Crossing off the Bucket List: Part One @SkomerIsland #walks #photographs #birds #plantlife #Memories

At long last! After living in Pembrokeshire for the last forty-six years and despite walking many miles of the Pembrokeshire coast, and meandrering around a lot of the Welsh countryside discovering wonderful places, lakes, waterfalls … scenary, we hadn’t been on Skomer island. This week we finally managed to go. And it was a glorious day’s adventure.

Boarding the Dale Princess

Arriving on Skomer

To be greeted by numerous curious puffins who seemed as interested in us as we were in them….

Skomer is internationally important for seabirds and, of course, there are necessary rules to protect the birds so we were told where and how we could walk the paths. One of the National Trust volunteers told us about the numerous species of birds on the island which included the Puffins – now in their last week before they leave the island – we were so lucky to see them.

The colony of Manx Shearwaters is the largest colony in the world. Unfortunately we found quite a few remains of these on the narrow paths, apparently caught by the Great Black-backed Gulls. Later in the day we came across a crowd of people watching a Manx Shearwater chick which had wandered out of its ground nest. Seeing the amount of Gulls flying overhead, we hoped it managed to shuffle back to safety.

We weren’t lucky enough to see the Storm Petrels that are usually here on the island (they probably were but our binoculars were of slightly less quality than those hired out for five pounds by the National Trust). But we did see Guillemots, Razorbill, Kittiwakes, and so many of the ubiquitous Carrion Crows and Ravens

And at the Bird Hide, we watched Fulmars, Herring, Lesser and Great Black-backed Gulls as well as a pair of Canada Geese around the North Pond. (Well, I think they were Canada Geese, the Photographer said they were … ducks!) Huh!

Two watchful Kittiwakes

And, later in the day we were followed by a pair of these little birds – we think they were trying to lure us away from their nest.

We thought they were Stonechats – or Linnets – but maybe someone more knowledgeble will be able to correct us?

Some of the paths are so narrow they were designated one way paths – we were warned not to stand on the grass alongside in case there there were still Puffin burrows with chicks in them. Others are wider and surrounded by ferns, daisies, wild flowers … a treat to see.

We arrived at the old farmhouse where we stopped for our picnic.

History of the farmhouse:

There are unsubstantiated records of a house built in the centre of the island, thought to be around seventeen hundred on which are the ruins of the old farmhouse, itself dated from about 1840. This was once an impressive and substantial house, built in the traditional Pembrokeshire style with small slates fixed in mortar, protecting the front of the house. Early pictures show a metal veranda running the length of the house, and at the back of the building, an old smoking oven where fish and meats would have been preserved.
The slightly thicker soils in this part of the island and access to water in North Valley enabled a range of crops to be grown. There are records of the farm supporting three families at one time with cows and sheep grazing on the land as well as horses to help with the heavy work. Farming was largely abandoned after the outbreak of the First World War and all agriculture on the island finally ended in 1950.

And onwards to today:

In 1959 the Island was bought by the Nature Conservancy (the Government department that became the Countryside Council for Wales) helped by the West Wales Field Society (the charity that became the Wildlife Trust of South and West Wales). It was declared one of the country’s first National Nature Reserves and is now owned by National Trust and managed by the Wildlife Trust of South and West Wales.

In the next part of our visit to Skomer we move on from the farmhouse to the magnificent coastline and impressive views.

Where we Walked Glen Rosa #Arran #Scotland

Glen Rosa is a beautiful glen with Goat Fell mountain in the distance – stunning scenery.

Early morning (apparently the best time to do this walk), and we are already driving through Brodick. We turn into a lane just before the Old Brodick Burial Ground, signposted Cart Track, Glen Rosa’. There are two choices according to the directions; drive the first mile on a lane to where the track begins. or walk it. We debate. If it’s interesting, we’ll walk. We park, walk a little way … it’s just a lane between two hedges … nothing much to see.

Photo courtesy of https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/The

The Photographer is keen to photograph the glorious views that the directions promise, so back to the cemetary.

The Brodick Old Cemetery was formerly associated with the Glen Shurig church,, erected in 1839 and demolished about 1931 when the congregation joined the Church of Scotland in Brodick. It looks like an isolated forest clearing and is difficult to acess, but the graveyard has a hundred and twenty-one monumental stones. They are mostly illegible but we do find one dated 1863.

When we arrive where the lane ends and the track begins, just alongside a campsite, we follow the example of others and pull onto the grass verge behind three other cars. We can see the riverbank of Glenrosa Water. We’re keen to get going: out of the car, hoist our rucksacks on our backs, the lead on Dusk.

The view up the glen opens up. We see Cir Mhor in the distance. And beyond it the summit of Cul nan Creagan, Glenshant Hill, and Goat Fell. I see the Photographer’s eyes light up; my heart sinks. ” We’re not going too far are we? It’s quite warm already.” He doesn’t answer – sets off almost at a gallop. Dusk and I follow…

The track is rocky and dusty, but wide, and the surroundings absolutely inspirational.

We arrive at a timber footbridge where the tributary, Garbh Allt, joins the Glenrosa Water and the path splits, with the left-hand fork tracing the smaller stream. The Photographer is already on the path at the other side. We see him looking down …

.Dusk and I stop. Two tiny snakes are wriggling around on the path. (For totally personal squeamish reasons I’ve made this photo as small as I can). However tiny they are, we are not going past them. We are going no further

We wait. The Photographer is fascinated, as are three other walkers. But they don’t have a dog – “I need to stay here to protect Dusk!I call. Eventually the snakes wriggle away into the grass, and I tentatively pass the spot they’d been cavorting on.

We follow the path alongside the Glenrosa Water. Before long we arrive at the Blue Pool.

A favoured spot for wild swimming, as a wet Dusk demonstrates.

After a stop for a picnic for us and a half of a dog treat for Dusk, we decide to carry on for more photo opportunities. But the path becomes narrower, more overgrown...

Until almost impassable. And after a friendly hiker informs us that it is the start of the breeding seaon for the adders who are coming out of hibernation (I don’t query his knowledge – just the thought decides me) … it’s time to be setting off back to the car … at a gallop.

We could have crossed an old stone bridge to join onto the circular walk, but we’ve been out for quite a few hours and it’s hot, so we retrace our steps and head back to the house.

N.B. Technical note: Goat Fell is labelled as a Corbett mountain. Corbetts are defined as Scottish mountains between 2,500–3,000 feet (762.0–914.4 m) in height with a prominence of at least 500 feet (152.4 m). They are named after John Rooke Corbett, a district valuer from Bristol, who compiled a list of them in the 1920s. He completed the Corbetts in 1939, when he was in his early 60s.

Climbers who climb all of the Corbetts are called Corbetteers, with the first being John Corbett himself. The second completion was by William McKnight Docharty in May 1960. A list of Corbetteers is maintained which as of July 2018 totalled 678.

