We are leaving the Badlands meadow and re-entering the ancient woodland via a modern metal gate. The footpath begins to rise uphill almost immediately.
I can see the woodland floor covered in several earth mounds, maybe two to three metres tall in the centre. These are the remnants of the old charcoal kilns.
Although not visible today, the charcoal kilns would have been an essential part of the daily life of this woodland 200 years ago. Of course, charcoal was made in Britain well before the Romans, but in more recent history, it had two main uses.
The hardwood charcoal used Oak and Hornbeam wood that could maintain a high temperature with a long burn time. This charcoal would have been used for bronze casting, brass making, copper smelting, and iron smelting. In contrast, the softer woods, such as alder, ash, beech, birch, elm, hazel and sweet chestnut, were used for domestic cooking, heating and locally, in the Sussex area for hop drying.
Some of the softwood charcoals were ground into a powder because they didn’t produce many sparks whilst burning. This made them ideal for making gunpowder. Charcoal was also traditionally used in herbal medicine, with different species of wood, such as alder buckthorn, dogwood, hazel, poplar, and willow, each having specific herbal uses.
I continue along the old woodland track, which is clear of fallen trees at this point, and I notice that the light is fading as the canopy above me thickens. Up ahead, I can see a group of veteran trees. I am excited to see a dozen aged, gnarly, twisted Yew trees.
These grand old trees, a critical ancient woodland indicator species, are probably, several centuries old. The circumference of their trunks must be 6 metres plus, some with two or more stems, but all split with the scars of many fallen branches but still looking resplendent with tall, thick canopies. I estimate them to be 30 metres or more tall. I reach out to touch one of these incredible trees.
I’m tree-hugging and trying to get to grips with the fact that probably, Henry VIII would have been King of England when this tree was planted. That is some thought!
Yew trees were traditionally grown in Church graveyards; I’ve been told many reasons for this that range from the churchyard location would stop archers from taking the Yew branches to make longbows. This was because they feared that armed Archers may take a stand and oppose the King.
Another tale is that because very little grows under a Yew tree, the cattle wouldn’t enter the graveyard to graze, and yet another account is that Yew trees ward off evil spirits, keeping ghosts contained within the cemetery. I’m not sure if all or any of these are true. Leave me a comment if you know more.
I continue along the track for about ten minutes, and the trail begins to widen as the tree cover is replaced with woodland edge trees and a clear hedgerow on the western side.
I turn right onto a concrete road with a small settlement of buildings ahead of me. The road was the Ferny Driveway, where the cattle and sheep would have been taken to and from the woodland for grazing.
The buildings, whilst still lived in, are old, with small windows and low roofs, with oversized-looking chimneys on top of them. The doors are wide but not tall, made of thick wooden boards, and although I am not tall, I would have to bend my 1.78-metre frame to walk through the front door.
I walk through the small settlement of cottages, with one larger house, and the Droveway turns to the East, but my path heads away from the Droveway and back towards the woodland.
It is very overgrown here, with dense Bracken and Bramble, maybe 1.5 metres tall. I make my way through, feeling like some jungle explorer. I’m sure anyone in the cottages watching would have questioned my map reading as they saw me slowly disappear into the Bracken.
A few minutes later, I finally emerged from the Bracken forest and found the embankment so commonly associated with the edge of a woodland. These eart banks are often used to indicate the edge of a Parish or a hunting area; I pass over the earth mound and begin to descend towards the woods.
I can see a magnificent line of Beech trees ahead, but I can only see the canopies. This makes me curious about how steep the path will fall away a little further on.
These magnificent Beech trees, with Oak, interspersed between them, are significant, over 30 metres tall, with a spread of a similar range. They have been dated to the 16th century, already over 500 years old.
The story goes that they were planted in the valley to make boats for the Tudor Navy Researchers found the timber used in a ship called Henry Grace a Dieu came from this woodland, and that boat was launched in 1514! This plantation is known as the Man O War.
The track is taking me along the top of the valley, with the Man O War Beech and Oak trees extending far ahead; hundreds must be here, but along the track and the sloping edge is a coppice area.
Coppicing is a traditional woodland management technique that dates to the Stone Age. It involves felling trees at their base to create a ‘stool’ from where many thin trunks or ‘poles’ regrow until the cycle is repeated in a process known as rotation.
Hazel coppice traditionally had a seven-year rotation, and the poles were used to make hurdles, or woven fence panels, whilst sweet chestnut had a 15-year cycle, and the stakes would be used for fencing poles.
The track begins to wind down the side of the valley in short zig-zag stretches, and it’s clear I have a long walk ahead. My mind turns to Fungi, something that the Men’s Ancient woodland is very well known for, with over 300 species already recorded on the site.
It’s June now, and there are better seasons to spot Fungi, but some of the early-season Fungi recorded here are the much sought-after Chicken of the Woods. Probably one of the easier mushrooms to identify for a new forager, this edible mushroom is delicious, and once you have tried it, you will always look out for it every time you head into the woods.
