trees.

We have a fireplace, steam radiators that sound like angry birds, and oddly placed electrical outlets (the building was constructed in the 1920′s… the original brochure advertised the “amazing cross-breezes” for those renting apartments before air conditioning. As someone too lazy and uninterested to walk an air-conditioner up four flights of stairs twice a year, I can confirm it’s a valid selling point. But I digress.)

The great Cooky Party

On Friday night, one of our best friends came in from Philadelphia for the Cooky Party Melissa and I were hosting on Saturday. It’s a non-holiday specific party where our friends get together, bake cookies, and then gorge ourselves on the sweet treats, alternated with something salty, like Mexican food. A day of friends and food… couldn’t be better.

a preview of the Mexican feast.

Everyone knew that there would be no lights and no KitchenAid mixer at this year’s party (but we would leave the fridge on). Upon arrival on Friday night, our friend reassured her husband over the phone that she had indeed charged it before she left, and it would not die before she returned on Sunday.

Turning off the electricity

At 10:30 Friday night, I started playing with circuits while Melissa and our friend called out what turned off.

Until that day, it had never even occurred to us that we had a big ‘ole circuit breaker thing and that we could use it to turn stuff off without unplugging it. The process went something like,

me, standing on chair to reach circuits: ok, what now?

Melissa and friend: Ummm, the light’s out on the stereo.

me: got it. [label circuit, flick next circuit.] ok, what now?

Melissa and friend: Nothing?

me: [flick next circuit] and now?

Melissa and friend: … still nothing.

Turns out, we have a lot of useless circuits. Half of them, actually. Also, three out of our six rooms are on the same circuit, and the bathroom isn’t on any circuit. Good to know. Lights out.

Waking up Saturday morning

So, now we’re at Saturday morning. I get woken up by a bag of coffee beans in my face. Melissa wants to make coffee, and the coffee grinder has one of those pesky plugs.

I suggest the mortar and pestle… but Melissa and our friend decide to hit Starbucks on their way to pick up a few last minute items for the day.

While they were out, Melissa calls me to ask for a store’s phone number (she was getting her new iPhone that day). Nope, can’t use the Internet to look it up – call 411! [the information equivalent of the emergency 911 number here in the States.]

At 11 am, friends arrive for the all-day baking fest. Our oven is gas, so we’re not technically cheating (yay!).

Showing off those icing skills.

Hard at work on gingerbread.

Everyone had a gingerbread initial... we couldn't help but spell with them.

However, disaster strikes: Melissa goes to take out the flour, and the lid slips off the container, spilling flour all over the carpet and one of our guests. Oh no!

Breaking the rules

We’re faced with a choice: get the Dustbuster, or have flour ground
into the carpet and spread all over the place during the course of the day. So, the Dustbuster became our one moment of breaking our own rules over the weekend.

Later, a guest who has been at previous Cooky Parties commented, “You know, it’s nice – without the KitchenAid, we can hear each other better.” And that was even with the holiday music, provided by a battery-operated iHome!

Evening sets in

As the sun went down, the last cookies were rolled out by “flashlight” (aka torch-light).

Rolling out the last of 'em.

After everything was baked, we lit the candles for the 2nd night of Hannukah, some other candles for extra light, and a fire in the fireplace, and read aloud from a book parodying Twilight while we feasted on tea & cookies.

My own moment of forgetfulness about the lack of electricity came when we were setting up for the two friends who were sleeping over.

One friend called the couch, and for the other, I said, “Oh, we’ll blow up the air mattress…” and got as far as having the plug in my hand before I realized that we could not, in fact, blow up the air mattress. Instead, we stripped all the cushions off the back of the couch and the one cushy chair, and made a makeshift mattress to put underneath the air mattress. It ended up being quite comfortable after all!

Sunday morning

The next morning, our French press, mortar and pestle, and I worked together to provide three cups of coffee.

