By: PAUL McKAY
Teacher Paul McKay left London to live a self-sufficient existence in the Monchique hills with his partner Martyn. He keeps an assortment of animals and grows a variety of crops in an eco-friendly way – all on a limited income.
Monday June 2
WHEN WE first viewed our farm in Monchique back in May 1988 it was a fully productive citrus fruit farm. Over 200 fruit trees were blossoming on 15 terraces. The lowest terrace bordered a fast running stream and also contained a few plum trees. The highest terrace was some 30 metres higher up and a huge olive tree marked the border of our land.
During our first couple of years here we tended the trees in the traditional style. We received water from a river higher up the mountain, once every 11 days, which we directed via a system of channels to every terrace. We also had water from two springs and from a well alongside the stream.
The work was arduous most of the year. Summer watering was time consuming and uncomfortably humid. In the winter and spring, the fruit had to be picked by hand and carried in large baskets, 40 kilos at a time, up and down steep, slippery tracks.
That was 20 years ago. Over time, this type of production has become less and less viable. The wholesale price of the fruit has fallen. The cost of living has risen. Consequently, along with most of our neighbours, we no longer cultivate citrus trees as a means of income. This, however, leaves you with rather a lot of land – something has to be done to keep out the brambles. We have made some land into a garden, grown vegetables on other bits and put pigs and poultry on the rest, just to keep up the battle against the weeds.
Four years ago, I cleared a terrace of most of its citrus fruit trees, dug out as much of the roots as I could and re-planted the terrace with a variety of other fruit trees. These included apricot, peach, nectarine, apple, pear and plum. Four years on, we are achieving variable success. This year, the two peach trees have a grand total of five peaches swelling juicily. The nectarine tree is nude as is the apricot, there is one pear, one plum and…incredibly…a few kilos of apples. A kindly neighbour has informed me that these will all fall off by the end of June and I’ll have none to eat.
Thursday June 12
I have just completed a week of vigorous weeding and land clearance. Monchique weeding is not a delicate affair involving patterned gardening gloves, kneeling stools and pretty little pop-up baskets to collect the debris. We are talking brambles of some six metres in length with razor sharp thorns. Thistles with needles so spiked they enter the hand not to re-emerge for a year or two, and wild fennel and grasses that reach at least two metres in height, often with roots of equal length. Weeds have to be untangled from 20 foot trees.
In April, sweet peas clamber up and over the whole sorry mess, blanketing the nightmare beneath in a canopy of pink and purple flowers. This jungle has appeared in a few short months on a terrace behind my house, formerly known as ‘the garden’. Various methods have been applied to avoid this situation – little and often – toxic killer sprays – carpets and fabrics laid on the ground, all with limited success. It seems no matter what I do, every June I will be back out there with a scythe and a shovel dreaming of 100 metre crazy paving suburbia.
Friday June 13
Just completed a particularly violent weeding episode. Once over, I noticed the plum had gone. Later discovered it on the ground being eaten by ants.
Sunday June 15
We have recently acquired three kittens. ’Nicely’, a little black female cat that my neighbour’s Siamese gave birth to. ’Winnie’, a pretty tortoise shell, and ’Nuno’ a grey tabby who appears to be unwell. Acquisition, I am informed, was due to the need for cats on a farm to control the mouse population. Of our existing cats, one dropped dead last year, two look decidedly ropey and the last remaining healthy one, Tomas, seems to spend more time out and about than here.
Despite their stated purpose as ’ratters’, the kittens look to me to be receiving a markedly pampered existence. Choice cat food is spooned out at regular intervals, the bathroom has become their bedroom and the dogs are looking very worried.
Monday June 16
Martyn threw one of his legendary dinner parties today and as usual, events did not run as smoothly as one would hope. Just as the food was about to be served, it became apparent that Nuno was going downhill rapidly. The food was returned to the oven and an emergency dash to the vets took place. Nuno, it appears, has cat flu and weighs only half a kilo. He is now on antibiotics, has even more special food and is treated like royalty.
Back from the vets, after having eaten a late lunch, we were taking drinks on the veranda when the next disaster occurred. One dinner party guest, Sean, had taken a stroll away from the house to the east while the rest of us sat chatting.
A small finch landed on cypress close to the house and sang noisily. Ian was commenting on the beauty and tranquillity of our surroundings when he was interrupted by a loud shriek. Sean, still yelling, ran back towards the house in pursuit of Tomas, afore-mentioned cat, who streaked across the veranda with one of our newly acquired turkeys lodged in his mouth. I lunged for Tomas, he dropped the bird, the dogs began snapping and all hell broke loose.
Once the dust and feathers had settled, the startled turkey was returned to the hen house and Tomas was tortured relentlessly with the hose.
Wanted: kind caring home for Tomas, a loving four year old Siamese cat. He would like a home with plenty of poultry available, but this is probably not a wise choice. All enquiries should be emailed to me asap.
