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Silver Birch Highland Lodge, Kindeace Highland Lodges, Invergordon (2024)

09/06/2024

And suddenly there was colour! The soft breath of warm, mineral grey, like a whisper across the walls; calming, soothing, grounding. It had felt like such a long wait to see the first lick grace the walls, that I had begun to worry if I’d still depend on it as choice that made sense - but it does.

The flooring is now down in 70% of the cabin - a wash of bare, imperfect, local timber, that has filled the cabin with one of my favourite scents - sweet, earthy wood. Against the gentle hum of warm grey walls, and soft off-white ceilings, it is feeling like absolute peace and joy. While the walls in the ‘living space’ (kitchen/lounge/diner) are barely yet touched, the utility, hallway and bathroom are completely painted now, and varnishing is underway on the beautiful wooden shutters that Jay designed (and Jay’s dad expertly crafted for us), that will be sited in both the bathroom and utility. Jay will now spend the next week focusing on building a unit that he has designed, for the utility room. The following week the joiner is coming to fit the sink into it, and that beautiful elm worktop too, so we must be ready for that.

On the admin side, our license application seems to be progressing nicely, and I have spent the week up to my eyes in paper work, putting together our Fire Policy, doing a Fire Risk Assessment, and creating a Fire Action Plan. Among the endless chores that seem to engulf me each day, this has actually been a welcome distraction, and quite fun to do - I have enjoyed it.

27/05/2024

In a wave of chaos, the week crashed upon us - electricians, plumbers, fitters; the cabin and garden filled with people and power tools. Now, the bathroom is fitted, the tide has retreated, and there’s stillness. It’s just us now, to finish things off.

The joiner had mentioned some beautiful elm wood that he had, and we had all pondered about using it for the utility work top. We visited his workshop over the weekend to see the elm, and indeed it will do very nicely. He will be coming back to us next month to help finish the utility plumbing and fit the worktop.

Jay spent the rest of the weekend finishing off the cladding on the bathroom sink unit that he made, and which I adore. We can’t wait to blow charm, warmth and detail into this room.

13/05/2024

It’s been a hell of a week, but the kitchen is in, and looking beautiful next to the small bit of flooring that Jay has laid so far. That square in the floor is a hatch giving access to all of the pipework underneath the suspended floor - Jay has made a beautiful door for it, which is not quite finished yet. I cannot wait to add all of the character and charm to this space.

It’s a big step among many to come, and amid the exhaustion and chaos, we are trying to enjoy this leap in progress, even though it feels like a scratch on the surface of our to-do list. The bathroom fitting starts today!

04/05/2024

This morning the children and I walked the country lane we’ve become so familiar with, with it’s lush, lime avenue of ancient trees; the gentle hum of bees in the canopies. Endless farmland flanked the track - tiny lambs feeding, horses basking with quiet eyes - while to my left, fields of beautiful, neon r**e gave way to the firth; the sea sparkling like scattered diamonds in the morning light. I had felt weary from the repetitively intense, early morning activity of tidying, cooking, baking, cabin admin and hand washing, but the peace washed over me with the glowing warmth of the sun, and I felt a surge of the deepest joy. There was no where else on earth I’d have rather been than there, among the endless meadows alight with wildflower, the warm wash of the sun, and the sweet scent of coconut filling the air as the breeze caught the swathes of vibrant, yellow gorse.

The strain of the work on the cabin has intensified as we near the kitchen and bathroom fittings in the coming weeks. We get up with the birds - their morning chorus beautifully deafening through the thin van walls - we cram in food prep for the day ahead to minimise disturbance to the work, and having just donated our washing machine to a local shelter, we now need to keep on top of the hand washing too. All this before 9.30am each day. For the rest of the day, while Jay is tirelessly sanding, plastering, stripping out and preparing the rooms, I have been taking the children out adventuring so he can focus; we fall into bed while the sun is still up and the birds are still active. We keep reminding each other that it’s not for much longer.

