by W. Ruth Kozak  

One Christmas was so much like another,
In those years around the sea-town corner now
And out of all sound except the distant speaking
Of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep,
That I can never remember whether it snowed
For six days and six nights when I was twelve
Or whether it snowed for twelve days and
Twelve nights when I was six.

These precious words of Dylan Thomas are one of the best known and loved Christmas prose poems ever written. Born in Swansea, Wales in 1914, Dylan Thomas was Wales’ most beloved poets. He has been acknowledged as one of the most important Welsh poets of the 20th century.

Included in his works are “Do not go gentle into that good night,” “Under Milk Wood” and “Portrait of a the Artist as a Young Dog.” Thomas began his career at the age of 16 as a journalist and many of his works appeared in print while he was still a teenager. Although he was appreciated as a one of the most popular poets of his time, he found living an earning as a writer difficult so he augmented his income with reading tours and radio broadcasts. In 1937 he married Caitlin Macnamara and lived for a time in the Welsh fishing village of Laugharne. Unfortunately, their relationship was destructive due to Thomas’s alcoholism.

He recorded his famous work “A Child’s Christmas in Wales” while he was touring in the United States. It has been recorded since then by other famous Welsh actors including Richard Burton who was a great pal of the Thomas. Sadly, in 1953 during a trip to New York, Thomas collapsed outside a bar after downing a great quantity of whiskey and later died. His body was returned to Wales and buried in the village churchyard in Laugharne.

Coming from a Welsh back-ground, I’ve always been fascinated by Dylan Thomas writing, especially A Child’s Christmas in Wales. Every year I watch the video movie made of the famous poem. And on one of my trips to Wales I had the privilege of visiting Swansea and the Dylan Thomas Centre.

The Dylan Thomas Centre is housed in a beautiful Regency building in Swansea’s Maritime Quarter. The centre hosts many literary and art programs. It was a thrill for me to wander the exhibits, all the while entertained by the rich Welsh tenor of Richard Burton reciting Thomas’s “Under Milk Wood”. The exhibits include bits of Dylan Thomas’ life including photos, hand-written notes and journals, news clips and other memorabilia. The Swansea Bay area has produced many other world-famous cultural icons such as actors Richard Burton, Catherin Zeta-Jones, and Anthony Hopkins. Burton was a personal friend of Thomas and there is a special display honoring their friendship.

Outside the Centre, facing the marina, is a life-size bronze statue of the poet, and not far away is the Dylan Thomas Theatre. The Swansea Little Theatre was the first Little Theatre in Wales. The group began performing from 1924. In the early ‘30’s Dylan Thomas became a member of the troupe and appeared with them in several plays over the next few years. The Swansea Little Theatre group moved to its present location in 1983.

If You Go:

Swansea Tourism

Dylan Thomas Centre

Dylan Thomas Theatre

The Dylan Thomas Website

Laugharne (The Boat House)

A Child’s Christmas In Wales

About the author:
Ruth’s roots are in Caerphilly Wales and she visits there frequently. Ruth has been a travel writer and adventurer for many years, writing mostly about UK and Greece (her second home). As well as being the former editor/publisher of TRAVEL THRU HISTORY she’s on the staff of www.europeupclose.com and freelances to other on-line and print publications. Her historical fiction novel SHADOW OF THE LION will be published in August 2014 (first part: BLOOD ON THE MOON and second part THE FIELDS OF HADES 18 months later) by www.mediaaria-cdm.com. Ruth’s website has links to her writing at www.ruthkozak.com and there is a blog for the novel at http://shadowofthelion.com.

All Swansea photos by W. Ruth Kozak

by Keith Kellett 

The Welsh town of Llangollen stands near a canal of the same name, on the main London-Holyhead road. The road is now called the A5, and was first laid out by engineer Thomas Telford in the late 18th Century. This was once … and still is … the road on which you would travel to reach North Wales; it leads right across the country, eventually terminating at Holyhead on the island of Anglesey … a port you might use if you wanted to go to Ireland.

We visited Llangollen to see the famous Pontcysyllte Aqueduct, which carries the canal 126 feet above the valley or the River Dee, far below. But, before visiting the Aqueduct, we called at Plas Newydd, once home to the ‘Ladies of Llangollen’, which is open to the public.

