Tucked away from sight, Puzzlewood sits in the wider site of the Forest of Dean in the county of Gloucestershire. It is somewhere that had been on my ‘to visit’ list since I can’t remember when, and where during my wanders, I spent more time stopped than I spent moving.
Every few steps, something shifts: a new pattern, a different texture, a change in light. It rewards patience.
Those around me seemed intent on spending as little time as possible there amongst the mossy canopy. A speed run of the forest to get some quick social media photos and away to the next place seemed the way to go for most. Another example of the point that we are always in too much of a rush and have lost the sense of connection to a place when we visit.
I was drawn to the way the light fell around the creases of the landscape of the scowles.
It’s also incredibly easy to see why this place has inspired so many stories over the years. There’s something undeniably otherworldly about it. At times it feels almost staged, like a film set but it’s entirely natural, shaped over thousands of years.
That tension between reality and imagination is part of what makes it so compelling to experience rather than view through a screen. Spending a few hours trapped beneath the canopy along the pathways that meander in criss cross patterns, rising and falling as you go.
The pathways laid by the ‘original’ landowner encourage you to get lost. You quickly become disorientated in a scene similar to Alice in Wonderland. But it’s welcomed. I feel quite happy to step away from reality for a moment and stare at moss. Some pathways are gullies, dipping in unexpected ways and winding like corridors never fully revealing what’s ahead.
I’m not at all an expert in how the forest was made, but I think its history has more secrets than we know.
I went on a sunny morning which became cloudy in intervals and more in keeping with a British wintry day. Beginning with contrasting light and harsh shadows, the forest felt more threatening. But when the soft cloud cover came along with the damp air, that deep, muted green appeared that only really exists in places like this.
It’s the kind of light that feels unremarkable at first. Then, everything becomes softer, more detailed. The tones settle into each other, and suddenly the forest feels less like a film set and more whimsical.
