In the Eye of the Gale; A tale of Off-Grid Heroics

It was one of those nights. The kind where the wind howls like a wild beast, and the rain doesn’t just fall, it attacks. I was inside, dry and warm, when the house lights flickered, then dimmed ominously. I glanced at the voltmeter on the wall. Uh-oh. The battery voltage was dropping like a rock. Something was very wrong.

Without a second thought, I grabbed my head torch and stormed outside. In my haste, I had neglected one crucial detail: clothing. Well, I had some, a t-shirt and jeans, but they were about as useful as a paper raincoat in the face of the torrential downpour.

I reached the battery shed, where things were heating up, literally. One of the main fuses was glowing an angry red,  Like a branding iron fresh from the fire.  The wind turbine cable had shorted, but the fault wasn’t bad enough to blow the fuse. Meanwhile, our precious battery bank was draining fast. There was no time for finesse.

I grabbed the nearest tool, a hammer, and did what any rational person would do in a crisis. I smashed the fuse lika demolition crew on a deadline.  Problem solved! Except… not quite.

The wind turbine always needs a connection to a load. Without it, the blades would spin themselves into oblivion, possibly taking the entire structure with them. And the wind wasn’t just strong, it was gale force. This was now an emergency inside an emergency.

Without thinking (which had become a theme for the evening), I grabbed a ladder and sprinted toward the cliff, where the turbine stood defiant against the storm. Climbing in these conditions was a questionable life choice, but the alternative was watching my turbine self-destruct.

As I reached the top, the turbine was spinning so fast it was practically whistling. The wind was trying to throw me backwards, and I was already soaked and freezing. I had to act fast. The only way to slow it down was to turn the tail and force the blades out of the wind.

I needed both hands. I had nothing to tie the ladder to the pole. Nothing… except my t-shirt.

So, off it came. I wrapped it around the ladder, securing it as best I could. Now for the turbine. I grabbed its tail and wrestled it sideways. At first, the blades slowed. Then, finally, they stopped. Victory!

But wait. I couldn’t just let go. The moment I did, it would spin up again. I had to tie it down. I needed something long and strong.

My trousers.!!

Off they came.

I secured the blades to the main pole using my soaking wet jeans, double knotting them for good measure. Only when I saw the beam of a torch approaching did I snap out of my focus. Looking down, I found Lucy at the base of the ladder, shouting, “What the hell are you doing? Where are your clothes?!”

It was only then that I realised, I hadn’t just sacrificed my jeans. My underwear had gone with them.

By: Gavin Roberts

The pheasant’s Second flight

I was living out of a small, self-built campervan, with little money but a hearty desire to sustain myself through life's simple gifts. Every day, I roamed the backroads in search of essentials like food, wood for my stove, and water. Recovering road kill had become a quiet ritual; the early morning light and the solitude of the road lent an unexpected poetry to the act.

One brisk morning, while patrolling the coast, I came upon a victim of the road: a female pheasant, dead yet remarkably intact. I pulled over, sprinted back to claim my free meal, and placed her carefully next to me on the passenger seat before resuming my journey, as if nothing unusual had occurred.

But fate had another surprise in store. Mid-ride, a quick glance left revealed the pheasant stirring. In a moment both startling and enchanting, she came back to life. With quiet determination, she lifted herself upright and began to explore the confined world that had become her unexpected journey inside my van. I couldn’t pull over in time to fully appreciate the miracle, so I continued on, trusting that the universe had a plan for us both.

My travels eventually brought me to Compton Beach, where I parked facing the vast, sparkling sea. In that rare pause, accompanied by the gentle roar of the ocean, I took a moment to observe my unusual companion. Calm yet curious, she absorbed every detail of her new surroundings, making it clear that she was meant for freedom rather than the pot.

After scanning the car park for any lurking dangers, I opened the van door wide, inviting her to step out into the open world. At first, she hesitated, as if weighing the promise of freedom against the safety of the familiar, but then, encouraged by a gentle invitation from the other door, she took a cautious step. I watched, heart aglow, as she hopped gracefully from the van, wandered along the cliff’s edge, and vanished into the embrace of the horizon.

In that moment, I realized I had lost my expected meal, but I had gained something far more precious, a story of wonder and the unexpected magic that lingers even in the most ordinary days. My son Boe has grown up with this tale and often asks, “Is she still out there somewhere?” I smile and reply, “She lives on in every shared memory, in every quiet moment when we dare to believe in life’s gentle miracles.”

by Gavin Roberts

DOUBLE BOOKED, DOUBLE THE ADVENTURE

We received a booking for the television program New Lives in the Wild with Ben Fogle, where we would share our journey of self-reliant living. Around the same time, the sustainability department of Chanel, the renowned fashion and perfume company from Paris, contacted us. Both engagements required signing NDAs, and the dates were booked. We had everything perfectly aligned until the unpredictable rhythm of off-grid living changed our beat.

