Skip to content
Journal

We inherited a failing pine plantation. This is how we turned it around

Karen Noon

Glen using a hand-operated log arch on the Afrinoon plantation to pull a felled Sitka pine trunk out of a tight stand.
The right tools matter. The log arch we bought in 2015 lets us pull a felled trunk out of a tight stand without tearing the ground up.

When we bought this place back in 2003, we inherited a small plantation of Sitka pines. They were planted in the 1970s, when the French government was handing out grants to encourage people to put in cash crop trees. The logic was simple: plant them young, let them grow for a few decades, sell the timber, and use the money to top up a pension.

The young Sitka pine plantation at Afrinoon in 2004, the trunks still slender and the canopy not yet closed.
The forest plantation in 2004.

What nobody planned for was the drought. Over the years we have watched these trees struggle badly. The dry summers have hit them hard, and a weakened tree is exactly what the spruce bark beetle is looking for. It gets in behind the bark and eats the cambium layer, and once it takes hold, the tree is on borrowed time. One by one, our pines have been dying back.

The Sitka pine plantation at Afrinoon in 2013, the canopy fully closed and the understory shaded out.
Tall Sitka pines at Afrinoon in 2014, the first signs of drought stress visible in the canopy.
The same plantation in 2013 (left) and 2014 (right). The trouble was already on its way.

Selective felling and standing deadwood

The storms have not helped either. Winters seem to bring bigger winds than they used to, and a dying pine in a storm is a very different thing from a healthy one. Glen has been working through the plantation gradually, taking down the trees that are genuinely dangerous and leaving the ones that are still stable standing until he actually needs them. It is a slow, considered process rather than a panic response.

Glen in safety gear with a chainsaw working through the Sitka pines at Afrinoon, taking down a tree that is dead or in danger of falling.
Taking down trees that are already dead or close to falling. Slow, considered, on purpose.

People ask us all the time why we leave the dead trees standing rather than dropping them straight away. Glen’s answer is pretty simple: a dead tree takes up a lot less space upright than it does on the ground. Once it falls, you have to cut it up, move it, stack it, and deal with it, and it starts rotting much faster once it is in contact with the damp soil. Leaving a stable dead tree standing until the moment you need it is just more practical. And while it stands, it is still doing something useful, providing habitat for insects and birds, which matters to us.

A neat stack of split Sitka pine logs at Afrinoon, drying ready for winter heating. These came from trees too damaged to mill.
Logs stacked to dry for winter heating. These came from trees too damaged to mill.

Nothing goes to waste

When a tree does come down, we make sure nothing gets wasted. Every branch gets chipped. That chip goes straight onto the pathways around the property. It keeps the mud down in wet weather, makes the site much easier to work in, and over time it breaks down completely into rich, dark soil. A branch becomes a path becomes fertility. That kind of loop is at the heart of how we try to run this place.

A tall mound of fresh wood chip on the Afrinoon plantation, made from the branches of trees we have taken down.
One of our most valuable resources. Wood chip from the branches of every tree we take down.

Not every trunk is suitable for milling into planks. The trees that have been heavily infected by the bark beetle are not worth putting through the sawmill, as the wood is too compromised. But they are far from useless. That wood goes straight into our home heating system and our log burning hot tub. It burns well and heats the house and the water, so even the most damaged trees end up contributing something. The wood we do mill into planks comes from trees where the timber is still in good condition. It is sound, clean wood that can be turned into something lasting.

Free-range pigs at Afrinoon rooting through bramble and ivy on the plantation floor, clearing the ground around the pines.
We used pigs to clear ivy and bramble so Glen could pull the wood out more easily. A small loop inside a bigger one.

Why we never clear-felled

Clear-felling was never really something we considered. It would have left the ground in a terrible state, and the money from selling the timber commercially would have been a fraction of what we get by using it ourselves. Wood prices have gone through the roof since Covid and they have not come back down. Every plank, fence post, and beam we mill ourselves is money we are not spending.

A run of post-and-rail fencing at Afrinoon, all milled from our own Sitka pine, defining a sheep and pig paddock.
Fencing for the sheep and pig areas. All milled from our own trees.

Upgrading the sawmill

We started out with a Logosol Farmers sawmill, which was a decent enough starting point. It was quiet, affordable, and Glen could use it to cut planks from the logs. But it ran off a chainsaw, which meant it was slow and there was a fair amount of wastage. Over time we decided to upgrade, sold the Logosol, and invested in a Norwood NM26 bandsaw mill in 2020. It can cut planks up to 6.5 metres long and it has completely changed what is possible here.

We have not bought in timber for any project on the property since. We have even started milling wood for friends and neighbours on small projects locally.

Glen with the newly delivered Norwood NM26 bandsaw mill at Afrinoon in 2020, set up under the trees.
Freshly milled Sitka pine planks coming off the Norwood NM26 bandsaw at Afrinoon, the cut faces still pale.
A Sitka pine log loaded directly onto the Norwood NM26 framing bed at Afrinoon, ready to be milled into planks.
Glen’s 2020 Norwood NM26 (left), the milled planks that changed what is possible here (centre), and a log straight from the plantation onto the framing bed (right).

Built from our own land

Once you have your own mill, the property starts changing shape. Buildings appear that would never have been worth commissioning. Shelters, kitchens, animal housing. Each one a small piece of permanent value that came out of a tree we would otherwise have lost.

The outdoor kitchen for the yurt area at Afrinoon, framed and clad in our own milled Sitka pine.
A timber goat house at Afrinoon, framed and clad entirely in our own milled wood, with the goats grazing nearby.
A small cluster of duck houses at Afrinoon, all built from our sustainable on-site wood supply.
The yurt's outdoor kitchen, the goat house, and the duck houses. All built from wood we cut, milled, and dried ourselves.

Common sense, on the land

It is one of those things that sounds complicated but is really just common sense. The trees are dying anyway. The wood has value. We have the tools to use it. So we do.

This whole system, the selective felling, the chipping, the milling, the pathways turning to soil, the infected wood heating the house, is a real-life example of the permaculture principles we will be exploring during our PDC course at Afrinoon this summer, running from the 23rd of July to the 7th of August. We will not just be talking about these ideas in theory. We will be walking you around the land and showing you exactly how they work in practice.

Karen and Glen Noon together in the cab of their truck at Afrinoon, both smiling at the camera.
Karen and Glen. We will be the ones walking you through the plantation.

If you would like to walk this land and see the loops up close, take a look at our summer PDC course.

Visit Afrinoon

Learn permaculture on the land that taught us

Our two-week residential PDC runs 23 July to 7 August. Walk the plantation, work the mill, see the loops close.