Originally published by the Guardian, Saturday 17 July 2010
“I reckon it was that turning,” I say to my bloke, hurtling past a driveway. We turn, retrace and, holy moly, that’s huge. Our log cabin (for want of a better word) lies in wait at the bottom of a gravelled slope and must be at least 50ft long. Deep eaves rest on timbers so hefty they would give a caber-tossing champion nightmares.
Two side doors are locked but, walking around to the front, as per instructions, we cross an oak veranda with wooden chairs and a table, to a folding door with keys in.
We step into a world of wood. Rudolf Steiner meets Northern Exposure.
“Cavernous,” says my bloke, taking in the cathedral-like ceiling of an open-plan timbered expanse. I like large spaces, though, and since this has been created with eco-mindfulness we can only assume that heat-loss is not a concern. Not that it’s an issue on a balmy summer eve.
The focal point of the room has, however, clearly been installed with long winters in mind. It is a tall red enamelled wood-pellet burner, with a built-in oven compartment. I’ve never seen anything like it.
Although there is the odd Ikea chair (the really comfy low-slung affairs), we can see, from the kitchen’s Neff induction hob to the Denby crockery, that things have not been done on the cheap. At the sitting room end is a large flatscreen telly with Freeview and a DVD player. I dislike the black leather sofa (it says “executive office” to me, when this place is surely all about switching off) and the orb lights could be suspended by something more sympathetic than metres of nasty white flex, but we like the witty addition of an acoustic guitar and bodhran hanging on the wall.
Through a double-arch into a hallway are three doors (with wonderfully tactile wooden latches) that lead to a tiled wetroom (John Lewis towels, eco-soap, hinged seat in the shower) and two bedrooms (a double and a twin). The main bedroom has a door onto a second terrace with easy chairs and birdfeeders. I know where I’m having morning tea.
What’s that rondavel opposite, I wonder? Kettle on. I’m humming The Lumberjack Song. “Pity we didn’t bring scones,” says my bloke.
Rat-a-tat. Here’s the owner, George Tasker, to recommend a pub and insist we walk down to the stream (called Ledwyche Brook) beyond the line of poplar and fruit trees, where there is a table and chairs for picnicking.
George is in the process of making an earth oven outside the cabin, and the rondavel is his workshop. He lives in part of a converted mill, further along the driveway. The cars I can see parked beneath a maple tree just behind our cabin belong to the neighbours.
Supper at the Unicorn (mains from £8.75; +44 (0)1584 873555) in Ludlow. Desperate Dan-style dishfuls of good pub grub (rib-eye steak, sinful onion rings, sausages on heaps of mash) with real beer from Herefordshire’s Wye Valley, and Shropshire’s Three Tuns and Salopian breweries.
Darkness descends at the ranch. Lamps cast a homely glow. The guestbook reveals a big thumbs-up from a wheelchair-user.
I wake, breathing in the scent of wood, and throw open the terrace door to watch bluetits flit around the birdfeeders. Voices and the slam of car doors send me round to the more private front terrace, where, gazing across a mown field, we settle to a sunny breakfast alfresco – all too rare in England – with no grizzlies to worry about.
- Ludlow Ecolog Cabins
Caynham Mill,
Ludlow
07977 091928
ludlowecologcabins.co.uk
Annie’s Ecolog Cabin sleeps four (plus a double sofabed). Level access for the disabled. Three-night break £275-450