It is said that spending time in forests does wonders for our health and mental wellbeing. But even those who work in forestry don’t always appreciate the benefits of paying a recreational visit to one of the UK’s beloved woodlands. In the latest in an occasional series, Carolyne Locher visits the Upper Teesdale Nature Reserve, and speaks with senior reserve manager, Martin Furness, about the work that goes into looking after this 100 ha juniper woodland.
ON a winter weekday afternoon in the Upper Teesdale National Nature Reserve (before the festive season begins in earnest), the number of visitors encountered on this stretch of the Pennine Way is low: two hikers, two locals and six ‘waterfallers’. This is unusual, considering 50,000 visit High Force and Low Force waterfalls each year, according to the visitor counter.
Somewhere between the two falls, hopping from the riverbank across stepping stones of eroded Great Whin Sill (quartz dolerite) rock, a dolerite seat on an islet carved out by the River Tees seems a good place to enjoy this privilege of solitude.
Cool waters flow down the wider side of the river, its low and constant resonance countered by the higher pitch of a burbling beck. The beck is full of rainwater from the juniper-topped hillside soaking through peaty limestone grassland and deposited into a mini-gorge on the narrower side of the river. It is a meditative aural soundscape.
Many minutes pass. This islet’s only habitation, orange bracken fronds and bare-branched broadleaf silhouettes, shiver in a growing gust of wind. Grey clouds scudding the fell-top are so dark that they appear midnight blue. It is time to head back before the weather breaks.
The 8,800 ha Moor House – Upper Teesdale National Nature Reserve (NNR) is situated in the North Pennines Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. Divided into two by the Cow Green Reservoir, Upper Teesdale lies approximately 15 miles to the north-west of Barnard Castle in County Durham.
Settled in the Bronze Age and home to Romano-British farmsteads, this area’s reputation grew through its medieval iron-working industry. By the 1840s, the North Pennine ore field was one of the most productive lead mining (galena) areas in the world.
In 1952, Moor House NNR was designated and in 1963, having reached agreements with landowners Strathmore Estate, the Upper Teesdale NNR was designated. Both NNRs were combined in 1995. Additional designations include Sites of Special Scientific Interest, Special Protection Area for upland birds and Special Area for Conservation for rare Arctic-alpine plants and upland habitats and for the juniper wood surrounding High Force. At 100 ha, this woodland is the largest contiguous example of its kind in England.
Easily accessible by car, an information leaflet highlights two walks in the Upper Teesdale section of the Reserve. A 12 km loop takes in the river, the juniper woods and falls, past archaeological remains and crumbly farmsteads to Bracken Rigg and the moors. Estimated at five and a half hours, this trail seems suited for lengthy summer days.
In theory, the shorter, gentler 6 km walk begins and ends at Bowlees Visitor Centre. Crossing the River Tees at Wynch Bridge (below Low Force waterfall), a right turn on the far riverbank leads up through England’s largest juniper woodland to England’s highest waterfall and back again.
In reality, the Visitor Centre (run by the AONB) is open only at weekends during this time of year. The car park is open but deserted. Wynch Bridge is closed for renovation, reopening in the new year. Stumped as to how to get across the river, senior reserve manager Martin Furness suggests crossing upstream at Holwick Head Bridge.
From High Force car park (parking costs £3 for three hours), a path down the steep bank leads across a flood plain to Holwick Head Bridge’s creaking metal gates. Martin, the senior reserve manager for 19 years, looks at the river and says: “Moderate flow.”
Willows grow along the river’s edge. Birch, bird cherry, alder and ash grow up the bank to where a steep paved path levels out halfway up the fell-side. To the left, a farmhouse and vehicles indicate that this is a working landscape. To the right, beyond the stock gate, a straight path divides a 40 ha expanse of moor: tussocky grass gives way to orange bracken that is broken up by clumps of evergreen foliage.
