The story of ‘Leviathan' By Simon James Davies

This image centers on an individual tree, hidden away in a mysterious wooded valley known as Wistmans Wood, which is situated on Dartmoor, Devon, England. This unusual woodland is the subject of much fable and folklore, and there’s no wonder when you see the contorted form of the small Oak trees which cling to the Eastern face of this boulder strewn valley.

Wistmans Wood is one of several small woods which are scattered across Dartmoor, they are believed to be the remnants of a vast Oak Forest which carpeted the area around 7000 B.C. Humans began the process of clearing the Forest around 5000 B.C. and eventually all that remained of the Forest were areas of scrub, which held on in the more inaccessible areas. Over time these areas of scrub regenerated as woodland, and due to the windswept, barren nature of the moors, combined with the inhospitable climate of the time, the trees grew in a contorted ‘ground hugging’ form. They evolved in this way until the 19th Century, when the climate began to warm, the trees responded to this change by adapting their growth to a more natural, ascending posture.

Records going back several hundred years refer to the Oaks being less than the height of a man, incredibly the growth rate of the trees doubled in the 20th Century and this accelerated growth has continued into the 21st Century, the average height of the trees is now 5.5 m, a lot shorter than the average height of the Oaks we are familiar with today. The character of the trees is further enhanced by a luscious green coat of epiphytic mosses and lichens, complemented by various ‘grazing-sensitive’ species such a bilberry and polypody.

This particular tree was selected by chance on an early Autumn day in 2020. It was late afternoon and the Sun was dipping behind the Western face of the valley, the after-glow created a beautiful, soft light which fell upon this small area of woodland. For a few short moments, this tree and it’s complex coat of micro flora, presented a scene which was too beautiful to be missed.

My first visit to the woods was a frustrating experience. After arriving at the start of the Bridleway, which leads to the woods, it began to drizzle. By the time I’d walked the 2km to the woods, it was raining hard, and any thoughts of finding shelter under the trees were quickly dispelled. When the moss, which covers the majority of the trees, becomes saturated, water drips continuously, and I discovered that I may as well have been standing out in the open. It proved impractical to attempt to capture an image in the conditions.

The following day, I walked the Bridleway to the woods for a second time, and the conditions could not have been more different. The sun shone brightly, and there was hardly a cloud in the sky, despite the beautiful scenery, it wasn’t really the kind of light I’d hoped for. At this time of year, you could expect a low mist to be hanging in the valley, and this is is how I’d visualised the scene. Instead, the light was harsh, and the contrast between the light and shadow in the woods didn’t lend itself to what I had in mind.

I scouted the woods, hoping for a change in the light, but after several hours, and what seemed like, a similar amount of miles, I was beginning to tire. My steps became less sure, carrying a heavy backpack, tripod and camera wasn’t easy in this terrain, the terrain was still damp from the previous days rain, and it became quite treacherous. Large, moss covered, granite boulders are strewn throughout the woods, they're more than a stride apart, and they wait patiently for shins, ankles and anything else you might be careless enough to feed them.

I’d seen an Adder earlier, it was taking advantage of the warmth of the rocks and, unusually, it made no attempt to move away as I approached. The sight encouraged me to change my route, and in doing so, I was reminded of the warnings, not to slip into the gaps between the rocks. Disturbing a vipers nest in this way would almost certainly have meant an abrupt end to the day.

It was late in the afternoon and the Sun had dipped below the high ridge which formed the Western face of the valley. I could feel the darkness enveloping the woods and I felt a familiar pang of negativity, surely I wasn't going to leave the woods a second time without an image?

Whilst my thoughts were increasingly occupied with how I was going to get back in the dark, the instinct for the prize remained. Even though the light was fading, there was no wind, and this meant that I would be able to get away with a slow shutter speed, the thought ‘picked me up’, and I decided that I could ‘push on’ a bit longer. Soon after, I found myself in the right place, at the right time. The scene in front of me was an incredible opportunity, and I estimated that I had a couple more minutes to take advantage of it.

As I raced against time, a mild panic, combined with a kind of euphoria, came over me, I had to force myself to calm down by controlling my breathing. I was shaking with anticipation as I changed my lens and fumbled with tripod legs. Leaving my pack behind and with camera and tripod in hand, I ‘threw caution to the wind', quickly negotiating the 30ft scramble across the rocks. I was able to set up for this beautiful composition, with seconds to spare.