I don’t know about you, but I remember where I was when I heard that the tree at Sycamore Gap had been felled. It was a few weeks after my thirtieth birthday (September) and I was at Chester Zoo. It seems odd, because it wasn’t a cataclysmic event, nobody died, and yet it was something that shook the nation, created news stories internationally (I had friends overseas messaging me, asking me why this particular tree was so significant, and why they were seeing it on their news), and had people talking here for months afterwards. I’d only walked that section of the wall a few months before, when I’d been staying at Hideaway Huts in the June of that year, and had fondly taken pictures of the tree before wandering off, confidently thinking “I’ll be back soon.” Turns out it’ll be a decade or two before I’ll be able to see such a thing in that location again, and I wasn’t the only one deeply upset by that fact.

Because the Sycamore at Sycamore Gap was more than a tree. It was a symbol of Northumberland, and one of the iconic images of the UK. Standing between two steep hills with the spine of Hadrian’s Wall winding it’s way down the middle, the Sycamore (and the tiny offshoot next to it) stood as lone guardians of the Gap. People visited here from across the UK and around the world because of its extremely beautiful situation and because of its iconic status, and the tree became a place where people got engaged, where families bonded, where ashes were spread, and where memories were made. It was also famously featured in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves with Kevin Costner and Morgan Freeman. Despite the tree being conspicuously nowhere near Nottinghamshire, that film introduced Sycamore Gap to the world.

After it was felled people were shocked. It felt like a friend had been taken from us. Why would anyone do such a thing to a gentle giant? Apparently, because they could and they thought it would be funny. I’m not going to waste many pixels or brain space on the idiots who did it, suffice to say that they were caught and charged, and ended up in prison. Good.

But there is hope.

Since the tree was felled, offcuts from the felled monarch were taken by the National Trust and by Northumberland National Park, and propagated to create hundreds of Sycamore saplings, all related to that mother tree. Naturally occurring saplings are also shooting where the tree once stood. Communities pulled together and it was decided by local public decision that the main pieces of the felled tree would become art installations, the largest piece ending up at The Sill in an exhibition entitled Sycamore Gap: Coming Home. Many people contributed memories to the exhibition, writing about what the Gap had meant to them. Local schools were also involved in making art to be situated alongside the professional photographs and art that were commissioned to commemorate the tree.

Beyond the art exhibitions, there is even more good news. The first of the propagated saplings have now been planted outside of their careful nursery environment. Two saplings have gone to Coventry and Staffordshire, whilst others are soon to be planted in Cambridge, Hexham, Leeds, Berkshire, Sunderland, and County Tyrone. Eventually, there will be forty-nine locations for saplings, chosen from over five hundred applications that were made.

“There are always good things worth fighting for, even after something so senseless” – Hilary McGrady, director general of the National Trust.

These saplings will become notable features at various charity and community centres around the country. These include the Rob Burrow Centre for MND in Leeds, the charity Veterans in Crisis in Sunderland, and in each of the UK’s National Parks (15 in total), which will be planted in early 2026.

It might be extremely literal, but I think this is a brilliant example of how hope, community effort, art, creativity, and determined spirit can be pulled from the wreckage of something senseless and shocking. I, for one, am looking forward to seeing these sturdy trees flourish and for Sycamore Gap to be once again back to its former glory.