There is a lot of furniture beside this gate: a Reserve information board; a visitor counter; a ‘wind up to play’ information point from which Martin’s recorded voice crackles: “Juniper is long-lived, reaching up to 250 years old, growing in a wide variety of soil and climatic conditions, from the mountains of northern Scotland to the costal cliffs of Land’s End.”
A poster warns ‘Tree Killer on the Loose’. Juniper dieback disease (Phytophthora austrocedri) became an issue here in 2005/6 and was confirmed in 2012. It is a soil-borne pathogen, not harmful to humans but can be spread by animal hooves and human footwear. Visitors must use the biosecurity footbath and spray before leaving this area.
One of three conifers native to the UK, juniper (Juniperus communis) generally grows as scattered (and sometimes scrubby) bushes within native broadleaf and conifer woodlands, on open moorland or across rocky upland outcrops. With approximately 400 ha of juniper woodlands left across the UK, this 100-hectare even-aged juniper woodland is a rarity.
From this straight section of path, distant fell-top juniper stands appear waist-high. A startled roe deer puts this into perspective by looking relatively small when bounding uphill through the evergreen foliage.
Martin measures a lone path-side juniper at three metres. Its spike-like needles grow in rings of three along the length of dense woody branches and provide much-needed shelter for black grouse and other bird species on these windy upland slopes. Wind-pollinated berry-like cones take 18 months to ripen from green to purple, providing food for caterpillars, moths and wintering birds such as redwings and fieldfares. Oil extracted from juniper has medicinal uses for respiratory and digestive problems. The purple berries provide a flavourful aromatic for meats, stews, sauces and gin.
The path curves to accommodate the fell brow, where it slopes down to meet the clifftops downstream from High Force. The juniper woodland thickens and forms a green wall alongside the wending path.
Legend has it that a branch of juniper hung over a doorway on Mayday Eve or burned on Halloween offers protection against evil spirits. Here, brown foliage on an otherwise evergreen branch indicates that Phytophthora austrocedri has taken hold.
This wild population was probably first infected in the early 2000s and became noticeable in 2005/6.
Martin says: “In 2011/12, Forest Research came and took samples to grow on in culture and identified what it was.”
The disease was also confirmed in the Lake District and Perthshire at the same time.
“DNA tests have since shown that it is different to the strain of Phytophthora austrocedri found in Patagonia that kills the native cypress trees.”
The disease spreads incoherently, one tree in a stand of green turning brown, or one tree in a stand of brown remaining green.
“Juniper growing on the clifftop across the river is showing signs of infection. How does it get across? Seeds and berries in bird droppings might be one vector and possibly how it got here from elsewhere.”
In 2012, a Statutory Plant Health Notice limited the ‘Open Access’ in the junipers to the Public Rights of Way. Posters explaining how to behave when walking through the juniper were pasted up and the biosecurity stations installed. Public meetings were held and the press provided support and coverage.
“To lose the juniper would be a public issue.”
A team of Natural England short-term appointees and contractors cut and burned the infected bushes over five consecutive winters.
“We removed the same amount of juniper every year. Between ourselves and the landowners, we took the decision to stop. Management works were quite expensive with seemingly little benefit. It is possible that the disease could be spread through the management works. The disease needs to run its course before we know if there is any tolerance.” In 2017, the Plant Health Notice was lifted.
Weaving our way through stands of juniper interspersed with mossy birch stems and rocky outcrops, the decibels of distant rumble are turned up to mild thunder. Looking out from the viewpoint, yew trees growing on the cliff-face frame the vista of 21-metre-high High Force. Water stained brown with humic acid (peat) crashes down over columns of Great Whin Sill and proceeds sedately onwards. Behind us, a mature juniper grows with its stem exposed to the elements, illustrating the twists and turns that once made this timber a prize for carvers and wood turners.
That this is a mature and relatively even-aged wood of between 100–250 years, with no natural regeneration (rabbits and deer are managed by the landowners) was first considered in the late 1970s. The land is now managed under an agri-environment scheme and all areas are stock-fenced.
