For a beer to be called ‘Trappist’ it must be brewed in a monastery, by monks. There are only 14 beers in the entire world made this way. 8 of them are, as you may expect, in Belgium/Netherlands. Of the remaining 6 scattered across the globe, one of them is actually made in England, and only since 2018.
Tynt Meadow English Trappist Ale is brewed by the Cistercian monks at Mount Saint Bernard Abbey in Leicestershire. I only became aware of this beer at all because the abbey started liking some of my posts on Instagram - photos of other Belgian Trappist beers I have enjoyed. When I found out they too made similar beer (and were only an hour and a half away) myself and The Good Lady 'La Professoressa' Her Indoors had to go.
It’s a suitably pastoral and peaceful location in the National Forest area outside Coalville, up at quite a height for such a flat county, and with gritstone rock formations in the grounds and nearby - well worth a walk around. They produce excellent pottery (made by Brother Martin, who welcomed us cheerily in his overalls on arrival at the gift shop), honey and chocolate as well as their highly regarded beer. We took a blind punt on a case of twelve bottles without even trying it first.
We weren't disappointed. It’s a strongish (7.4%) dark and rich ale, both in keeping with the other more established Belgian classics, whilst having a definite character of its own. To my highly untrained palate there was some crossover with Westmalle Dubbel, Orval (there is the tiniest hint of sour effervescence) and even the liquorice tang of St. Feuillien. But most surprising was the comforting feel of a rich, strong chocolate/coffee stout or porter.
I’ve already gone through half of the bottles, and when the others run out I shall definitely return. It’s not an easy beer to get hold of, but it’s special on many levels, and buying it whilst visiting in person is highly recommended providing you live a reasonable distance away.
Going part time at the school has been brilliant. Having 4 days in every 7 away from the tyranny of a timetable now means that I have more of a say in making the most of weather opportunities, and quite often I've been able to enjoy the outdoors on a dry weekday when there are far less people about, and treat rainy, busier weekends as my self employed studio days. I can definitely feel a pinch financially, but I'm so much happier for it.
I've mentioned before about how much I love winter camping, especially in the woods with its lack of bugs and slugs, allowing open tarp and bivvy dosses without recourse to mosquito nets and napalm sprays. It does make for some very long nights though. I spent the longest of all of these, the winter solstice of December 21st, doing just that. In the video you can see that I survived rather palatially, with chairs, tables, bottles of fine beer, heavy duty sleeping kit, and all the metalwork for a real fire.
The downside of this glamping approach is best summed up about a minute and a half into the video, when I take off the rucksack, visibly and audibly knackered, exclaiming 'ooft, glad to get that off... 22 kilos. Ridiculous!'. I believe that's in the ball park of the load carried by UK soldiers in their annual fitness test. In other words, quite unpleasant, especially when I like to walk to my local camps, usually a good few miles.
So this got me thinking about a challenge. Could I do a very similar camp to this again, living nearly as comfortably, but significantly reduce the size and weight of my pack to much more manageable amounts?
Now first off let me just preempt any 'ultralight thru hiker' types who will be appalled at the following attempt to shave off weight. I have never claimed to be interested in going 'ultralight'. Kipping in single skin garish coloured translucent tents made of gossamer, soaking couscous overnight in cold water, and having a £700 down quilt that packs down to the size of a tangerine wouldn't work for me. Quite apart from the expense, I like my camping to be a mini holiday, and that means hitting a sweet spot of making myself comfy on both the walk in/out AND at camp itself. Plus I like my food and drink. I CAN go down to weights about half of the winter solstice load when hitting the hills in warmer weather no problem, but local woods are often more of a challenge.
So anyway, how did I tackle it? I'll put a full 'load out' list at the end for us nerds, but for everyone else I'll just mention some key stuff.
Firstly I forced myself to use a much smaller rucksack. Out went my Snugpak Endurance, with extra rocket pouches on the side, and all but the kitchen sink attached to the copious webbing. In came a new Helikon-Tex Bergen with way less than half the volume. It's really designed as a day pack but I have seen some videos of folk packing them cleverly for an overnighter.
