Sycamore Gap Tree on Hadrian's Wall Path cut down
Saying goodbye to an iconic natural landmark
I was devastated when I woke up yesterday morning and read the news that the famous tree at Sycamore Gap had been cut down by so-called “vandals.” As you may know from reading here, I hiked the 98 mile length of Hadrian’s Wall back in 2017. The appearance of the famous sycamore was a special moment after walking for several days along the impressive but mostly monotonous wall. I knew it was coming, and I still wasn’t quite prepared for how I would feel when I saw the welcoming tree below in the gap. I then descended the path to sit below it for a few minutes of rest, climbed out the other side, and looked back down, which is when I took these photos. I don’t have any of the striking side views, as taking photos wasn’t my reason for taking that journey. But I feel lucky to have experienced this iconic tree then—to have been in its serene presence. I never could have imagined that, after surviving perhaps as long as 300 years, this malevolence would be its end.
A sixteen-year-old was first arrested in connection with the event, and has been released on bail. A 60-year-old man was also later arrested. Some internet rumors (taken with many grains of salt) have speculated that local farmers may have sought revenge due to discontent with tourists on their land or a recent eviction, while others claim it was a disgruntled National Trust employee. The story is developing, and we’ll just have to wait and see what the investigation turns up. One thing is clear, though: this was a premeditated job, requiring expensive gear, including a minimum 28” to 36” bar chainsaw (pricey), tree wedges and the skill to use them. Likely, more than one person would have been needed in the night’s stormy conditions. The tree is located about a mile from the parking lot and requires a 20 minute walk to reach. These were pros, not pranksters.
I often wonder what makes a single tree in a forest stand apart or what enables a tree like the one at Sycamore Gap to survive in a windswept field where other trees fail to thrive. And then, what stays the hand wielding an axe or chainsaw over the centuries to spare this tree? Some trees are exceptional, and something in us is drawn to them. The Norse had a tradition wherein old “warden trees” (from the ON vǫrðr meaning watcher, guardian) were believed to house protective spirits which watched over farms; offerings to the trees brought good luck and intentional harm to them brought bad luck. Perhaps encoded in our primate DNA, trees have remained our archetypal shelters and protectors, and the instinct to protect stately specimens runs deep.
By human measures, many trees are seemingly immortal if left undisturbed. The strong ones outlive us many times over—some by thousands of years—so to tell the story of an ancient tree growing among us is, in some sense, to tell the story of our roots. To cut down such a tree is to destroy a part of our heritage. That, I think, is the point of killing these trees.
When Suetonius Paulinus wanted to demoralize and conquer the ancient Britons, he reportedly went to their equivalent of Rome—the island of Mona (Anglesey) and cut down their sacred groves. Kill the heart of a culture, and you kill the culture. Demolish all it holds sacred and maybe it, too, will fall to ruins. That’s what is happening across the West now. The foundational things we hold sacred—languages, philosophical traditions, artworks, historical figures, institutions, founding myths, heritage sites—is being systematically uprooted, explicitly or implicitly. One tree at a time, vandals are felling the once-majestic old-growth forest that is our civilization.
Trees possess grace and dignity as they stand patiently, changing with the seasons, growing, weathering storms. They can’t fail but to impress themselves on the imagination. There are many mature trees here around the farm, and it kills me whenever one is lost in a storm or to disease. I’ve been doing things like treating my ash trees to try to save them from invasive emerald ash borer. So, I find it bizarre that, if this was a local farmer, he could be so calloused to the natural world in which he lives and works.
However, a so-called “clean” energy solar developer is trying to install a 45-acre power plant next door to my farm, and the construction will hypocritically involve cutting down 30 acres of mature forest that not only sequesters tons of carbon but provides habitat for three threatened species and countless other wildlife. They insist this is “green.” I beg to differ. But they will doubtless ram the project through anyway. They’re an energy company, after all, and we know what “green” they’re really interested in.
For some, mature forests and heritage trees are just the raw materials for their twisted agendas. This desecration at Sycamore Gap was about sending a message to everyone who loved this tree, this landscape, and all they represent. This was a crime. I would not call it mere vandalism—vandalism is a little graffiti painted on a wall; I would call it terrorism.
Great trees are much like great men and women. Some of them stand out in history by force of their own character and take on a persona all their own. They draw our notice and sometimes even our affection. Unfortunately, like eminent individuals, they also become targets. Was this resentment over tourism surrounding the tree and its picturesque location? Was it a prelude to a political statement, the way wannabe revolutionaries and activists deface renowned artworks and pull down statues of cultural icons to inflame public sentiment? Or were these just a bunch of losers who thought doing something provocative would change their beta-male status to alpha?
There are basically two classes of destroyer: the crusader and the pirate. The crusader ruins something precious in the name of a personal agenda to hurt his opponents. Sometimes, they’re coldly calculating and sometimes unhinged nutjobs, but the outcome is still carnage. The pirate mostly sees destruction as a means to an end, for example, the farmers who carelessly dynamited megaliths in their fields because they found them inconvenient or who carved ancient monuments into millstones because easy bread today is worth more to them than preserving the past for posterity. All of these characters are petty, self-serving narcissists.
Whoever cut down this tree is no different. Crusader or pirate, I suspect that, on some level, the loser who undertook this dramatic, high-profile act hoped to attach his name to the fame of this ancient tree, even in infamy, and supersede it, as narcissists will do. Infamy is a poor man’s substitute for power. And these days, it seems like everyone’s fragile ego must be famous for something, even if it’s something awful (and when is it ever something good?)
But this gutless saboteur will never be more important than this beloved sycamore has been to people worldwide. Countless thousands have made a pilgrimage to this tree over the years. People had their final remains spread at its roots. They proposed marriage under its canopy. Can any mere mortal—let alone some angry cretin with a chainsaw—make a claim to the hearts and minds of humanity more poignant or powerful than that? No one will ever hike a mile to photograph this nobody under starlight or pay homage to him with the ashes of their ancestors. It may make us uncomfortable, but the fact is, this tree matters more to the world than the human who destroyed it. Always has; always will. Some things are bigger than us. That’s the humbling truth no amount of vandalism will change.
Rather than embracing nature’s enduring mystique and our connection to it with a sense of wonder, awe, or gratitude, the twisted impulse was to kill its messenger—a defenseless tree. And for what? The tree may be gone, but the spirit of reverence it represented can’t be so easily killed. The outpouring of grief for the loss of the great sycamore shows how alive that spirit remains; it may just prove our most redeeming trait.
It has been a long time since I last posted, but this upset me so I had to get it off my chest. Hope you are all well. Welcome to new subscribers! Hope I haven’t scared you off already ;-) I’m still swamped, so I’ll be around when I can. Be well.
Such a shame. And sorry about your neighboring property - it is only about the "green". Good to read your writing again, J.M.!
The fame angle is the most likely motive for this act, if I had to guess. I'm curious to know who did this and why. Though, of course, there's no justification for it.