“The vegetation grows so thick that seedlings (not all are viable due the age of the trees) cannot get away.”
Martin says that experimental regeneration works of coppicing, ground disturbance and burning were trialled. Treatments offering disturbance and burning resulted in the most regeneration. Heavy-footed livestock such as cattle or ponies to open up the sward could have been an option.
“To do this now would be somewhat counterproductive.”
Staff and volunteers picked berries and took cuttings for growing on in local nurseries to boost the diversity of the population. Over several years, 4,000 30-cm-high whips were returned. Planting finished in 2005.
“This made the disease doubly worrying; we had just put in all these new plants.”
From the top of the falls, the view downstream is framed by rock whitebeam, non-native beech, and alder, and we return through the Narnia-esque (Martin’s appropriate description) landscape of juniper and dolerite. Beyond an impromptu beck flowing across the path, tree guards are evident in areas where bracken and tussocky grass tangle over stumps of juniper cleared in 2012. Around 15 per cent of these woodlands have been lost. A drone will photograph the site for Martin to compare with older images and assess the full extent.
Where juniper abuts the path, the branches are trimmed back. Selecting a purple berry, Martin squashes it, releasing a sharp, heady, almost antiseptic whiff of gin. A local artisan gin-maker requested some seedlings propagated from cuttings collected here. As far as Martin knows, they are still growing at their Durham distillery.
The Upper Teesdale section of the Reserve contains 150 ha of trees at most. 20 volunteers (monthly and weekly work parties) help the team augment what little additional woodland (beyond juniper) there is with scrubby native broadleaves (rowan, hawthorn and birch) to benefit the black grouse and other birds.
“In winter, we get snow cover and they depend on these scrubby, berry-bearing trees for food.” Conversely, “along the river, we have species-rich grasslands, so we clear the scrub to favour the grassland interest.”
Martin has noticed local evidence of climate change: “We are seeing warmer, wetter winters and more torrential rainfall events. The main thing is maintaining the peatlands and helping them to store water, rather than interception that comes with planting trees.”
Last month, the Reserve experienced 11 days without sun, only the second time this has happened in the last 50 years.
“We get less frost and less snow for less time. We get earlier and longer growing periods. Arctic-alpine plants already grow at the top of the hills. In a warming climate, where do they go? Any new flora would be investigated on a case-by-case basis, as to whether they were invasive or damaging to native flora. If not, you would probably leave them. New species of butterfly have come in during the last 20 years and their numbers have increased.”
If implemented, the Designated Landscapes Review (September 2019) would, in Martin’s opinion, strengthen existing working ties (education and outreach events) with the AONB, in maintaining hay meadows (winter fodder) and woodland habitats throughout both, and with the local authority who manage and maintain The Pennine Way. More Natural England team members would be welcome, and more visitors could be channelled to specific areas. “Many would not visit the remoter areas. Access is not easy and there are no decent paths, but those that want to visit will. Other places could be publicised with clear signposting to reduce any increasing visitor pressure.”
Spraying our shoes at the biosecurity station, Martin says that the Reserve gets through ten litres of fluid a week in the summer months. Walking back down the steep, paved path he says: “There is evidence of ash dieback along this stretch of the River Tees. Most of the field-edge and upland trees are ash and the landscape will change. We will look to see what takes it place, most likely willows, alder and birch. There is talk of sycamore replacing ash.”
Martin loves this landscape, especially in the spring, when the fell-top Artic-alpines flower and the fields are full of wading birds: curlew, lapwing, redshank and golden plover. At Holwick Head Bridge, Martin heads back through the creaking metal gate and across the bridge.
Downstream, towards Low Force and to the right, drystone walls divide the fields where sheep graze and peaty rainwater fills a burbling beck. To the left, grassland gives way at a place where eroded Great Whin Sill rock forms a series of stepping stones across to an islet in the River Tees, a good place to pause on the return journey.
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