Under Construction
A few weeks ago I went for a long hike to a nearby Iron Age hill fort, Welshbury Hill. Legends say that the hill was the site of the final battle between the Celts and the invading Romans.
Up the hill, I passed into Flaxley Woods—the morning sunlight streaming through the leaves creating a luminous green impression below as I trudged the worn dirt path.
Out the woods, along a road and up the slopes of Welshbury Hill, I found myself approaching the ancient hillfort itself. When I reached the fort it's easy to imagine the forest possessed with bloodthirsty cries engaged in a battle. The undulations of the fort are still huge and not the easiest to traverse, with each one leading nearer and nearer to the peak.
The trees themselves are also really unique on this hill. The vast majority are unadorned vertical trunks, but every now and then a mangled, gnarly, nasty old tree would invade my sightline and stand menacingly in stark contrast to its neighbours.
Once I found my way up and around the rest of the undulations, I was greated by the presence of a grand old tree standing valiantly at the very peak of the hill
