Tag Archives: #walks

Where We Walked – Elan Valley and the Carvings #memories #walks #photographs #Wales

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On our recent walk around Garreg Ddu Dam in the lower Elan Valley we noticed that, since we were last here, even more carvings had been created along the trail.

This area of land was originally a Victorian Douglas Fir plantation, clear-felled to reintroduce native species and increase biodiversity. The project to carve the trees lining the road was commissioned Dŵr Cymru Welsh Water and created by chainsaw sculptors Simon O’Rourke, Paul Edwards, and Matthew Crabb, who worked from ideas presented by schoolchildren from the community.

More information can be found here

It was getting late in the afternoon, the day had been gloriously sunny and warm, but now dusk was settling in and the gathering clouds in the sky were showing signs of the rain forecast for the following day.

Foel Tower: a point of interest at the start and end of our walk around Garreg-ddu: Just upstream from the submerged dam at Garreg-ddu is the Foel Tower, the starting point for the 70 mile journey of the water supply to Birmingham.


The lower section of Foel Tower has a number of openings inside at different levels where a system of valves and cylinders can be raised and lowered to draw off water from the reservoir at the right depth for the current water level.

Photographs courtesy of http://history.powys.org.uk/history/rhayader/foel.html

The above photograph was taken in 1947 showing the Foel Tower during very low water levels in the Garreg-ddu. Most of the openings in this image are normally underwater.

Foel Tower takes in water from the Claerwen Valley through a pipeline which takes water underground from the dam system. Water is also collected by Pen-y-garreg and Craig Gochhe, the two dams higher up in the Elan Valley.

Links to my books:

Amazon.co.uk: https://tinyurl.com/55r6s5vp

Amazon.com:https://tinyurl.com/53ndmrhe

https://www.honno.co.uk/fiction

My latest book, published in November 2024 is The Stranger

Review for The Stranger:
5.0 out of 5 stars Storytelling in a class of its own… stunning.

“One of the author’s many strengths is in capturing the clear and authentic voice of a confused child – Mandy’s voice, in The Stranger, still haunts me, torn between her own grief, her sense of right and wrong, and her love for her family. And once more, in her latest book she wonderfully portrays the suffering of eight-year-old twins Chloe and Charlie – already grieving the loss of their mother, their lives torn apart by their father’s marriage to her former nurse, an evil manipulator of the highest order…“

Where We Walked – Elan Valley #walks #photographs #memories #books

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After weeks of what seems to have been constant rain, we embarked on a couple of days away, determined to walk, whatever the weather. We headed for Mid Wales.

We were lucky: the clouds parted, the rain stopped, the sun came out. We took a trip to Elan Valley and walked around Garreg Ddu to Pen y Garreg.

We’ve been a few times in the past, the last being in 2023 when there was a drought declared. Below is the road bridge/ wall between Garreg Ddu and Caban Coch. On the left 2023, on the right this time, in November.

Though there were less daylight hours this time to walk we still were able to see some of the differences in the water levels in the reservoirs between our visits in 2023 to this November.

In 2023 the water was so low we could see the outlines of the houses, the roads and the church that were compulsory purchased in 1892 in order to dam the Elan and Claerwen rivers within the Elan Valley and supply water to Birmingham. This was because of the rapid growth of that industrial city, and the numerous outbreaks of disease that prompted Birmingham City Council to petition the British government to pass the Birmingham Corporation Water Act in 1892, allowing the corporation to acquire the land.

Building work began in 1883. There are six impressive dams altogether. Four follow the Elan River – Craig Goch, Pen y Garreg, Garreg Ddu, and Caban Coch and two are on the river Claerwen – the Claerwen dam and the unfinished Dol y Mynach dam.

The History of Elan Valley:

In 1893 one hundred people in Elan Valley had to move to allow the work to begin, but only landowners received compensation payments. Many buildings were demolished: three manor houses, eighteen farms, a school and a church – the latter being replaced by the corporation and renamed Nantgwyllt Church. Over the next three years a railway line was constructed to transport the workers and thousands of tonnes of building material each day.