Chanel had won a sustainability competition organized by the Ellen MacArthur Foundation to visit the Island’s green initiatives. We were delighted to provide a bespoke tour and workshop for 15 representatives, including a demonstration of the island’s permaculture-based circular economy. While planning their tour, we even toyed with the idea of renaming our wellies “Chanellies” Lucy, however, wasn’t convinced.

As the dates approached, both parties began making adjustments that eventually brought their appointments within three days of each other—an inconvenient near overlap. Then, just a week before Ben Fogle and his crew were due to arrive, a last-minute schedule change meant both events would fall on the same day. As the reality sank in, Lucy suggested postponing one of the visits. However, I persuaded her to recognize the rarity of the occasion and that such a spectacular alignment should be honoured.

Filming was set to begin at 8am and continue throughout the day, while Chanel's two-hour tour was scheduled for 2pm we decided not to interfere, choosing instead to let reality take its course. It felt as if we were running our very own covert magic show, where the ultimate trick was making all the chaos vanish without a trace.

I relish a challenge, but this one was on a whole new level. We had no clever workaround for managing rain with such a large group, and I was determined not to back out of our commitments, no matter the circumstances. The idea of juggling five consecutive days of filming alongside the Chanel visit while keeping the site running smoothly was truly a once-in-a-lifetime adventure. I half expected the weather to join in on the fun, turning our grounds into a giant slip-and-slide, clearly calling for “chanellies” after all!

That morning, Lucy was upbeat. We fed and milked the animals at 4 a.m.—a time that still managed to surprise them and probably set off their internal alarm clocks. There was plenty to prepare, including ourselves; we were to wear the same clothes all week to ease the editing process. I questioned how we were supposed to stay clean while managing fires, feeding animals, and enduring inevitable tea mishaps. By the end of the week, the clothes might be identical, but I bet they wouldn’t look it!

Before long, Ben arrived with his crew in tow. As filming commenced, it quickly became apparent that Lucy was a natural on camera, while I felt the pressure of looming questions. Ben’s knack for drawing out our past encouraged spontaneous responses, and my initial worry about not saying enough soon morphed into anxiety about revealing too many deep insights into my transformative but tragic past.

With Chanel's team just 20 minutes away, we explained to Ben and his crew about the double booking and our legal obligation to maintain confidentiality. We suggested that they go off-site for a long lunch to preserve exclusivity. This suggestion even made Lucy feel a twinge of guilt about asking Ben to leave, but they totally understood our predicament. They promptly left with all their equipment as we frantically prepared for Chanel's arrival. Although light rain was forecast, it held off—for now. The Chanel team arrived in high spirits, which we mirrored. After introducing ourselves and describing Permaculture Island, we dived into how and why the site runs, starting with the community mulch service. We showed how we turn discarded organic matter into animal food and mulch. It was satisfying witnessing the moment when scattered fragments of information converged to reveal the complete picture, like watching a puzzle come together, with a sudden clarity that made every piece meaningful.

Deciding to liven things up, I ventured into the animal run. I sat on the floor, inviting the animals closer, and before long, Arthur a handsome young goat wandered into my arms for a hug. This spontaneous display of animal husbandry unintentionally stole the show. Arthur clearly thought I was his new cuddle buddy, and honestly, who could resist that?

Shortly thereafter, we kicked off an impromptu apple pressing workshop that had everyone laughing and working together like clockwork. The sweet aroma of freshly pressed apple juice mingled with tea and cake, creating a festive atmosphere even as we raced against the clock, knowing Ben and his crew would return at any moment.

Lucy and I felt like we’d pulled off a small miracle when we even handed out bottles of our homemade apple juice as guests made their way to the exit. But just as they were leaving, Ben reappeared with his crew, greeting everyone with his trademark charm, cameras and equipment in tow. Sure enough, someone recognized him and mentioned his name, sparking a brief moment of playful confusion before everything smoothed out.

Eager to capture the magic of the evening sun, the director decided to wrap up the day on a high note. With mugs of tea in hand, we continued filming until dusk, bracing ourselves for another five days of non-stop shooting and the surprises that lay ahead. In that reflective moment, it became clear that the day’s unpredictable journey could have been a film in itself, a riveting story of chaos, laughter, and unexpected wonder. I am grateful to embrace every twist and turn, knowing that each wild moment enriches our journey and fuels our passion for living off the Grid.

By Gavin Roberts