I’d heard the expression ‘Ladies of Llangollen’ before, but wasn’t sure in what context. A girls’ school, maybe? No, they were a pair of women who, back in the 19th Century, were famed far and wide … ‘celebrities’ of the day, if you like. Now, if the ‘Ladies of Llangollen’ lived in this day and age, they would probably be described as ‘offbeat’, eccentric or quirky. That is, if they were noticed at all, for nowadays, it’s accepted that women may take an interest in poetry, literature and politics, and two women living together would hardly raise an eyebrow.

But, in the late 18th/early 19th Century, their behaviour was regarded as ‘scandalous’. (There have been suggestions that they were gay, but most authorities say there is no evidence to support this.)

Lady Eleanor Butler was the daughter of a noble family living in Ireland; her friend, several years younger, was an orphan, Sarah Ponsonby, who she’d met and befriended at a boarding school in Kilkenny. The friends decided to run away to England when Lady Eleanor’s family started making noises about sending her to a convent, because, at the age of 39, she still remained unmarried. Sarah, meanwhile, wished to escape the unwelcome attentions of her recently widowed guardian.

Their first attempt failed, but, in May 1778, they finally sailed for Milford Haven. They toured Wales for a short time, before they came to Llangollen, and declared it ‘… the beautifullest place in the world …’ and decided to settle there. They eventually rented a farm cottage called Pen-y-Maes, which they renamed Plas Newydd (New Hall). Here, they lived for almost 50 years, spending their time reading, writing and sketching and transforming the house and gardens.

While they wished to lead a life of ‘ … sweet and delicious retirement’, their story attracted a great many visitors, who often stopped by on their way to Snowdonia or Ireland, and their fame rapidly spread. Their visitors included Robert Southey, Sir Walter Scott, Josiah Wedgewood Sir Humphrey Davy and the Duke of Wellington. William Wordsworth also came, and wrote a poem describing Plas Newydd as ‘ … a low roofed cot’ …’ which, reportedly, didn’t find much favour with the ladies, who declared they could write better poetry themselves.

The house is laid out pretty well as the ladies would have known it, with many memorabilia of their famed visitors. But, what most visitors notice above all is the intricate wood carvings, which the ladies collected, and embellished both the interior and the exterior of the house. ‘Low roofed cot’ it may have been originally, but their constant additions made it well worth the visiting. But, it’s not all down to the Ladies. After their deaths, subsequent owners added their own embellishments. The gardens, although started by the Ladies, owe their present form to a Mr G.H. Robertson, who lived there in the 1890s.

In 1932, the house was acquired by Llangollen Urban District Council, and is today run as a museum by the Denbighshire County Council. But, in a way, it could be said that the Ladies are still here, for it has been said their shades still haunt the house. But, the staff have reported no sightings in 25 years, so that’s probably just a piece of romantic folklore.

If You Go:

♦ Llangollen is situated right on the A5 London-Holyhead trunk road.
♦ If you don’t have a car, the most convenient option is the National Express coaches  Service No. NX 454; from London: 7.5 hrs; from Birmingham 4 hrs. (Change at Wrexham to WBT3, operated on behalf of National Express by GHA Coaches)
♦ The town does have a rail station, but this operates heritage trains only. The nearest rail station is at Wrexham (approx.. 10 miles) from where there’s a regular bus service (No 5) (www.arrivabus.co.uk/wales/services/5—wrexham-to-llangollen )

Accomodations:

♦ Details of accommodation, etc. in Llangollen can be found at www.llangollen.com
♦ Price lists and opening times for Plas Newydd are at www.denbighshire.gov.uk/en/visitor/places-to-visit/museums-and-historic-houses/plas-newydd.aspx

Warning – Make sure you have the right Plas Newydd; there’s another property of the same name in Anglesey.

About the author:
Having written as a hobby for many years while serving in the Royal Air Force, Keith Kellett saw no reason to discontinue his hobby when he retired. With time on his hands, he produced more work, and found, to his surprise, it ‘grew and grew’ and was good enough to finance his other hobbies; travelling, photography and computers. He is trying hard to prevent it from becoming a full-time job! He has published in many UK and overseas print magazines, and on the Web. He is presently trying to get his head around blogging, podcasting and video. Contact: keith-kellett@tinyworld.co.uk.

