Fieldcraft

  Returning to the Same Sit‑Spot Through the Seasons A sit‑spot is a lovely thing in the moment — ten quiet minutes, a patch of ground, and the gentle realisation that the outdoors doesn’t need you to achieve anything. But the real depth comes when you return to the same spot again and again, letting the year turn around you. Most people think of the seasons as four tidy blocks. But when you sit in one place regularly, you start to notice the dozens of smaller seasons hidden inside them. The early‑spring “everything is wet but hopeful” season. The late‑summer “grass has given up” season. The November “I should have brought gloves” season. A sit‑spot becomes a way of reading the year as a slow, unfolding story. Just sitting in nature also brings us benefits, such as wellbeing and mindfulness too. Winter — The Bare‑Bones Season Your winter visits might feel stark at first. The trees are stripped back, the ground is cold, and the wind has opinions. But winter is when the structure of...

  The Art of the Sit‑Spot:  Doing Nothing, Outdoors, On Purpose There’s a particular kind of confidence that comes from being able to sit still outdoors without feeling like you should be doing something. Not striding. Not navigating. Not checking your watch to see whether you’re “making good time”. Just… sitting. It sounds simple, and it is — but it’s also one of the most useful fieldcraft skills you can develop. A sit‑spot teaches you to notice things you’d otherwise stride straight past. It slows your breathing, sharpens your senses, and reminds you that the outdoors isn’t a gym session you’re meant to complete. It’s a place you can inhabit. And the best part? You don’t need any special kit, training, or a dramatic landscape. A sit‑spot works on a moor, in a wood, beside a canal, or on a scruffy patch of grass behind a retail park. The land doesn’t mind. Why Sit at All? When you stop moving, the world stops reacting to you. Birds settle. Wind patterns become obvious. You n...

  Traveller’s Potato Soup: Simple Outdoor Cooking for Beginners Outdoor cooking isn’t about hardship or proving anything. You’re not surviving; you’re enjoying yourself. A small fire, a simple pot, and a few honest ingredients are enough to make something warm and satisfying. Victorian travellers cooked this way because it worked, not because it was romantic. Beginners can take comfort in that — the whole point is to keep things steady, safe, and simple. A handful of new potatoes, a spoon of animal fat, a pinch of herbs, and clean drinking water . That last bit matters. You’re cooking for pleasure, not purifying swamp water. Use the same water you’d happily drink straight from your bottle. Fire Safety and Setup Before lighting anything, clear a safe patch of ground. Brush away leaves, dry grass, and anything that might catch. If conditions are tinder‑dry, don’t light a fire at all — switch to a stove or eat cold. Enjoyment stops the moment you risk the landscape. Keep water within ...

  Fieldcraft Cooking: Honest Food That Tastes Like It Should Fieldcraft cooking tastes different from what most people are used to — simpler, cleaner, and far more honest. Modern food leans heavily on stock cubes, dairy, thickeners, emulsifiers, and a long list of extras designed to make everything taste the same no matter where you buy it. Fieldcraft food doesn’t bother with any of that. It’s just ingredients doing their own work, the way they always did before factories took over. When you cook outdoors, you notice flavours you’d normally miss. A bit of fat melting into a pot gives a gentle richness — warm, rounded, and comforting without being heavy. It’s the kind of depth people used to take for granted before everything became low‑fat, low‑salt, and over‑processed. There’s no artificial boost, no hidden shortcuts. Just real food behaving like real food. Vegetables taste different too. A potato cooked over a small fire brings its own natural sweetness and starch, thickening a b...

Bags for Fieldcraft: From Haversacks to Bergen Beasts (and Everything in Between) Let’s talk about bags — the humble carriers of snacks, plasters, and the occasional life decision. Beginners often assume they need something enormous, covered in straps, and capable of hauling a small family across the Andes. In reality, your bag just needs to hold your lunch and not make you swear at it. You don’t need a tactical rucksack with more clips than sense. And not everyone’s luggage is made from sapient pearwood and capable of chasing them down a hillside or across dimensional plains, so your bag needs to be something you can actually carry. Here’s the simple, honest guide to choosing the right one. 🪶 The Haversack — The Classic Minimalist Option The humble haversack or bread bag A haversack is the outdoor equivalent of turning up with just your keys and wallet. It’s light, simple, and charmingly old‑school. Perfect for: short walks park rambles carrying a brew kit, a snack, and your first ai...

  Building a First Aid Kit for Fieldcraft: What You Actually Need (and What You Can Ignore) Example DIY first aid kits. Let’s talk about first aid kits — not the ones designed for Everest expeditions or zombie apocalypses, but the kind that fits in your coat pocket and quietly saves the day when your walk turns into a minor medical drama. You don’t need a tactical pouch with MOLLE webbing and 47 compartments. You don’t need a kit designed by ex‑military paramedics who assume you’ll be dealing with broken limbs — because while those can happen, that’s not first aid, that’s search and rescue, unless you haven't left the carpark.. You just need something simple, sensible, and suited to the kind of walking you actually do. 🧈 The Margarine Tub Tradition Scouts have been building their own first aid kits for as long as scouting has existed — often using margarine tubs, tobacco tins, or whatever small container was lying around. It’s a tradition rooted in practicality: use what you have...

  Footwear for Fieldcraft: What to Wear When You’re Not Climbing Everest A male rambler stands in a stream wearing thigh-high sequinned stiletto boots, while a female rambler in jeans and trainers watches from the bank with folded arms and a disapproving expression. A humorous parody of outdoor footwear choices. Let’s talk about shoes. Not the kind you wear to weddings, or the ones that live at the back of the cupboard and only come out when you need to look like you’ve got your life together. We’re talking about outdoor footwear — the stuff that keeps your feet happy when you’re walking through a park, a field, or a moor that’s trying to impersonate a swamp. If you’ve ever Googled “walking shoes,” you’ll know the internet is full of boots that look like they were designed for crossing lava. They have names like The Ridgehammer 9000 and claim to offer “aggressive traction,” which sounds less like a feature and more like a personality flaw. But here’s the truth: for most beginner f...