Thousands of men and their families lived in wooden huts in the the purpose-built Elan Village, where, eventually a library, a public hall, a shop, and a canteen were built. There was also a hospital, used for injuries and as an isolation hospital. There was even street lighting which was powered by hydroelectric generators. New workers were initially expected to spend the first overnight in a lodging house to be deloused and examined for infectious diseases. Only then were they allowed across the river to the village. Single men lived in groups of eight in a terrace house shared with a man and his wife. A guard was employed to check for illegal importation of liquor and unauthorised visitors. There was a bath house which the men could use up to three times a week but the women only once. And the pub was for the men only. A school was provided for those under elevens, after this the children were expected to work.

The dams were built in two phases. The first phase, which cost six million pounds and employed fifty thousand was opened on the twenty-first of July 1904 by King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra. The building of the second phase dams was delayed due to the two World Wars and work only started in 1946. Because of engineering advancements just one large dam was built instead of the three smaller ones originally planned for. This was the Claerwen. This dam was completed in 1952 and opened by Queen Elizabeth II on the twenty-third of October.

Books

Writing is one of my biggest pleasures in life … besides walking. #books #anniversaries #writing #walking #photography #Pembrokeshire #Wales #Saints #mythsandlegends #memories

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The Stranger in my House – published November 2024

One of my greatest pleasures – besides writing – is walking. In fact walking is what I mostly post about on social media; mainly because I realised a long time ago that across many of the socials, it’s writers talking/commenting/sharing with other writers. And it’s my own fault; I have never got around to writing a newsletter to potential readers. Nevertheless I’ve made some lovely friends over the years online as well as in real life.

And, as a creative writing tutor, I’ve also made friends with many people who wanted to learn to write …. something … whether it was a novel, a short story, poetry, travel writing, or writing for children.

Alongside many of the authors I know, I share a fascination of people, and I admit I people watch. Which is probably why all my novels are character led, whatever genre I’m writing in. This no more so than in The Stranger in my House, published on the 14th of November last year (2024). The story has a main theme, coercive control; the ability of one woman to change the lives of a man and also those of his children. And not for the better.

Building characters layer by layer in a story has to have a balance: of their backgrounds, their history, the way they respond to life and to the people around them. Much as in real life. I believe there comes a time when we are all mostly what we have lived, what has happened to us, how we responded, how we were treated, how we treated others. Yes, there is always the argumant of inherited, biological traits, but I do believe that, in later life it’s what our lives have been like. However, I’m always open to that statement being challenged, and I have been involved in many discussions, on many occasions.

In all my stories, as with most writers, my characters take on a personality and life of their own. I found this especially so in The Stranger in my House. So much so that I wondered what happened to Charlie and Chloe, the two protagonists in the story, after the reader closes the book on their lives. At the beginning they are just over six years old. By the end they are adults.

I like to think that Chloe and her husband, Mark, and Charlie and his partner, Simon, become as smitten with being outside, with looking at nature, the change of the seasons, and with walking, as my husband and I are.

And there is nothing better on cold, wet, and windy winter evenings than looking back at photographs of our walks.

So here is another treasured memory:

St Justinian’s to Porth Clais:

Walking in the footsteps of St Justinian, or sometimes scrabbling to get to the top of the next path.

Literally on hands and knees. But it was so worth it

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Wonderful views overlooking Ramsey Island

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Just to prove I was there – I hate having my photo taken, but waa caught unawares by the Photographer.
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And look who we saw. (from a great distance,of course. As I’ve written in a recent post, we saw the seals and their pups last month, just before the mothers decided their offspring was able to fend for theirselves after only a month or so.

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Seal pups and their mums

So… who was St Justinian?

Justinian was born in Brittany in the 6th century. At some point in his life, he made his way to Wales, where he settled on Ramsey Island.

Justinian soon became close friends with St David, the patron saint of Wales, and visited him often in the monastery where the cathedral now stands.

He was less impressed however by the lax behaviour of some of the monks and decided to isolate himself on Ramsey island. According to legend, he took an axe and chopped up the land bridge that linked the island and the mainland. As he worked, the axe became blunter and the lumps of rock remaining became larger and larger. They are still visible today in Ramsey Sound, where the waters foam over them at high tide. Followers joined him on the island but his actions didn’t go down well with everyone though. They soon turned them against him and they beheaded him!

