A Tree that finds you

There is a tree on Lundy’s East path, that many people know – even though it isn’t marked on any map.

You will find it as you walk along the Lower East Path from Millcombe. There is an opening in the path — and then suddenly it is there, reaching outwards and inwards at the same time.

Where branches return to the Earth

Its branches twist and fold into one another. They loop back, dip down, and touch the earth. Some have rooted themselves, as if the tree is trying to return to the ground from which it came.

It’s not tall. It doesn’t grow upwards in the way you might expect. Instead, it spreads low and wide, creating a natural archway over the path. its branches shaped by Lundy landscape and weather.

Today, I decide to lie beneath it. Although I have passed this tree often, I have never looked at it from this angle. Its smaller branches create a crazy hair style – not unlike ones I experience on a windy day on Lundy! But as I lie here out of the wind, I look upwards. In a meditative flow I start to follow its network of intertwining branches, the sun warm on my face. This is how I spend an unexpected half day off!

Then I find a natural seat — It’s a perfect fit. A curved branch forms as though shaped by those who have sat there before. As I settle, I begin to wonder how many others have paused here.

From this seat, I look out towards the sea. A merlin swoops, a gannet dives. An oystercatcher calls sharply as it passes below. Beyond them, a ship moves slowly through the Bristol Channel, heading towards Milford Haven or Avonmouth.

I feel that this tree with it gnarled knotty branches, must have seen many ships pass by, over the years. Tankers, Cruise ships, RoRo ferries, Trawlers, and Dive boats. I ponder and ask myself, how long it has been here?

Then I turn my gaze inland. I watch a herd of sika deer moving quietly across the sideland. Their spring pelage, blending into the cliff side. I sit sheltered beneath the tree, protected from a westerly wind. I hear a Robin and a Wren and wonder, how such small birds have such loud calls.

A shared sense of Magic

Whilst I sat beneath the tree, a visitor passed by. He slowed and stopped. As he looked at the tree, we shared a moment. Looking up into the woven branches, he commented how magical this tree always felt when he passed it.

Magical.

It’s not a word people use lightly. Yet here on Lundy, it fits.

Sitting here, I am reminded of Enid Blyton’s The Faraway Tree (just released this Easter as a Movie). Childhood stories where trees were more than trees. I wonder about the past and the Island children that may have played on this enchanted tree. I remember back to my own childhood and a particular lilac tree. At the bottom of a garden, on the street where I lived, It gave us kids a place to play. This tree became a place to climb, to hide, to gather, to watch and to dream. I can still remember this tree even now.

If you know, You Know

There is something about this particular Lundy tree that people recognise. I only have to mention “the Tree on the Lower East Path” and they know exactly which one I mean. Even without landmarks, the tree itself has become one.

If you know, you know.

Before I moved to Lundy, I used to visit often. On one occasion, I found myself sketching this tree. Not in a literal way, but as something more imagined – more magical. This drawing travelled with me to Lundy, serendipitous for sure.

It is a space to pause. A place to lie back and look up through branches that reach out, yet also return to the earth. It is shaped not only by nature, but by those who spend time here.

Perhaps that is where its magic lies. Not in being hidden, or even in being found, but in the way it holds a moment. A place where people stop, look, and feel something they may not quite be able to name — before continuing on.