Nature Story: Camping in the Winds

You (along with many others) may think that we must be absolutely bonkers to go camping in a van in the middle of winter, but I’m hoping this little insight to a cosy night in our tiny home on wheels might change your mind!

Image description: blue skies create a crisp autumnal day above the yellow, orange and brown trees that are almost ready to enter winter. In front of the trees is a small dry stone wall that creates the perimeter for a small, bumpy field of grass with a stream running down the middle of it.

The howling wind blows its way over the estuary, over the mudflats and through the trees. From far away, this little corner of Scotland looks serene and contained, like an autumnal snow globe filled with leaf shaped confetti. Upon closer inspection, it’s the leaves that have already succumbed to the closing of summer and winding down of seasons that are skimming the earth and twirling in a windy vortex. The others are latched on and are the strong, orange, stubborn kind on sycamores, beech and oaks that are not yet ready to make way for winter. The bright orange larches have dropped the first half of their needles and their warm scent travels towards a miniature loch.

The loch is small and calm, its perimeter of reeds and cover from the large, ancient willow trunks allows its surreal serenity to remain amongst the chilly chatter of the autumn storm. Close by, a tiny sliver of warm, yellow light escapes a tiny home with its hatches battened down for the night. The tiny home is on wheels and takes the shape of an extra long and high van that used to transport racing side cars. Now, the inside is lined with insulating natural materials and decorated with love. Its green colours with splashes of navy and mustard yellow, and leafy décor, are a little hat tip to the beauty of Mother Nature. Its furniture is the kind of beautiful that you can only get by hand sawing, drilling and assembling in an unintentionally and minutely wonky way, though it’s the sturdiest stuff you’ll ever see.

The dwellers of the handmade home are tucked under their triple layer of quilts and a blanket. Nestled at their feet is a black and white scruffy dog, curled up like a fox under a fleece winter throw. The dog is from a place of deserts, droughts and rolling hills, she is not made for winter and thus dressed in her very own fleece too. She is contently resting after a day of exploring an ancient forest and her snores are only heard occasionally, for if you tune your ears in, you will hear scatters of laughter and a film playing from a small projector. The film is a classic winter romantic-comedy and being projected onto a hand-made screen of thick cotton bought in the sticks of the Cornish countryside.

Once the lights are off and the heater has stopped blaring, it’s time to settle for the night. Sighs of contentment from the simple life they’re living sign the end of the day, and the dwellers are gently rocked to sleep by the echoing winds. The heavy rain a soundtrack of white noise that drifts everyone quietly to sleep.

Image description: a small loch (or what would be considered a pond in England) reflects the autumnal coloured patchwork forest in the background and four differently coloured cabins on its bank. In the foreground, the thick tufty grass is still vividly green. Two birds of prey circle high above the water, their silhouettes not quite clear enough to identify what they are.

This is from November and one of our first nights in Scotland, a place we used to regroup ourselves and plan some of our adventures in the south west of the country.