To the astonishment of his killers,he picked up his head and walked across the sea to the mainland, and where he set his head down, another spring of water issued forth.

A spring of water gushed up from the ground where his head first fell and this became the famous healing well known as St. Non’s Well, situated next to the ruins of St. Non’s Chapel.

Justinian was buried where the chapel now stands. Within its walls are some stone footings, which may mark his original gravesite. His body was removed to the cathedral at St Davids, probably at some time before the end of the 15th century.

During the early medieval period, two chapels were built on Ramsey. One was dedicated to St Tyfanog; the other to St Justinian. There is no trace of either building today, though their sites are known.

Where We Walked: Wiston Castle and Church #Pembrokeshire #Wales

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Following a recce for a Narberth U3a future Stroll and Photo at Llys-y- Fran, we took a diversion to Wiston castle. Even though not long enough for a walk, the castle and nearby church are historically interesting.

The castle was built by an early Flemish settler with the unusual name of Wizo (in Latin) or Gwys (Welsh). Wizo was one of the powerful Norman lords who took control of southern Wales in the decades following the Norman Conquest. The settlement was called Wiston, which was an old Flemish/Saxon word for Wizo’s enclosure. And I am reliably informed, by someone who knows far more about these things than I do, that Wiston is pronounced Wizon,

Wiston is one of the best-preserved motte-and-bailey castles in Wales, (A bailey is an enclosed courtyard within a castle, typically surrounding a central mound (the motte), a small mound or hill which was fortified in the past).

The castle is first mentioned in documents in 1147 when it was attacked by the Welsh, and then again by Hywel Sais, who was the son of The Lord Rhys who ruled this area of Wales, in1193. The castle was again attacked and destroyed in 1220 by Llywelyn ap Iorwerth (Llywelyn the Great). There is more information of the history of Wiston castle here:

There are forty-nine steps … I counted!

The Keep was a large fortified enclosure. This would originally be an early thirteenth century timber tower within a palisade. The present sixteen-sided stone shell keep was a replacement and would have risen another story with a parapet. The entrance was barred by a stout wooden door and the residential upper floor was reached by stone steps just inside the doorway.

A deep ditch surrounds the base of the mound, separating it from the bailey (the enclosed courtyard within a castle) to the south, and connecting with the moat of the outer bailey on the eastern and western sides. This would have contained essential buildings like stables, barracks, and a chapel – the fortified area where soldiers, servants, and livestock lived and where the day-to-day activities of the castle took place.

Impressive stone walls. Spot the lookout!

And, of course, who goes up … must then go down. Much easier!

The Church of St Mary Magdalene.

Wizo also founded the church nearby at the same time. Though altered by subsequent generations, the church is essentially a Norman building, entered by a very simple doorway made of large slabs of local red sandstone. An interesting church to visit at a later time, I think.

Where We Walked #Pembrokeshire #Walks #Photographs #Leisure

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One of our Interesting and Fun Group Walks with the U3a:

Yesterday we joined with Pembrokeshire U3a on their Monday Walk around the woods and alongside the River Sealy on the Sealyham estate near Wolfscastle.

There is a long history of owners of the land dating from the time when King Edward III, in the fourteenth century, granted some land to Thomas Tucker (a captain in the King’s army), who subsequently built a house there.

A house that was later rebuilt in the mid-18th century. Eventually, in 1905, the last of the descendant family members, Catherine Octavia Edwardsn with her husband Victor James Higgon, the last of the Tucker family to live at  Sealyham house moved another mansion in Pembrokeshire, Treffgarne Hall.

