In a far-off time at the height of the pioneer days of the American West, the enterprising mining engineer John Matthew stood in the still freshly minted state of California. Several days ride to the south lay the old Spanish fort and rapidly growing mining and port town of San Francisco. Many days northwards, a gradual stream of settlers was arriving, having travelled the Oregon Trail from the east by wagon across wild plains of uncountable bison.
Local native peoples considered the giants sacred beings worthy of protection, their names including Gááhs-tcho, keehl and k’vsh-chn. Fallen trunks had many uses, both practical and ritualistic. The first botanical realisation had come from astounded gold miner Augustus Dowd in spring 1852, stumbling upon a grove of up to
100 metre high ‘Mammoth Trees’ one day, while stalking a grizzly bear.
Before the miner, stood the mammoths of the Calaveras Grove. In Matthew’s words: “I stepped round several 30 yards in circumference, while one which had fallen has a hollow inside fit to stable 50 horses. This gigantic Methusalem forest of the olden time seems to have extended back into periods anterior to any but geological record. The whole surface of the ground is strewed with immense trunks, or their remains, in every stage of decay, in many instances covered with vegetation - so as to look like green earthen mounds the mural vestiges (of) ancient camps...”
They would come to be known as Sequoiadendron gigantea, or Giant Redwoods, the scientific name referencing both their size, and either the seed sequencing and/or the famous Cherokee chief and linguist. Some would turn out to be millennia old and by far the most massive trees ever found, surpassing 300ft in height, only outdone on the latter by its cousin the Coastal Redwood (Sequoia sempervirens). Bending down over a fallen titan, the task of collecting the seeds from their giant cones began.
After a long journey by cargo vessel, the first letter of seed specimens from both giant and coastal varieties were delivered to Matthew’s father Patrick in Perthshire in August 1853, the species being formally written up in the Gardener’s Chronicle
by that December. News no doubt went straight to William Hooker, head of Kew Gardens. It’s unlikely that it took long before his friend and Henfield’s ‘Nestor of British Botanists’, William Borrer, acquired a specimen for his own famous garden of 6600 species at Barrow Hill - probably planted by his enterprising head gardener Charles Green. Through generations of the family and final abandonment of the garden and demolition of the house in the 1950s, the tree stood tall - alongside a few other survivors from the garden (one, the evergreen Lucombe Oak, survives today). It would stand another 50 years, alongside the modern Mill Drive housing estate that replaced the mansion, greenhouses and gardens.
One summer night in 2009, the end came in dramatic style. A summer thunderstorm hit the tree, the tallest for many miles, striking chunks of trunk off and crushing two unfortunate cars below. Within a day, tree surgeons removed the titan, a gap opening in Henfield, awaiting a new dawn.
In October 2022, giant redwoods were to return after a 13-year absence. With the lost redwood posted to Facebook as part of Project Arborea, a kind donor - Rory O’ Gorman from Croydon - saw the tale and very kindly offered to donate two teenage Sequoia Gigantea. These he had grown in pots from seed originally from Kew Gardens - providing a fine circle back to the rare plants sent to Kew on Borrer’s death in 1862. Safely delivered by Rory to Henfield in the summer, the trees were planted by two of Henfield’s tree wardens - John Willis and Tony Baker - and the writer. The first at the community orchard behind Henfield Common and the second at Flocktons, adjacent to Stonepit Lane. If you’re wondering about the spot on Mill Drive where the old redwood had stood; it had already been replaced by another species of tree as part of the village planting drive. In May 2023, the Scouts and Sustainable Henfield 2030 spent a day tending to the orchard trees, also awarding them all their own plaques!
Two years later the Common tree is doing well,
a skywards evocation of Borrer’s giant. The Stonepit tree very sadly fell victim to marauding deer or sheep lunchtime, prompting a prison level of protection for its surviving sibling. I hope that it will stand tall in decades and centuries to come, a reminder of Henfield’s pioneering botanical legacy and of the wonder these trees engendered when first reported here 170-odd years ago.
Submit a Tree to Arborea
Started in 2019, Arborea is an artistic wander through some of Henfield’s most characterful trees, channelled through the voice of residents, artists and anyone inspired by our local natural history. This project run by the Friends of Henfield Museum doesn’t make a distinction between the trees in ‘isolation’ or more overtly interwoven with us, the human subject. Submissions via all recording media from young and old, individuals and groups are welcomed! A few possibilities are photos, drawings, field recordings, song, poetry, prose and memories.
Once enough submissions are received, we hope to produce a book and physical museum displays, so, please do submit a tree!
Robert S. Gordon, August 2024