Over the week-end of February 4th and 5th a miracle occurred at Cylinders, performed by a group of hardy Polish mountaineers who arrived from all over England.

As most of you will know, Cylinders was badly struck by Storm Arwen on November 26-27 2021.  A massive loss was the historic Leylandia cypress tree planted by Harry Pierce in 1967 outside the shippon.  Along with that giant went many other vintage trees, mostly birches and larch, 3 or 4 of which fell across the boundary wall and into the road.  These latter were almost instantly removed by our Council, for which we were and are grateful.

The devastation, although it caused little damage to buildings, had a greater impact on the site than even the gales of winter 2015-16, and added to a 52 hour power cut caused by three larches falling onto the power supply lines, led to a bleak two months when we had to  close the site once again to visitors.  The visual devastation was added to by the fact that the larch copse by the Merz Barn, although perfectly healthy to the naked eye, had been condemned earlier in the year by the Forestry Authority, and an order served demanding its felling by the end of January 2022.  This was duly accomplished by contractor Mike Edmondson, but he is under extreme pressure up and down the valley since all others with larches on their land are working to the same time-line.  The condemned larches therefore are still lying where they fell, and after the storm Cylinders was left looking like a vast lumber-yard.

The whole thing was simply depressing, and apart from a small tidy-up to repair the waste pipe snapped by the fall of the cypress, and free the pathway to the Merz Barn, we resigned ourselves to a long wait before further remedial action could be taken.

But then, a mere ten days ago, an Angel appeared on site in the guise of Joanna Jozefowicz, an MA student at Salford College of Art.  Joanna knew the Merz Barn, having taken part in one of artist Jill Randall’s annual residency visits with her students (the next is scheduled for this March).  Joanna spent the day discussing her MA project with Ian, each of them growing more excited by the minute as they viewed the possibilities afforded by the site and its links with the gallant Polish Brigade during and after WWII.

As she was leaving Joanna remarked, seemingly idly, ‘I see you could do with some help here.  I am secretary to the Polish Mountaineers’ Society.  They will like the area and are very hardy, used to camping in all weathers.  Several of them have chain saws and other tools.  I will put out a call for any helpers, and see if we get a response’.

To be honest we were in too low a state to be expecting much, but Joana was better even than her word.  Within three days she announced she had fifteen takers, and that they were coming in five days’ time, February 4th to 6th, with the intention of working at Cylinders on the Saturday, and enjoying the mountains on the Sunday.  They would bring all their own supplies.

Littoral realised it had to get its act together.  The idea of so many people attempting to camp on site in February was unthinkable.  Luckily the TOC H bunk barn at Chapel Stile proved to be available – warm, well equipped, beautifully  sited by the river, and capable of accommodating 24 people.  Hiring the resource made us feel happier but – the weather forecast for the week-end was dire!

And correct.  The Polish guests installed themselves in the bunk barn on the Friday so quietly that we were not even sure they had arrived until Ian visited them and found a cheerful party of over 20 people in progress.   He told them to breakfast at their leisure the next day, and forget any idea of making an early start.  When Saturday dawned however the rain was coming down in vertical streaks and strong winds were attempting to tumble our remaining trees, so he went back and told them to take the day off – Mike Edmondson, the farmer up the valley who had agreed to work with them had already announced that he was not coming out in such a tempest, and we fully agreed with him.

But there was no stopping the Poles!  Suddenly the gates were thrust open and they appeared – men, women, children, broad grins on their faces, tools at the ready!  There were at least twenty-five of them.  The women advanced on the shippon, where Ian had lit a blazing fire in the stove, and proceeded  to prepare lunch, a special hot and spicy goulash called a ‘bigot’, as far as we could tell.  The men fired up their chain saws (seven of them, I think) and got to work, aided and directed by Dave Middleton with his pride and joy, his new quad and trailer.  Ian made cafetière after cafetière of strong coffee, accompanied by jokes; a pleasant old dog lazed in front of the fire; the peacocks peered suspiciously out of the henhouse.  The hens laid no eggs that day.

Celia, venturing into the shippon, peered out of the window as a Polish warrior sliced apparently effortlessly through the two-metre thick trunk of the cypress, jumping aside with a dance-like kick as each swiss-roll section fell.  All around, as the  rain sheeted down, there was similar activity.  Mud sprayed in all directions so that by the end it was possibly only the dog – his name was Caro – that remained dry.

Towards the end of the afternoon Ian suggested that a bonfire be built to get rid of the tower of brash that had built  up in the car park.  Although it seemed scarcely credible as  the rain continued to fall (over an inch to judge by the amount collected in the poultry drinking bowl) the leylandia fronds ignited like an oil well, throwing out clouds of heat, steam and red fire to the delight of all who danced around it.

By the end of the day, to Celia’s astonishment, the site was completely tidy again, only the imprint of many boots showing where the activity had been, reminiscent perhaps of the ground on the day after Waterloo.  There is still work to be done, especially along the roadway, but at the party in the bunk barn that evening a decision was taken to return in the near future to finish the job – indeed the Littoral team had to plead for a week or so of respite before the return, since some keen lumberjacks were proposing to come the following week-end.

And all this because Ian had told Joanna how Kurt Schwitters had met with a posse of the Polish Brigade when they were stationed at Grizedale, and had exchanged reminiscences with them on their life in exile in England.

Definitely, a miracle took place at Cylinders last  week-end!