I am heading towards the old railway station at Riccarton Junction, deep in the heart of the forest. It was here that the line from Carlisle and the line from Hexham met. Despite being, for much of its existence, completely inaccessible by road (a logging track was hacked through the trees in the 60s) it was home to a community of several hundred people, with a school, an engineering works, a Post Office and a Co-Op grocery store.

It was born with the railways and when the trains stopped coming it died alongside it. The old railway makes its way into the forest, through embankment and cut. Along the way dark paths slip quietly off into darker woods. Sitka Spruce trees, tall and fast growing, but too uniform for my liking, comprise the majority of the trees here. Occasionally, forgotten pieces of the railway jut out from the natural world that is slowly, inexorably reclaiming them. Jenga piles of concrete sleepers lie in the long grass. Old distance markers reveal that I am only 65 miles from Edinburgh (it has taken me over three hours to get here from Edinburgh. It would only have taken an hour by train…). Old wooden sleepers, blackened by time and engine-oil are now reused as makeshift fencing along the way. Nothing made is ever wasted.

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December 13th, 2017

and the Ever Narrowing Road Trip

May 15th, 2015

December 13^th, 2017

May 15^th, 2015