I went into the woods and found Gimli.
A wander through a Kintyre temperate rainforest.
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Are you ever drawn to take a different path - just because? I’m not talking here about a great adventure, a hike, even the need for a map. With the Kilbrannan Sound to my east, navigation is seldom that tricky. This week I did just that, stepped off my usual well trodden path, drawn by the smoothness of the faint bracken track running alongside an old moss covered dyke. It’s caught my eye before, and now the bracken lay flat and dry, tempting as less of a trip hazard than usual, so I wandered , curious, wondering what the tree lined headland would reveal to me.
Gnarled hawthorn sprang from adjacent to the wall, laden with a bounty of silver green usnea, hairy filaments of lichen dangling in bunches from the branches, dessicated today. Beautiful as they were, these were not the trees I was looking for. The path continued to run straight ahead, flat, kind on my unreliable knee, and the sciatica that surges like fire along my right leg, taking my breath away. One of the downsides of ageing. I have a walking pole with me, refuse to give in and stop my exploring, convinced that keeping walking keeps the pain at bay, my knee awaits a replacement sometime later this year (really I am terrified that I will have weeks of not walking on rough ground). I am cautious though, I’m a fair distance from help and it’s cold, a wind that ignores clothing, so insistent it reaches my bones beneath my layers.
The sea roars, pounding waves crash on the shore, sucking the pebbles back in a churning whoosh before the next roller arrives. And the waves do roll in on Saddell Bay smoothing the pebbles to exquisite silky paperweights that tell stories of eons of Earths history. The sound remains with me as I walk inland, this is a place that I experience with every sense, it is overwhelming in a way that has me giving in to nature. I am nature, a part of this, awake to her, unable to read her messages clearly, listening all the same. Human language and forgotten Celtic heritage getting in the way of my ability to hear. As I continue, I notice a change, difficult to describe. Perhaps the shapes of the trees alter, the trees and shrubs closest to me, willow, birch and gorse restrict my view into the woods behind, and yet I sense change. Maybe without conciously doing so I notice that the canopy is altering in some way, perhaps it’s the play of light onto the boggy ground below, the ground that I am avoiding, skirting around using islands of bracken to traverse the thin boundary into the woods. I follow Billy, reliable for finding a dry route where possible. I duck slowly and awkwardly under some branches, et voila, a true temperate rainforest Oak. Not tall, her boughs have turned inwards over many years, reaching further into the woods, boughs three of four times as long as her trunk, stretching away from the sea, away from the insistent tug of the wind. She is magnificent, and I am full of delight to make her acquaintance. She stands squatly in a glade, trunk white with crustose lichen, it’s as though lesser trees give her space, allow her to grow old in peace. Around her, fallen branches, there is dead wood on her torso too. She is old this Oak, a survivor, my introduction into these small Tolkienesque woods.
Approaching the Oak, and the sea becomes a quiet hum in the background, sound is muffled here, different forces are at work. This is a gentle woods, encouraging, with small trails upwards leading me on, perfect sized gaps through moss covered boulders, more oaks to entice me. Trees bedecked with lichen, Lobaria pulmonaria (tree lungwort), Pertusaria sp, Sticta sp, Deglia atlantica, and so many more to record on another day.
As I ascend the hill, (so much for my flat path), the trees change, to my left a dense copse of hazel, with more hazel interspersed higher up too.
I can’t descend here, am not fit to face a steeper hill today. To my right though I spy another hazel for me to explore just off the path. Irresistible Hazel, magnificent tree, I reject the term scrub to describe this extraordinary being. I could write a whole essay just on the merits of hazel, their beauty, longevity, their importance to nature, their value to humans. Today though I find a gorgeous glue fungus (Hymenochaete sp) creating a sculpture. A marvel of nature, the glue fungus traps falling twigs, and quite big branches too, sticking them to the bark of the hazel tree, breaking them down to provide local nutrients to feed it. Occasionally a hazel glove fungus grows on top, parasitising the glue fungus so I am led to believe. The mechanisms are unknown, the mystery and magic remain, but I see faeries using these hanging twigs as climbing frames for their games.
Adding to the magic I find a stash of treasure, squirrel treasure, hidden beneath a mossy boulder, dozens of chewed acorns, reminders that winter still has its grip on this place.
Further up the hill, yes I am still climbing, better up than down for my legs, I know, every climb does have a downside! I walk into a beech wood, trees that would have spread from the estate land most likely, magnificent, towering beautiful favourites of Victorians no doubt. They get a bad reputation for shading our rainforest trees, and maybe that is so, but they also provide homes for a multitude of lichen, moss and liverwort, and I am incapable of disliking a tree (Plantation Sitka’s push that but its not their fault!). I am cautious though, the wind in the tree tops is still fierce, and beech trees are known as “widow makers” for their tendency to drop branches to help them balance their weight. I don’t linger here long, and keep a wary eye on Billy too. Taking a diagonal through the beech woods, I arrive at one that is utterly magnificent. Broken a long time ago, it has thickened and regrown, Gimli amongst the giants.
Squat as this tree is, its canopy fits perfectly into the rounded curve of the rainforest trees, low to the ground, and resistant to the weather. Twisted curled branches interweave to carefully give each leaf its time in the occasional sunshine. Upwards I go, knowing that it is time to find a gentle descent. The bracken is flattened in deer tracks, but they go onwards and I know that I need to get down nearer to the back of the little woodland.
The noise of the sea has returned, and we see over and through the trees now. Billy and I traverse, Billy with no effort, me with painful cautious steps. Finding at last a deer trail that will take me down again, through the dense and brutal gorse bushes, covered all year in their yellow blooms, not scented of coconut yet, that’s a treat for spring. Following pathfinder Billy I emerge back at the bothy by the sea, a meadow of brown bracken interspersed with white clumps of snowdrops, popping their heads out, early arrivals in winter.
We make our way back along the footpath above the beach, Saddell Castle now without scaffolding looking spruce and bright in the distance. The Avenue as always lovely to walk along, swathes of snowdrops under the tall trees, some so old they have split apart, many of those big beech toppled by the winds, their roots shallow for such a massive tree.
I made a little video of the walk, so that you can share the complicated, multilayered woods with me. It’s a bit of an experiment with iPhone videos combined in Rush with some Rush soundtrack added, let me know what you think.
What have I listened to this week, The Photowalk Podcast of course, and I have just been introduced to London Writers Salon - thank you
who finished her brilliant Write for Love Write for money course, I higly recommend it!Do let me know if you have enjoyed this piece of random wonderings. Thank you for reading, especially of you got this far:)
I enjoyed the walk with you – there's nothing like wandering off a familiar route to find new natural wonders. The video adds another dimension. I think the hazelnuts were probably eaten by mice or voles, because squirrels tend to crack them open. We have similar stashes under rocks in our hazel wood.
Wow this was fascinating! It looks a very tranquil place.
I love that you're still getting out and exploring, even though it sounds challenging for you. Sometimes the slower we go, the more we notice 😊
Had no idea about glue fungus, how interesting! Also, loved the squirrel stash 😅