A Terrific Time on the Tree Trail!

The weather has turned vile again – cold, wet, grey and gloomy. But early last week the sky was blue, the sun shone, birds sang, flowers bloomed and it was hot, hot, hot. Aa, I thought, we’ve skipped spring and gone straight to summer! It was so nice that Elder Daughter (who travelled up from Plymouth for my birthday and stayed several days) joined me on a walk around the Tree Trail at a local park and we sat on the grass and enjoyed a picnic in the sunshine, and she wore her sunglasses, and I wore my floppy sunhat. So here are some pictures I took for my  Saturday Snapshot.

Picnic in the Park... In the sunshine... Whatever that may be!

  Wigginton Park is one of the many places I haven’t been to for years and years and years, so our morning’s outing was part of my ‘Exploring the Local Area and Doing Something Different’ plan. Like most of Tamworth’s ‘wild’ spaces it’s a fairly small area, and is bounded by houses, roads and a railway line, but it’s got a fascinating history, and is a fabulous green oasis in an urban area, boasting rare trees and a wealth of wildlife. We saw grey squirrels, as wells as all kinds of birds, insects and butterflies, and came away feeling as if we’d had a trip to the country. 

Wigginton Lodge, Tamworth: Built by fashionable women's surgeon John
Clarke and his wife Elizabeth in the early days if the !9th Century. 

A view of the park with trees, grass and blue sky!

Way back in the 18th Century Tamworth Town Clerk Charles Oakes (which is such an apt name considering the tree trail) had a farm here, but by the early 19th Century the land was owned by John Clarke, who was a top surgeon specialising in women’s diseases. He and his wife Elizabeth built a small mansion there (today it is known as Wigginton Lodge, and is the headquarters of Tamworth Rugby Club), as well as a lodge and a farmhouse, both of which have long-since vanished. The estate was later inherited by John Clarke’s brother Charles, an even more famous  surgeon, who also specialised in women’s diseases and must have been very fashionable and highly respected because he was personal physician to Queen Adelaide, wife of King William IV, and was made a baron in 1831 in recognition of his services to womankind.

Anyway, it was John and Elizabeth who created a 45-acre park on the site, with grass and trees - some imported from abroad at great expense. Amazingly, the area has survived changes in ownership, and modern development (which destroyed an awful lot of old Tamworth) and is now a public park, which includes rugby pitches and a play area for children.  And at its heart are the trees, featuring some planted by the Clarkes 200 years ago.

Bloom along the bough... Trees and bushes were laden
with blossom in shades of pink and white.

My favourites were probably the two Giant Redwoods which, despite their size, have strange, spongy bark which is soft like cardboard – so said the online guide (Elder Daughter’s mobile came in handy again!) and we felt the bark, and the information was spot-on.  Apparently the bark protects the trees from the intense heat of forest fires in the Sierra Nevada mountains of California, which is the place they grow naturally. Isn’t that a wonderful example of the way evolution ensures plants are perfectly adapted to their habitat? And how incredible to think that a tree native to that one special environment can still flourish here in damp, cold England!

What a whopper! This should be Sequoiadendron Giganteum.

I was so intrigued I looked them up and discovered Sequoiadendron Giganteum (also known as (Wellingtonia) are the world’s largest trees. The bark can grow up to three feet thick, and they can survive for several millennia – apparently one recorded specimen is 3,500 years old.  Europeans first came across them in 1830, but it wasn’t until the 1850s that plant collectors started to bring seed back to the UK, so park founders John and Elizabeth obviously never knew about this species, but I’m sure they would have liked the idea of something new and exotic becoming a feature at their old home.

Chestnut Avenue: Trees still mark the line of the old driveway.