My daily adventures with the children have taken us far and wide among the vast countryside that surrounds the cabin; walking miles of new tracks, discovering new paths, knitting together what we know. We have delighted in observing deer grazing, hares scampering, and pheasants in battle to keep their harem; the desperate cheeping of hovering skylarks, distracting kites from their nests. New lochs discovered, where we have taken rests to watch the sand martins skim the water, majestic woodlands wandered, bathing in the dappled light that streams through the canopies and swims among the trunks. How lucky we feel to be here, free to wander and ‘be’. We only wish we were doing it as a 4. Soon.

The bones of the partition that create the boot nook are in place, the electrician has ticked off another swathe of jobs this week, and the bathroom has been fully stripped. Tomorrow the kitchen gets delivered and on Monday the transformation will begin with the kitchen fitting.

04/05/2024

After nearly 4 weeks of heavy congestion, wheezing and coughing, I have finally turned a corner. The last few days I’ve embraced my renewed energy, and taken the children on daily hikes through the woodlands, around the lochs, and to unchartered territory beyond; it’s felt like coming home, to be spending my days almost entirely outdoors again.

Meanwhile, Jay has been hard at work removing the existing kitchen, flooring and tiles, and doing endless runs to the tip; the lounge / diner / kitchen now an empty space. At this point, the cabin is resembling a building site, but we can feel the scales are at tipping point - where the destructive phase is almost at a close, and the making-good phase is almost upon us, which I know will come with such drastic momentum.

This afternoon, the much-anticipated wood finally arrived from the local saw mill. We will not only use this beautiful Larch as flooring, but cladding too, and for Jay to create new furniture out of. Also supplied, were a couple of huge posts, which we will make a washing line from. But the focus this week is to build a partition, to create a ‘boot nook’, which in itself feels like the start of the transformation.

04/05/2024

Yesterday we ventured into Invergordon town for the first time. It was dark under a leaden sky, the rain eager and the wind biting at 5 degrees. We dropped the car off at the garage and spent the next few hours exploring.

The first cruise ship of the year had docked a couple of hours earlier, and stood statuesque at the edge of the firth; a staggering quarter of a million people visit Invergordon every year, via the cruise ships that dock in this deep water port.
Once a major naval base, the town is steeped in war history. Largely industrial, the shops are seasonal, and had the cruise ship not docked, the museum wouldn’t have been open, and neither would the church.

We began at the train station where Jay had begun his journey back to Worcester 2 and a half months ago. He had told us about the beautiful murals that decorated the station walls, and we were eager to see them. The artist had drawn the murals using real accounts given by veterans; both harrowing and heart warming.

Wandering the high-street, we stopped in at the library for a play and explore, and a couple of galleries run by local artists, before making our way down to the harbour to see the ship. A trail of murals weaved through the town, depicting huge historical fires and the world’s strongest men, who actually come from the town itself. Down at the dock It was a hive of activity as passengers hung around at different tour points, eager to make the most of their 9 hour stop.

We followed the firth northward, passing a moving memorial to the children, families and sailors who tragically lost their lives when a naval ship internally exploded and sank in port; the remains of the sunken vessel still visible at low tide, these 109 years later.

The museum - run by community volunteers - was a gem, with a sizeable collection of naval artefacts from WW1 and WW2, and Invergordon’s rich history. We enjoyed exploring the collections and chatting to the locals - further introducing ourselves to the community.

With numb fingers and rumbling tummies, we stopped to share a big bag of steaming chips before heading on to the church; the steeple visible from almost anywhere in the town. We were ushered in with open arms, and I spent the whole time chatting to the lovely locals. It was a day of immersing ourselves in the community as much as anything, which is so full of warmth and life, and so eager to welcome.

04/05/2024

There is a roost of bats nesting in the eaves of the neighbouring cabin, and although we’d heard many a story of them appearing on the decking during the day time, we had not had that magical encounter - until yesterday. It appeared in a flutter of leathery wings, exploring around the windows of the van, hanging off nearby branches, settling onto the warm wall of the cabin, and basking in the sunlight. Watching it dance about our heads and walk on it’s wings were some of the most enchanting moments of my life.

