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Rocks and Curlews

Kirsty in front of her dry stone wall - K Tyler

Kirsty talks about her two days on a dry stone walling course in the Forest of Bowland, and how it was so much more than just repairing a wall.

I’m sat at my desk today, achy and a bit tired. I’ve spent the last two days on annual leave. Relaxing? No...on a dry stone walling course in the Forest of Bowland National Landscape. Two days of hefting around massive pieces of limestone to repair a break in a wall. 

My day started with a gorgeous 40 minute drive through the Forest of Bowland, crossing moorland, winding through forest, and through some beautiful little villages. I’d set off a bit earlier than I needed to due to not knowing where I was going, but when I realised I was going to be so early, I had the opportunity to slow down and stop a couple of times along the way. 

A curlew walking across grass in front of a river

Curlew by Terry Whittaker/2020VISION

Curlews and oystercatchers were wheeling around in the air over the moorland, diving and bobbing around. A curlew landed really close to my car and it’s the closest I’ve ever been to one, giving me a good chance to study its curved beak and dappled brown plumage. 

Further along I stopped on a riverbank in the forest, and was amused by a couple of pied wagtails dancing around on the bank – their wagging tails always put a smile on my face. 

I arrived at the farm where we’d be spending the next two days, and we gathered in a polytunnel away from the heavy rain for an introduction to the mechanics of a dry stone wall from master craftsman Alan Rhodes. It seems like a simple enough structure, and one that I certainly hadn’t really thought about in that much detail before, but when you get down to it, there’s a lot to think about to make a sturdy construct just out of stone.

Sea lily fossils in a piece of limestone

Sea lily (Crinoid) fossils in a piece of limestone - K Tyler

So then it was down to business. Clearing the stones from where the wall had collapsed, so we could start on reconstructing it. Spending hours clearing rocks might seem dull, but I was soon enthralled by looking at each stone in detail, as the limestone was filled with fossils. Sea lilies, ammonites and coral all marked the face of these rocks, and I couldn’t help but wonder about how old they were (I’ve just checked – about 490 million years...) and what the landscape would have been like (assumedly covered by water). 

A group of people building a dry stone wall

Getting the wall foundations in place - K Tyler

Then we started building again. Dry stone walling is much like doing a 3D jigsaw puzzle where none of the pieces fit, this makes it incredibly mentally taxing as well as a hugely physical activity. Day one came to a close, and I can safely say I have never been muddier! I headed home and hosed off my waterproofs in the garden, ready for day two.

Day two we were just right back into it. With slightly better weather. We were also joined by two toadlets (exciting) and a lot of flying insects (less exciting). The second day, with a soundtrack provided by curlews and lapwings, passed extremely quickly, and before we knew it, we were installing the coping stones at the top. 

I had a fantastic time, and it was the perfect activity to do on Mental Health Awareness Week when the theme is movement. It ticked all of the 5 ways to wellbeing off – active (yes, definitely), learn (absolutely), take notice (fossils, curlews, toadlets!), connect (yes, group joy at a job well done), give back (also yes, a big job repairing some of a landscape with a wall that will be a home to all sorts of wildlife). 

A woman standing in front of a dry stone wall

Kirsty in front of her dry stone wall - K Tyler

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