Landmarks include ‘Bomb Holes’, which are almost certainly where people extracted clay and marl, and are nothing to do with war. These days they’re full of trees, bushes and flowers, providing perfect sites for nesting birds and sheltered homes for other wildlife. In addition there are little woodland copses, and the remains of the old avenue of trees that once lined the main driveway to Wigginton Lodge, where you can see the ridge in the ground where the drive was, though it does not photograph all that clearly.

I loved the roots and dappled shade of this tree, perched up on the edge
 of a 'Bomb Hole' that owes its existence to quarrying rather than war.

We spotted the Holm Oak, a native of the Mediterranean, with leaves that look like holly (that’s how it got its name, because holm is thought to be the Anglo Saxon for holly). And we recognised a dead elm, and saw the marks left by ambrosia beetles which bored into the trunk. The beetles are not as heavenly as they sound, for they were responsible for the spread of Dutch Elm Disease, which killed this tree, along with thousands of others throughout England. The dead tree has been left to provide a habitat for flora and fauna, which seems a good idea. 

 And there’s a walnut tree, looking as if it’s on its last legs, but apparently its roots are strong so it is healthy, despite the drunken angle it stands at! We were interested to learn that because walnuts look like brains, Greeks and Romans believed they cured headaches, and whilst I can’t vouch for the truth of that it sounds a pretty good reason for eating walnuts, which are delicious.

Elder Daughter says this is the walnut the tree, and she was the 
Electronic Map Reader, so I hope she's right!

I wanted to try out a bit of Natural Navigation, as advocated by Tristan Gooley, but we had quite enough trouble trying to follow the map (an aerial photo which looks quite different to the way things are on the ground) and identifying trees. The details and photos on the website are excellent, but if you not an expert it is incredibly difficult trying to decide which tree is which. Consequently, although I took lots of photos, I still have no idea which trees they show! Obviously, it’s always tricky balancing the needs of visitors against the need to protect and conserve the environment, but simple, numbered wooden posts would help - or, better still, get local sculptors and artists involved to design waymarkers. And a display board near the main entrance (the one promoted on the website) would be good.

The road through the woods...

However, I shouldn’t complain because it was a wonderful morning, and I’ll definitely go back – armed with a print-out of the map, photos and information and a book on trees!

Trunk call... Looking skyward!

There’s an ongoing programme of planting, improvement and management at Wigginton Park, and a volunteer Friends group carries out work under the the Wild About Tamworth initiative, funded by site owner Tamworth Borough Council, and Staffordshire Wildlife Trust, so full marks to them all for giving us such a lovely, enjoyable spot, which deserves o better known - but if more people used it, then it wouldn't be as peaceful as it was during our visit.

Little Fir Trees... Well, not so little really, since they are very tall conifers... Scots Pines I think...

Saturday Snapshot is hosted by Alyce at http://athomewithbooks.net/2013/05/saturday-snapshot-may-18/. Press on the link to see more photographs taken by participants.

Canal... Railway... and Footpath

A walk through the wood - but the trail is not
much wider than the path

Step out on the Ledbury Town Trail and you are walking along a route that’s more than 200 years old, and has seen the rise and fall of two major forms of transport. For this narrow strip of land that’s now used by walkers and cyclists was once a railway line, and before that it was a canal. It’s a long time since I’ve been along it - when my daughters were small we used to come here sometimes to do bark rubbings and collect leaves.

Anyway, whilst staying with my mother at the beginning of the month I thought it would be ideal for one of my daily walks, so I went off exploring, on a rather bleak day, and very pleasant it was. I was surprised at how many male blackbirds were about, singing non-stop, hopping, and preening, flying in and out of the hedges and trees, and generally showing off their glossy black plumage and beautiful bright yellowy orange beaks. They were, as my mother always says, fine fellows – and they knew it. I don’t know why, but the females were less evident. I did try taking some photos, but I need a camera with a better shutter speed and decent zoom lens.  However, I did take some pictures for this week's Saturday Snapshot.

This is a bit blurry, but you can see the
wonderful patterns made by ivy stems.

