Gateway to Beechwoods Local Nature Reserve, Great Shelford
Walk in a wood and your troubles fade away … seems true for me. Sadly, living on the edge of the fens there aren’t many sizeable woods around here and Thetford Forest (our nearest) is mostly a conifer mono-culture, which isn’t the same thing at all. However, over the past few years I have been discovering and visiting a number of smaller sanctuaries of a few hectares in dimension. Mostly they get mentioned at bluebell time, but this week I felt keen to visit a beech grove, large enough to get total immersion in those warm russet hues at least. So I did a search and discovered a local nature reserve I’ve not been to before. It is called Beechwoods (promising) is close to Wandlebury Ring, which I love and have written about previously.
Stepping into the mature beech wood and the atmosphere is at once reminiscent of cathedrals, but is also cosy and sheltering.
Beechwoods* covers an area of 5 hectares and consists of two adjacent, rectangular plantations. The eastern plot was planted in the 1840s and is of mature beech. The western plot was planted by local people in 1992 and is an area of broad-leaved trees chosen to provide complementary habitats to the older wood.
So I visited yesterday, on a grey, drizzly day and nevertheless was cheered to have made the effort. Many of the leaves are now on the ground, but look at that coppery glow.
From what I’ve read, the mature woodland was struck quite badly by the catastrophic storm of 1986, which brought down trees in a number of areas. These giants were felled and replanted, but saplings are also making the most of the thin canopy near these gaps.
Beech saplings making the most of light reaching the wood floor.
Elsewhere, the dense canopy allows very little in the way of understory to develop and this is what creates that dramatic, architectural feel to beech woods.
I discovered that it is lethal to walk while admiring the vaulted ‘roof’, because rippling across the floor are thick, knobbly surface roots.
The roots of the mature beech spread extensively across the surface.
Looking up this is what I saw: the remaining leaves were wet and beautifully translucent, like amber.
Translucent beech leaves just about hanging on to the branches
Similar to the beech plantation at Fox Covert near Royston, helleborines are known to thrive here on the thin, chalky soils beneath the trees. In November they are long gone, but looking down at the beech mast covered the roots, there is a whole world of fungi bursting into fruit now.
Management of dead wood is sensitive and practical. If you look carefully at this fallen trunk for instance, you will see that it has been transform into a seat. Useful for a stop to enjoy the woody atmosphere.
A ready-made seat
The path loops back lower down the slope and, being protected, these trees retain more of their leaves, adding to that cosy, blanketing feeling.
Trees on the lower slope retain more leaves currently
Follow the russet leaved path …
Just as I was about to exit the woods I spotted a green man:
Cute, isn’t he? So I left with a smile on my face!
*Beechwoods is looked after by The Wildlife Trust
Frogend dweller's Blog 
I love American beech, such an amazingly beautiful tree. I see you tagged these as F. sylvatica, which are equally lovely and stately. Your photos are wonderful!
Yes these are the European beech. Wiki makes them sound very similar. The photos here give only a small flavour of the atmosphere experienced when you are beneath the mature trees. Of course, I had hoped to see sunlight on the leaves, but no chance this week!
These are all beautiful shots–just gorgeous. All that natural gorgeousness is almost–almost–upended by that cute fella at the end. 🙂
Thanks Tina. I am v. grateful that these small local woods have continued to survive, especially with community support and love and carvings!
I love beech but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a beech wood like this one. It was very far sighted of the local people to do this. It does look architectural and grand but at the same time homely (so far as the outdoors can feel homely) if we have kicked through fallen leaves all our lives and taken particular pleasure in the prettiest ones.