Conservation, history, green living and local self-sufficiency are the priorities for these volunteers.

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Wednesday Feb 17, 2010

We came, we dug, we conquered

Weilding a mattock like a lame but determined workman wasn't the obvious choice of activity for this year's Valentine's day, but I embraced it nonetheless. Waking up grumpy from a long week involving too much work and not enough sleep, I arrived with trepidation at the portacabin of choice. Not for the first time the kindly and ever-inviting host/station supervisor made cups of tea, coaxing my sleepy head to life.

We chatted for a while until a few more people arrived, and eventually we poured out of the cabin like clowns out of a mini, to get to work. We unloaded Jo's granny trolley with spades, forks, lopping shears and the mighty mattock, all kindly loaned from BTCV (the British Trust for Conservation Volunteers). The only man among us went at a Mallow stump with the kind of gusto you can't help but admire, especially as he had not had much sleep either. There was no stopping him after that.

I started more slowly at one of the buddleias with a fork, trying to lever it straight out of the ground, and soon realised the only thing likely to give was the fork. Then I was introduced to the mattock. Essentially a sculpted post with a double-edged and fairly blunt axe on one end, it's amazing for rattling through unsuspecting soil at a rate of knots. In the right hands. In my hands it smacked into the ground with surprisingly little effect for quite a bit of effort. While I was a sorry excuse for a digger, Jo, a lot smaller in frame than me, was an impressive excavating machine. I thought I'd make up for my lack of mattock prowess by murmuring enthusiastic approval at her efforts. Yes, I was the cheerleading party.

As the land had been abandoned for so long the plants which had taken root there made it abundantly clear they weren't about to give up without a fight. Many had roots like the trunk of a small tree, and pulling them up was like an archaeological dig teamed with a war of wills. Digging down, you work out which direction the root goes, and start chopping off the underground branches. Then when it's all wobbly you heave and twist and hack (and maybe curse a little), and I even jumped up and down on one, while holding onto a nearby lamp post to stop myself breaking an ankle, before finally holding up the slain shrub like a victorious warrior. At least I hoisted it as far as my shoulder, it was extremely heavy.

The land cleared, we tied back a bramble we're hoping to cultivate for blackberries, we swept away litter to discover an old path and before long the space looked about twice its original size. With rainclouds looming we went off for a big lunch at a local cafe, and next week we hope to finally plant our trees.

After all the preparation, endless email strings and general co-ordination of efforts it seems like the end of a little era is approaching, but I feel really proud to have championed an idea that became something tangible, and that hopefully a lot of people will enjoy in the years to come.

Posted by Laura ( 12:00 PM )
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