Country diary: A well-hidden secret in a well-wooded valley

West Dipton Burn, Northumberland: The ravine is waking to the sound of blue tits and jays. Somewhere here is a cave of local legend

The West Dipton Burn cleaves a deep, snaking ravine through the land south of Hexham. One of several streams that feed into the Devil’s Water – a tributary of the Tyne – its precipitous sides are thickly wooded. It is to this woodland area that we are heading.

To reach it via the valley bottom is difficult. The cliffs close in the higher up you go, and crossing the many fords is only possible when the water level is low. So we enter the woods from the top end, using a path that runs along the upper rim and hugs the drystone wall. Emerald hummocks of moss cushion the thruffs – the through stones that bind the wall. Down below, the sheltered dene is starting to wake up: the chink-chink of chaffinches, the busy trills of blue tits, the squeaky sawing of great tits.

After the airy openness of silver birches, the wood gradually becomes denser with dark shiny-leaved hollies, coppiced hazels and sessile oaks. Storm Arwen has left its mark: across the path a sycamore has torn down the wall with its muddy flailing root ball; huge limbs of oaks have fallen; a birch bracketed with polypore fungus lies tumbled in a heap.

From below comes the sound of the burn, and somewhere on the southern wall of the gorge is the well-hidden Queen’s Cave. The story tells of Queen Margaret of Anjou, wife of King Henry VI, being sheltered there by an outlaw after the brief but bloody Battle of Hexham in 1464 and the defeat of the Lancastrian army. Margaret was in fact nowhere near at the time, but the Victorian historical writer Agnes Strickland wrote imaginatively: “Taking the prince in his arms, [the outlaw] led the queen to his own retreat, a cave in Hexham forest, where the royal fugitives were refreshed.”

No sun penetrates the shadowy ravine. We stick to the upper path, where light filters through the red trunks of Scots pines and fires the peeling bark of birches like alabaster. A frantic squabble of jays screech overhead and a wren twitches its way through emerging leaves of honeysuckle. The wren, Troglodytes troglodytes, the cave dweller, will soon be looking for its own secret place in the wood.

• Country Diary is on Twitter at @gdncountrydiary

Contributor

Susie White

The GuardianTramp

Related Content

Article image
Country diary: the sound of saturation
Wenlock Edge, Shropshire: Slow-motion sloshing, drips from moss and the seeping of leafmould are among nature’s delights

Paul Evans

10, Dec, 2020 @5:30 AM

Article image
Country diary: a walk before dawn on a moonless path
Sandy, Bedfordshire: My feet swish through leaves and I’m conscious of many missteps, slight stumbles over roots and slides into dips

Derek Niemann

29, Dec, 2020 @5:30 AM

Article image
Country diary: Fieldfares perch as if awaiting instruction
Sandy, Bedfordshire: These birds are gregarious, exuberant, highly mobile chatterers, riding out over our grounded troubles

Derek Niemann

22, Dec, 2021 @5:30 AM

Article image
Country diary: The hair-trigger pigeons are up again, more dance than flight
Brighton, East Sussex: How many times a day do they do this? How do they decide who goes first?

Paul Evans

27, Jan, 2022 @5:30 AM

Article image
Country diary: a rocky road to a view of the estuary
Afon Mawddach, Gwynedd: The route seems unreasonably steep, and in my memory the lane was much shorter

John Gilbey

06, Sep, 2021 @4:30 AM

Article image
Country diary: a hilltop dew pond is a night-time haunt for birds
Combe Hill, North Wessex Downs, West Berkshire: The wild ducks come in for the evening softly quacking as they circle the chimney of wood to find the disc of pewter water within

Nicola Chester

23, Dec, 2020 @5:30 AM

Article image
Country diary: I think it’s an earthquake – but it’s not coming from below
Slingsby Bank, North Yorkshire: Some walks you enjoy and forget. Some walks stay with you forever

Amy-Jane Beer

27, Nov, 2021 @5:30 AM

Article image
Country diary: for most of my walk I have the valley to myself
Cilgerran, Pembrokeshire: The thick undergrowth beyond the river path is an ideal spot for otters to lie inconspicuously

John Gilbey

22, Apr, 2019 @4:30 AM

Article image
Country diary: The unenviable life of the noon fly
Wolsingham, Weardale: These important and rather beautiful insects are dependent to a large degree on the defecating cow

Phil Gates

01, Dec, 2021 @5:30 AM

Article image
Country diary: Dragonflies and trout thrive in the quiet of the river
Aberaeron, Ceredigion: I come to an old stone wall over the Afon Aeron; there’s enough life here to make me pause for too long

John Gilbey

01, Aug, 2022 @4:30 AM