(It's at this point I'd like to give a shout out to a couple of Youtube channels I've become a real fanboy of - Barney's Bimbles and Bushcraft by Des Cattys. Barney and Des are mates of each other who make great outdoors vids, sometimes of a shared camp, and sometimes solo. I've lost count of the amount of kit I've purchased after seeing it in their uploads, so much so that my long suffering wife would be entirely justified in citing them as third and fourth parties in divorce proceedings. This camp uses an awful lot of said kit, to the point where I'm essentially ripping them off... I hope they aren't offended and see it for what it is, a mark of my trust in their gear recommendations!)
I made compromises with a smaller, less substantial tarp and bivvy combo. I ditched the table and chair as a result, as there isn't really enough coverage under the tarp for that to work anyway. A new titanium water bottle nestled in two pots was not only a much lighter cookset than before, it also forced me to only take 1.1 litres of water - I usually take 2 litres, but always end up chucking some away untouched. No mucking about with candle lanterns, which provide little light and are quite frankly a pain in the arse to clean almost every time. I decided to stop being precious and take my down sleeping bag, which has the best warmth to weight ratio. And no beer this time, opting instead for 8oz of Sailor Jerry's rum.
Titanium Canteen & Cookset
Things I felt I shouldn't cut corners on were the heavy duty German Army 'Elephant Skin' groundsheet - especially as my inflating sleep pad had to be outside of the bivvy in a brambly wood. I was strict in taking all three fire prep tools - axe, saw and bushcraft knife, including leather holsters. The rucksack is beautifully designed to accommodate these in slots behind the pouches. And drinking brews from my wooden kuksa cup is so much nicer than using some folding rubber thing.
I actually went heavier with some kit. The Klymit sleeping pad is cheaper than the lighter Thermarest I used before, so I'd be less gutted if it got a puncture from being more exposed. Also it is camo rather than bright yellow (I was stealth camping after all), and most importantly DOESN'T SLOWLY DEFLATE DURING THE NIGHT. I need to send that bugger back. Plus I had The World's Heaviest Bulkiest Fleece strapped to the underside, another Helikon Tex job. It is early February after all.
Then believe it or not I actually ADDED some stuff I didn't take before. A rain poncho/small tarp for instance, and a book to read (I'm trying to cut back on social media a bit, having removed Facebook and Instagram from my phone). Most significantly (and not included in the pic at the top of this post, as I'd forgotten to remove it from the secret pouch in the rucksack) was around a kilo of prime handmade ironmongery and canvas - a new grill/pot hanger/fire anchor thingy from TJM Metalworks. There was no way I wasn't going to give that a go!
I must admit, when I finally got everything in the pack and it came to the weigh in, I wasn't optimistic I'd actually made things much lighter at all. So when the scales told me it all came to 14 kilos I was chuffed to bits. I'd ditched a third of the weight. But would I have as good a time?
I set off into a fairly sunny afternoon with the new pack feeling much more manageable. Heading into one of my favoured spots, I started to get into the mood, grabbing a nice big stick to use as a staff. I felt this gave me some much needed Gandalf-esque gravitas, when in actual fact it no doubt made me look like a prick.
I was a little disconcerted to hear a fair amount of gunshots from neighbouring spots known for pheasant. I thought that all the various shooting seasons came to an end on February 1st? Come to think of it I can hear it going on right now as I type, nearly a week after that. What's all that about? Anyway, I tried not to worry about some careless dentist in a Barbour jacket inadvertently popping a cap in my ass and strode on.
Once at camp I got to work and as ever I struggled to get everything set up and the wood prepped before dark, but by teatime I was settled and enjoying the fire. The new fire anchor and titanium cookset were immediately put to task with some Soba noodles and grilled sausages.
It all worked beautifully. Being able to adjust the height of the grill in particular meant that I could for once get flame grilled bangers that were cooked through thoroughly, yet not charred to buggery on the outside - magic.
