Erosion

Hawthornthwaite Fell fallen trig point.jpeg

Hawthornthwaite Fell, August 2021

I.
I come to stand at the summit
and see the trig point fallen on its side,
triangular top, long foundation, like a broken tooth,
no longer the highest point on the hillside.

I wonder how long it took it to fall
in minutes, hours, days, years, measured
only by the pitter patter of rain, the chewing teeth
of deer and sheep, human footfalls.

I wonder if there was anyone about to hear it fall

or whether it was like one hand clapping 
filling the air with something missing.

II.
A landmark made into a monument
maybe destined to fall like dead giants -

Ozymandias, Goliath, Gogmagog,
Ysbaddaden Bencawr ‘Hawthorn Chief-Giant’

this hill no longer 478m tall its contours eroding 
into haggs and gullys this thwaite stripped

of hawthorns shorn bare like a beard. 

III.
When I see the ‘dancing hawthorns’
who have seen the land slip away drained
by ditches, by farms, roots exposed

like the last tooth of a dead giant

whose tongue is forgotten by our culture

and buried deep beneath the peat

I feel the links between land and language
slipping through my hands like a map.

This poem was written following a visit to Hawthornthwaite Fell in the Forest of Bowland, in Lancashire, northwest England, this August. It took my friend and I a long time to find the trig point. When we finally found it we realised that this was because it had collapsed as a result of peat erosion. The stone base, of about 3 metres, was completely exposed, showing the extent of the damage. It was sobering to see a summit of a hill that was.a summit no longer.

Hawthornthwaite Fell - Me with Fallen Trig Point.jpeg

Much of this area is upland peat bog. There are some beautiful areas, such as Holden Moss, where the peat and surface vegetation remain intact. Unfortunately, as a result of natural weathering and overgrazing by sheep, other areas are badly eroded, leaving hags and gullies, and other eroded land forms such as the odd tuffet below.

On our way home we saw these ‘dancing hawthorns’ with their roots exposed, further evidence of peat erosion, here caused by drainage for farming.

This poem alludes to the Welsh tale Culhwch ac Olwen in which Ysbaddaden Bencawr ‘Chief Hawthorn Giant’ is shorn of his thorny beard and beheaded as a precedent for Culhwch marrying his daughter, Olwen. Culhwch’s conquering of Ysbaddaden and the other giants and monstrous animals of ancient Britain represents the human taming of the wild land.


Lorna Smithers

is a poet, author, awenydd, Brythonic polytheist, and devotee of Gwyn ap Nudd. Her three books: Enchanting the Shadowlands, The Broken Cauldron, and Gatherer of Souls are published by the Ritona imprint of Gods & Radicals Press. She works as a trainee for the Wildlife Trust restoring Lancashire’s precious peatlands.

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