I did find a summer fruiting mushroom, the Dryads Saddle, on the bow of a fallen tree. It’s pretty hard to confuse this one with anything else. It has a large cap and is a fan shape. It’s an Ochre to dark yellow colour with concentric brown rings. The gills are off-white and run down the thick stem, around 6-8 cm in diameter. It is edible but not the best of flavours. I like to dry it to make a mushroom powder that I use for stock, where it provides a deep, rich mushroom flavour to stews and casseroles.
Other species that have been found here are the delicious Horn of Plenty; and the inedible Tooth fungus; sadly, I didn’t see them today.
We will return here in the autumn to search for the delicious Hedgehog fungus, the Orange Peel, Yellow Stainer, and the fascinatingly named but poisonous Sulphur Knights and Magpie Inkcaps. Don’t forget to follow and subscribe to make sure you don’t miss any of our adventures in nature.
As I continue descending into the Ghyll Valley, the path is steep, and at times, I rely on the tracked soles of my walking boots to stop me from sliding down. The track has had its surface broken up from fast-running water. Deep below me, I catch occasional glimpses of the Ghyll stream at the valley’s base.
I continue to descend as the path alternates between steep and very steep as it twists and turns to reduce the rapid decline. I’m pleased I came this way and have not had to walk up this path from the Ghyll stream.
Eventually, I come alongside the stream at the base of the valley. The Man O War Beech and Oak trees are now several hundred metres above me, whilst the canopies I was walking above not very long ago are reaching towards the sky in a way that reminds me of Jack and his Beanstalk.
As I continue along the track, I can see the stream’s banks have been flattened as they slope gently towards the water that has been partially damned to create a shallow pool or Ford.
This would have been a cart wash for the charcoal or log carts, which would have been horse-drawn. They would drive through the Ford to wash the clay and mud from the cart’s wheels before taking their produce to one of the local villages.
The cart wash tells me we are getting close to the edge of the woodland, but I have one more thing I want to explore and share with you, so we walk along the woodland track towards the small village of Bedham.
Bedham is a hamlet that, back in Victorian times, had a farm, a school, and a few small cottages scattered among the trees.
We are approaching from the North through the wild and ancient woodland of the “The Mens,” which we have been exploring; to the south is Hawkhurst Court, which served as a base for the Canadian troops in World War Two.
It’s been a private house since the 1980s.
I’m looking for the building that was the centre of the small community in Bedham back in 1880.
This building was once the school; on Sundays, the school materials were removed, the chairs turned to the East, and it became the community church. It was built by William Townley Mitford. A Victorian Conservative Party politician, and was called the Church of Saint Michael and All Angels.
The Rector came from the nearby village of Fittleworth to hold the Sunday service, and the story goes that he was always accompanied by a lady, her name unknown, who played the melodeon.
Over a century ago, these small community schools taught adults and children. Most pupils came from the village, their families all working as Charcoal Burners in the woodlands. At its peak, the school was said to have over sixty pupils taught by three teachers.
Sadly though, the charcoal industry was declining, and some families began to leave Bedham village in search of work. Over time the number of pupils declined, and then the teachers went, and by 1925, the school was closed.
The building, however, kept its use as a chapel for a few more decades until it finally closed its doors in 1959. Since then, the structure has been left for the woodland to reclaim.
It’s not unusual to see the remains of buildings in older woodlands, but this is very different.
The roof has long gone, but the walls are standing; the bell tower at one end has a pole propping it up, and the curved wall at the opposite end still looks resplendent with its arched window frames. Inside you can still find and read the original plaques that tell the story of the building.
There are a host of local folklore stories that tell of ghosts and faeries. It is said that they can be seen at certain times of the year in and around the Church building.
One well-known folk story is of the Trees in the woodland that were once living people.
These people were said to be Spanish Monks. The story says that they took part in impious ceremonies not fitting for monastic brothers – alcohol and the local women were involved.
Still, the story skips the details here, so I can’t be sure, but they paid a high price for their improprieties as they were all struck by lightning and turned into trees. I think I would enjoy being a tree in an Ancient woodland. I’m not sure it would feel like a punishment.
Anyway, back to the story that continues that the famous composer Edward Elgar, who lived in Bedham, composed his Cello Concerto in E minor and three other works that were said to be inspired by the Spanish Monks story.
In the early 20th century, Bedham became a popular village with authors and artists who were said to draw their inspiration from the local nature and peacefulness of the village.
As I sat inside the Church, the birds sang their evening songs; I looked at the Bracken, brambles and buddleia that were slowly climbing the old walls and the ferns poking out of cracks in the window lentils.
I saw the tall matted grass as it gently swayed in the early evening breeze and closed my eyes. I took some time to imagine how busy this building would have been a hundred years ago and how everyone in the village assembled here as the centre of their community. And now, a century on, the building is semi-derelict and being reclaimed by the nature that surrounds this lovely little Sussex village.
And that’s a perfect place to end our walk today.
Ancient Woodland Woodland Trust
Ancient Woodland Forest Research
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