Energy permeates the bright spring air; the now very visible change in seasons bringing such vibrancy, such momentum, such life, such lightness. Colour cloaks the trees in new leaf and searching amber light; candy floss clouds soft in the neon blue sky. Despite the fact that I’ve been slogging my way through a virus, progress on the cabin this week has been huge.

The fencing has been completed, spanning the length of one side of the land; natural, almost invisible, blending with the trees beyond. The only new materials used were a dozen wooden posts, sourced from the local saw mill - the same one that is supplying our flooring.

Inside the cabin, there was a frantic rush to down-tools and finish lifting out the carpets from the rest of the cabin, as someone from down the road decided they could use them. It felt wonderful to send them off to a good home after spending so much time trying to find one for them.

So much is now stripped out that it’s resembling a building site, and has become a ‘shoes on’ situation for safety reasons. Yesterday, all of the new lighting was fitted, and it’s astonishing how much it has transformed the space. We’ve gone for warm-white, LED, dimmable spots throughout, with a feature light suspended above the dining table.

Strangely, it’s actually moved more towards a cabin-feel, with the bones of the cabin lying exposed below the glow of soft light, and around the blaze of the roaring fire.

24/03/2024

Progress on the Lodge is constant, and yet never feels enough with so much to do.

I took the back fence down last week - a boundary that we don’t wish to replace, leaving the land to merge with the woodland. Jay lay some thick long branches along the boundary line as a subtle nod to the legal separation, but just being open to walk through to the woodland is so deeply treasured. The last owners appear to have dumped a lot of large cuttings in the woods beyond the boundary, which we will forage the large bits from for wood burning, and cut up the remainder for nature to more easily utilise.

Out front we are booked in for the fencer to reinstate the wire and wood post fencing to one side, which has lost tension and fallen down. This means we can reuse everything that is currently there, and just replace the rotten wooden posts - great for our footprint and great for our budget too.

We planted 3 established pines along the entrance to the land, to replace the trees that had been cut down before we got here - all 3 were simply moved from the back boundary where they had germinated. We are looking to encourage the land to remain wild, rather than making a ‘garden’ out of it; the greatest beauty about this place is that it remains a lodge in the woodland.

Inside, Jay has been working hard to strip out all 3 bedrooms of screws and carpets - which as of this week, are now all stripped, filled and ready to sand, clean and paint. Last week the electricians spent a whole day chasing wires and securing things off to enable us to have certification for our Let license. Jay used some wood he had foraged from the neighbour to clad the electrics box in one of the rooms, and that was a surprisingly big step, because it was the first thing we’ve created and installed that sets the tone of what we plan for this place - a rustic, eco, natural, carefully considered, calm and containing retreat.

Next week we hope to receive our delivery of the beautiful solid wood flooring that we’ve sourced from just down the road. This is our most treasured purchase to date, because it’s not typical - instead we’ve opted for locally grown and harvested Larch, which has been cut and kiln dried especially for us. We’ve tried so hard to tick so many boxes with every purchase we’ve made - getting everything as natural, as local, as eco and as budget friendly as possible. So far, the local businesses have been wonderful in not only ‘getting’ this approach, but championing it, and doing all they can to help tick our boxes.

24/03/2024

Spring Equinox, and it started so aptly, with the loud chorus of birdsong at day break - the light rising swiftly with the song.

We set off again from the lodge on foot, to further explore our surroundings. This time we bypassed Loch Catrina to follow the OS map further afield. Through the majestic woodland, with it’s feathery plumes and towering canopies of umbrellaring pines; soft spring splendour as far as the eye could see.

We eventually came out on Clashdu woodland walk, which took us around an unnamed loch (we have since named it 'Loch Toad') where tall bull reeds swayed gently in the whisper of wind; the fluffy down of seeds surrendering to the water’s surface as tiny birds moved between.