There were lots of other birds (mainly sparrows I guess), and grey squirrels, which get everywhere nowadays, but these ones weren't as tame as the those back home in Tamworth.  And, of course, plenty of trees. I'm not very good at identifying trees, but I can recognise holly when I see it, and there did seem to be a great many hollies, as well as masses and masses of ivy, which writhed and twisted around the trunks, with the old stems creating weird patterns.

The trail skirts the town centre, with part of it passing alongside the recreation ground, and for much of the way there are houses on either side, but it’s so well lined with trees, hedges and shrubby plants that you don’t notice them, and its very peaceful. Some of it is down lower than the surrounding land, in a cutting where the canal (and then the railway) once ran, but further along the track  is on a kind of ridge or embankment, slightly higher than the land on each side.

From a distance I thought this tree was covered in white
blossom, which would have been odd at this time of year,
but it turned out to be fluffy seedheads from Old Man's
Beard twined around the branches.

I didn’t really know much about it, so I did a bit of research, and ended up feeling that the history is really rather sad. Back at the end of the 18th century people had high hopes that the Hereford and Gloucester Canal would boost trade in Ledbury but the project never lived up to expectations, and it was never a commercial success. Excavations were difficult, and the cost was far greater than estimated, so when the waterway opened in 1798 it only ran from Gloucester to Ledbury, and wasn’t linked to Hereford until 1845. But things still didn’t improve and eventually, in 1881, the first section of the route was closed, and replaced by the Ledbury and Gloucester Railway.   

It was known as the Daffodil Line, because of the wild daffodils which still grow in the area, and journeys must have been really pretty in spring when the flowers were in bloom, but I get the impression that the railway was no more successful than the canal. Originally double track, one set of rails was taken up in 1914 – it’s thought they were melted down and used for the war effort – so after that it would have been more difficult to run frequent services. Passenger trains ceased in 1959, and although freight transport was still in operation until the line closed in 1964, a victim of the Government cuts which shut thousands of stations and branch lines up and down the country. 

I love the way ivy has made patterns on trees.

The trains on this track stopped at Ledbury Town Halt, which has long since disappeared, but after I’d finished my walk I discovered where it used to be, so next time I visit Mum I can find the site – and I missed out the beginning and the end of the trail, so I need to go back and do the whole thing. That’s what comes of not checking your facts beforehand!

I gather some neighbouring towns and villages also have paths running along the line of the canal, while an ambitious scheme is under way to restore the waterway. So on future visits to Mum I’m hoping to see the work that’s already been completed, and maybe walk along other parts of this lost transport route.

Markings, knots and holes on tree trunks were very strange.
I think this looks like eyes and a nose.

Saturday Snapshot is hosted by Alyce at http://athomewithbooks.net/ where you can see photos from other participants all over the world.

The Natural Navigator

I am the first to admit I am not a good navigator. I have no sense of direction whatsoever, and if I’m walking or driving I can lose myself quite easily, even in the area where I have lived for more than 30 years – an achievement (if it could be called that!) which reduces the Man of the House to a quivering wreck. And it’s even worse if he drives and expects me to be the route-finder, as I’m always ill if I read while travelling, and I’ve never managed the art of successful map reading. Up in Cumbria one year I sent us miles in the opposite direction to where we were going because, as the MotH eventually discovered, I had the map aligned the wrong way, and it was upside down...

So the idea of trying to find your way around without the aid of a map, compass, SatNav or Google directions – as explained by Tristan Gooley in The Natural Navigator - sounds enticing, if more than a little scary. I treated myself to the book because since I began walking at the start of the year I’ve become much more aware of the landscape around me, and can remember being entranced by the BBC television series ‘All Roads Lead Home’, in which Sue Perkins, Alison Steadman and Stephen Mangan were coached by Gooley before being let loose to trek across Bodmin Moor and other locations using shadows, lichens, mosses, the shape of trees, the position of the sun, and the way animals lie down.