Then our friends departed, and Melissa and I spent the rest of our day in a very relaxed state of electricity-lessness.

While Melissa watched “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” on the battery power of her laptop, I half-watched while I rearranged the two power strips in the living room into “always” and “sometimes” stuff, so that when the power returned, we could leave the power off to the things we used less often (like the Wii), and only turn that strip on when needed.

When the movie and rearranging were finished, we both read for the rest of the day.

As it got dusky, I used a flashlight/torch jammed into the hood of my sweatshirt as a reading lamp, and then we used our most reflective candleholders to read in bed (sorry Malcolm, there isn’t really an abundance of shells and reeds in Westchester! if only). We, too, went to bed without flipping the circuits back on, and only did so Monday morning.

A bit of reflection

As the end of the Weekend drew near, Melissa commented, “Awesome! Now I can stop automatically reaching for the lightswitch and have nothing happen.”
Meanwhile, I found myself thinking about how nice it was not to know exactly what time it was. The time was divided into “day, dusk, night,” and there was no pressure to know the hour. I also thought, when a lull came over the Cooky Party, how easy it must have been to be on a ‘farmer’s schedule’ before electricity; we all seemed to get tired around 8 PM, and only pushed to stay awake because our group of friends does not get many opportunities to spend time together and it would be silly to squander it. Between the ease of going to bed when it’s dark, and the expense of using candles for a lengthy period in the evening, it makes sense to rise early and retire to bed early.

Alas, nothing to do but eat cookies.

Coda

A few days after the Weekend, Melissa and I we were talking in the bedroom – but not going to bed yet – and since we weren’t reading or doing something that required light, I turned off the bedside lamp. As the light from outside filtered in, Melissa noticed the pattern of the planes taking off from LaGuardia. It was “rush hour” for transatlantic flights, so we spent the next 10 minutes peacefully watching the different flight patterns created as many planes flew over our area. We have lived in this apartment for three years, knowing we had a view of New York City, and never noticed this before, simply because we were never looking at the right angle and with the right light (in this case, none of our own).

It’s little things, small baby steps, that make all the difference in how we experience our lives.

The weather helped, with sunshine and no wind. At night, stars mesmerised me as the scent of wood smoke drifted down to my eager nostrils. Joy! The time has just flown by, and to be honest life was so enjoyable without the electricity that we are only re-introducing it selectively – I call that a success!

First day of the Power Off weekend, embracing light and the simple pleasures

We rode our bikes to the local Stenness store, only a 5 mile round trip but something was special, we were really enjoying the day, soaking everything up, like we were on holiday. We kept the open fire lit with driftwood, boiled water using an old coffee jug and embraced the smoky flavours! People called by every day, bringing gifts of food, warmth and friendship. We feasted on plentiful supplies of food, cooked over the fire, we read stories out loud and relaxed.

Oh dear, the freezer has defrosted, I'll have to cook all these sausages!

I’d say we gained more than we gave up. As the last evening drew to an end, we wondered what the time was? It was past 11pm, so we could have turned the power back on! Instead, we took the lamp to bed, luxuriating in the warmth of the flickering flame. I began a new book to read and we decided, next weekend, we’ll do it again.

This is not for everyone. However, for those who have missed out, I can now reveal, this was just the preliminary event. The next one is in January – but it will be slightly different. Watch this space!

For now, let us replenish the stores of vegetable oil, candles, gas, wood, and tea, and reconnect with friends and family. Life without electricity has a magic and ‘energy’ all of its own. Try it! It is such fun coming up with alternatives, and to be honest, we spend too much time on our backsides (looking at TV and computer). Real life has something special to offer, something we have lost sight of perhaps, blinded by the bright lights of modernity. After this weekend we can see a way to have the best of both.