We spotted a toad swimming across the surface, and then suddenly there were hundreds of them, peacefully lapping the still surface, their gentle eyes blinking in the dazzling sunlight. Across the water a beautiful, large hare sat up on its hind legs before scampering off across the field.

We sat at the water’s edge for lunch, breathing in the sweet smell of nature. Walking the circumference of the loch, we stopped frequently to observe the water-life, listening to the distant hum of geese - and suddenly realising it wasn’t geese, but the curious, quiet chattering of the gathering toads. Every few steps a pair of toads sat in embrace, it must have been a ritual mating day, and how lucky we felt to be there to witness this spring magic.

24/03/2024

There’s nothing like the woodland on a sun-filled morning; the way the light cascades through the canopies in diagonal shafts, kissing the sides of the towering trunks with amber.

We set off from the lodge in warm spring air, through the woodland with it’s emerald glow of moss and new shoots, and down ‘pheasant path’ to the farm yard below; the meditative munching of peaceful cows, their newborns nestled in the sweetly scented hay at their feet.

Up the track, alongside the gushing brook - the quenching, tinkling melody following us all the way to the woodland ahead - through a breath-taking avenue of towering pines; the sweet songs of the birds in the air, the warm sun on our skin, blinding us in flickers through the canopies.

Down at the jetty, the perfect place to paddle and play in the cool loch water that lay flat, expansive, and in perfect mirror to the trees that flanked it. We walked the circumference, through tall golden grass, bramble, and vibrant flowering gorse; the contrast of light and shade falling majestically among the trees.

Loch Catrina is one of 2 local lochs created by the owners of what was once Kindeace Estate - each named after their 2 daughters.

24/03/2024

We set off to further explore the wider area, with a visit to Tain Bay, where the moody clouds gathered, brooding in the shadow of the blazing sun. The sea lay flat, milky, blue, dissolving into the horizon; distant sandbanks illuminated by shafts of dazzling light and the soft whisper of a rainbow.

We walked the water’s edge, the coast lined with huge rocks smattered with yellow splash lichen; the cool salt air overcome by the heat of the strengthening spring sun, in a glow of warmth that hugged my back. Behind, the petrol clouds charged across the firth, breaking into rain and rainbow; the full neon spectrum spanning the length of the darkening peninsular. It was the most intense rainbow we’ve ever seen - so bright it burned it’s colours into our eyes, and bled into the saturated sand that lay below it. It was daring to continue with the storm at our heels, but the magnetic light and colour pulled us on, reeling us in until we had time to contend with too.

When we returned along the mile and a half stretch, the rain fell in icy rods; a torrential downpour that stung my face and numbed my hands. The cyclic sky in all her yin and yang glory - the joy and grace of her stillness, her light, and the fierce power of her rage, her darkness; the hope of the spectrum always present, containing it all. The pure exhilaration of the Scottish coastline.

24/03/2024

Spring danced in the warm breath of the air; in the song of the birds, in the sigh of the earth as it birthed the dainty heads of wildflower. The weeks had unfolded in snow melt, sheets of paint samples, forest bathing and bathroom shopping. Foraged wood de-nailed and stacked, colour choices made, kitchen designs pored over. We could hardly wait to begin to transform the space.

It felt like a retreat being at the lodge - away from everything; the noise, the lights, the cars, the capitalism. There is such spaciousness, such silence, such solace, cradled by the towering pines and the wild, unrelenting wind; the blackness of the night pierced only by starlight and the haunting calls of hungry owls. The dawn arrived in colour - the joyous chirping of the birdsong, the luminous glow of the orange sunrise through the canopies. Among endless emails to arrange and plan an order of work, we snatched time yomping the remote country lanes to meet the community.