All photos are by Keith Kellett.

It’s the tradition in England that the eldest son of the Monarch, or Heir Apparent, is titled the Prince of Wales. It dates from the 13th Century, when King Edward I invaded Wales, and defeated the last ‘true’ Prince of Wales, Llywyllyn ap Gruffydd, in battle in 1282.

Who was to replace Prince Llywyllyn? An apocryphal tale, which didn’t surface until much later, has it that, from the battlements of Conwy Castle, Edward proclaimed: ‘I will give you a Prince of Wales. He was born in Wales, and doesn’t speak a word of English!’

With that, he presented his infant son, born just a few days earlier.

Llywyllyn is often styled ‘Llywylln the Last’, although he wasn’t, really. His younger brother, Dafydd proclaimed himself Prince on Llywylln’s death, but it’s one thing to ‘proclaim yourself’, another to be accepted. And, he was captured and executed the following year, anyway.

Perhaps the Welsh people wouldn’t accept him because he changed sides and alliances so often? Even Welsh historians seldom had a good word for him. With another brother, Owain, he led an unsuccessful revolt against Llywyllyn, and later aligned himself with the English King, who commanded him to build Ruthin Castle.

Ruthin Castle stands on a ridge overlooking the beautiful Vale of Clwyd. It was the castle that gave the town its name, for it’s a corruption of Welsh words meaning ‘red fort’, referring to the sandstone from which it was built. The castle, which Dafydd built in 1277, is in ruins now, destroyed in the reign of Charles II.

But, enough remains to make a worthwhile exploration of the ruins. In 1830 a grand house in the Victorian Gothic style, with battlements and crenellations to recall a more romantic age was built in the grounds. Over the years it’s been extended, eventually to become a hospital and is now the Ruthin Castle Hotel.

In 1282, Dafydd set out from Ruthin to Hawarden Castle, near Chester. Some say he’d been invited to a banquet there, but chose, instead, to attack it. This so incensed King Edward that, having been harried by the Welsh for several years, he invaded Wales, defeating and killing Dafydd’s brother, Llywyllyn.

During this conflict, another of Dafydd’s strongholds fell. This was at nearby Denbigh. The current stone castle was built after the stronghold fell, as part of Edward’s ‘Iron Ring’ around North Wales. Henry de Lacy was commissioned by the King to build it, and was also granted a Borough Charter to establish the surrounding town of Denbigh … which also took its name from the castle; it’s a corruption of the Welsh for ‘little fort’.

It hadn’t even been finished when it was captured and briefly occupied by Welsh rebels in 1294, but the rebellion collapsed the following year, and the castle was handed back to De Lacy

In the 15th Century, the castle was besieged twice, but held out, first, against the rebels of Owain Glyndwr then against the Lancastrians in the War of the Roses.

During the Civil War, the castle was held by Royalists for six months, before being captured by the Parliamentarians, who ‘slighted’ it to prevent further use. It has been in ruins ever since and is now under the protection of Cadw, the Welsh government’s historical and environmental protection service.

Ruthin Castle has connections with more modern Princes of Wales too. The ‘Prince of Wales’ suite and ‘Bertie’s Restaurant’ at the hotel are named after Albert Edward (later, of course, King Edward VII) who visited the house frequently in Victorian times … because he was having an affair with Patsy, the owner’s wife!

And, even more recently, in 1969, Prince Charles, the present Prince of Wales, stayed here on his way to his investiture at Caernarfon Castle. No doubt he, too, stayed in the ‘Prince of Wales’ suite?

Author’s Footnote:

While doing the research for this story it reminded me of a story told to me by an RAF colleague, Barry. When he wasn’t doing his thing for Queen and Country, Barry was a prolific writer, as well as a historian and book lover. One day, when stationed near Shrewsbury, he spent a happy day off browsing round a second-hand book shop. Having made a couple of purchases, one of which was a book of local history, he made his way to a tea-shop called Morris’s, which, although a bit staid and old-fashioned, served (maybe still serves) excellent tea. He took his favourite seat, by a window on the first floor, overlooking the market place, and settled down to read.

