A mass of black cloud rolls over Harter Fell from the direction of the North Atlantic, spilling another icy shower over the rocky, intricate landscape of Duddon Valley. For the third time in an hour, we’re forced to fish out our waterproofs from our rucksacks. But autumn’s alchemy is at work, and not long afterwards, the leaden greyness transmutes into riches again as the November sun flares across the golden oakwoods, the shaggy, copper-red rush pastures, and silver birches jewelled with rain.
A double rainbow materialises from the sunshower and vaults right across the valley, treasure at the end of it; one side of the arc falls into the hazy gold of a cluster of larch trees. Larches are one of just a handful of conifer species which are not evergreen – their needles turn a wonderfully bright, buttery yellow in autumn before they fall, allowing the tree, like all its fellow deciduous species, to sequester the nutrients stored in the foliage.
Most of Britain’s larch is European larch (Larix decidua), essentially a tree of the Alps. Its historical use in this country is as a non-native timber crop. But at this time of year, those towers of turmeric form a striking visual counterpoint to the perennial gloomy green of Sitka spruce, providing precious variety to the visual monotony of forestry plantations.
Larch is also one of the better conifers from a biodiversity perspective, with its lighter canopy helping understorey growth, and its abundant seed providing food for the likes of lesser redpolls and siskins.
The creation of this particular plantation, Hardknott Forest, met with local opposition in the 1930s, but with the help of time and management, the larch here seems – to me, at least – to have become bedded into this landscape of craggy knolls and miniature mountains.
Tragically, it may not be here for much longer. For the last 12 years, the Phytophthora ramorum blight has marched through Britain’s larch population, resulting in mass felling. It is another looming environmental tragedy to add to the list, but I do all I can, on this blustery autumn day, to savour the tree’s colour while both of us last.
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