Magical place of gin-scented foliage
http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2015/apr/02/country-diary-juniper-pennines-trees Version 0 of 1. “KILLER ON THE LOOSE” warned the dramatic sign beside the disinfectant footbaths at the entrance to Moor House national nature reserve. As we followed the path towards High Force waterfall, the work of the killer, a microscopic fungus-like organism called Phytophthora austrocedri, was plain to see; we passed scores of dead and dying junipers. With the warmth of spring sunshine on our backs, and a sense of wellbeing that comes with the knowledge that winter is over, we had followed the Pennine Way beside the river Tees, upstream from Wynch Bridge. Oystercatchers, immaculately clad in black and white plumage and perched on rocks mid-stream, had returned to breed. Curlews lifted from the pastures as we passed and then descended, trailing notes of their courtship songs across the landscape. All reassuring signs, repeated annually over the 40 years that we have trod this path, that the seasons were turning, that all was as it should be. It‘s four years since juniper dieback disease, which originated in Argentina, was first noticed here. We were surprised to find that it now has such a grip on the trees that cloak the fellside. This juniper forest is one of the botanical wonders of Teesdale, a magical place of bottle-green, gin-scented foliage, purple berries and gnarled trunks prostrated by the burden of winter snow and shaped by the south-westerly wind. The tallest trees, perhaps more than 200 years old, are not much more than twice the height of a person. This is a place that invites fantasies; lose sight of other points of reference and it can trick your imagination into believing that you are a giant lost in a forest. As the path through the densely packed junipers winds its way towards the viewpoint above High Force, which remains hidden until the last moment, the ominous rumble then roar of falling water grows steadily louder. Victorian explorers must have experienced the same sense of drama and anticipation as they trekked through dense jungle towards the sound of distant cataracts. It is shocking to realise the damage that a micro-organism might soon wreak on this magnificently theatrical landscape. |