More about Volunteering

I am dressed protectively in my overalls and thick gloves as I work to scrape away the thick layer of moss and ivy growing on a low sloping roof at the back of a building that has been purchased by our village community with the intention of using it as a meeting space or a work area for the benefit of local residents and businesses. Meanwhile work also continues on the renovation of the inside of the building - wall and ceiling refurbishment with new electrics and plumbing to make the building more usable. With the help of another volunteer, I find myself pulling years of vegetation growth to the ground so that in due course the roof can be repaired. The moss is a living carpet and within it are thick bodied worms the size of small snakes along with human detritus such as tea lights and drink cans that have been thrown there and are now trapped and completely submerged under the layers of living material. Once removed, everything is bagged up and carted away, the vegetable matter ending up in our compost bins at home where we hope it will rot down so it can be used in the garden. It has been an exhausting job but it is quite satisfying to see the end result of the efforts of a morning's work on the roof, which is now exposed to the daylight for the first time in many years. Somehow, participating in these work parties has become a regular Saturday morning feature of my life, a time when I am always doing something different and never working alone. The muscle aches that follow this are always in different places, which makes it interesting, and the company of others who are similarly motivated is very satisfying. A week or so later I was working inside the same building patching holes in the plasterboard walls whilst others were fitting a new suspended ceiling and threading cables for the new electrical system. After a couple of hours work we all sat around for a natter whilst drinking tea and eating cake or biscuits, an important part of the day.

To my way of thinking this is simply spending time doing things to occupy my day, things that are within my capabilities, either physical or mental, and which place demands upon me that I seem to be able to cope with and which give me some satisfaction, even pleasure. I receive an email message asking whether I am available to assist in the running of the Scottish Series, an annual yacht racing event that has been based in the harbour of our coastal village for many years and for which I have previously offered my services. My own experience on boats has been useful to the organisers and has seen me going out on the water during the racing when support boats are needed to lay the race buoys and otherwise assist wherever help is needed. Which is how I found myself as crew on a rigid inflatable boat (RIB) doing this once again not long after we had returned from our cycling tour of Holland. This year, however, would turn out to be a tough one as there would be strong winds and some vicious rain squalls associated with these, not a time when I would normally choose to be out in a small boat.

Day one, after loading the race buoys on board our boat and lashing them down so they wouldn't fly off whilst we were motoring out to sea, we joined the race committee boat as they anchored at the downwind end of the race course and for the rest of the day took instructions from them when needed. The race buoys used now are automatic, battery powered things with small propellers beneath a watertight box supported by an inflatable floating collar. The clever electronics enables them to be controlled remotely and kept in place or moved about to cope with wind shifts. Our role then, once they are launched and the races are underway, is to be on hand as a safety boat, something that was needed quite early on when one of the sailing boats broke its mast. We zoomed down the course to help and soon had a tow line rigged to bring the boat back into port. Plenty of sunshine gave us a warmish first day and although there was still a lot of physical stuff for us to do, like collecting up the buoys again after the last race, the day went well.

Day two was a different animal. Rain showers and stronger winds which meant a tough day for us bobbing around in an open boat. Day three brought even stronger winds, forecasted to rise to over forty knots at times, and our race fleet made the decision not to race. This simply meant that the role for our RIB changed and we became support boat for another fleet of larger yachts who were sailing a much longer course. We motored downwind at speed to a place where the seas were unpleasantly rough, a place where the waves were constantly throwing water at us as we followed the fleet tailenders back up the course. Added to this the rain squalls kept coming, spitting water into our faces with maximum energy. This was a tough day and quite a scary experience. I do not profess to have the best sea legs and quite how I survived such a bashing about I do not know. My body had reached its limit by the end of each day but somehow it recovered enough to be back on the water for the last day, with slightly less wind and smoother seas. This was volunteering at its limit, something that perhaps I should consider leaving to those with youth on their side but again overcoming these challenges is rewarding and enjoyable.

Venturing out to sea might be too extreme but we both find ourselves volunteering to help on a beach close to home where the winter storms have thrown up more rubbish than anyone would have thought possible. This is an organised event with a keen group of litter pickers. Everything we find here has spent some time in the sea but the waves will often throw smaller bits up into the trees growing close to the shore from where it droops down like brightly coloured rags. Just about everything we pick up is one sort of plastic or another, broken into tiny pieces and scattered about everywhere you look. Although we do sometimes find something unexpected, like a silver spoon or a toilet bowl, by far the majority of what we are picking up is from ropes or nets used by the fishing industry around these parts, a rather depressing thought which keeps us company as we work.

Our village of Tarbert is known for having a castle in which Robert the Bruce, once king of Scotland, resided from time to time.

He was responsible for some of the renovations and improvements to the castle structure although, sadly, during a later period of abandonment much of the stone structure was removed and used elsewhere in the village for house construction. The stones that remain standing today do not do justice to the man himself but the castle and its grounds are still a very popular visitor attraction, maintained by volunteers from the community and this again provides a regular outlet for my surplus energy. This might involve cutting away unwanted vegetation from the footpaths or ripping out brambles from amongst the trees in the community orchard but those involved in this are always eager to help and the atmosphere is always warm and welcoming. Who knows what else we might get involved in.