Reading by the flickering flame of lamp and candle light

It has become so easy to work and shop on Sundays, with no rest. The churches have lost their hold on many of us, replaced by supermarkets, television and the internet. Weekends have become time to ‘catch up’ and get jobs done. Too busy. Maybe a little self-imposed simplicity would not be such a bad idea? A day or two without electric lights, the computer, the TV? Maybe a day leaving the car (if you have one) in the garage and dusting off the bicycles? The freezer could stay on. A few rhythms and variety seem like a good idea. It just seems we need a helping hand, a little bit of encouragement, to stop ourselves from slipping into more consuming and mindlessness. Some sort of mindfulness is one gift that comes from choosing a weekend different from the norm. Special moments and a sense of magic, of life, of who we are.

The act of turning off the electricity switched something in our heads too. We relaxed and embraced the time, behaved differently and so didn’t miss what we gave up. You know that holiday feeling? So, we consumed less energy, we spent far less, we found more time because we imposed limits on our own use of the internet. We lived in the moment, we smiled a lot, we rediscovered something precious. I’ll try in later posts to put my finger on just what this weekend has done but it is somewhat intangible – a feeling, a sense of life. Whatever, it is good!

Using cardboard to insulate the windows for free

My problem: How to stay warm this winter without spending money. The house is cold and heating it is expensive.

My frugal-living philosophy tells me you don’t need to spend money to be green, despite what all the retailers say. But can I?

What if I can’t just buy stuff?

You see, if I had more money I could head off down to the DIY store and buy solutions.

I could feel good buying stuff, and feel good because this will obviously do lots for the planet, despite my having just bought something that had to be made and transported and stored and displayed and sold and transported home. All that carbon burnt, money spent whenever I buy anything.

However, I cannot afford to go buy insulating stuff, partly because I live on an island, to which all that stuff must be transported with diesel powered ferries, which pushes up the price. Partly because it would be a 30 mile drive in a car to the store and we have given up the car too.

The main reason I cannot buy stuff from the DIY store is because I cannot afford it.

Food comes first and there is not enough left to buy insulation material, no matter how much it might save in money and carbon in the long run. I am reminded how it is easy for the poor to remain poor like this.

My solution: cardboard insulation

I’m going to insulate this house without spending a penny. I’m going to make this house warmer and also reduce my fuel bill, and I’m not even going to leave the house to do it. No need to waste time and money and carbon going shopping.

Instead, I’m off into the garage, the shed and the attic to find what I need, MacGyver style.

This is what I found:

• scrap of bubble wrap left from packaging
• cardboard boxes
• newspaper
• nails
• polystyrene off-cuts
• an old rag
• silicone sealant and
• some wool

Feel how warm they are to the touch.

Cold testing with your hands

The best way to work out where the most heat is being lost is to use my hands and feel surfaces.

If they make my hand feel cold they are conducting heat away faster than my heart can replace it (give it 30 seconds).

Hand feeling window pane

What I found was the double glazed windows feel cold. Also, can I feel cold air – drafts? Yep.

So whilst I cannot fill the loft with more fibreglass insulation or fill wall cavities with foam, I can do something. Now.

It feels good to take action

This is great, feels fun and I get a thrill from taking action, instead of being helpless. I may not have the best stuff but I can do a lot, this afternoon, instead of joining the Black Friday / Christmas shopping chaos.

Over the next couple of posts I’ll show you what I have done to make the house warmer and have fun doing something to improve things. I tell you, it feels good!

The window before insulation

First, this is the way I sorted window insulation in the kitchen, our one and only heated room.

The window, double glazed, south facing. Light fades at 4pm.

The kitchen window, double glazed

As the light fades there is nothing to see outside, so I can block the glass until morning.

Thick curtains will help, shutters will help, triple glazing will help. All cost money. Necessity is the mother of invention

Getting dark outside, nothing to see

After insulation

With just 2 inch thick polystyrene scrap, cut to fit, a cardboard box, trimmed to size and a couple of tacks to hold the cardboard in place, we get:

Insulated window

Result – warm room!