To be honest, I don’t think I would have the confidence to rely on Gooley’s advice, and I haven’t really had a chance to test his instructions, because my walks so far have been local, or easy to get to. And I’m not sure the MotH will allow me to trial natural navigation during visits to his family in Cumbria, or our elder daughter in Devon. He remains committed to maps, especially after the unfortunate incident with ED’s SatNav back in September.

But even if you’re not prepared to discard modern navigational aids, ‘The Natural Navigator’ is a fascinating read, packed with travellers’ tales, history, natural history, weather lore, meteorology, geology, and all kinds of information about the environment. Snippets from folk tales, myths and legends rub shoulders with hard facts to create one of those wonderfully readable, meandering books I love so much, wandering from subject to subject, interspersed with the author’s own thoughts on life, the universe, and the world around him.

This tree seems much more symmetrical than those in Gooley's
book, and although I walked round and round it, I couldn't see
that it would help find the way.

 I’m only part-way through the book - there is so much to take in I feel I need time to think about it all and, unusually for me, I’m on a slow read, so I may return with another post in a month or so. There are all kinds of tips and hints which I haven’t even begun to look at, including stuff about the weather, and the skies, but in the meantime I’ve bought a compass and am having tremendous fun testing Gooley’s ideas. And anyway, every walker ought to have a compass in their backpack. 

But these silver birches do have branches
leading off in one direction, and I think they
 are pointing south!

He makes natural navigation seem terribly easy, but it’s not nearly as simple as it sounds. Take trees, for example. According to Gooley (who has a lovely a website at http://www.naturalnavigator.com/), in the northern hemisphere isolated deciduous trees show a ‘heaviness’ on their southern side, and a ‘tick effect’ in their branches, because they grow towards the light. It looks obvious in his illustration, but is not nearly as clear when you look at a real live tree, where the branches and leaves are all much more jumbled up. Plus, prevailing winds also affect the shape, which makes it even more difficult to understand what’s going on. Apparently, tree stumps can also reveal directions, because if a tree grows more densely on its south side, this causes an imbalance which will be reflected in the tree rings. On a recent walk in Dog Hill Wood, Ledbury, where my mother lives (I've been staying with her, which is why I haven't posted anything for a bit), I spent ages crouched precariously in a muddy patch on the edge of a slope while I examined recently cut tree stumps. Again, it’s not easy, because you can see cut marks as well as tree rings, but I felt a sense of triumph when I realised I could actually see what he meant!

You have to look closely, but you can see the rings on this tree
stump are closer together on on side, so that's another success.

 Mosses and lichens are a minefield, because their position and growth varies so much, depending on the habitat and local conditions, and I’m still trying to get my head round them. Actually, the more I learn about them, the more intrigued I am by mosses and lichens, and they are indescribably beautiful when you look at them closely. I wish I had some kind of decent magnifying glass so I could see them in more detail. 

Mosses on a north-facing wall, where there is less sun,
and more moisture.

Even in a built-up area there are pointers to show which way you are walking. On cold mornings the northern part of a path or pavement will stay frosty while the other edge is clear, just as Gooley says. And in the UK satellite dishes usually point south-south-east, while Christian churches are aligned west to east, with the altar at the east end, and yes St Editha’s (Tamworth’s parish church) does abide by this rule.

I know I’ve not been doing natural navigating the right way – I’m just playing around and looking to see if it works, but I like the idea that my distant ancestors may have used these methods to move around the country, and the way it provides a link with the past. And, like books by Robert MacFarlane, Kathleen Jamie, Esther Woolfson and Katherine Swift, it’s made me look much more closely at the world around me (and listen to the sounds of nature),  to think about man’s place in the world, and to try and take things a little more slowly, and appreciate the small things in life, whether it’s a glimpse of the first snowdrops of the year, a blackbird singing in the hedge, or rain making ripples as it falls on water.