Heatwave, drought and narrow escapes

The drought of 1975 extends into 1976, with a heatwave that causes the large beeches to drop some of their branches. This just at the height of the picnic season. Heedless of Bills' warnings, picnickers and lovers have a near death experience and a lucky escape. A TV crew arrives to film falling branches on command!

Woodland with fallen trees. Photo Bob Williams.

Extract from the podcast of chapter 8b from Bill Clark's Route and Branch. Full Recording available here: https://archive.org/download/heatwave-drought-falling-branches/Ch8b-Heatwave-drought-falling-branches.mp3

There was no let-up in the heat, and by mid-May my eyes were constantly looking towards the large beech and elm trees, expecting branches to fall. One local WI correspondent, reporting on a talk I had given, wrote, ‘... and Mr Clark said that the drought is now very serious; large trees are suffering, and only heavy rain very soon, will prevent many from dying. Incredulous editors and radio presenters got in touch for more information, and one national newspaper copied the WI announcement verbatim.

This meant that the derision came down on my head from even further afield! On the thirtieth of May the first branch fell. By mid-June I had emptied the pond and banned BBQs. I continuously patrolled – nerves a jangle – moving folk from under their pleasant shade/my perceived danger!

Saturday the 26th of June – the fourth day in a row that I entered, ‘Very hot day’, in my diary – was busier than ever; the visitors getting tetchy, even cross, as this ever roving Warden moved them on. A ‘Sunday School Picnic’ was due just after mid-day, and I met the large group, mostly children, planning to lead them to a safe spot among some elm saplings. But as we arrived in sight of our destination, I noticed a courting couple just settling under a particularly ‘worrying’ branch in the distance. Hastily pointing, I said, ‘Please lay out your picnic under that group of trees, you can play games on the far side, but don’t let the children go near any large beech trees – some of the branches are quite dangerous.’ I dashed over to the young couple. After seeing them ensconced beneath a ‘safe’ tree, a further survey through my binoculars revealed a family of four choosing a ‘wrong un’, and they too were moved to a safe tree – thank goodness my trusty old Raleigh bike was holding up.

Finally, I returned to check on the Church Party. To my dismay they had hardly moved a dozen steps, and were busy spreading their feast under just about the largest branch on the estate. ‘This is a very dangerous spot, you must move at once,’ I cried. And against a background of agitated mutterings, I bent down, grasped two corners of a cloth and dragged it – with angry ladies hovering – to the far side of the tree. With not a sandwich spilt, I stood up and remarked, ‘There, that wasn’t too bad was it, we’ll bring all the others over too.’ With a little louder grumbling, including, ‘We’ll be sending a letter of complaint to your employers,’ the picnic was at last out of my perceived danger zone. ‘Please make sure no one even walks beneath it,’ I called, as I cycled off, giving the branch a wide berth myself. Seconds later a loud ‘crack’ rang out, followed by a thump. The tree sized branch lay on the ground, a huge white scar on the trunk, and equally white faces almost in the leaves on the far side. Dashing back I scrambled towards an ominous red glint – it was a drinking cup, and then another. Standing to climb over the trunk-thick centre, faces came into focus, and I realised they were calling to me. ‘It’s all right, no one is in there.’ ‘But there are two drinking cups.’ ‘We know. They dropped them, as they ran back.’ Almost in tears with relief, I clambered out, only to have the man who had grumbled most hurl himself at me – he was in tears, as he threw his arms around my neck and hugged me!