The waitress asked if the book he was reading was interesting, and, through a mouthful of cake, he said it was. “Did you know,” he said, indicating the market place, “that, down there is the place where Dafydd ap Gruffyd, the last Prince of Wales, was hung, drawn and quartered?”

The waitress was horrified. “O, Sir! They couldn’t,” she cried. “Not outside Morris’s!”

Private Conwy Valley Day Trip from Caernarfon with Hotel Transport

If You Go:

Unfortunately, neither Ruthin nor Denbigh are served by National Express coaches, nor are they accessible by rail. The nearest terminal for these are Wrexham or Rhyl, from where it is possible to catch a local bus (Service X50) which connects these places, and calls at both towns.

Ruthin Castle Hotel and Spa

About the author:
Having written for fun while serving in the Royal Air Force, Keith Kellett developed his hobby into a business when he retired. He found, to his surprise, his work was good enough to finance his other hobbies; travelling, photography and computers. He lives near Salisbury, in the south of England.

All photos are by Keith Kellett

by Marc Latham

A woman in a ruby dress sits upright amongst golden marsh reeds. Her red hair hangs past staring eyes to her arms. Her dead body is found by two boys walking a white horse. The wide expanse of marshland is framed by grey mountains and blue sky.

That is how the fourth and last episode, The Girl in the Water, of the first Hinterland series started. The crime drama followed in the footsteps of Nordic noir, and was filmed around Aberystwyth on the west coast of central Wales.

Aberystwyth is a Welsh language word meaning mouth of the Ystwyth. The town is unofficially considered the capital of Ceredigion county, and often called Aber by locals, as it’s the biggest Aber in the region. Its population of 15,000, supplemented by thousands of students in term time, is the largest for seventy miles north, east and south; Ireland is much farther west, beyond the Cardigan Bay horizon and over the Irish Sea.

Hinterland was the first network television series (a combined Fiction Factory production for Welsh language channel S4C and the BBC) filmed in Ceredigion; probably because its lack of motorways makes it difficult to reach for film crews. Its stark location was part of the appeal though, according to series producer Ed Talfan on the BBC Hinterland blog page:

‘We ended up going with Aberystwyth because there is a stark beauty to it. It feels like the last place – it’s the end of the railway line and there’s an inherent drama to it because of that.’

The Cambrian railway line links Aberystwyth with England via Shrewsbury or Birmingham. The journey west becomes spectacular for natural scenery lovers after Newtown, when the wild unpopulated Cambrian Mountains tower over the line to the south. As their highest peaks are passed, the Dovey (Dyfi) estuary takes over to the north. On the other side of the water, whether the mountain horizon is commingling with cloud or sky, it captures my imagination until the seaside town of Aberdovey comes into view on the other side of the Dovey mouth.

I wrote an article about the Cambrian line railway journey still available on what was Suite 101 years ago, and this year wrote a poem about a possible railway journey from Scarborough on Britain’s east coast to Aberystwyth on the west.

In-between, I walked around Aberystwyth Castle for the first time. I usually visited the north beach to look out at Cardigan Bay if there was time between arriving in Aber at the end of the train line and my bus departure taking me deeper into the hinterland.

A legend first written down in 1250 tells of a sunken city in Cardigan Bay; a Welsh Atlantis; called Cantre’r Gwaelod (The Lowland Hundred).

The story was resonant on a December evening in 2013, as a stormy sea enticed me beyond the pier, and I walked around the promontory housing the castle for the first time as far as I remember.

Arriving in daytime the following year, the sea was even wilder, with Cyclone Dirk already having caused extensive damage to the Aberystwyth seafront. It would cause much more destruction a fortnight later.

Circling the headland again, I saw the waves looked even higher as they crashed onto the south beach and defensive walls between the sea and harbour. So I walked down as far as I could, and was rewarded with excellent views and photos of the sun setting over the highest southern peak; between swirling grey clouds and above seawater flying high into the air after battering the promenade.

