At 4 a.m. on Saturday January 9th the noises from our front yard sounded as though a gang of draymen were rolling empty beer barrels all over the place. The wind was roaring, whistling, screaming, and growling. I went outside to investigate and saw that wheelie-bins and blue recycling boxes were blowing about like toys scattered by children. Even a sheet-metal coal bunker was on the move. I secured what I could, then saw a slate lying next the offside front wheel of the car and retreated hastily to bed rather than have my skull split by whatever blew down next. The barometer, I noticed, had fallen twenty-five points since the evening before, from 1024 to 999.
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In comparison with the Asian tsunami - or for that matter the great flood in Carlisle - Burton's damage was not too bad. In the days since the 9th the extent of it has come to light - mainly to trees and stone dykes. The massive ash that fell across the Kirkby road beyond Dalton Hall was soon sawn through and the debris cleared. The road to Carnforth must have been blocked by the twin beech trunk with a Countryside Alliance 'Fight the Ban' notice on it near Heron Syke and the huge length of it is now stretched along the field wall. Walking along Slape Lane is still difficult because one trunk of a monumental double ash has torn off and crashed across it. You can stoop to get under it and also marvel at the elaborate pattern of ridges and wrinkles in the raw yellow wood which shows the hundred and more seasons of its growing.
Trees will presently be replaced - unlike many coastal villages in Sri Lanka and Sumatra. The stone dykes of Westmorland will need a great deal of repairing. Most of the damage is not from falling tree trunks but from the quaking of storm-shaken trees which has upheaved soil and toppled the stonework. A visitor might think that the triple breaches in the walls flanking the road between Heron Syke and the old toll-bar were caused by the hurricane, not realising they were hit by a car in the serious accident late last year. The trees that suffered worst seem mainly to have been old tall ashes and lesser trees too burdened by ivy to withstand the wind. A summer gale could have been worse for them, when branches were laden with leafage and resisted the blast till the whole tree snapped off or tore out its roots and keeled over. It's noticeable how many conifers with their full heads of needle-foliage have suffered - the row of Scots pines on the Kirkby road near Nineteen Trees, or the many cypresses and Leylandii on the Ambleside road between Windermere and Brockholes. For a time our walks will feel like a foray through a battlefield, along the canal bank, for example, where three trees have been blown across the tow-path between the old wharf and Braithwaite's Bridge. At the moment the scars of trunks and branches torn off or sawn through show like glaring white or yellow scars against the darkness of winter woodland. By the time the leafage comes again in May, the wounds will have healed or at least weathered to an unremarkable grey.