What a difference

The effect is so dramatic I can feel the difference instantly, and the room remains warm, despite the stove being on for less hours than in summer. Once the stove goes off at 6pm the room now remains cosy until past midnight.

Making it look pretty

Next step, to decorate the cardboard, trim it to a better size and make the job look nice but for now, we’re toasty. Then I’ll show you how I draft proofed the doors, windows, for free.

Sure, we can give you a lift!

Why’s the bus service so bad?

Over a cup of tea, Malcolm heard the story from James Stockan, our councillor for Stromness and Hoy areas, while chatting about Touchwood’s mission of doing green living in a fun way. When Malcolm mentioned the latest one on hitchhiking, James said (I’m paraphrasing here):

“Know why the bus service is so poor? It’s because years ago, people used to stand waiting for the bus and invariably a fellow islander would stop to offer a lift, so no one was left for the bus to take.”

How about that. Giving a lift to someone used to be commonplace.

I like to imagine little old ladies standing at the bus stop waiting when another one comes along and offers her a lift. They chat on the side of the road, maybe one offers a helping hand into the car and away they go.

Giving a lift to someone is a chance to catch up on news, perhaps even to make a new acquaintance. You never know who you might run into.

Just think who you might meet, giving a lift

We could do with more getting to know each other too

Even here, we could do with getting to know each other better. There are 16,000 of us or so on the Mainland (Orkney’s main island) and while I’m sure there are many who know quite a few people, we don’t actually all know each other. What’s more, I also know a lot of people who moved away because they didn’t feel connected to the community, like they were part of things.

Something like half the population isn’t from Orkney originally, so that’s a lot of people moving in and trying to get to know their neighbours and where things are.

How much nicer would it be if you just moved in, walked down the road, stuck your thumb out and struck up a conversation with someone you’d never met; you got the insider tip on the best butcher, where to get a kitchen table cheaply, and where to find the tastiest espresso?

Think that might make you feel more welcome? More a part of the community?

It could work in big communities, too

Now I imagine doing this in larger communities, cities even. Think of the opportunities for increasing community spirit, a sense of connectedness to one’s neighbours.

One thing stopping people is fear. Maybe another is just not thinking about it.

It’s important to show it can be done, safely and enjoyably, and that’s why I’d like to see it work here on Orkney. We’re ridiculously safe here and we’ve already got a bit of a tradition of it — now it’s time to reintroduce it!

What needs to happen to make it work

As for fear, the perception of risk is disproportionate to the reality. Nevertheless, Malcolm is working on fail-safe measure to ensure modern carsharing is safe (more on that in future posts).

James says he used to always stop for someone, but the reason he doesn’t stop anymore is because there are a lot more cars on the road now and with few laybys, he’d be holding people up if he stopped.

We could largely deal with that problem by doing a bit of awareness-raising on the radio and in the paper to remind people of this tradition and encourage them to at least be patient when someone in front of you stops for 30 seconds to offer a lift.

Or we could even invest in a couple of laybys in the busiest areas, like heading out of Kirkwall and Stromness.

The point is, I guess I’d been thinking of this hitchhiking thing as a kind of new-fangled thing, and here it turns out (like just about every other green idea) people were doing this long before my generation popped up. Nice to know, really.

Bring on the circus bikes!

Going car-free in a rural location

Unlike when I lived in Washington DC you didn’t really need a car, not having one on Orkney is highly unusual. Pretty much everyone drives.

There are practical reasons for this: we have sporadic public transport, much of our housing is spread far and wide, and our weather can put even the hardiest person to the test.

But this isn’t the whole story.

Car = freedom

Having a car is also an emotional thing, a sign of independence. It’s even a little bit wrapped up in who we think we are.

For me, our car represents our dream of moving to Orkney and starting our own business. We bought our trusty Fiat Doblo 4 years ago in Perth when we decided to relocate to this island and start a new life.