Where We Walked Garbad Loch #Arran #Scotland #walks #photography

We parked opposite the Eas Mòr Ecology centre, and crossed the road to pass the Forest at the Falls cafe. “We can call in for a drink and a bite to eat afterwards,” the Photographer says when I look longingly at the table where a couple are enjoying a coffee. The aroma is tempting but Dusk and I follow him up the short, steep path ….

We duck under the trunks of a couple of trees that have fallen across the path. One has a plaque nailed to it – “Bow your heads for you enter sacred and magical lands”. As we were to discover when we finally reached Loch Garbad. But first to the Eas Mór falls.

Photo cortesy of https://tinyurl.com/msk5skns

Today the falls are not as magical as the photographs from the travel website promised when we discovered this walk. It’s a little disappointing but it’s because the weather has been so dry. Only a small slender stream of water runs, mostly obsured by the surrounding shrubs and grasses from where we stand. (hence the above borrowed photograph). It’s certainly not as impressive as the Glenashdale Waterfall from our first walk on Arran, but it does fall over the cliff in a single dramatic drop into a deep dark gorge.

At a stone seat there’s a path junction with a signpost for Loch Garbad. From the description on the map we are following we expected to be walking though woodland but no; all the forest towards the loch has been felled under the Eas Mor project. This is the gradual conversion of the commercial conifer plantations back to semi-natural trees, so many of these have already been planted as saplings. (I’ve included the Facebook link above, because I think it is so impressive what they are doing in so many areas).This is a vast open area of brash (the above ground parts of the tree that hasn’t been removed from the site after felling – the foliage, branches and crown). Not yet as attractive as it will be, but it has opened up a terrific view across to Pladda Island to Ailsa Craig….

We stop for a while to admire and take photographs. Then carry on along the track …

It’s a bit of a slog. We meet only one other couple with a dog. Dusk and it exchange pleasantries, as do we, and then we plod on. (Yes, that is a sly photo of Dusk and me, taken by the Photographer!) The track is rough and narrow in places. I wonder how it must have felt in past times, winding through the overgrown woods, and I appreciate the openness, being able to see that last hill before we get to Loch Garbad.

Not far now.

We’re told to ‘pose’ – As you may be able to see, neither Dusk nor I appreciate this.

We’re both much happier sitting down for a welcome drink of water and taking in the remote beauty of the loch, whilst the Photographer goes off to do his own thing.

An hour later and we’re off again, somehow managing to take a wrong turn and having to retrace our steps to get onto the right path down the hill. Eventually taking the steps past the waterfall again and towards

The Library in the Woods – which is exactly what it says – housed in a small log cabin it’s a hidden library in beautiful woodland, and filled with books and messages left by visitors over the years. Another project created by Eas Mor Ecology and built in 1998 from trees felled in a storm on Boxing Day.

Time to leave. We take a narrow path downwards through woods and across the bridge over the stream fed by the waterfall. Just in time … to see the cafe closing. “Never mind,” says the Photographer, ” We’ll be back at the house in no time. We can have a coffee there. What’s for tea?”

https://tinyurl.com/4y3ftdnw

Where We Walked … Well, What We Saw From Where We Walked #Ailsa Craig #Arran #Scotland

Image courtesy of https://ayrshireandarran.com/ailsa-craig/

Ailsa Craig, sometimes referred to as the Granite Jewel of the Firth of Clyde, is an island that is colloquially known as “Paddy’s Milestone”. It was a haven for Catholics during the Scottish Reformation in the 16th century, and is also reknowned for being approximately the halfway point of the sea journey from Belfast to Glasgow, which was a traditional route for Irish labourers emigrating to Scotland to seek work.

The island is actually a volcanic plug from an extinct volcano, and is owned by David Thomas Kennedy, the 9th Marquess of Ailsa – except for the two hectares which were sold to the Northern Lighthouse Board in 1883.

The lighthouse was built around 1886, by Thomas Stevenson, a pioneering Scottish civil engineer. It originally used oil-burning lamps, but these were later replaced with incandescent lighting, and then, in 1990, the lighthouse was automated. Further refurbishment, in 2001, meant it was converted to run on solar power.

The island contains some of Europe’s most important bird colonies, which includes the continent’s biggest gannet colony, as well as puffins, so is managed as a nature reserve by the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB). It’s also designated a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) and a Special Protection Area, mainly because of the colony of grey seals, and the occasional whale. There are also visiting large basking sharks during the warm summer months which can be seen feeding at the surface on the planktonic bloom.

The texture of the rocks on Ailsa Craig is a granite called microgranite that is so hard and resistant to impact, it makes it ideal for the manufacture of curling stones. The manufacturer, Kays of Mauchline, Ayrshire in Scotland, has the exclusive rights to the granite, granted by the Marquess of Ailsa, and has been making these stones since 1851, and providing them for the Winter Olympics since Chamonix in 1924.

I thought it interesting that boulders of of the Ailsa Craig microgranite were transported by glaciers as far afield as County Donegal and Pembrokeshire. Of course this led me down another rabbit hole …

The microgranite is part of the geology of the Precambrian rock of the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park. Formed as the lava pushed through the existing rocks and solidified, these rocks can be seen in various locations, such as the coastline of St Bride’s Bay and the southwest tip of the St David’s Peninsula.

Something else I discovered…

There are ruins on the island of a castle.

Ailsa Craig Castle today – photgraph courtesy of Douglas Wilcox www.seakayakphoto.com

These remains are of a castle built in the middle of the sixteenth century by the Hamilton Family to protect the island from King Philip II of Spain. It stands on a shoulder of rock around three hundred feet above the sea, the only approach to it a steep and narrow footpath, although there used to be an external set of stairs to the tower. The castle was in ruins after the Reformantion but was later restored by Thomas HamiltonIn and the work recorded by an armorial panel high up on the south gable, showing the Hamilton arms. Today only the tower remains.

Where We Walked … Well, What We Saw From Where We Walked #Pladda Isle #Arran #Scotland

We are on our way to walk to Loch Garbad. Dusk is on the back seat. When I hear her move, feel her patting me on the shoulder with her paw, I presume she needs a ‘comfort break’ (as they politly say on coach trips). We turn off the road onto a side lane towards the village of Kildonan, and park on the first layby we come to.

I think Dusk just wanted us to see the glorious coastline and the two islands nearby: Ailsa Craig and Pladda. Ailsa Craig deserves its own blog, so what follows is what we discovered about Pladda Isle.

Pladda Isle (Pladda – Scottish Gaelic: Pladaigh –  the name comes from Old Norse and means “flat isle”)  has been the site of a lighthouse since 1790).

The main structures of the Pladda lighthouse date from 1820 and were constructed under the administration of Thomas Smith of the Stevenson company.

To allow seafarers to distinguish it from the other nearby lighthouses at the Mull of Kintyre, Cumbrae and Copeland, a lower light from a small lantern twenty feet lower than the original one was installed and this carried on for more than one hundred years. And in 1876, a fog signal was also installed on Pladda..  This arrangement operated for about 100 years.

Pladda Isle (Pladda – Scottish Gaelic: Pladaigh –  the name comes from Old Norse and means “flat isle”)  has been the site of a lighthouse since 1790).