There's no two ways about it, the evening was a long one alone there in the dark, particularly as I wasn't making a video as I was last time. But maintaining even a small self contained fire is still the best bushcraft tv, and I managed a few chapters of the book by the red stealthy glow of my head torch too. There was quite a cold breeze (it was only a few degrees celsius in temperature) but the tarp setup sheltered my back nicely. I didn't really miss the chair and table too much, being able to either sit or lie down sideways on the bivvy. Rum quaffed, I allowed the fire to die out as I nodded off some time after 11.
It was only when heavy and persistent rain kicked in not long after midnight that I realised where my first compromise was. The tarp, in that setup, just didn't quite provide enough coverage to stop some rain coming in sideways around my head, exacerbated by a slight change in wind direction. This was a worry as I was in my down bag - if it got wet, all its insulating properties would be lost and I would be in big trouble. The Snugpak bivvy bag was a godsend though, as unlike the more heavy duty British Army Gore Tex version I normally favour, it does actually cinch fairly decently round your head as a hood, keeping the sleeping bag dry - exactly what a bivvy should do. Another problem was that my asymmetrical tarp setup was making reservoirs of water pool right above me, causing the tarp to sag down until it rested on my midriff and legs. I had to keep kicking it intermittently to pour off the water and get it to spring back higher but it was an ongoing battle.
Both of these things conspired to keep me awake for what seemed like a couple of hours in the middle of the night. I toyed with the idea of donning the poncho and getting out to reconfigure the tarp to be less open, but I simply couldn't face the risk of getting more wet. If I'd have brought my bigger 3x3m DD Superlight tarp (which I'm shocked to learn now, sitting here, weighs about the same as the one I brought along anyway) I would have had so much more option to configure for wind, rain and sitting height. At 2x2.5m this Helikon Tex one was so much more limited in meeting those needs. You live and learn!
Through hunkering down though I got back to fitful sleep and woke around 7 with the rain stopped. Thank heavens it had, or breakfast would have been a nightmare. Only having a wood stove I couldn't have done this under the tarp really. Luckily I had managed to keep some wood aside and got it safely under the cover before things got precipitous the night before, so the fire was lit in no time, and the smell of grilling bacon lifted the spirits in that magical way it tends to do.
The sun came out and I enjoyed an unhurried breakfast. I didn't have permission to be here but I have never ever come across a soul in these woods during the half dozen or so times I've camped in them, mainly as I think they are such a nightmare of bogs and brambles to get to. I may be pushing my luck, but the way I see it, getting moved on in the morning isn't a problem - the vital bit of getting through the night has been accomplished.
Strolling around camp I was struck by how well the tarp camo worked, particularly from the front. I was worried it was a bit too bright green to blend in, but it was just right for this spot. I was starting to forgive it for its soggy shortcomings. How soon we forget!
The very tips of bluebell bulbs were sprouting up from the exposed ground, a sign of the approaching spring. Whilst feeling excited at the prospect of longer daylight hours, I was also grateful for getting out like this before those damn mozzies came back - they seem to get worse each year! No doubt a climate change thing.
I was very careful to replace the leaf litter and topsoil over said bluebell buds after I'd packed away, as part of my usual 'leave no trace' procedure. Setting off home mid morning I was shocked at how waterlogged the ground was compared to the previous day, making it quite hard going in places. There was obviously a considerable amount of rain last night.
I hadn't done badly at all to stay warm and dry and more or less comfortable. The load out had worked on the whole, and the experience definitely felt almost as much of a treat as the heavier version a few weeks ago, but at a much more sensible weight. Heck, I even had some things that never got used - a sleeping bag liner, the poncho, some insulated gloves and tins of fatwood tinder for example. The poo trowel and first aid kit were untroubled, as they (nearly) always are. But I suppose it's better to be safe than sorry eh? I'd miss all of those things if I really needed them...
I made my way back with that slightly euphoric tiredness that a sunny walk home from another successful wild camp always brings. It's pretty much 3 years to the day since my first ever woodland tarp and bivvy camp. My passion for this sort of thing shows no signs of fading anytime soon. I bloody loves it, me.