Malcolm and our new car, moving to Orkney in 2004

Malcolm’s used it since then to run his tours with Five Senses, connecting visitors to Orkney in a new way. We’ve met so many good people through this and we’ve relied on the money it’s provided.

Car = home

I think it’s also been a security blanket, this idea that even if we didn’t have a house, we could always throw our stuff in the car and have a place to call home.

So giving up the car is saying goodbye to a lot of things, a lifestyle and identity that we’ve had for four years. It’s changing Five Senses as a business, dropping the car tours and either doing more of the bushcraft and outdoor skills, or well, who knows?

Finally, ditching the car is also a practical challenge, because what we’ve decided to replace our car with, at least for now, are bicycles.

Bicycles, really?

I’m not a big fan of bicycling culture. That whole spandex, toe clips and space age helmets thing puts me off.

Then there’s the wind. In the summer, we average around 15mph wind most of the time. In the winter, it can easily go up to 40-50mph, with a nice lashing of rain.

Since we’re briskly heading into winter, I can look forward to a 9am sunrise and 3:30pm sunset in January.

Huffing and puffing

Lastly, I’m totally out of shape. It’s a good day when I take a gentle walk on the beach for 15 minutes, so cycling for a few hours into Kirkwall…hm.

I need to exercise more, but I know myself. If I have the lazy alternative, I’ll take it. So while it’s nice to think I’d go on more walks and bike rides with proper motivation, the reality is I’m not doing that if I can drive instead.

I’m just going to have to give it a go and hope for the best.

Why this? Why now?

After all this moaning about how hard it’s going to be, you may be wondering why we’re bothering. Two big reasons: Age of Stupid and Office Space.

Age of Stupid basically asks us the question from 50 years in the future when the planet is ruined: Why didn’t we do enough about climate change?

The Age of Stupid USA Trailer from Age of Stupid on Vimeo.

Malcolm and I watched the film a few weeks ago and even though we’d seen films like An Inconvenient Truth, it was this one that tipped the balance and we both said “Enough already! Let’s do this.”

So we’re going on an experiment to reduce our carbon footprint to one tonne between the both of us, from 22 tonnes the average British couple consumes now.

We’ll be writing much more on this subject as part of our work with 10:10 — a movement that asks us to commit to reducing our carbon footprint by 10% in 2010. I hope to see you there.

Humans weren’t meant to be in cubicles

The other reason is best summed up by Office Space, which I often quote, where our hero works a meaningless, soul-destroying job in an office writing code for a big, meaningless corporation. Here’s one of my favourite scenes where Peter, the hero, explains to his work colleague what he’s realised about their crappy jobs:
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I remember those days all too clearly, and I never, never want to have to go back to that again.

With our still doing Touchwood Project as volunteers, we have to either reduce our spending or make more money. Until we can get sufficient funding, the only viable income options for us here are jobs like working for the Council or one of the grocery stores.

Selling the car is far preferable to either of those options for me, and it will give us living expenses for another few months, by which time we’ll hopefully have gotten our funding.

Other car-free options

Hitchhiking and car sharing are two alternatives we’d like to develop further. We’ve written a bit about this already, and will be doing much more in the coming months.

A third option I’m pretty excited about are electric scooters.

Xero's eScooter Classic

Ooo, prrrretty.

There are several models newly on the market, but I’m all about fun design, so I prefer a retro-styled model. Xero’s eScooter Classic gets from 50 miles in a single charge, goes up to 30 mph, and is reasonably priced at £1500 ($2500).

This option is well worth a fuller post on its own, so I’ll write that one soon. However, since one of the main reasons we’re selling the car is to save money, forking over £1700 or so for the scooter and gear isn’t what we want to do just yet.

As I wrote in an earlier post, I love the idea of quadricycles but at a whopping €3450/£3000, they’re even more expensive than a scooter, so it’s just going to have to wait.

It’s gotta be stylish and fun

Nope, if I’m going to do bicycling, it’s going to be fun and it’s going to be stylish. Happily, there’s a whole movement here, best seen in the Tweed Runs, cycling events where everyone dresses in my favourite fabric, tweed!

