An Experiment in Nettle Fibre Extraction

Recently the interest in nettle fibre production has grown a lot. Fashion designers tend to use more sustainable resources and nettle is on their agenda now for some time.
Extracting fibre from the Stinging Nettle, Urtica dioica, is nothing new throughout Europe.
Ötzi, the Tyrolean Iceman (dated between 3400 and 3100 BCE), used nettle fibres for the fletching of his arrows, he secured the feathers with fine nettle thread.
Then there is an interesting find from Denmark. In Voldtofte a shroud was found which consisted of fine woven nettle fabric. The fibres were analyzed and the results showed that the nettle fibre or the fabric itself was imported from the Styria region in Austria. This shows how important nettle production must have been during the Bronze Age, though flax already was cultivated and used for fibre purposes, too.
Later, in the 18th century, there have been endeavours to commercialize nettle cultivation on a big scale in Europe, but since nettle only has a fibre content of ca. 10%, other fibre plants were preferred.
During WWI there was no chance for Germany to geht hold of cotton, especially needed for durable uniforms. So people were asked to collect nettle stems and to bring them to collecting points. Farmers got money for cultivating nettle. Posters were found throughout Germany:

It was only after WWII, that nettle and other native fibre plants in most parts of Europe were replaced with cotton, since it was available again and the production costs got cheaper and cheaper.


Now, here is my own little experiment with nettle fibre.

It started with a bit of already processed fibre which I got from a friend at Lauresham. These fibres are carded and bleached. I spun this test batch on a drop spindle and I like the result. I plan to weave a little test patch from it soon, to see how it will behave when woven.

 So, the next step was to try to get fibre from fresh nettles. When Fimbulmyrk was here over the weekend, we took some tea with us and went into the forest. We gathered some nettle stalks and sat down on a big tree stump.

This is only one possibility to process nettles, there are many more and it seems that everyone doing this has their own tricks and preferences.

First of all we had to get rid of the leaves. But you can't strip them off like you wold do with peppermint, holding the tip and running your hand along the stem, as you would tear off some of the precious fibre, too. So you need to start at the bottom part. put on some gloves and pull the leaves and side stalks off very gently.

Now you should have some nice naked nettle stems. To get rid of the little hair which cause the stinging, run your hands along the stems a few times to brake off the hair.

In the next step you have to break the nodes. We took a random Stone from the ground and gently broke those thicker parts of the stem with it.

Now for the fun part: Scraping off the fibres with a knife while rotating the stem in your hand

Here is a little video showing the technique a bit closer:

What you end up with should look something like this:

With some of the fibres I then started a little experiment in itself. I made a simple cottage cheese by stirring some vinegar in warm milk. Then I took some of the fibres and put them in the remaining whey, weighted down with a saucer. I had initially planned to leave the fibre soaked only for some days, but life got in the way and I ended up with several weeks.

  But to my relief the fibres were still fine and the majority of wood particles had fermented away, as I had hoped for. The fibres are a bight brighter in colour now and much softer than the ones I only dried:

But I couldn't wait and since it was quite warm the fibres dried fast and I could do some test carding and spinning the same evening and I have to say, I was quite pleased.

Well, as I wrote, there were some weeks before I returned to my appartment. But that time wasn't nettleless, oh no! I camped at a medieval event and I had the opportunity to show people my endeavours in fibre extraction. They all were very interested, especially the children couldn't believe that this soft fibre once stung!
I told how to extract the fibres and showed how to card and spin them.

So, I guess, there is more to come soon! :D
And Fimbulmyrk seems to like working with nettles, too. When he arrived here for the weekend the last time, he showed me some lovely cord which he had made from nettle fibres and he brought me flowers! A whole bag full. Stripped ones. Well, nettle fibre, yes. And I like it a lot!

Oh, and the good thing about stinging nettle is, after stripping the leaves off and doing some hard work scraping, carding and spinning, you can reward yourself with some nettle tasties, like this pasta sauce frome nettle leaves, cream, salt, pepper and nutmeg.

 What a plant!

Middle - Earth Trollhunter Ranger Quest

 We were a bit tired of our hole in the ground and decided to have a look and make sure everything was fine in the woods.
We made our way up the hill and over the meadows which already had a autumn-like feel to them.
We passed some plum trees and hedges of brambles and filled our bellies.
Then we came across some beautiful weed, once known as Athelas, now forgotten by the inhabitants of this realm and only remembered as chickweed.

 Not far from these plants we stumbled nto a deep hole, which we then recognised as the giant footprints of... TROLLS! It was stamped into the moist ground, but we could see that this must have happened some nights ago and we could neither smell nor hear any suspicious stench or noise and went on.

(Not without taking some of the glorious Athelas plant, of course.)

For fear of the mighty troll (and presumeably of its nasty smell, too, you know, troll poo´s odour CAN kill), this little snail retrieved into a bigger house and brought its old one with it)

And lo! And behold! We caught a glimpse of the most rare and beautiful of sights in these later days-one of the most valiant and majestically radiant of the ancestors of horses appeared on the brim of the worls to give guidance and counsil to us without word. 

 But alas! We could not remain on the sun-blessed plains of the horse-lords, but had to venture where our duty led us without remorse; into the murky halls of ancient and nightmare-ridden woods we had to venture. People these days call us wayward, as rovers and ramblers and roamers of the wild we are denounced amongst manfolk. And yet would they not sleep unpeaceful were it not for the striders in the green keeping clear their sleep from the nightmares of the wilderness, from troll and orc and evil spirit? Mushrooms are bred in the crevices of the murken halls of the dark backwoods, creatures foul and sinister walk the wold with ill-befitting grace.

Sounds haunt the wild we can seldom fathom; and it is fear beyond comprehension that besets the wanderer.