On the way back I entered the castle grounds for the first time, and thought it was more impressive than it is renowned; having grown up in Ceredigion I wasn’t really aware of Aber’s castle. Although there are only three towers and walls still standing, there is enough left to imagine the castle’s size and scale.

The castle dates from the late 13th century. It was built by Edward I after he invaded Wales to subjugate it. The town grew up around the castle in the 14th century, but the castle was already deteriorating.

A Welsh uprising against the rule of Henry IV under Owain Glyndwr captured the castle in 1404. He crowned himself Prince of Wales, and held a parliament at Machynlleth. Mach is a few stops on the trainline east of Aber, where the train can divide into two: one continuing east-west, and the other riding the south-north coast line to Pwllheli. The rebellion lost the castle in 1408, and order was restored under Henry V by 1415.

There were fortresses in Aber before Aberystwyth Castle. A fort was built just south of the current town in the 12th century after the Normans swept west from England on the way to Ireland after defeating Harold at the Battle of Hastings in 1066.

Also on the southern outskirts, overlooking modern Penparcau, a Bronze Age hillfort has been found and partially excavated on Dinas Maelor. In Penparcau, evidence of Mesolithic Age flint knapping suggests the area was populated in the Stone Age.

Aber town centre is quite small and easy to navigate. Walking out from the station the north beach is straight ahead past a pub sarcastically named after Lord Beechings. Lord Beeching’s report closed down the fifty-miles long Aberystwyth to Carmarthen train line linking mid and south Wales in 1965.

Since Aber’s harbour was built, the River Ystwyth doesn’t actually run through the town, but the River Rheidol does. Aberystwyth is at the confluence of the two rivers. There is a scenic Vale of Rheidol train line from Aber to Devil’s Bridge on a narrow gauge steam locomotive climbing 700 feet (200 metres).

That railway line was opened in 1902, a year after the third bridge at Devil’s Bridge. That iron bridge was built on top of a steel bridge built in 1753; the latter was built on top of the original bridge, which was built between 1075 and 1200.

Under the bridges, the Mynach falls 300 feet in five steps to the Rheidol. The Devil’s Bridge name was inspired by a local legend that thought the original bridge was too difficult to build, so the Devil must have built it in exchange for the first soul that crossed. An old woman tricked the Devil by sending her dog onto the bridge. It’s a nice story, but a shame for her dog!

Devil’s Bridge was the setting for the first episode of Hinterland, when a missing woman’s body was found on one of the steps under the Mynach water.

If I was Hinterland’s protagonist, DCI Tom Mathias, investigating the series evidence mentioned in this article, I’d think the water, women and horses clues point to important symbols in Celtic mythology; while red is the symbolic national colour of Wales. I’d conclude that Hinterland used ancient symbolism and cultural folklore in a modern Welsh crime drama, and that its brooding gloomy characters and storylines mirror the normally grey weather and proud chequered history. Most of the Hinterland action took place in the countryside inland from Aberystwyth; a natural world altered very little since tribes first travelled the Cambrian Mountains after the last Ice Age.

If You Go:

♦ Aber tourist office: www.visitmidwales.co.uk
♦ Webpage for the steam train: http://www.trainavapeur.com. It runs daily from April 1 to August 31 then until November for 5 to 6 days a week. An adult return fare was €11 and a child’s was €7.50. One way takes 40 minutes.
♦ Cambrian railway line info: www.aberystwyth.org.uk/attractions/cambrian-coast-railway-line.shtml
♦ Vale of Rheidol railway info: www.rheidolrailway.co.uk
♦ Aberystwyth castle: www.castlewales.com/aberystw.html
♦ Hinterland website: www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b03pqypt
♦ My east-west railway poem: fmpoetry.wordpress.com
♦ My Cambrian railway article: suite.io/marc-latham/1a4b2yv

About the author:
Marc Latham travelled to all the populated continents during his twenties. He studied during his thirties, including a BA in History, and has been writing during his forties. He writes out of the www.greenygrey.co.uk website.

All photos by Marc Latham.

The country of Wales may only be small, but every nook and cranny is full of history. 500-plus castles can be found in this part of the United Kingdom, in various degrees of disrepair and/or restoration, often seen on the hillsides as one speeds down the busy motorways. I explored five really special ones, coming away with a greater appreciation of Welsh history and its people.

