Steps to nowhere
Our Childwall Woods history walk now took us behind the yew trees at the hall-less end of the carriageway, and into a dark space containing a short flight of stone steps going precisely nowhere, with the remnants of a couple of ivy-clad walls lurking in the background. There is, unfortunately, no history on the chapel, so I allowed my imagination free rein. Images of the family praying together with their servants on a Sunday morning sprang to mind, and I wondered what the place would have looked like – stained glass windows like many of our old churches, carved wooden pews, brass collecting bowls, heavy old bibles and tiny prayer and hymn books, perhaps?
Leaving the realms of fantasy behind, we made our way to the ha-ha, constructed instead of a fence to keep out the cattle, so that the Gascoynes’ views were not obscured by a boundary wall or fence. I realised then that the odd ‘sunken wall’ at Calderstones Park is also a ha-ha, and made a mental note to find out more about it.
The ha-ha
We emerged from the cool, shady woodland to clear blue skies and a great view over Liverpool and beyond as our journey moved into the council’s landfilled, glass-filled meadows and more recent history. We walked up the slope to the woods, passing a new pond, which had been put in earlier this year with help and financial support from Lancashire Wildlife Trust. It’s in an area that never dries out and where dragonflies, damselflies and other species have been seen, so it should be a great asset to the site.
Relieved to be back in the shade, we carried on down a dusty path to the other lodge, at the Black Woods end of Childwall Woods. It’s less than a ruin now, but we learnt how the path – big enough for horses and people but not for carriages – ran through the middle of the lodge, which presumably acted as a gateway to the hall. Whilst the lodge is marked on a map from 1904 and the Home Guard are recorded as using it for shooting practice during World War II, so it was clearly still standing (in some form) then, Brenda tells us that the FCWF can find no record of what eventually happened to it.
As we return to the main entrance, we passed a large mound and learnt its sad story: it is the grave of seven horses killed in a fire long ago. Liverpool’s green spaces are full of such markers – Judy the donkey in Princes Park, Jet the German shepherd in Calderstones – and it would be interesting to find out more about them, too.
The horses’ grave
Our final stop is the purple-leaved beech near the Childwall Abbey Road entrance that was planted in 1967 to commemorate the opening of Childwall Woods and Fields. It was a privilege to be shown around somewhere I have birded before but did not know much about. The carriageway especially left an impression on me, and in my mind’s eye I can see carriages rolling along lantern-lit sandstone walls on an autumn evening, leaves golden and crisp under the wheels and the horses’ hooves, on the way to a Hallowe’en Ball at the turreted, Gothic-looking Hall. Another story yet to be written, sparked by the history of this fair city.