Oh yes, we too are hunted by creatures foul and dark, but also by manfolk not knowing it is we that save their borders from the critters of the void.

So we practiced a bit our stealth and camouflage techniques.

...like this, see...?

 Into the deeper thicket, under ancient and somber halls we went...

...on our heroic quest. For we had heard, that in the deepest darkness , the shning shroud of everlasting twilight, there it is that flourishes the greatest weapon in the war against the trolls...

The almighty mushroom of troll-decapitation. for it is when a troll dares to eat just a tiny little bite of this almighty concoction of nature, it goes wild and is said to recognize its own ugliness in the mirror of a pond (trolls normally are not intelligent enough to see any connection between their mirror image and their own individuality), and, with due self-agnition, tries to get rid of its own head.

Dumb as a castle wall, it decapitates itself by banging its head against a tree sturdy enough to stand up to such abuse.

We quested far, we quested wide, and yet all we found were the creatures of Myrkwood. We asked this beetle who was enjoying aleisurely evening stroll around the block, and he hinted the one and only almighty mushroom of troll-self-decapitational might were growing beyond the mountains of stump, far away, where but few of his kin had ever roamed... erm.. two metres away.
 

Okay, we were lying.

He had no clue whatsoever. But this is a tale of a glorious quest after all!

So on we went on the quest and feasted our eyes on the sight of those ancient hills, where still sleep the heroes of old.

But what had we to endure? The sight of a troll who had broken down a whole forest... he even left shreds of its ugly loincloth hanging in the branches, or maybe his handkerchief. We were not sure if it were troll snot or an even uglier substance, so we steered well clear of the shreds... they stank bad enough, that much we can tell you. But the life of a ranger is full of hardships.

So rest it was we needed, be it just to recover from that smell, so we made camp to rest and to feast on our forage.

Abstembious indeed are the victualies a ranger often has to be content with. A bowl of fruit, some mushrooms and a drink of herb and spring water.

And yet, company makes hardship less annoying and eases the effort.;-)

...

 ...

 The tree of Gondor, even if clothing often is held simple and practical, is the one asset of pomp we allow ourselves in our frugal lives. It keeps a memory alife of a time long gone by, when the world was bathed in the twilight of the ancient trees of sun and moon and is a banner and a talisman against the forces of Evil.

 For the evil eye keeps an even more closer scrutiny on the servants of light, the warriors of dreams. It watches even through a cuppa tea.

Bugger off, Sauron, we are eating!

Then dim became light, and on we went on our patrol through the thicket.

The strange oaken fruit that spill the thoughts of poets from light and wind and sun and rain onto script not yet written led us on to our path towards the monster mushroom of troll decapitation...

And, growing in the underbrush, under a bush, beneath a tree, did I say already under a bush, there it grew from its root, deeply submerged in the subterranean:

THE MUSHROOM ITS VERY SELF.

So, mission accomplished, we went on our merry way...

...under moon and over meadow...

...

To a place where the Méaras still ride.

Hexenringe und der stärkste Mann der Welt

Als Fimbulmyrk letztes Mal hier war hat es zwar de meiste Zeit davor geregnet, weswegen Frau Mondjungs und meine Idee von einem gemütlichen Abend mit Lagerfeuer, Musik, gutem Essen und lieben Menschen unterm Sternenhimmel etwas reduziert werden musste. Letztendlich saßen Herr und Frau Mondjung, Fimbulmyrk und ich im Pub, der an diesem Abend die Sommerpause einleutete und die Fässer leerte. Allerdings haben wir uns nicht von der Idee von gutem Essen und Musik abbringen lassen und tatsächlich fröhlich vor uns hingeklampft *g*

Am nächsten Tag machte der Regen dann tatsächlich eine kleine Pause und Fimbulmyrk und ich verschwanden für ein paar Stunden in die Botanik.

Nachdem wir gleich zu Beginn diverse Elster- und Greifvogelfedern gefunden hatten, kam noch eine kleine Überraschung. Als ich ein paar Tage zuvor an der Moosbank war, hatte sich der Baumstumpf daneben schon in einen Pferdekopf verwandelt, aber diesmal war der Kopf noch feiner ausgearbeitet worden.

 

  

 Nicht nur wir waren in der regenfreien Zeit geschäftig, auch auf den weißen Blütendolden am Wegesrand war mächtig was los.

 Im Wald fanden wir allerlei Lustiges, unter anderem diese alte Kugelhantel. Vermutlich warhier vor über hundert Jahren der stärkste Mann der Welt mit seinem hölzernen Wohnwagen vorbeigekommen, auf dem Weg zum nächsten Jahrmarkt. Entweder hatte er in der Kurve zu viel Schwung und die Hantel dadurch verloren, oder seine Frau mochte das alte Ding nicht mehr und hat es einfach im Wald entsorgt. Das ist allerdings nur reine Spekulation ;)

  

Massen von diesen Blassen Korallen standen im feuchten Klima auch im Wald herum, schön brav in Reihen und Kreisen

Und die Hexenringe waren von gar seltsamem Treiben erfüllt *g*

Lustige lila Pilze gab es auch (Raka, kann man mit denen evtl auch färben? Mit Pilzfärberei kenn ich mich leider überhaupt nicht aus) und nahe am Weg standen sogar einige Weiße Waldvögelein:

Der Ehrenpreis glänzte schön nach dem Regen :)

Nach einem kleinen Marsch durch Felder mit diversen Kräuterfunden kamen wir irgendwann am Kletterwald an, wo für den Notfall vorgesorgt ist *g*

Das nasse Wetter lockt alle Schnecken der Umgebung aus ihren Verstecken, auch dieses wollige Exemplar ;)