In 1901 fixed lights were no longer regarded as suitable for the island so coastal lights and a group of flashing lights were installed. The lower tower was then no longer needed.

The lighthouse keepers who were permanently attached to the station were brought provisions four times a month, two of which landed on Sundays to allow light keepers to attend church.

Everything changed in 1972 when a helicopter began to be used to transport the keepers. But then, in 1990 lighthouse became automated and the lighthouse keepers were no longer needed. The lighthouse is now monitored remotely from Edinburgh and the island is unoccupied. The traditional lantern and lens have been replaced by a couple of solar powered LED lights.

The modern plaque at the base of the main tower bears the crest of the Northern Lighthouse Commisioners and the motto “In Salutem Omnium” – For the Safety of the island

Previously the island was part of the Arran Estate, but in 2022 it was bought and is now privately owned. There are plans to build a luxury property on the island.

ENDNOTE:

For over one hundred and fifty years Robert Stevenson and his descendants designed most of Scotland’s Lighthouses. Battling against the odds and the elements – the Stevensons constucted wonders of engineering that have withstood the test of time, an amazing historical achievement.


Family Crest
“Coelum Non Solum”

Robert Stevenson’s talented family also included the famous writer/novelist Robert Louis Stevenson (his grandson). Visits with his family to remote lighthouses are thought to have inspired his books Kidnapped and Treasure Island.


“There is scarce a deep sea light from the Isle of Man to North Berwick,
but one of my blood designed it.
The Bell Rock stands monument for my grandfather;
the Skerry Vhor for my uncle Alan;
and when the lights come out along the shores of Scotland,
I am proud to think that t
hey burn more brightly for the genius of my father.”


Robert Louis Stevenson

The above was found on the link https://tinyurl.com/yb9x6mpj when I was researching Pladda. It’s fascinating going down these rabbit holes!!

Where We Walked Kingscross Point Arran Scotland #Walks #Photographs

Our second walk was an easy circular stroll – the Photographer assured me. I was suspicious; I’d heard that before… many times. But this time he was telling the truth!

We walk from the house where we are staying – (borrowed house in order, borrowed dog, Dusk, in tow, borrowed cats fed and left behind) – and saunter along a road and past a church towards the sea. Crossing a bridge onto an unsurfaced road we pass several houses ( noting that alongside one was a building that offered fish and chips ‘occasionally’. I wondered, aloud, whether today was one of the ‘occasional’ days as we clamber over rocks onto the beach …

but eventually realise that the Photographer has lingered way behind Dusk and I.

So she and I turn off at a signpost, go through a gate which leads to a path where we negotiate our way through, between gorse and brambles.

And onto a wooded area with a section of boardwalk.

There is the wonderfully evocative scent of wild garlic. Dusk is more intent on leading the way. Leaving the boardwalk, we enter fields, keeping to the path alongside the hedgerows and past the horses grazing in the next field. Through another gate, another field that slopes upwards. I am reminded here of the Rowan tree that I saw when I was here with a friend on our writing retreat in August last year. Then it was covered in berries – today it’s just in budding leaf.

The Photographer with us once again, we climbed over some large stones to reach the site of the ruins of a Viking fort. Actually, there is very little to see .but apparently there is a Viking boat burial near King’s Cross. The above photograph is courtesy of Walking Arran: Iron Age forts, a Viking burial and Buddhist pilgrims. https://tinyurl.com/yc3fupz9. Unfortunately I deleted the Photographer’s photo – which then was lost in the ether… oops!!

A little snippet of information:

Around the ninth century Arran was part of Viking territories; the Kingdom of Mann and the Isles. Many local place names have Old Norse origins which includes Brodrick (where the ferry lands providing the weather is good and the boat is up to the crossing). Brodick is derived from ‘breda-vick’, meaning ‘broad bay’ and Sannox, from ‘Sandvik’ or ‘sandy bay’, in Old Norse.

We stop for a few moments to take in the peace and quiet, and to look over again towards Holy Isle with the lighthouse and buildings that house those on a Buddhist retreat on the island.

And linger to look across the sea towards the range of mountains in the distance. One of our walks later in the week will take us closer to them. But there’s no doubt we won’t be tackling Goat Fell, the highest one the island – intrepid pensioners though we are!!

Then we scramble down to the path alongside the beach on the other side of the cove. The beach here is more rocky, We turn inland and uphill on a path through fields, then onto a lane which eventually leads back to the church – and homeward.

Another satisfying walk in this lovely island of Arran.

The following day we, and Dusk, had a rest, much to the annoyance of Clary, our friend’s cat – because I was sitting in her place on the settee …

before our next adventure – a hike walk to Loch Garbad

The following gives the ( rather long) history of the Holy Island, which I find fascinating – is courtesy of the website Holy Isle: Centre for World Peace and Health: https://www.holyisle.org/the-island/history/

History

The earliest recorded name for Holy Isle was Inis Shroin, which is old Gaelic for ‘Island of the Water Spirit’.

After the time when the Celtic Christian saint St. Molaise lived on the island at the end of the 6th century, it became known as Eilean Molaise, which is Gaelic for ‘Molaise’s Island’. This name gradually evolved over the course of centuries until early in the 19th century the island became generally known as Holy Isle (or the Holy Isle) and the village on the other side of the bay became known as Lamlash.

Saint Molaise (566 – 640 A.D.)

St. Molaise was born in Ireland, the son of Cairell, the Irish king of what is now called Ulster, and the Scottish princess Gemma. Molaise was a very gifted and spiritually inclined child. He was much loved by his own people and was offered the throne of Ulster when he came of age, but instead he chose a religious and secluded life in a cave on the west coast of Holy Isle. He was then only 20 years old. Some people believe that when St. Molaise chose the cave on Holy Isle as his hermitage, the island was already considered a special, “holy” place.

When he was about 30 years old, Molaise went to Rome and was ordained as a priest by Pope Gregory the Great. When he returned, he entered the great monastery in Leighlin, Ireland which St. Gobban had established. Soon after he became its abbot. Under his guidance the monastery grew in fame and number to about 1500 monks. Molaise played an important part in adopting the controversial Roman method of dating Easter within Ireland. This was an important issue among the different Christian churches, who debated it for several centuries. When Molaise was in his late 50s, he went back to Rome and was consecrated first Bishop of Leighlin by Honorius I. Historians are divided on when Molaise died, estimating between 638 and 641. His feast day is celebrated both in Ireland and Scotland, on the 18th of April.

St. Molaise’s cave and the Healing Well

The cave where St. Molaise lived, is about half way along the western shore of Holy Isle, about ten meters above the high-water mark, and consists of an overhanging sandstone rock with a sunken stone floor. It is thought that in Molaise’s time much of the opening of the cave was closed up by a wall to keep the weather out. The cave can still be visited today. Carvings can be seen in the wall, such as simple crosses, perhaps made by pilgrims, and Norse runes, mainly of personal names. One of these says “Vigleikr the Marshall carved”. Some of the crosses seem to have been carved at around the same time as the names, so perhaps there was an element of pilgrimage to the cave among the Vikings. Lastly, there is an unusually designed cross carved into the roof of the cave.

Close to the cave is a spring, known as the Healing Well which is thought to cure ills and bring blessings.  In the 18th century it was recorded that “the natives used to drink and bath in [the well] for all lingering ailments”. The same source describes the water as “gushing out of a rock”. At the beginning of the 20th century apparently there was a cistern present built of masonry, with a stone spout which delivered the water. The spring is overgrown now so that you wouldn’t get more than a footbath from it but the water is still cold and clear, albeit it does not meet current EU standards for drinking water.

The Monastery: There are several indications of a monastery having existed on Holy Isle, most probably close to what is now the Centre at the north end. It may have been erected at the beginning of the 13th century, although other sources say it was in the 14th century. The monastery buildings could have been made of wood or a dry-built structure which left no traces. In the 16th century it has been recorded to have decayed.

The Vikings: In 1263 King Haakon of Norway brought a fleet of ships to the shelter of Lamlash Bay, before fighting the Scots at the Battle of Largs. Vigleikr, one of his marshals, went ashore at Holy Isle and cut runes with his name on the wall of St. Molaise’s cave. After the battle, King Haakon gave the island of Arran to one of his supporters, but this really didn’t count for much once the Norse had departed.

The Dukes of Hamilton

In 1488 Holy Isle and land in the Lamlash area was owned by one John Hunter, before being passed over to the Earl of Arran in 1527. The island continued to be part of the Arran Estate in Hamilton ownership even into the 20th century, being rented out to various people until that time. In the 18th century, Captain James Hamilton (not related to the dukes of Hamilton who owned Arran) obtained a long lease on Holy Isle from the Duke of Hamilton. In 1779 he built what became known as the Big House (the old farmhouse, now called the Harmony Wing).

Lighthouses

In 1877 the inner lighthouse (facing Arran) was built on Holy Isle, engineered by David and Thomas Stevenson. It is locally known as “Wee Donald”, though the current lighthouse keepers don’t know why anymore. The outer lighthouse, or Pillar Rock, was built in 1905 on the east shore. It had a fog horn and a revolving light that was lit by paraffin. Pillar Rock lighthouse was the first lighthouse built with a square tower and has several rooms inside for the men who worked there. Lighthouse cottages were built to house four families of the lighthouse keepers and a walled garden was made. The lighthouses became automated in 1977, and are now serviced every two weeks by local people living on Arran.

The “Rich American”

In 1957 the Duchess of Montrose died and the death duties were so high that the Arran Estate had to be divided. Part of the land was passed to the Forestry Commission and the National Trust, whilst other parts went into private hands. Holy Isle received a life tenant in 1958: Stewart Huston of Pennsylvania, USA. He was a millionaire who had a special interest in the island because he was descended from Gershom Stuart, who was Minister of Kilbride (at Lamlash) from 1747 – 1796. Despite his interest in the island and its history, he did not visit often, and the land continued to be used for grazing sheep by local shepherds from Arran.

The Universities Federation for Animal WTelfare

In 1968, the UFAW (Universities Federation for Animal Welfare) was asked to advise on the husbandry and management of the island’s animals, which at that time consisted of Blackface sheep and a herd of feral goats. They set up a Field Study Centre in 1969, and after Stewart Huston passed away, they were able to buy the island in 1971. in later years they introduced 25 Soay sheep and 5 Highland cattle, and a few years later 5 Eriskay ponies. When the UFAW could no longer afford to keep it, the island had to be sold again.

The Morris Family

In April 1984, after having been on the market for 20 months, the island was bought by James and Catherine Morris for £120,000. They moved into the farmhouse the following summer with their two young sons. They managed to connect electricity from the south end to the north, which made living in the farmhouse much more comfortable for them. In 1990 all the Highland cattle and seven ponies were taken off the island, leaving the Saanen goats, the Soay sheep and five Eriskay ponies.

In 1987 they decided to put the island up for sale for £1 million. The island remained unsold however, and in the autumn of 1990 Mrs Morris approached Lama Yeshe to offer the island to him, because she felt that its future would be best taken care of by “the Buddhists from Samye Ling”. Lama Yeshe first came to Holy Isle on the winter solstice of that year and became determined to buy the island. Finally the asking price was dropped to £350,000, which Lama Yeshe managed to raise by April 1992.

Where We Walked – Glenashdale Waterfall and the Giant’s Graves, Arran, Scotland #Walks #Photographs #Viewpoints #Waterfalls #Legends #History

We’ve just returned from a wonderful couple of weeks on Arran. The photographer sourced the walks for us. Today he promises a short outing because it’s rather warm; “maybe a couple of hours allowing for stops… for Dusk, our borrowed border collie, of course”. (Oh, not for photographs then?).

We are going to one of the most famous waterfalls on Arran, Glenashdale Falls, and then on to see the Giants’ Graves.

We follow the directions from a rather old book of walks, which immediately adds a couple of miles on by sending us along a wide rather rough road, instead of going to the end of Whiting Bay and turning onto the forestry track.

Though I have to admit we passed some peaceful scenic views.

We were unable to follow the path through the forest to the Iron Fort due to the damage and fallen trees, caused by the latest storm on the island. So we continued along the wide track for another mile.

We reached Glenashdale Falls, also known as Eas a’ Chrannaig, one of a series of falls on the Glenashdale Burn, which flows from moorland near the summit of Tighvein eastwards towards Whiting Bay.

The viewing platform – not for anyone scared of heights

Not sure why I was encouraged to go along the viewing platform first. Thinking about it, my walking companions may have thought I was heavier than the two of them put together…

The sound of the rushing water competes with the breeze rustling through the trees around us. It’s a magnificent, awe inspiring place.

We retraced our steps from the waterfall and turned left, following a sign to the Giant’s Graves along the wide track … for another mile.

The Photographer trudges through tall grass to the edge of the cliff to take pictures. At one point he disappears completely. Dusk and I wait – patiently – he’s done this disappearing act many times in the past, just to get a good shot of somewhere.

When he returns we walk on, until a sign for a narrow path informs us we’re almost at the site of the Giants’ Graves.

The Giants’ Graves are the remains of two Neolithic chambered tombs on the Isle of Arran in Scotland on a ridge one hundred and twenty metres above the sea and overlooking Whiting Bay to the south. Mostly ruined, with turf covering part of the remains, they still have an air of mystery standing proud in a clearing in the forest.
The North cairn, excavated in 1902, has a chamber that is six metres long, and is around one metre wide. Among the artifacts recovered were pottery shards, flint knives, and leaf-shaped arrowheads.
The South Giant’s Grave has a chamber about four metres long, and over one metre wide. The initial excavations in 1902 only revealed soil and stones, but in 1961/2 more exploration produced nine shards of a round-based vessel, and fragments of burnt bone.

Legend has it that the giant referred to is Fionn mac Cumhaill, an early Irish war-leader, and his followers, known as the Fianna. Between the 10th and 14th centuries, his legend became widely known in Scotland. According to legend, Fionn and the Fianna had superhuman strength and size, being as much as 500 times larger than a man.

It’s getting late; we need to get back to Whiting Bay.

Beyond the graves the narrow path winds its way steeply down. And one of the rare times the Photographer catches me unawares for a photograph … from behind!

One last photo – Whiting Bay, with Holy Island in the distance.

The walk took us just a little more than the two hours that the more up-to-date directions we later discovered, so the following day we had a rest (using Dusk as our excuse again!) before our next adventure – a coastal trek as far as Kingscross Point, stopping to photograph the ruins of a viking fort and the views of Holy Island, before continuing back to Whiting Bay.

The Holy Island or Holy Isle is an island in the Firth of Clyde, off the west coast of central Scotland, inside Lamlash Bay on the larger Isle of Arran. The island is around three kilometres long and around one kilometre wide. Its highest point is the hill Mullach Mòr. There will be more about the Holy Island in our next post of walking on Arran.

And now a little self indulgent promotion…

A gripping ‘cuckoo in the nest’ domestic thriller

After the death of their mum, twins Chloe and Charlie are shocked when their dad introduces Lynne as their ‘new mummy’. Lynne, a district nurse, is trusted in the community, but the twins can see her kind smile doesn’t meet her eyes. In the months that follow they suffer the torment Lynne brings to their house as she stops at nothing in her need to be in control.

Betrayed, separated and alone, the twins struggle to build new lives as adults, but will they find happiness or repeat past mistakes? Will they discover Lynne’s secret plans for their father? Will they find each other in time?

The Stranger in My House is a gripping ‘cuckoo in the nest’ domestic thriller, exploring how coercive control can tear a family apart. Set in Yorkshire and Cardiff, from the 60s to the winter of discontent, The Stranger in My House dramatises both the cruelty and the love families hide behind closed doors.

“Judith Barrow’s greatest strength is her understanding of her characters and the times in which they live.” Terry Tyler

https://tinyurl.com/36m89w6t

Grateful for this reader’s review. One of the first for The Stranger in my House, when it was published in November 2024.

The Stranger in my House is an urgently compelling story of abusive power, detailing the damage that happens when those with the power to protect vulnerable children choose to turn their eyes away. Judith Barrow takes us into the dark & haunted world of coercive control, masterfully turning her own power as a storyteller on to this troubling theme, exploring it with insight & sensitivity.

In Lynne, the author has created a monster. Her victims, twin children Chloe & Charlie & their hapless father, are each portrayed with Judith Barrow’s usual precision & humanity; the writing as always, is impeccable.

It is a troubling book, but ultimately, on some level, redemptive. And although I found the ending satisfying & honest, I was nevertheless left with a sense of sadness, not only for Chloe & Charlie, but because decades on from the events in this book we still exist in a world where the emotional needs of children are too often subsumed by those of selfish, self-serving, abusive adults.
The Stranger in my House is a hugely important book & I highly recommend it.

https://tinyurl.com/36m89w6t

Where we Walked @CraflwynEstate @Beddgelert @Snowdonia @ Eryri @Wales #walks #photographs #mountains #viewpoints

The two hundred acres of  Craflwyn estate is set in the heart of beautiful Eryri (Snowdonia), an area steeped in legend.

A walk of two halves today. We parked at the Crafwlyn Estate car park, just outside Beddgelert and, having read the information board, the Photographer and I decided to do the Green Walk. The sign promised an easy to moderately difficult ascent of only one and a half miles to the viewing point. It was the “spectacular views” that clinched it.

The heather was glorious. The path was … somewhere…

The walk turned out to be difficult, and certainly longer than one and a half miles. Quite the opposite in fact, and it and became steeper almost immediately, and very rocky. We assumed it would level out at some point but it never did and we just kept climbing and climbing.

Dinas Emrys is a rocky and wooded hillock near Beddgelert. Rising some seventy-six metres above the floor of the Glaslyn river valley, it overlooks the southern end of Llyn Dinas. The legend is that it’s where Merlin once trod and where a dragon still sleeps. At the top are the remains of a square tower and defensive ramparts belonging to the ancient princes of Gwynedd. We never saw that at any time over the week… ” the square stone tower at Dinas Emrys in Gwynedd, Wales is believed to be the base of a 12th century tower or citadel. The tower is now in ruins, but its rectangular shape and local rubble masonry are still visible.
According to legend, the tower was built by King Vortigern as part of a castle he wanted to construct on Dinas Emrys. However, the walls would mysteriously collapse each night, which led Vortigern to seek the help of Merlin the wizard. Merlin revealed that two dragons, one red and one white, were fighting in a pool beneath the castle. Vortigern and his men dug into the mountain to release the dragons, and the red dragon eventually won the battle. The castle was then named Dinas Emrys in honor of Merlin, and the red dragon became a symbol of the fight against the Saxons.

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Just at the point where the ferns and tufts of coarse grass petered out, and the way in front of us rose sharply and consisted of sharp rocks, it began to rain and the view disappeared. We turned and scrambled back down – the second time we’d turned back on a walk that week.

One disgruntled Photographer…

Twenty minutes later and wet through, we saw a sign for the Waterfall trail. A footpath lead through the woodland, following a waymarker to the right.

We passed the dragon bench. Too wet to sit on it though.

We walked up some steps to see a small waterfall. But we could hear loud splashing further along the path.


The large waterfall. Apparently deep enough to swim in.
I didn’t test that theory.

It was a wonderfully peaceful end to the day – and to our last walk of the holiday.

We’d had a great week. The photographer was keen to get home to start downloading, printing off and framimg his photographs.

I was ready to finish the proofreading of my next book, The Stranger in my House, to be published by Honno on the 14th November 2024 .

Described as…

A gripping ‘cuckoo in the nest’ domestic thriller

After the death of their mum, twins Chloe and Charlie are shocked when their dad introduces Lynne as their ‘new mummy’. Lynne, a district nurse, is trusted in the community, but the twins can see her kind smile doesn’t meet her eyes. In the months that follow they suffer the torment Lynne brings to their house as she stops at nothing in her need to be in control.

Betrayed, separated and alone, the twins struggle to build new lives as adults, but will they find happiness or repeat past mistakes? Will they discover Lynne’s secret plans for their father? Will they find each other in time?

The Stranger in My House is a gripping ‘cuckoo in the nest’ domestic thriller, exploring how coercive control can tear a family apart. Set in Yorkshire and Cardiff, from the 60s to the winter of discontent, The Stranger in My House dramatises both the cruelty and the love families hide behind closed doors.https://tinyurl.com/349ucdat

I’m happy to leave things as they are here. So, until next time … thank you for following the Photographer and I on our adventures.

Where We Walked @Moel Hebog @Beddgelert @North Wales #walks #photographs #holidays

Moel Hebog (Welsh for Bare Hill of the Hawk) is a mountain in Snowdonia, which dominates the view west from the village of Beddgelert.

This was the next walk we did. I say ‘walk’ as a vague description. And I need to say at this point that we hadn’t read the following review beforehand.

“This is very much a steepish persistent trek from the beginning to the end. The path is very sketchy in places and you have to work out the best way forward. You go around the false peak and a bit further up you come to a near vertical wall bit. Be careful here as a number of false paths on where to go up. Take your time to work out the safe route which is on the left side of the paths. It’s only two-four steps scramble then you are back on a reasonably marked trekking path. This trek is not for beginners you really need the experience of being able to work out safe routes and a little scrambling experience. You also need a reasonable level of fitness as it’s very much a full on upwards & downwards trek, not any flattish areas. When I did it mid May 2024 the forest walk on the descent was impassable as flooded, very boggy so had to walk around the gravel tracks that added around 4 miles to the trek. Really enjoyed this trek, it is physically challenging as you gain height quickly, I would fully recommend trekking poles as they help. The downward grassier slope going down to the forest is steep so trekking poles really useful. Enjoy, take your time and stay safe.”

Oblivious to this review (but with our trusty walking poles, as usual), we walked past Beddgelert Railway Station, then along a lane crossing the railway line.

We passed a farm, said hello to the dog who came out to watch us, and walked through a small wood before the land opened up. There was a stone path across crossing a field, and then a post which indicated we needed to go straight ahead to a stile over the stone wall. (Yes, there had to be a stile!!)

At first the path was a meandering course on spiky grass with golden brown ferns set in a landscape of small outcrops and boulders. (Later in the day, having coffee in a small cafe, we met three young climbers who told us that these boulders were called erratics, glacial boulders or rocks that have been transported by ice and deposited. The type of rock – the lithology – the physical, chemical, and mineralogical properties – that the glacial boulder is made from is different to that of the bedrock where it’s been deposited.) We live and learn!

As we climbed,I took advantage of every photo stop, as usual. (my ‘catching my breath’ time). The landscape was glorious. And there, in the distance, was Llyn Dinas.

We stopped for lunch, debating at this point on whether we’d gone as far as we should (could!) Just then two couples passed, going back down. ” That’s us done,” said one of the men. “We know when we’re beaten. Off for a pint.” They were about twenty years younger than us. We looked at one another, made our decision; if going any further was too much for them, we had no chance. We packed up our things.

So there we are – sometimes ignorance is bliss. Or very foolish. But it was a lovely day, we took our time, had food and water – and knew when we’d got as far as we wanted to.

We took one last look at the dark peak of SnowdonIn in the far distance before we turned and made our way down towards the road.Got some fabulous shots though,” said the photographer, cheerfully. I agreed, relieved to be back on tarmac.

Later, looking back at the walk, I read the following.’The Moel Hebog shield (Welsh: Tarian Moel Hebog) or the Moel Siabod shield, is a large copper-alloy shield from Bronze Age, found in a bog on he north-west slopes of Moel Hebog. Discovered in 1784, it dates from 1300–1000 BC and is now in the British Museum in London.

Richard Blurton (a specialist in South Asian art and archaeology, formerly Assistant Keeper at the British Museum), wrote about the shield in his book The Enduring Image: Treasures from the British Museum (only £209, plus £9.75 postage). He says, “This shield is a splendid example, representative of the rise of large sheet-bronze work in later Bronze Age Europe. Much effort was directed towards the production of ceremonial metal armour indicating the prevalence of the idea of man as a warrior.

Just thought I’d share that!

Where We Walked @Dinas Lake @LynDinas @Beddgelert @North Wales #walks #photographs #holidays #MondayBlogs

Llyn Dinas is a fairly shallow lake that lies on the valley floor a few miles north of Beddgelert in Gwynedd in north Wales. It is formed by the River Glaslyn. The lake takes its name from the nearby Dinas Emrys, a hill just downstream of the lake where a rock, Carreg yr Eryr (The stone of the eagle), was said ,in a charter of 1198 ,to mark the spot where the boundaries of the three medieval Welsh land division of Aberconwy, Ardudwy and Arfon met. According to Giraldus Cambrensis an eagle used to perch on it once a week, anticipating battle between the men of the three cantrefs.

We walked around Dinas Lake twice. Well, I say that. I should say we attempted to walk around the lake twice.

After that glorious, long day’s walk to Beddgelert, the clouds the following morning promised rain, and it was cold. Not to be thwarted we rugged up and set off.

On that first walk around Dinas Lake, we were attempting the one the National Trust recommended in the brochure we found in the cottage. We later discovered it was 1998 version, so unfortunately, the directions were out of date. Halfway up the hill it petered out into brambles and undergrowth.

This actually turned out to be fortunate. Giving up on the idea of cutting our way through the brambles – mainly because we didn’t have secateurs or knives, we backtracked and decide to walk to the end of the lake. Within ten minutes, we had hailstones bouncing down on us and we needed to shelter close to the stone wall under trees, alongside nine sheep who seemed completely oblivious to us. We gave up and went back to the cottage.

The next day, with the weather just about fine, we decided to try Lake Dinas again.

The water was calm, there was a party of canoeists preparing to go on the lake, and on the far side a group of children were being taken up a fast running stream. Dressed in hard hats and waterproofs it looked as if they were participating in a form of orienteering. From the screams of laughter we presumed they were enjoying themselves. Not for us we decided.

We crossed the bridge over the river to the path just as the rain started.

The path is banked by many rowan trees. There was a plethora of berries on them all. Is that a sign of a bad winter to come? Or is that an old wives tale? (as soon as I wrote “old wives’ tale” I wondered why it was called that. Apparently the name “old wives’ tale” comes from the fact that older women would often pass down their advice to the younger generation in the form of sayings that were easy to remember. The “wives” don’t refer only to married women, though. The term came from the Old English word wif, which means “woman.”) Just another rabbit hole I went down!!

At the far end of the lake we saw a farm house with outbuildings. There seemed to be a lot of activity. Despite the rain and being naturally nosy I urged the Photographer on with the words, ” I bet there’ll be a great view looking back along the lake.” It worked!!

This is the farm… Llyndy Isaf, a farm in Eryri (Snowdon) owned by the National Trust, since 2012 (Image: National Trust)

The farm was bought following a public fundraising campaign to preserve it for the nation. It has previously been home to five young farmers on a scholarship, who have managed Welsh Mountain ewes and Welsh Black cattle on the stunning site, which includes several Sites of Scientific Special Interest (SSSI:

Lake Dinas’ geology is important for nature conservation with habitats of saltmarsh, rush pasture, mire, mudflats, and reedbed, so is a natural home to a variety of wildlife, including bird species, such as Red Kites, Pied Flycatchers, Redstarts, Common Sandpipers, Dippers and Grey Wagtails, (a bird twitcher’s dream), over two hundred invertebrate species, and more many species of lichens and mosses, liverworts and hornworts ( bryophytes – non-vascular plants, which have no roots or vascular tissue, so absorb water and nutrients from the air through their surfaces).

When we approached the Llyndy Isaf farmhouse we were told it was a production team for television. They were more than willing to explain what they were working on.The National Trust has been on the hunt for someone to take over Llyndy Isaf farm. The process of choosing a tenant will be documented for Channel 4’s Our Dream Farm with Matt Baker, in early 2025. Applicants are vying for a fifteen year tenancy of the farm by participating in a three-week selection process. The Trust is seeking an individual with a fervour for sustainable farming.

A drone flew overhead filming Matt Baker with the lake in the background at the same time as the Photographer was attempting to take his photograph at the end of the lake. I’m just hoping the drone didn’t capture the two bedraggled people peering over the wall. I guess, when the programme is aired, we’ll see…

Where We Walked: Copper Mine @Cwm Bychan valley in @Snowdoni National Park near @Beddgelert @North Wales #walks #photographs #holidays

The second day, we knew we needed to take it easy, so we planned a short walk for the afternoon. Around three miles from the cottage that we were staying in was the disused Cwm Bychan copper mine, so we decided to explore.


The start of the walk was from the Nantmor National Trust car park, easy enough to find. We went under the railway bridge (still no steam train), and onto the stony path that led up through woods.

We’d been told these were bluebell woods, but, of course, in September no signs of bluebells, but impressive heather anyway.The area also includes internationally rare heathland, found only in the western coastal areas of Europe that provides habitat for numerous butterflies and birds.

The path wound upwards, sometimes not as distinguishable, always following the stream.

We were tempted to sit here, but I knew if I sat down I might not stand up again; the short walk had turned into yet another climb – and the weather looked as though it was changing.

But, gradually the woodland path changed into easier, wider paths on the open mountain, and I was reliably informed that the remains of the copper mines was, “just around the corner”.


And there it was!

Various relics of that era can still be seen, including the aerial ropeway with its pylons and terminal wheel. And, in the background, the slag heaps of waste copper.

The evidence of the copper mining that used to be carried out here is quite poignant. The silence, broken only by occasional bird calls, the rustle of the breeze through the long grass, the bubbling of the stream, obviously a contrast to how things used to be.

Mining has been dated back to at least the seventeenth century in Cwm Bychan. The mines finally closed in the nineteenth century, then re-opened in the nineteen twenties. It was at this time that an aerial ropeway was built to help remove the Chalcopyrite ore for processing. But the attempt to restart production was short lived and the mine finally closed by the end of that decade.

I needed to research what Chalcopyrite is – a copper-iron sulphide mineral, the primary source of copper metal.

Image courtesy of Wikipedia

I learned that Chalcopyrite, also called Peacock Ore is thought to be an uplifting stone. It may ground nervous energy which allows the body and mind to let go of stress and embrace calm. It also may be used to remove energy blockages, cleansing, activating and aligning the chakras and energy bodies at the same time. To be an excellent aid to increase self-esteem, banish fears and doubts, and soothe the emotions. … fascinating. They must have known this in the nineteen twenties?

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Where We Walked #Nantmor to #Beddgelert via Bryn Ddu – the Fisherman’s Path -River Glaslyn #Wales #walks #climbs #photographs #no stiles #holidays. Part Three – the Last Leg of the Walk

The last part of our hike walk was along the Fisherman’s Walk,following the course of the Afon Glaslyn, a sixteen mile sea trout river whose source is a lake in a valley on the edge of Snowdon,and eventually runs into Tremadog Bay near Porthmadog.

We’d rewarded ourselves with a fabulously tasty but light meal in a bistro in Beddgelert and a wander around for an hour or so, before tackling the last part of the walk. After refilling our water bottles we strolled along a paved footpath along the riverside. This will be a doddle, I thought, watching the Photographer indulge in a few photos shots. A nice, calm, wide river.

Further on we crossed a footbridge beside the railway bridge and went through two kissing gates that crossed the railway line (still no sign of the elusive steam engine – to his disappointment and my relief at that point – after the day we’d had I didn’t fancy being run over by a steam train!).

But I wasn’t prepared for what was around the corner…

Glorious though the river was, it had rained quite a lot in the previous few weeks. Now Afon Glaslyn flowed swiftly over rocks and gulleys. And the path is made up of slabs, rocks and, sometimes an indiscernible way forward. I think the only thing I said in the next hour was … “Where’s the path gone?”

See what I mean?

This section was especially challenging – note the handholds hammered into the rock face so we could swing around the corner of the rock on the narrow path … er … stone slabs above the churning Afon Glaslyn.

One last scramble over rocks before we reached the relatively safer gravel path

And back onto the bridge that we’d stood on at the beginning of the day. And a chance for a last photograph.

And … a welcome sight … back to the cosy farm cottage in Nantmor, where we were staying for the week. Ready for an evening of quiet editing of my next book – The Stranger in my House

Nantmor is famous for being the filming location of the 1958 film, Inn of the Sixth Happiness starring Ingrid Bergman and Robert Donat. The film was based on the true story of Gladys Aylward,a British nurse who became a missionary in China in the unsettled years leading up to the Second World War. Nantmor doubled as China and people from the Chinese communities in Liverpool were brought in as extras for filming.

I found an interesting article on the history and repairs of the Popular Fisherman’s path in Beddgelert when ” After winter storms and high river levels washed away a 100m section of the Fisherman’s path, the Welsh Highland Railway swapped its cargo of tourists for stone, reverting to its original purpose for a day. Repaired, thanks to special delivery by Welsh Highland Railway.” Published: 20 February 2023: https://tinyurl.com/32md9b3f

Where We Walked #Nantmor to Beddgelert via Bryn Ddu #Wales #walks #climbs #photographs #holidays – Part Two

Continuing our walk …

From the lookout point we could see Beddgelert – now only two miles away. All down hill. Very downhill!

The village is in the Snowdonia area of Gwynedd, Wales. It’s thought that it’s possibly named after an early Christian missionary called Cilert who settled there to become the leader in the eigth century. The earliest record of the name Beddgelert appears on a document dated 1258( recorded as Bekelert). The local Welsh dialect often shortens the name of the village to Begél.

It didn’t look very much closer through binoculars, to be honest.

Image courtesy of https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Welsh_Highland_Railway

Zig-zagging down the steep hillside to reach Beddgelert, and then through the magnificent Aberglaslyn Pass and on to Porthmadog, is the Welsh Highland Railway, the UK’s longest heritage railway. These trains are the world’s most powerful narrow gauge steam locomotives, and run for twenty-five miles from Caernarfon to Porthmadog. They climb from sea level to over six hundred and fifty feet below Snowdon, before descending to Beddgelert. On numerous walks we heard the ‘toot-toot’ of the train. Many times we waited for it to come into view … until we realised the sound echoed all around the mountains … and it was always miles away from where we eagerly anticipated (well, one of us did!) a “great photo opportunity”.

One of the most sought after/ looked for attraction – from a tourist point of view – is the raised mound in the village, called “Gelert’s Grave” and the statue of the faithful hound. The folk tale is synonymous with Beddgelert. By the way, the ‘hill’ (as the photographer first described it to me) in the background is Bryn Ddu mountain – the one we’d just scambled down.

But the grave was actually built by the late 18th-century landlord of the Goat Hotel, David Pritchard, who created it in order to encourage tourism.

