Getting a Christmas tree, island style

How to get a Christmas tree, island style.

For most people getting a Christmas tree involves going to a shop, tree farm or ordering one online or over the phone, not so here, none of the above apply. The nearest shop selling Christmas trees would be around Fort William and that being a ferry crossing away and 45-mile drive or 1.5-hour train journey and two overnight stays makes it a not useful option.

Every year that I have lived here we have set off at the beginning of December into the hills to look for a tree, chop it down and bring it home. Usually, it is me with one or two of my daughters and our dog (there have been 3 incarnations of black labrador over the 26 years). Again, usually we use our beat-up old car, though one year it was a wheelbarrow - that was trixsy, balancing a Christmas tree on a wheelbarrow. This year, it is just me. Daughter number three, the youngest, is at school in Mallaig, the other two having already left home and our dog, beautiful Orla, died tragically early this summer, she was only seven. I am still very much grieving for her, and her spirit is often out with me when I go for a walk, for a while there it seemed going for a walk was pointless without her. Her lead is still in a pair of wellies near the front door.  

Tools required for this job have been just an old panel saw. I have always used an old panel saw, it’s labour intensive, I know, but it was all I had. This year though, saw a tool upgrade to a mini chainsaw …it only has a four-inch blade, but this is enough to get through most Christmas tree stems. I take the trusty panel saw for back up. PPE is the usual wellies, old jacket, waterproofs so old they are no longer waterproof but are more of an extra layer to stop me trashing my jeans and a pair of work gloves.

The car was making strange noises, a lot more clunky than usual in a something is seriously amiss kind of way. I decided it wasn’t a good idea to drive up the very potholed track to where I would be looking a tree. The reason for this was not necessarily worry about the car dying, but rather not wanting the stress of blocking the only road out onto the NNR with a broken car, which would involve a tractor and people to help move it. Instead, I went on foot. No wheelbarrow either, it decided to fall apart.

Back in the 1960s and 70s there were over a million trees planted here on Rum, some were shelter belts consisting of conifers, there’s a lot of lodge pole pine and a fair amount of these have self-seeded, creating lots of little lodge pole pines. This is what I’m after and where I’m headed. Lodge pole pines aren’t the most attractive looking trees for Christmas, I would prefer a Norwegian spruce but the ones here are all too big to cut down – I mean you could chop one down just for the top, but this would be a bigger operation than I’m prepared to undertake by myself and does seem wasteful as well. The other problem with trees in a shelter belt is that most of them are windblown to some degree. The trick is finding one that isn’t, or that is cunningly windblown on one side which is convenient for where it’s going to go in your house.

After a ¾ mile I have to head off the track, this is tree planting territory so lots of ridge and furrow ankle breaking territory as I call it. A stick is handy, or a dog, to indicate where the ditches are, I have neither. Still heartbroken about Orla. Theres a stream to cross and a steep bank to climb and lots of undergrowth to navigate. I can see how this sounds like a lot of unnecessary exertion, but my friends, this is fun, an adventure and a tradition for my family. It also represents a reasonable amount of effort to exchange for a tree – it having the courtesy of growing for a few years for me to then come along and chop it down. All for a celebration based on a nonsense social construct we all agree to participate in, mostly about buying stuff, which upholds a failing capitalist system?  It’s midwinter and the darkest time of the year and represents a much older tradition which I’m happier to be part of. It’s a connection to the land and nature, something you don’t get from going to a shop. I appreciate it’s not for everyone.

I sweat, I get wet if it rains and my wellies have holes, so my socks are wet from the boggy ground. When I get to the top of the bank and have a commanding view of the mountains, I am happy. I am entirely alone in the trees, no one is anywhere nearby, and I feel calm. It is quiet and the only noises are the wind and the trees. It’s peaceful.

There are a lot of trees but not that many suited to my purpose. A lot seem bushy and good but when you get closer you realise it’s two trees close together. No good. It takes a while of waking up and down to find one. I usually find a couple and then decide which is better. Pickings are slim to be honest, and this year’s tree has quite big gaps between branches. It is what it is. Panel saw would take 10 mins or so of sawing, hard work. Mini chainsaw takes 30 seconds. Hmm I feel I have possibly cheated myself of some of my adventure, it should have been more effort, that’s part of the deal. I sit down for a few minutes just to soak in the smell of the conifers and the peace of being out in the middle of nowhere but knowing exactly where I am envelops me. I give thanks for my tree.

The journey now goes in reverse but with a tree in tow. Navigating the ridges and furrows through the stands of trees involves a lot of falling down. Picking a track back down the steep bank is fun, sometimes I find the one I used on the way up, sometimes not. There are a lot of false trails made by deer, though to be fair, deer are surer footed than me so any of their tracks would do, they just might not be going in my direction. Bottom of the bank and it’s the boggy mixed deciduous woodland. I was going to say overgrown and unmanaged, but these are just human judgements on the natural state of the woodland. It’s the way it is. Nevertheless, I have to be careful to avoid getting poked in the eye or losing my glasses. Crossing the burn is a matter of throwing the tree across and grabbing onto various twiggy branches for balance and hoping they hold my weight. A scramble back up the bank and I’m back on the track. I rest for a few minutes and have a whoop to myself at having got back. Usually I or we would get the tree and dog in the back of the car, it’s an old Nissan Patrol, so plenty of room, but this year as I mentioned I’m by myself and have no car so I have to carry the tree on the shoulder back to the village, it’s only about a 15 minute walk and downhill at least.

The tree goes in our living room in a corner, in a bucket filled with stones from the beach - our Christmas tree stand, it works for us! One thing about pine trees is they don’t drop their needles like spruces do, which makes taking it out in January easier. We always have a ceremonial burning of the tree after it’s taken down too. The needles send-off clouds of fire fairies into the sky and it crackles like no other fire. I hope you’ve enjoyed our Christmas tree experience, not everyone’s cup of tea to be sure but it’s what we do.