A sense of déjà vu at Conwy Castle

The coastal city of Conwy, about 45 minutes drive from Manchester’s airport, proudly displays its old medieval walls, many of which can be walked on. Three gateways remain standing in the city that dates back from the time of Edward I and his post-conquest activities of North Wales in 1282. But even more conspicuous is the UNESCO World Heritage Site Conwy Castle [TOP PHOTO].

When it was built from 1283-1289, it was at great expense (some £15,000 – equivalent to £15 million today) to help serve as one of his “Iron Ring” castles that helped to keep the English safe in Wales while fortifying his new empire there. The exterior and interior walls remain relatively intact, and I found them to be quite an experience walking through the various rooms from the king’s chamber, dining hall, kitchen, and prison. I felt as if I were back in medieval times, especially when I went inside the castle chapel, where the soundtrack of Gregorian monks was playing in the midst of displays about Christianity’s role in that time. I also was fascinated by the countless arrow slits carved into the walls, expecting a shooter to be taking aim.

Two fortified gateways and eight towers help make up the grandness of this place. Four of them contain high towers where I got stunning views of the city, sea, and Conwy Mountain. And as I walked up the spiraling staircases to get those views with only the help of ropes to keep me from falling, I could feel a sense of “home sweet home” in each part of the structure, despite its massive size overall, where now the only “royals” taking up residence there are pigeons and gulls.

Bodelwyddan Castle: a National Portrait Galley hub

Even though Wales is famous for medieval castles, one such “mock” castle off the A55 motorway (a 30 minute drive from the Welsh border) is notable. It serves as an outpost for London’s National Portrait Galley: Bodelwyddan Castle. Bodelwyddan stands on land where property ownership purportedly goes back before the time of the Norman Conquest, and has recorded history dating from 1461, when the Humphreys family got this land as compensation for being booted off the Isle of Angelsey by Edward IV. From 1830-1850, the prominent Sir John Williams led the creating of an old time castle, including adding limestone walls, which actually were heated to protect the fruit orchards during cold weather.

My senses took in the pastoral surroundings of Bodelwyddan on a partly cloudy and blustery day as I walked up the hill, noticing mature parkland where sheep were snacking on grass. Surrounding the castle is an array of well-manicured gardens and footpaths where the sound of singing blackbirds in the beech and oak trees interrupted the whistling of the gusts. Once inside the castle, I was immediately greeted by a large painting of Queen Victoria. This branch of the National Portrait Gallery stresses Victorian Era portraits of prominent British people, hung in rooms that were restored in the 1980s to emulate the reserved opulence of the Victorian lifestyle. The library itself copies that time with more fakery – painted books for the library and wood panelling that’s really painted plaster, known as “trompe l’oeil,” French for “trick the eye.” Yet real Victorian furnishings do abound here, from furniture to a grand 1840s billiard table as well as a Williams silver centrepiece made that’s insured for £250,000.

For the kids, there’s an interactive games and dress up area on the third floor of the home, which happens to get the most reports of paranormal activity.

Stand where Prince Charles once stood at Caernarfon Castle

If you want to know just how hard life was for the common man back then, just visit a medieval fortress like Caernarfon Castle on a cold and rainy morning like I did. As I walked through its long passageways and explored the interior rooms whose walls are still intact some 700 years after being built, the chill and drafts went through my layered clothing to my bones. Much of the castle walls, both interior and exterior, remain intact from the time they were constructed between 1283-1330. After Edward I conquered Wales, he imagined a grand castle based on the dream of Roman emperor Magnus Maximus (whose body was found in the area). Maximus envisioned such a place located within a city amidst mountains and opposite an island (matching Caernarfon’s description), so James of Saint George was put in charge of building in this “dream city.”

The king also fashioned the polygonal and colored band walls (some twenty feet thick) after those of Constantinople to serve as the “capital” of North Wales, even creating a new town, destroying the old Welsh settlement. Locals were conscripted as manpower, and were paid in silver pennies.

