Ocknell Arch lays at the head of a dank valley, amongst the head waters of Highland Water. The ground's always wet, even during the summer months, though during the wetter months when the slopes channel the water through a filigree of rivulets and when the narrow infant flow of Highland Water exceeds it's banks, it's even more so. The ground here yields under foot, in some places more than your boots would like, or can endure. There are wonderful ancient Oaks dotted about the scrub woodland that fringes the stream, one I know has been in decline for some years now, aided I'm sure by the perpetual moisture of the land. I usually visit it once a year, sometimes more, and each visit I see more of the crown disappear, as bit by bit the tips of its branches break and they recede towards the trunk. It still endures though, still hold a place in the forest, and will do for many decades to come. The forest is timeless.
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