I usually aim to get out for a week-end in the forest in late October each year, to make the most of the autumn colours of the trees when they’re at their peak. So, last week-end I stayed at Dundreggan, and on the Saturday I decided to go up the Allt a Choire Bhuidhe burn, which rises between the peaks of Binnilidh Bheag and Binnilidh Mhor and flows down to a spectacularly-cascading waterfall on the new all-ability footpath we’ve created on the Estate.
I’d been higher up on the burn the previous day with a group of students from Bielefeld High School College in Germany, and because of the heavy rain, the burn was in full spate, so I knew it would be dramatic and offer the opportunity for some interesting photographs. It’s not easy to climb up near the burn though, because the ground is uneven and the dense clusters of spiky juniper bushes form virtually impenetrable thickets in some places.
The woodland here consists mostly of birches, so I was hoping to see some of them in full autumn colour still, but many had lost their leaves already because of all the winds we’ve had recently. The going was also difficult because of the presence of a lot of bracken, which makes it difficult to see the uneven, rocky ground underfoot, so I had to proceed slowly. However, that meant I could pay more attention to the details all around, including a tinder fungus (Fomes fomentarius) that was black and shiny from the rain, and almost completely covered by moss.
There are some really beautiful stretches of the burn as it tumbles down the hillside on its narrow rocky course, particularly where there are a few Scots pines in the woodland. The combination of cascading water, rugged rock formations and grizzled old pines conveys a palpable sense of wilderness, and this is one of my favourite places on Dundreggan. The low clouds also added a misty, atmospheric background to the landscape, and I could almost imagine that I was miles away from the nearest human habitations or structures, although in truth I was still only a few hundred metres from the buildings at Dundreggan. It was still raining, and I noticed that the water in the burn was gradually rising, carrying fallen leaves with it, as it continued its tumultuous rush down slope to the bottom of the glen below.
Continuing upwards, I passed the largest holly tree I know of on the Estate, growing on a very steep slope beside the burn. Like the pines, it’s survived there because it’s out of reach of the deer, and there were several young holly bushes nearby, no doubt growing from seeds from the large tree, which is a female and had a good crop of berries on it. The woodland is more open there, with less juniper and more bracken, giving it a softer quality.
Just above the large cascades, there’s an area of numerous rocky outcrops that looks like a natural rockery – a veritable wild garden, with brightly-coloured mosses growing amongst the boulders and colourful crustose lichens on some of the rocks themselves. The overcast sky and moisture from all the rain adds to the intensity of the colours on days like this, and I stopped there for quite a while, appreciating the simple, breathtaking beauty of the spot. On several of the boulders, I could see some bright splashes of red, which indicated the presence of a distinctive lichen species (Ophioparma ventosa) that grows on rocks. The main body, or thallus, of this lichen is a creamy, off-white colour, but it produces numerous blood red apothecia, or fruiting bodies, and it was these that had caught my eye.
My lichen identification skills are still fairly basic, but this species is unmistakeable, and I’ve seen it in this general part of the Estate before. There were a couple of large patches of the lichen and several smaller ones nearby – each one was an individual work of natural art, with unique patterns of apothecia standing out from the more mundanely-coloured lichen species surrounding them.
Lichens are a group of organisms that I find particularly fascinating, in part because each one consists of a symbiotic partnership between a fungus and an alga (and in some cases, a cyanobacterium, or blue-green alga, as well). They have a remarkable variety of growth forms and have colonised almost all parts of the Earth, from the arctic tundra and high mountain tops, to seashores, forest canopies and even deserts, making them one of the most successful groups of organisms on the planet.
Nearby, on the trunk of an old silver birch (Betula pendula) was another readily-distinguishable lichen – cudbear lichen (Ochrolechia tartarea). This species has a whitish-grey thallus and numerous pale brown disc-shaped apothecia, and occurs on rocks as well as tree trunks – mainly birches in our area. This was a particularly fine specimen, and must have been quite old, given its large size.
Looking around, my attention was drawn by a young Scots pine – the only one I had seen during the day. It had grown up through a spiky juniper bush, which had prevented the deer from being able to reach it, and was looking very healthy and vigorous indeed. Elsewhere on the Estate I’ve seen rowans and birches similarly growing successfully because of the protection the junipers provide from overgrazing, and we’ve had some discussions about doing some trial plantings of trees in amongst junipers as part of our strategy to increase the forest cover at Dundreggan – we’ve yet to try it in practice though.
By this time it was quite late in the afternoon and the rain had not relented at all during the day. It had been quite a struggle to keep my camera equipment dry when I was taking photographs, but I had finally reached an area where the birches were particularly bright in their yellow colours, so I persevered, despite spending more and more time drying the camera in between shots. It had also been windy for most of the day, and now that I was out more in the open at the top of the woodland I had to wait longer for slight lulls, when the leaves were relatively motionless, to get any good images. Here, the woodland has a quality that reminds me of places I’ve been to in Scandinavia, where there are similar pine-birch woodlands and rugged, rocky landscapes.
Finally, I reached a section of the burn I had never explored before. Although I had been to some sections higher up still, this particular area, through a patch of relatively young birchwood, was one I hadn’t walked through until today. The younger trees didn’t have as much character yet as the larger birches and pines lower down, but there were quite a few alders growing alongside the burn, which here had a relatively gentle gradient. Unfortunately, as on other parts of the Estate, many of the alders have been affected by the dieback disease that is killing a lot of alders throughout the Highlands. Some of the trees were dead already, while others were dead in their main trunks, but still had a few young lateral shoots that were alive. It was a sad sight, and gave me the idea that we need to do a comprehensive survey of the state of the alders on Dundreggan. We’re planting alders in our new native woodland projects there, so we need to be sure they’ll survive, rather than succumb to this disease in the future.
One of the alders that was still alive drew my attention, as it was covered by a fungus – the bleeding broadleaf crust fungus (Stereum rugosum). This species usually occurs on dead broadleaved trees, but I’ve seen it on some living hazel trees (Corylus avellana) in the riparian area beside the River Moriston on Dundreggan. It’s a few years since I first saw it there, and the hazels still seem to be fine, so perhaps this alder high up on the burn will survive as well.
By this point it was time to head down the hill, as it was getting late and would be dark soon. I was also looking forward to getting dry again, as the unceasing rain during the day meant that I had got wet, despite my waterproof raingear – even the best outdoor clothing can’t keep the water out in conditions like this! I left the burn feeling quite satisfied, though, as I’d explored some parts of it I hadn’t seen before, I’d been touched by the beauty of the woodland and the wild and wet day, and I’d got a few ideas for future work on the Estate as well. (Part 2 continues here.)
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