I climb the ladder leading to the scaffold tower and haul myself on to the platform, followed by the bucket of cement I have mixed myself. I am about to “lay a bed” for a stone window seal and “point up the wall”. If you had asked me this morning, as I sat nursing my coffee in the dining room of the Othona Community near Bridport, Dorset, what either of these things meant, I wouldn’t have had a clue. But somehow, in the course of the morning, I have become a stonemason. That’s the thing about volunteering: in giving your time to a good cause, it allows you to also grow in confidence, stretch yourself and learn something new.

The Othona Communities in Essex and Dorset are dedicated to simple living and a down-to-earth spirituality centred around Christianity, but are open to all, particularly those who feel uncertain of their faith or are on the margins of traditional church going. They offer retreats on everything from writing and singing to astronomy. I am here for one of their regular residential working holidays.

The community’s stone-clad guesthouse is in six acres of gardens amid the pine-scented woodlands above Chesil Beach, where groups of men and women are gathering apples from the orchards, making compost bins and laying turf. As they work alongside each other with the sun on their backs, friendships are forming and confidences are shared.

Everyone’s skills are valued: two women are spending the day making new curtains for the guest rooms. “I love sewing,” one of them says, “but I never find the time to do it at home.” Another makes the best Dorset apple cake ever: sweet, crunchy and gooey, perfect after a day of grafting.

Stone masonry is not part of my natural skill set, but having recently bought an ancient house, I am keen to learn and welcome the instruction I receive from the community’s builder and a fellow volunteer who turns out to be a building surveyor. Together, they show me how to mix concrete and wield a trowel and hawk, the name for the board that holds the mortar.

Over the past few years, I have regularly taken time out to volunteer for a few days at Othona. On the journey down I sometimes wonder why, when my own garden is a jungle and my house is crumbling, I am giving up my weekend to help others. But I always leave knowing I have gained far more from the experience than I have given. People give their time to these charities because they believe in what they are trying to achieve and want to give something back. But they return again and again because, like me, they feel that what they receive is of equal value.

These kind of low-cost, residential working holidays are becoming rarer. As a young woman trying to carve out a career in wildlife conservation, I took part in TCV (The Conservation Volunteers) and National Trust working holidays, both of which have ended, the victims of Covid lockdowns and budget squeezes. These days you have to dig deeper to find similar experiences available on a budget.

Othona works hard to keep costs low and offers a substantial discount on food and accommodation for their working weekends, as well as a bursary scheme. They are committed to giving everyone a chance to have a moment’s respite from a hectic world.

The RSPB also has residential breaks for volunteers to experience life as a warden on its nature reserves at Dungeness in Kent and Rathlin Island off the coast of County Antrim. And the Mountain Bothies Association has work parties throughout the year where you can pitch in to maintain their vital shelters for hill walkers.

Through volunteering, I’ve learned a broad range of life skills, from baking bread and pruning apple trees at Othona to improving my birding knowledge and confidence in sharing my passion for wildlife with others while volunteering for the RSPB. That experience helped me decide on my career.

Volunteer holidays abroad with organisations such as Workaway have given me a depth of understanding of a country’s culture that you could never get as a tourist. I have taught in schools in the Arctic, built earth ships in Florida and learned how to be “top dog” when feeding a wolf pack on a rehabilitation project in Russia. Volunteering meant being treated as a valued part of a community, not an outsider.

I believe that working alongside each other and giving to a common cause fulfils an essential human need to be a social species, working with our hands for the sake of our communities or for something bigger than ourselves.

I found this out during six years of running weekly conservation volunteer group tasks. I soon realised that during the hours I spent coppicing or fencing alongside the volunteers, all my self-doubts dissolved. I laughed more freely and felt more certain of myself. And I saw a similar effect on others. Young people suffering from depression and older people needing companionship all benefited. Volunteering has a habit of fast tracking a sense of closeness with the people you are working with, an experience I wrote about in my book, The Volunteers.

What I learned was that by giving my time to something I cared about, my own worries were put into perspective. There is evidence that doing good for others can make you more optimistic about life in general. Studies show that altruistic people report higher life satisfaction and experience fewer symptoms of depression.

But Othona is not all about work. Over the next few days I play skittles in a rickety wooden bowling alley behind a pub, high-fiving a woman as hopeless at it as me. I venture to the Seaside Sauna Haus at Seatown and run screaming and giggling into the icy waves with three people I have only just met. I swap life stories with trapeze artists, teachers and dieticians over delicious homecooked food and, yes, by the end of the week, I find myself talking bolster chisels and cement mix ratios like a pro.

Volunteering holidays are not for everyone. They are not about putting your feet up on a sun lounger. They are not a spa break. They generally do not involve luxury accommodation, en suite facilities or a hot tub on the decking. They are for people expecting to put on mismatching work gloves, roll up their sleeves and muck in. Many of these organisations would not survive without the free labour that volunteers offer, but that doesn’t make me or anyone else taking part in the working weekend a saint. I may drive there questioning my sanity for giving up my free time to others but I always drive home knowing my time has been well spent and planning my return.

How to find a volunteering break that suits you

• Choose to give your time to a cause you care about or an organisation that sparks your curiosity. Working for something you believe in should make giving your time for free a pleasure. Alternatively, follow your curiosity to discover more about an offbeat destination or company.

• If paying to volunteer, ask how much of your money goes to the organisation you are helping. Paid volunteer opportunities can do a huge amount of good to support small charities in less wealthy countries, but make sure your money finds its way into the pockets of the people you are working for or alongside.

• Ask to see testimonials from other volunteers to ensure your chosen project will match your expectations. Some organisations offer research or experiences like wildlife tracking, but if you are hoping that volunteering may help further a career path, ask lots of questions to ensure the experience will be of real value and you don’t find yourself undertaking fruitless or menial tasks.

• Clarify how many hours you will be expected to volunteer each day and when you will be able to take time off for leisure. This is particularly true when volunteering for private individuals through companies such as Workaway. Ironing out the details before arriving can protect everyone from misunderstandings and strained relationships.

• Don’t expect luxury. If an organisation needs your help, it probably can’t afford to provide smart accommodation. You may need to bring your own towel and, in some cases, bed linen.

• Step outside your comfort zone. Othona is a Christian retreat centre but is open to people of all faiths and none. Volunteers tend to be welcoming and interesting people, and working with others helps break down barriers.

Carol Donaldson is the author of The Volunteers: A Memoir of Conservation, Companionship and Community (Summersdale, £10.99). Order a copy for £9.89 from guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply