“A lovely evening walk,” said the photographer. “With spectacular views.”
It was that last sentence that should have warned me before we set off, I thought as I climbed over the stile and looked upwards.
He’s such a clever clogs: climbing the stile one- handed and taking a video. Hmph!!
A little information here: Pen y Gaer is a mountain summit in the Snowdonia – Beddgelert to Conwy region in the county of Conwy, Wales. It’s the location of a Bronze Age and Iron Age hillfort near the village of Llanbedr-y-Cennin. It’s a natural defensive site. There is a long history of occupation.
There are two Bronze Age cairns on the north-west slope, and extensive prehistoric and later field systems, nearby. The remains seen today are mostly of Iron Age origin, but further earthworks, probably of medieval origin, lie on the south-eastern slopes.
The summit can be identified by one of the large cairns.
Pen y Gaer is three hundred and eighty-five metres high with a prominence of thirty-six metres. (My legs and feet can confirm this!)
The photographer was right though, the views are spectacular.
There’s a broad bank of stones about two metres in width, with a partial kerb of large, irregularly placed boulders before getting to the summit; these are the remains of two defence walls, as well as the outlines of a chevaux-de-frise (A defence, usually a timber or an iron barrel covered with projecting spikes and often strung with barbs of glass).
There are two stone circles. Archaeological evidence indicates that in addition to being used as places of burial, the purpose of stone circles was probably connected to agricultural events, such as the summer solstice.
And, of course, sheep – which moved a lot quicker that we did.
The sun was setting, a mist was creeping in. We were (as far as I was concerned) on top of a mountain. At this point there was a discussion: we could carry on having an adventure and take a track (over a stile) to fields and marshland, and meander until we saw buildings, which could or could possibly not be the cottage we were staying in. Or we could take the windy, steep lane that would definitly lead to the cottage where we were staying.
Whilst someone couldn’t resist one last photo … I staggered sauntered past, with that glass of wine in mind, and carried on.
“A lovely evening walk,” said the photographer, gazing admiringly at photographs on the screen of his camera. “And brilliant scenary.”
I have to admit I agreed, as I soaked my feet in a bowl of cool water. Though next time, I decided, I would check out the mileage… and the ascent … of further ‘walks’.
Our first walk: an easy five mile circular walk. We thought…
We followed a footpath alongside a stream and through a field covered in glorious wildflowers, including one that we later discovered was called the Deptford pink which is nationally rare. I took a photo of the flower: it had a long and deep pink petals with pale spots and ragged edges. Unfortunately, later (not having the expertise of the photgrapher), I saw that I’d had my mobile phone turned the wrong way round and had an image of a red, sweaty face … mine (well it was a hot day).
So here is a photo of the Deptford pink courtesy of The Species Recovery Trust.Apparently the plant has been used in traditional medicine for various purposes, such as treating digestive ailments and as a diuretic.
This area is called Coed y Felin and includeds an ancient oak/ash woodland planted with sycamore, beech and sweet chestnut.
Pathways criss-cross this ancient woodland site, leaving clues to its long-held links with the local population. Its timber has been used to support local mining villages for centuries. But Llanrwst has also long been known as a market town with a history of a whole range of industries over the centuries, one of which is a thriving woollen industry. Apparently it’s historically recorded that in the Middle Ages the price for wool at Llanrwst market set the price for wool throughout England and Wales in that period.The photographs below are the ruins of a woollen mill, Felin Uchaf.
The directions told us to zig zag up a steep lane.
And then continue for about one and a half mile along a lane.Or rather, up a very steep lane!
And this is where the five mile circular walk became … a little longer. The signs disappeared. And there were four turn-offs to choose from. So, three times, we wandered up this lane, (which I swear was at least half a mile long from bottom to top) and then down and then up again.
Until I stopped for breath and the photographer declared joyfully, ‘There’s a lovely view from up here.’
After that I believe the person who wrote the directionsbecame bored, jotted down a few notes about going through fields, and went home. And we more or less followed our noses. Or, should I say, because anyone who knows me knows I have no sense of direction whatsoever, I followed the photographer (who, true to form, was really only looking for “great shots”)
We meandered through fields along vague paths, which I was sure were sheep trails … see the evidencebelow?
And note … a stile! After last year’s walks in the Yorkshire Dales here and here, the photographer promised no stiles this time. And yet, on the very first walk – a stile.
It was quite a quiet walk back to the start after that…
PS: The following is an interesting article about Y Pont Fawr – the bridge in Llanrwst that, on our way to the cottage we were staying at, we tried to cross three times before being successful. Because of the high crown of the bridge it’s impossible to see if there’s another vehicle coming the opposite way … until it’s almost too late.
As this piece says further down: “The bridge is too narrow for vehicles to pass on it, and its hump limits forward visibility. This explains the local nickname Pont y Rhegi – “bridge of swearing”.” I’m not saying who added to this nickname, but the photographer refused my request to stop to take a photograph of the bridge.
Pont Fawr, Llanrwst
A ford crossed the river Conwy in this vicinity long before it was bridged. The original bridge was declared unsafe in 1626 and preparations began for its replacement, funded by the people of Caernarfonshire (west of the river) and Denbighshire (east of the river). In 1634 four Lancashire stonemasons were contracted to build the new bridge. The year 1636 and the royal coat of arms are shown on a plaque on the upstream side of the bridge, which is known as Pont Fawr (“large bridge”).
The workmen who built the bridge inserted the keystones for the central arch upside down. This was not discovered until the opening day, when the arch collapsed! The central arch rises to c.18 metres above the water.
The renowned architect Inigo Jones was professionally associated with the wealthy Wynn family of Llanrwst, and legend has it that he designed Pont Fawr. The pictures of the bridge and Inigo Jones (courtesy of The National Library Wales) were used to illustrate Thomas Pennant’s books about his travels in Wales in the 1770s.
Pennant wrote that two of the arches were extremely beautiful, marking “the hand of the architect”, but the third was inferior, having been rebuilt in 1703. Inigo had changed Ynyr, his real Christian name, to Inigo or Ignatius when he went to Italy, according to Pennant.
The bridge features full-height cutwaters (stonework shaped like a ship’s bow). The river is the outlet for rainwater and meltwater from across a large area of Snowdonia including Dyffryn Mymbyr (around Capel Curig), one of the wettest places in Britain. Since the western arch collapsed in 1702 and was rebuilt, the bridge has stood the test of countless floods and the advent of motorised lorries and buses.
The bridge is too narrow for vehicles to pass on it, and its hump limits forward visibility. This explains the local nickname Pont y Rhegi – “bridge of swearing”.
William Peers may have uttered an expletive on a dark night in 1907 when the traction engine he was driving crashed through the wall at the Llanrwst end of the bridge. After crossing the river, he had misjudged the position of the main road. The stoker and two navvies (engaged in building Dolgarrog aluminium works) jumped clear. Mr Peers fell about three metres onto the riverbank. The engine was said to have made a complete rotation in mid air before hitting the riverbed about six metres below the road.
I was promised an easy walk on one of the days. This is it; the Oxenber and Wharf Wood and Feizor walk from Austwick. It should have taken around two hours… we didn’t allow for the stiles.
We left Austwick by the Pennine Bridleway and walked over the Flascoe footbridge heading up the path towards Oxenber Wood.
We met the obligatory cow – who followed us along her side of the wall in the next field. In fact, by the time we reached the end of this path, there were six of them jostling for a view of us.
And the first of the stiles. This one was stone, sturdy, easy to climb over. We’ve got this sussed, I thought; easy walk, conventional stiles. The photographer couldn’t resist taking in the view of Austwick and the miles of glorious scenery around Ingleborough and Fountains Fell. Then he casually strode halfway over the stile – and was abruptly stopped when his rucksack decided to stay on the other side. We manhandled it over the wall, and carried on, ignoring the snorts from the cows…
And saw this…
Bluebells! Stretching seemingly for miles. And, miles away on the horizon … Pen y Ghent, the destination of one of our … hmm!… shall I say … more strenuous walks in that week: https://tinyurl.com/3e48vc7a
Hundreds of years ago, this area of woodland and pasture was part of the village quarry, and is still rough underfoot with hollows and dips under the grass. We were told it’s a site of special scientific interest and an area of conservation. The trees (as stated on the information board at the beginning of the walk) are mainly Ash, Hazel and Hawthorn.
As we clambered over the limestone rocks to enter the woods, a young man came puffing up behind us. He was a teacher, supposed to be on a day out with a colleague and their class from his school, but had overslept and was now in pursuit. We stopped to let him pass, pretending we didn’t need the break to get our breath back. That hill was steeper than we thought… or looks.
From the loud cheer that rang out a few minutes later, the teacher had obviously found the children.
In the woodland there were areas of slabs of limestone paving with various wild flowers and plants.
Wood Sorrel
Hart’s Tongue Fern.
Dog’s Mercury
There was quite a lot of theDog’s Mercury (as stated on the Information Board) We were told, by a man in the pub where we were having a meal that evening – (we did seem to meet the local naturalist, whichever pub we went in) – that it is a poisonous coloniser of ancient woodland. But, if thoroughly dried, apparently (I’m stressing the “apparently” here), the plant loses its poisonous quality. The juice of the plant is emetic, ophthalmic and purgative, and can be used externally to treat ear and eye problems, warts, and sores.And other ailments!
As a writer I couldn’t help thinking about using this last plant in a story … to kill off a character … maybe?!!
We left the woods, through a wooden gate and onto a path which at first gently rose and then zig-zagged down through a jumble of exposed limestone towards the hamlet of Feizor. Where we stopped at a tea room for a cuppa.
Leaving the tea room we climbed over the first of five high stiles in a stone wall, and along a public footpath through four sloping fields.
You may have noticed that I have no photographs of the fields, nor of the stiles here. We were either too anxiously gazing across the fields, knowing we’d have difficulty both going back to the tea room lane or forwards to continue our walk. This was because of the stiles. There was the stile where the first stone step was three foot high in the wall (“You need to get your leg higher,” I encouraged the photographer), having only been able to reach it myself by taking a running jump at the thing. Then there was the one where the middle stone was broken off revealing only a sharp corner that protruded only enough for the toe of our boots (That one resulted in scraped shins). The two wooden stiles had seesaw wobbles enough to cause seasickness, and the next seemed fine until we found that the space in the wall for us to get through was the width off one boot only. (One narrow ladies’ walking boot – which isn’t mine) Which meant a dare-devil leap forward to the next field was the only way to ‘dismount’!)
At this point I said I was never going over another stile again. Before I saw the next one! We were only glad there was no one nearby who could see us struggling, or worse still, waiting for their turn to climb over any of them.
Finally we triumphed over the last stile (more a small hole in the wall, thankfully), and back onto the tarmac lane… when we realised that, if we’d only walked a few metres further along the lane after leaving the cafe, we would have met the main road that eventually led to the tarmac lane.
And on to the first path …where the cows were waiting for us.
And so into Austwick again.
‘Easier today wasn’t it? Rested now?’ He said later. ‘Try for a longer walk tomorrow?’
Judith Barrow 