Despite all the expense, many of the plans for it never materialized, and it shows today as I noted the various stones sticking out of walls for future development. Normally, the castle had 20-40 people defending it in its early days. What made the castle easier to defend were the ingenious way that three soldiers with bow and arrows could be stationed to shoot through what appeared on the inside of the castle to be three arrow slits, but in effect, those three arrows would come out through just one slit in the outer wall of this UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Caernarfon was once a motte and bailey castle (castle on a mound surrounded by a courtyard). This mound still resides within the courtyard as a dais made of Welsh slate, and was the scene of two Princes of Wales getting their official titles, that being Edward VIII in 1911 and then Prince Charles in 1969. The northeast tower has an extensive exhibit of those two investitures, including Charles’ BBC telecast. Charles immediately walked through the Queen’s Gate to greet his subjects, something which I got to do, as a special balcony still remains for photo opps.

I got even more appreciation of Welsh castle history at Caernarfon Castle via a 20-plus minute feature film called the “Eagle and the Dragon,” where actors dressed in medieval period costumes stages some reenactments, and still photos helped history visually come alive. It’s located in the Eagle Tower, where the king would reside when he was in Caernarfon, and which was protected above by a cluster of high turrets that can be explored. The King’s room itself was grand, and did contain a personal chapel and fireplace to help fend off the chill. The Queen’s Tower also has remnants of nicer accommodations, and it’s here where many artifacts and exhibits on the history of the Welsh armies are featured.

Splurge on the “Grey Lady” ghost at Ruthin Castle

While the Vale of Clwyd is at the bottom of some incredible footpaths with steep angles going up hundreds of feet in the Clwydian Hills that’ll challenge any hiker, the town of Ruthin (an hour’s drive from Manchester) has a castle with the same namesake that’s located just above the base of the valley. It sits on grounds once allegedly housing a fort where King Arthur kept a little “love nest” for one of his mistresses dating before the Norman conquest, but it’s confirmed date for a standing edifice dates back to 1277, when Edward I secured it for his kingdom against the rebellious Welsh.

Though much of the castle wall remain intact despite the 11 weeks of shelling it withstood during the English Civil War in 1646 plus subsequent neglect, improvements were made during Queen Victoria’s reign. I found improvements outdoors, but also indoors via the décor on the inside that tries to imitate the Victorian Era, especially with the as “trompe l’oeil” wallpaper jobs that can be found in the spacious rooms that contain all the modern conveniences medieval kings would deem as sorcery: big screen TVs, free internet access, and electronic heat control.

I explored what was left of the medieval fortifications by walking around the old walls, and was greeted by some of the 16 peacocks who live there and wail away while the sun is up. I also went to the gravesite of the “grey lady,” who was buried after being executed for killing the lover of her husband, one of the commanders of Edward I. I didn’t see anything mid-afternoon, so I waited until dusk to try to find this poor soul, but alas, she was no where to be found.

If You Go:

♦ Conwy Castle: www.castlewales.com/conwy.html
♦ Caernarfon Castle www.castlewales.com/caernarf.html
♦ Bodelwyddan Castle: www.bodelwyddan-castle.co.uk/
♦ Ruthin Castle: www.ruthincastle.co.uk
♦ Visit Wales: www.visitwales.com

About the author:
Roy A. Barnes attended a press trip sponsored by Visit Wales, but what he wrote were his own impressions without any scrutiny or vetting by the sponsor. The author resides in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and is a frequent contributor to Travel Thru History.

All photos are credited to Roy A. Barnes, and may not be used without permission:
1. Conwy Castle
2. Bodelwyddan Castle
3. Caernarfon Castle: Inside walls
4. Ruthin Castle: Medieval Victorian Exteriors
5. Ruthin Castle: Medieval walls and Peacock

A Tribute to My Family’s Heritage

by W. Ruth Kozak

Big Pit Mine, Wales

Kitted out in a helmet, cap lamp, battery pack and a miner’s belt, I enter the pit-cage and descend 90 meters to a world of shafts, coal faces and underground roadways. Guided by a good-natured ex-miner guide, I am about to experience a real sense of life in the coal pit.

My pit-lamp lights the inky darkness. Along the floor, tracks still remain for the coal trams. I follow the guide through the low-ceilinged, dank tunnels and arrive at one of the air doors. The miner guide instructs everyone to turn off their lamps. I hold my hand in front of my face and can not see it. Now I know the meaning of “pitch-black” darkness.