We called in to have a wander around the local church, the Church of St. Mary stands at the end of Stryd yr Eglwys (Church Street). Parts of the building date from the 12th century; the chapel section being originally a part of an Augustinian Monastery. the rest the of the monastery was destroyed by fire during Edward I’s war of conquest. It really is a lovely peaceful church. And welcoming, as the following shows …

The village is also linked with the Rupert Bear stories.

Image courtesy of https://www.beddgelerttourism.com/Rupert/

Alfred Bestall wrote and illustrated some of the stories whilst he lived in the village, in a cottage at the foot of the Mynydd Sygun ( Sygun Mountain). There is even a small area known as ‘Rupert Garden’ in the village, dedicated to the Bear; a short walk from Alfred Bestall’s old home.

Lying in the heart of Snowdonia, Beddgelert is small, and a beautiful conservation village in the heart of the National Park, nestled below mountains at the confluence of the Glaslyn and Colwyn rivers. The path alongside the Glaslyn river was the last section of our walk back to Nantmoor. The path sounds so innocuous doesn’t it? Especially when it’s called the Fisherman’s Path – images of quiet contemplation, the swish of fishing rods, the ripple of water…

On to Part Three…

Where We Walked #Nantmor to Beddgelert via Bryn Ddu #Wales #walks #climbs #photographs #nostiles #holidays – Part One

‘It’s the longest walk we’ll do,’ said the Photographer, ‘But it’s such a glorious day, and we’ll get some gorgeous views. Better take the walking poles as well.’

I know. I know… ‘walking poles’ should have been the clue!

It was a gentle, if somewhat a rocky start to the walk through the woods.

And then the Afon Glaslyn (Glaslyn River) came into view. ‘We come back to here along the river bank,’ the Photographer said.

‘Oh, lovely, said I!’ And meant it… then

We went through the kissing gate, over the road bridge, turned left on the road, until we saw a National Trust sign for Coed Aberglaslyn (Aberglaslyn Trees) and followed the footpath towards the stream.

So far so good. “Follow the waymarkers up through the woods”. But the waymarkers had long since disappeared. And here I need to say, the following was completely my fault. “Follow the path to the stream”, the directions read. So I did. But you would think, after all these years, the Photographer would know I have no sense of direction.

And here is the stream.

“Turn right,” the directions read. Across the stream? Which was flowing fast and deep. We read, and re-read the directions. We searched for a path.

For half an hour.

Suddenly we were joined by a couple. ‘We have the O.S.map on our mobiles,’ the man announced. ‘We know the way. You can follow us.’

So we did…

For almost an hour we followed them, clambering over boulders, up along boggy paths (sheep trails, they turned out to be), splashed through water, until we reached the top of the hill. To discover it wasn’t the top of the hill. Whereupon the woman turned to us and cheerfully said, ‘We’re not very good at orienteering. I think we’ve gone wrong.’

We went our separate ways. We slipped, negotiated the boulders, slithered through mud, back to the stream. And then back to the bridge. And there we found a waymarker – hanging off a post, pointing to the ground. We looked aroundand there, going up through the wood were long narrow indents in the ground… steps!! Of a sort.

It says in the directions there should be a stile at the top. Chance it?’ the Photographer asked. ‘Or would you rather give up?’

A stile!! But his words sounded suspiciously like a challenge. I’ve never been able to resist a challenge…

We tackled the way up the hill, winding through the trees. It turned out there were just over a hundred of the so-called steps, which necessitated hanging onto trees and hauling ourselves up branch by branch or hauling one another up in places. We had lots of stops for breath. And we needed those walking poles.

Until we were actually on Bryn Ddu. The halfway point to Beddgelert. Finally we were on the right track.

We stopped for a few photographs.

Before setting off again to search out the base of a tower, built on a prominent outcrop at a viewpoint overlooking Aberglaslyn Pass. The whole structure is built on a stone plinth which forms a narrow terrace around the tower. Thought to be a wartime lookout post.

From the lookout point we could see Beddgelert … in the distance. And the narrow trail winding its way down the hill. We stopped for much needed refreshments, and to catch our breath before tackling the next half of the walk.

To be continued…

Memories of the Cover Reveal of A Stranger in My House and a Fascinating Day at Ty Canol National Nature Reserve

Seeing the cover of the next new book revealed is always a thrill for any author, so I am elated to be able to finally show the cover of The Stranger in My House.

A gripping ‘cuckoo in the nest’ domestic thriller

After the death of their mum, twins Chloe and Charlie are shocked when their dad introduces Lynne as their ‘new mummy’. Lynne, a district nurse, is trusted in the community, but the twins can see her kind smile doesn’t meet her eyes. In the months that follow they suffer the torment Lynne brings to their house as she stops at nothing in her need to be in control.

Betrayed, separated and alone, the twins struggle to build new lives as adults, but will they find happiness or repeat past mistakes? Will they discover Lynne’s secret plans for their father? Will they find each other in time?

The Stranger in My House is a gripping ‘cuckoo in the nest’ domestic thriller, exploring how coercive control can tear a family apart. Set in Yorkshire and Cardiff, from the 60s to the winter of discontent, The Stranger in My House dramatises both the cruelty and the love families hide behind closed doors.

This cover reveal after a glorious day wandering walking around the Ty Canol National Nature Reserve with the friendly Pembrokeshire U3A Natural History Group.

Ty Canol is the largest block of ancient woodland in West Wales. It’s wonderfully peaceful, an atmospheric mix of ancient oak woodland and pasture, set against the backdrop of the magnificent Preseli Mountains of northern Pembrokeshire.

To the north is Hagr y Coed (translation – ‘Ugly Wood’), an area of wet sessile oak, ash, and birch woodland. South is Carnedd Meibion Owen (translation – the Cairn of Owen’s Sons), so named because of the cairns that rise from the rocky outcrop.

Many of the trees are covered by epiphyte ferns and lichen, many of the latter are extremely rare.

These are not parasitic on the supporting fallen and bent branches, they grow on them only for the support they give. Apparently there are over four hundred varieties of lichen in these woods. They thrive, both because farm animals are allowed to graze in parts of the area, and because oak trees are culled in others, thus creating areas that let in the light: ideal for the plethora of light-loving lichens

I almost expected Frodo Baggins to pop out from behind one of the twisted oaks. Ty Canol,purported to be over six thousand years old, really is a fantastical place

Ty Canol, managed by Natural Resources Wales (NRW) together with the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park Authority is part of an area famous for its achaeological sites.

Ty Canol is the backdrop for Pentre Ifan, the famous Neolithic Chambered Dolmen that is thought to date from 3,500 BC.

This is a Cromlech or a Dolmen, typically built with several large upright stones and a cap stone on top. At the time it would have been an inderground tomb, covered by a mound of earth, but today, all the stones are exposed.

Having detoured to take a last look at Pentre Ifan we made our way back home by the scenic route of Mynydd Preseli, passing Cerrig Lladron .

By Tony Holkham at English Wikipedia,

And looking forward to Honno revealing the cover of The Stranger in My House.