There’s just so much to talk about but I think I’ve run on long enough for now.

Malcolm’s just left the house to hitchhike and walk the 5 miles into Stromness to do our shopping. It’s cold, raining, but he left in high spirits — just about bounced out the door — because he sees it as an adventure, a chance to meet people and do a little, humble planet-saving. Me too.

Meet the quadricycle

Our quest to have fun, be playful and enjoy living green has started to move in another direction lately: getting rid of the car. Given that it’s 11 miles from our house to Kirkwall and the nearest bus stop is 2 miles away, walking or conventional cycling leaves me feeling apprehensive (the wind! the cold! I’m so not that fit!).

So if I’m going to give up something as freedom-giving and effort-saving as a car, it had better be for something good. Now one possibility we wrote about the other day is hitchhiking. I think this has enormous potential for our island in particular, but what if you don’t want to hitch?

Enter the wildly impractical quadricycle — a bike for 2 on 4 wheels.

I’ll tell you why I’m drawn to this kooky idea: I can’t stop laughing about it. The image of the two of us pedaling our way round the island, with some ridiculous flag on the back or triangle sign like the Amish put on their horse and buggy carriages, makes me smile.

I like to imagine the idea catching on, a whole island full of families do their weekly shopping in the four-passenger:

Quadricycle for 4 people, 2 children

Or couples out for a romantic drive to the Standing Stones, or friends carpooling to see a film in town. Imagine pulling up to your friend’s house to pick her up in one of these. Hilarious.

Perhaps you’d prefer the striped version?

Surrey with the fringe on top

Enter the practical challenges

Alas, there are a few problems with the concept. For one, there are no UK-distributors or manufacturers of quadracycles that I can find. Malcolm and I spent hours last night Googling to no avail. The models above are American, as are the other versions we found like Mobilette and Rhoades Car.

Mobilette's "Tornado", which also appeals

Hm, not very comfortable

More worryingly, these models are all meant to be used at leisure resorts, going maybe a few miles at a slow pace. My favourite design, Quadricycle International’s one at the beginning that looks like the a VW Beetle, has a speed limit of five miles an hour. I might as well walk.

And none of them are adjustable seating, so Malcolm’s 6′ 2″ and my 5′ 8″ would be using the same frame. That’s not going to work if we’re going to cycle 22 miles in one day.

OK, comfortable but so…boring

So if we want a quad that’s going to be remotely practical, we’d have to spring for this:

ZEM's quadricycle seems a bit industrial

Zero Emission Machine is the only European quadricycle manufacturer we could find. They’re Swiss, and their quads are comfortable, adjustable, reasonably fast — and horribly pricey at €3450 (£3000 or $5150). They also look too much like bicycles to me.

The red is kinda cool, but where’s the canopy? Where’s the playfulness?

The other practical alternative is Montana-based Lightfoot Cycles, whose helpful comparison of their quad with all the other major manufacturers first brought the practical problems to my attention:

Lightfoot's Microcar

Again, it just looks like 2 mountain bikes strung together. Where’s the laugh factor?

So, I’m not sure where this leads. Malcolm thinks perhaps we could get someone over here in the UK to make one or modify it. The Lightfoot has the added advantage of being able to carry an electric motor, something that appeals as it’d help me get up our admittedly pretty tiny hills.

A new way to tour Orkney?

The other application I love for the idea of quadricycles is touring Orkney. Malcolm’s been taking people around Orkney in our 7-seater Doblo, and most people drive cars to see Skara Brae and the other big tourist sites.

While there’s some bus services, they don’t go everywhere and so many people prefer the control you have with your own vehicle. Wouldn’t it be great to see some of the more adventurous ones tooling around in a quad instead? They could stop and visit with each other when they pass on the road.