Around 1910, portions of the land were sold to the Pembrokeshire County Council and, in 1920, Sealyham House and part of the land were sold to the King Edward VII Welsh National Memorial Association and converted into a tuberculosis hospital until 1954. In 1955, it was re-purposed for elderly patients but was permanently closed as a medical facility in 1964.
In 1970, the Sealyham house was sold to a Nancy Ellen Perkins. She converted it into an apartment building as rentals. In 1980, it was sold again to an investment firm that used it for an outdoor activities centre. It was resold in 1986 to the Sealtham Activity Centre for young people, as an educational facility,

Sealyham is also well known for the Sealyham Terrier. The Tucker-Edwardes family of the nineteenth century were one of the leading landowners of Pembrokeshire. Breeding dogs was a favourite and expected pastime people of noble families or military background. Captain John Edwardes’ family had the time and the means. Although no records were kept it’s believed that The Welsh Corgi, The Wire Fox Terrier, and the now extinct English White Terrier all played a part in the make up of the Sealyham. After Edwardes’ death in 1891, other breeders began to work with Sealyhams, including a man called Fred Lewis who promoted the breed. But, according to the Kennel Club the Sealyham Terrier is one of the dog breeds of British and Irish origin that are … “considered to be vulnerable due to their declining registration numbers. These breeds are at risk of disappearing from our parks and streets, simply because people don’t know they exist or because they aren’t considered fashionable. in 2024 there are only a hundred dogs of Tucker-Edwardes’ breed, making it an endangered breed.”

Where we Walked Glen Rosa #Arran #Scotland

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

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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 Kingscross Point Arran Scotland #Walks #Photographs

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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 @CraflwynEstate @Beddgelert @Snowdonia @ Eryri @Wales #walks #photographs #mountains #viewpoints

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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

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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 #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

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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 #nostiles #holidays – Part One

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‘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 around – and 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…

Where We Walked #Llyn Crafnant and LlynGeirionydd #Wales #walks #climbs #photographs #stiles #humour #holidays #Sisters #books #readers @honno

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Llyn Crafnant and LlynGeirionydd are separated by the forested slopes of Mynydd Deulyn (Mountain of the Two Lakes) and lie within wonderfully scenic valleys where the Gwydyr forest meets the lower slopes of the Carneddau mountains in Conwy.”The lakes are about a mile apart,” said the photographer casually. “The walk’s about five miles.” What actually happened was that we took the circular route which covers a distance of eight miles and involved some steep climbing.

But, at this point I have to say that wasn’t his fault. We ended up – or should I say – started off walking in the opposite way to the route in the book, having parked in the car park near LlynGeirionydd, instead of the one near Llyn Crafnant.

This was due to the fact that, at one point, the SatNav took us in the wrong direction. It’s always the SatNavs fault, you know; we once got stuck on a very narrow dirt farm track faced with a sign that joyfully said in large red writing, ” Use your eyes, the SatNav lies”. I think I might have said that before, it’s something I bear in mind when sitting by a certain irate driver having to turn back on a journey.

Anyway, I thought, it’ll be alright; we’ll just read the directions backwards.

I waited on the edge of the grass while the photographer took his first photo of Llyn Geirionydd.

Gwydir Forest is named after the Gwydir River, which takes its name from the ancient Gwydir Estate, established by the John Wynn family of Gwydir Castle, who owned this area (Gwydir is translated as River with Red Banks) The land here was once dominated by lead and zinc mines. Some of the mines have been partially restored and made safe for visitors, but we didn’t visit; our sights were set on getting to Llyn Crafnant Though we did pass an old restored engine-house, and also the waste tips, now left to be naturally covered over.

The First World War had highlighted a shortage in wood production and the forest was stripped bare at the time because many of the early forestry workers, former employees in the forest’s mines, had no experience of forestry. This caused the 1919 Forestry Act to be passed and Gwydir Forest was acquired from Lord Ancaster by the Forestry Commission in 1921.

Most of the original plantations have now been felled and replanted as part of the forestry cycle. We passed quite a few places where this was happening.

The majority of the forest is conifer such as Japanese larch, Norway spruce and Scots pine but apparently, over the last two decades there has been more Welsh Oak, ash and beech planted to give a more varied and softer outline to the forest

“When we get to the top of this track, there’s a little bit of a short climb and the track narrows a bit,” said the Photographer over his shoulder as I puffed and panted behind him. ” Don’t worry, it’ll be so worth it for the view.’