Things sifted, things recycled; things to share, things to keep, things to give. The neighbouring cabin had been taking down their sheds, which we foraged hundreds of pounds of wood from, otherwise destined for the tip; beautifully softened, ready-weathered timber to repurpose for jobs around the garden. I repurposed some insulation to line the back of the radiators - adding efficiency as it mirrors the heat back into the rooms. By this point we had chosen our electricity supplier based on the entire footprint of their business - which means we will pay more, and so we look to offset that with our consumption. We chose to say no to both broadband and a TV, to both further explore and provide a place without distraction. It felt enormously freeing and relieving to spend quiet days and evenings absorbed in nature, books, games and each other, with the absence of even the option of a screen; quiet time and quiet minds, free of the fear, chaos and destructive messages fed to us in so much of what we see on screens. We hoped that future guests would really feel this reconnection too.

24/03/2024

Just days after we arrived the snow came, wrapping everything up in silence. It was quite a feeling looking out from inside the cosy lodge - the fire roaring, the skylights kissed white.

The weather hovered around the -5 mark for days, the snow ever falling, deepening by the hour. Through the heavy blizzards a glazer came to measure up a blown double glazed window in the lodge. With the help of the neighbours, we pushed him back out along the treacherous, untreated track; wheels skidding on the inches of snow. Here at the lodge, cut off from all else, we are thrown into something of a survival mode with our neighbours - offers of help eagerly offered and eagerly accepted, and already it feels like a community built from years of friendship.

We walked the tracks around the lodge, beginning our exploration of our new surroundings. The ground grew another few inches each night, swallowing all traces of the previous day; the dawn breaking into blizzard and orange hue. The vast arms of the trees bowed under the weight of the white; the ground glowing as if made of light.

Through the woods along a hidden track, every sound stolen by the all-consuming silence; the flash of startled pheasants darting through the under growth. Feet sinking into this white ocean, over a foot deep - we couldn’t remember seeing snow like this since we were children. Filled with wonder, the children ran, rolled, dived and slid, becoming one with their white world; tree branches losing grip into showers of confetti. I stood with my head back, looking up at a towering Scots Pine - my favourite, with it’s warm chestnut trunk and huge, majestic arms that seem to cradle you under the canopy - catching snowflakes on my tongue.

24/03/2024

We finally got the keys for Silver Birch on January 12th 2024. Buying this lodge had not been at all what we’d planned when we left England 9 months before - young children and a van in tow -but that’s rather the point of our journey. We’d sold everything to explore a nomadic life, free and open to change. We had expected to find a forever home after travelling the coast, in which to become permanent dwellers, but what unfolded was a deep connection to nomadic life, and an inner call to use our money, skills and time, to create a haven that challenged the concept of ownership. We found Silver Birch, and the inspiration to transform it into a nature retreat to share with disillusioned fellow humans, in a world that has separated us so completely from nature.

It had been so long since we’d viewed it, and that had only been a single visit - now here we were with the keys. It was a magical drive down remote country lanes, along a long, weaving track that snaked through and deeper into dense, remote woodland. The sun blazed in the clear winter sky, low and searching through the towering march of trunks that stood golden in the falling light; Silver Birch sitting quietly at their feet. It felt every bit a retreat.

With an unlit stove as the only source of heat, our breath fogged in the air as we re-familiarised ourselves with the space; tree canopies overlooking every window. No masts and no concrete in sight, no WiFi, hardly any phone signal - just endless woodland giving way to mountains beyond. It was perfect. It had been some months since it had been lived in or heated, but fortunately the wood store was stacked to the roof, so we immediately began the task of warming the fabric of the lodge - setting the large wood burner roaring, feeding the huge 750L thermal store tank with heat that would circulate through the radiators the next morning. And that was the focus task those first couple of weeks - keeping the fire going during the afternoons to both heat the lodge and the water tank, and using that heat for the radiators during the mornings; a constant cycle, that soon had the lodge feeling and smelling cosy and fresh again.

As we looked around the lodge, we were already building a huge vision for what we wanted to bring to the place. It had been carpeted and resembled somewhat of a typical residential home - we wanted to strip it of all things artificial and bring it’s natural character back, in as eco a way as possible.

Silver Birch Highland Lodge

09/06/2024

27/05/2024

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