The Felling of Northumberland at Sycamore Gap

Don't tell us it was just a tree.

In a steep-sided gully where the wind whistles and sheep-grazed grass is cropped low, and Hadrian once bad his men build a wall, there has been a death and now there will be an inquisition, suppositions, and we are in the thick of it. Just a couple of miles up the hill from our home here in Northumberland, someone or some bodies have taken a chainsaw to a tree and hacked it down. It lies, motionless on the ground, its branches no longer wave, and Sycamore Gap is now just a gap, leaving a space like a member of the family, a dear friend, gone too soon. We feel it as keenly as the wind that whistles through that empty space.

Folk have tried to visit the spot and lay painted stones, hearts, and flowers, but it is a crime scene and must be cordoned off. The Sill has opened its doors and made a room available, to gather, to reflect, as if at the wake of a loved one. I don’t want to be in a room, I want to stand up on The Wall, feel the cold air on my face and howl across the void at the brutality that has left a community bereft. You see, it was more than ‘just a tree’. It was the spirit of Northumberland, an emblem of strength, and resilience, and like our beautiful and wild county, with nature at its heart.

Gossip runs rife, we know who has been arrested and we know where he lives, but how frightening is that? Thoughts of vigilante groups that saw a man killed over the valley on Alston Moor when a crime was committed not so long ago. Gossip is dangerous. I do not want to be part of it but feel it flying over my head, across the fields and down the lanes like spectres in the night. It is disconcerting, to say the least. I feel on edge.

On the day it happened, I was in Hexham, meeting a friend in The Tans. Someone came in with the news and a waitress said, ‘I feel like I want to shut myself in the toilet and sob’. A young man, nursing his coffee cup with both hands, said, ‘I have been crying, too.’ The town was in shock, in disbelief. How could someone do this? How was our tree, the one where lovers met, got engaged, ashes from loved ones were spread, selfies were taken and footsore walkers paused to picnic and photographers made a b-line for when the aurora was announced, possibly the most photographed tree in the country. For heaven’s sake, it had even starred in a film!

That evening, not usually one for posting on social media, my husband tweeted ( I still can’t bring myself to call it ‘X’).

               ‘Remember that Covid Lockdown Christmas? In January  I took a daily walk from my front door, we were only to go out on essential business or for exercise. One of the first places I went to was #sycamoregap. There are better photos than mine, but this is what I took on 5th Jan.’

               His post went viral and was seen by 49.9K people, being reposted by 68 people and liked by well over a thousand. My feed was full of photos and outpourings of shock, disbelief, anger and grief. Iconic was the word used repeatedly. ‘But it’s just a tree’ some said.

What about the wider issues of climate change, Hs2, and our government’s appalling record with nature and the environment? Readers, I have been protesting all my life and am furious that our right to protest has been taken away. At sixteen I stood in Trafalgar Square, having hitched up to London with banners to attend anti-whaling demons, joined CND marches and listened to Tony Benn talk sense. I have brought my family up to care for nature, love it, respect it, and stand up for it and all my three children embrace and care for nature in their own way: my eldest, a mountain leader, takes children out to learn about and explore the natural world, a daughter who has chosen to live and bring our granddaughters up high in the North Pennines on Alston moor, where living can be harsh but in direct communion with the wild, and my youngest, who loves trees and works with wood, turning beautiful bowls, candlesticks and Christmas trees with his gentle and creative hands.

 

We live as sustainably as we can and  I’ve written about organic gardening, seasonal eating and reducing the drain on our planet’s precious resources for years as The Bridge Cottage Way. How timely that my debut novel, The Rewilding of Molly McFlynn about a young girl discovering a love for nature should come out now. I have a sequel planned with trees and tree preservation at its heart. Sadly, there is now a new tree and a tragedy that befalls it to add to the plot. Sycamore Gap needs to be written about, to be remembered.

It was just a tree, was it?

I’ll leave you with the words of my son, who replied to one such comment on Instagram but was too choked to speak when I met him in Sele Park in Hexham yesterday,

‘While I agree big change needs to happen the impact of this event to those of us who are lucky enough to call this area home is huge. So many people have this tree as part of a memory in significant parts of their lives! Yes, it’s just a tree but it’s also what it represents. It’s a symbol of Northumberland!‘