The track did narrow a bit indeed. As the directions said, ‘…into a steep narrow footpath, less than forty centimetres wide (that’s about sixteen inches in old money) in some places, on an unmade and uneven surface, where you can expect mud, rocks and tree roots.‘. The embarrassing thing is, just as I was wobbling leaping gazelle-like from rock to another a young couple (stressing young here!) ran past… with a dog … very quickly. And they even had the breath to wish us a cheerful “good morning.”

Every now and then we caught glimpses of the view. Went past a stile. Down a wider path. Through a gate. Saw the obligatory cow. And then…

The Photographer got his first proper shot of Llyn Crafnant on the northern edge of the Gwydir Forest.

And then lots more. It really is a glorious place

One last look and we walked away from Llyn Crafnant …

Following the arrows we crossed over the road into a small wooded area. And there the arrows stopped. We looked around: there was a stile in the far corner, but it was broken, covered in brambles and branches and looked unused. On the other side of the clearing there was a broad track. After some discussion we chose the track. (later realising we should have tackled the stile).

After an hour of walking up the never-ending road we stopped for breath, and for the Photographer to revell in the scenery and take many photos of the craggy slopes of Mynydd Deulyn.

And for me to have a rest. It wasn’t until we got back to the car that I realised I had somehow managed to take the attractive shot below whilst I was rummaging in my rucksack for the fourth, and last, bottle of water. Naming no names, but someone dared me to include this in the post – and I’m never one to pass on a dare. Which is probably the reason I find myself on these hikes walks.

Another hour of uphill, round a bend, and the road began to descend, until we were …

Back to the start…

I’m often asked what do I think about when I’m walking and with not enough breath to talk. I must say not having enough breath to talk isn’t something that often happens to me. But usually I’m taking in what’s all around us. We walk in so many diifferent kinds of places, so I just soak up the sights and the sounds whether in the country or in more urban areas.

But there are times when I’m thinking how to describe what I’m seeing, wondering if it will fit into a scene in the book I’m currently working on – or intend to work on. Sometimes it will, sometimes it won’t. It’s usually the latter, but that’s okay. And if I can keep it in mind for when we next stop for the Photographer to capture the scenary, I’ll make notes.

And there have been occasions when I can use those notes. One day we were nearing the end of our walk at Llyn y Fan Fach and Llyn y Fan Fawr near Llanddeusant in Carmarthenshire, Wales. It had been long, so the sun was low in the sky and it felt quite erie as we took a last look out over the water.

And I remembered that moment, that feeling of almost sinister atmosphere when I wrote one of the scenes in Sisters.

“‘Whoops! Watch your step, Miss Clumsy.’ Said in a jokey manner, it still manages to imply the familiar censure. ‘If it wasn’t for me always looking out for you, I don’t know what you’d do.’ He laughs. ‘Probably kill yourself, one of these days.’ He pulls her close, turns her so they are facing the lake, standing on the edge of the steep banking.
The sun is sinking lower in the sky, the black shadows of the trees lengthen, their reflection stretch and waver over the lake, the water rendered blood-red.“

Book Description:

An accident and a terrible lie by sixteen-year-old Angie tears her family apart and her younger sister, Lisa, being sent away. They don’t speak for thirteen years, until their mother’s death brings them together. Lisa quickly realises her sister is trapped in a dangerous marriage.

What does Lisa owe to the family that betrayed her? And if she tries to help, will she make things more dangerous for them all?

A powerful story of domestic violence, courage and forgiveness.

Published by Honno Press (26 Jan. 2023)

Where We Walked #Pen Y Gaer #Snowdon #Yr Wyddfa #Wales #walks #climbs #photographs #MondayBlogs #stiles #humour #holidays

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“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’.

Who am I kidding?!

Where We Walked: Llanwrst – Melin Y Coed – a Five Mile Circular Walk #Walks #Photographs #history #alittlehumour #MondayBlogs @Llanwrst @North Wales

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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 directions became 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 evidence below?

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”).llanrwst_pont_fawr_watercolour

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.

llanrwst_inigo_jones

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”.

llanrwst_pont_fawr_drawing

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.

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