Surrey Company's "Limousine" just right for families

An island full of quadricycles would certainly be a talking point and perhaps even a tourist attraction in its own right. Add electric-powered batteries assisted by wind or wave power, and you’ve got something truly exciting.

I have to say, it’s a strong contender in the quest to find the best eco-friendly, locally available and enduring building material.

Straw bale house built by Amazonails

Nick Morrison and Amazonails

Nick Morrison is the principal figure in the project — part designer, builder and engineer — alongside Amazonails, a woman-owned straw bale construction company in West Yorkshire. Amazonails teach courses in straw bale building and are a not-for-profit social enterprise whose mission is to involve people who don’t usually do construction: women, younger, older, people with disabilities. Excellent.

Nick generously spent a few hours showing four of us around his home, patiently answering questions like “Are mice a problem?” (No, there’s no room for them to tunnel in between such tightly packed bales) to “Was getting planning consent difficult?” (amazingly, it wasn’t).

Nick’s house is a fairly standard looking design, 2-storey or thereabouts, and rectangular with the gable end facing the sea for the views. (I apologise for a lack of photos, but I didn’t want to be rude on this first visit.)

He sourced the timber frame from Inverness, and explained that he and a fellow engineer had spent a lot of time testing the load-bearing capabilities of strawbale. Thanks to Force 11 winds up here, the corners of the house must be able to take the equivalent of 8 tons on them without a murmur.

Earthships meet strawbale

Nick’s next strawbale project will be his barn, where he’s thinking of using earth-filled tyres as a foundation, just as you do for earthships. So it would be a strawbale/earthship hybrid, which has all kinds of possibilities…

I’m encouraged by what we saw today, because it shows sustainable building techniques like strawbale aren’t unknown here. Indeed, by all accounts there’s been a lot of support and interest from the building trades through to the Council to local folks. All good signs.

A test site for Touchwood

Our business advisor, Euan Smith (thank you, Highlands and Islands Enterprise), thinks the idea of having a test site where we build a small community building combining sustainable construction with references to Orkney’s Stone Age architecture is a good way to go. Now we find the funding and start making it happen.

the £3,000 low impact woodland home

Simon Dale and his wife built this house for £3,000 and 1500 hours of labour in some woodland in Wales a few years ago. Aside from the inviting architecture, the idea of building housing that doesn’t cost a fortune is very appealing.

We’re thinking of first having a testing site here on Orkney to try out different sustainable building materials. Straw bale is what Simon used, and it’s been used here once on a house I hope to visit soon, but another model is the Earthship idea.

This "earthship" house is built from old bottles and tyres

Earthships are built using recycled materials — from what I’ve seen, mainly old tyres, glass and plastic bottes, and aluminum cans. To be honest, I find most of the designs either bland or downright ugly, but the idea of reusing materials that are both durable and would otherwise sit in a landfill is very appealing.

So the plan as it stands now is to look into setting aside some land to try out these different techniques and see which ones could work well in our climate, using local resources. With so few trees, using a lot of wood as they’ve done in the hobbit hole in Wales probably isn’t going to work.

But something more along these lines might:

Using stone as Findhorn has might be a better option

The other part of this project would be looking at Skara Brae, our Stone Age village that’s one of Orkney’s most popular tourist attractions.

Skara Brae is a Stone Age village that's 5,000 years old

For me, Skara Brae only comes alive when I can imagine living there, complete with a fire, a roof, and plenty of warm skins. There’s a replica at the Historic Scotland visitors centre, and I’m thinking if we could build something that takes many of the ideas from Skara Brae — like a central fire, round stone walls, in-ground — and updates them for modern living — toilets, for one — then it’d be all kinds of fun to both build and stay in.

As Simon has done in Wales, I’d have volunteers on holiday do some of the building. We’ve had a lot of people through Five Senses, Malcolm’s responsible tourism and bushcraft business, say how much they’d love to help us build something like this.

We’ll see what kind of response we get from planners, and look at setting up the test site.