“That’s what it was like when the lamps blew out,” the guide says. “But of course, the real problem was the rats!”

I am inside the Big Pit Mine, which until its closure in 1980 was the oldest working mine in South Wales. Sunk in 1860, Big Pit forms part of the Blaenafon mine which is now classified as a heritage site and one of the Mining Museums of Wales. The pit’s shaft extends to a depth of 90 meters and at its peak in 1913 employed 1300 men. By 1966 it was the only deep mine left in that area. In 1980 the workforce had declined to 250 and the mine was closed. It reopened in 1983 as a visitor’s centre.

The Welsh Coalfields

As far back as I have traced my Welsh family’s genealogy, most of the men were coal miners. My great-grandfather, and even my great-grandmother, worked in the mines from the age of eight. My father worked in the mines from the age of 14. As a child, I grew up listening to Dad’s mining stories. So on a recent trip to Britain, I decided to visit some of the sites that were part of my family’s heritage.

There were two coal fields in Wales: The South Wales Coalfield, which extended nearly 90 miles from Pontypool in the East to St Bride’s Bay in the West, and the North Wales coalfield which extended from the Point of Ayr south-eastward to Hawarden and Broughton near Chester.

I began by visiting the Big Pit National Mining Museum at Blaenafon. Big Pit located at the head of the Afon Llwyd Valley in the North Gwent uplands, stands on a hillside overlooking the town on the bracken-clad moors. The entire area is covered by early coal opencasts. Iron ore and limestone as well as coal outcrops were found here dating back to medieval times. The opening of the Blaenafon Ironworks in 1789 created an ongoing requirement for coal.

Blaenafon

The town of Blaenafon, founded in the 1700’s, is one of the best surviving examples of a Welsh industrial community, and still retains many characteristic features from the 19th century such as terraced housing, shops, chapels, and a Workman’s Hall. On the hillside near the town, Big Pit stands on the site of an earlier mine, Kearsley Pit. The original 40- metre shaft, sunk in 1860 was extended to a depth of 90 meters. The colliery produced more than 100,000 tonnes of coal from an area of about twelve square miles, from nine different coal seams.

Like all mines in South Wales, coal was cut by hand and the mine employed both men and women. Until the child-labour laws came into affect at the turn of the 20th century, even children as young as four worked in the pits. In 1908 a mechanical conveyor was installed at Big Pit and it was the first one electrified. The winding gear was driven by a steam engine until 1953 when a mechanical cutter and loader pulled it along by a chain.

The hour-long tour of Big Pit Mine takes you down in the pit cage into the underground roadways, through air doors, to explore traditional and modern mining methods. On the surface you can explore the colliery buildings: the winding engine-house, blacksmith’s workshop and pithead baths.

Exploring those black tunnels brought the lives of my father and my great-grandfather into a clearer perspective. In the old days, the miners worked sixteen-hour days, six days a week. As the miner-guide talks about the mines, both in the past and present times, I recall my father telling me how he would walk to the Bedwas Navigational Mine, five kilometers from his village, Caerphilly, to the pit face in the pre-dawn darkness to emerge hours later in the night. The miners always sang as they walked to and from the collieries, their tenor voices rising in the sweet Welsh treble, songs of their labours, and joyful songs celebrating another day of life. It helped keep their spirits up.

Down in the bowels of Big Pit, as I stand in the impenetrable darkness, my lamp extinguished, the guide explains how the children working as trappers, opened and shut the air doors when the coal trams came down the tracks.

“There were always rats, running along the walls and floor, over the children’s feet,” he says. “ If their lamps went out, they would have to remain there all day in the pitch darkness. It was impossible to relight the lamps once they were extinguished, so they stayed there all day in the dark tunnel, attached to the air door by a cord.”

Children and women were employed to load the trams and clean the pit pony’s stables.It was necessary to keep the stables clean as manure formed the deadly methane gases that caused explosion. The pit ponies lived in the mines for fifty weeks of the year, until there was a Miner’s Holiday, when they would be taken to the surface blindfolded against the glare of the sun. The miners also used caged canaries to detect gas in the tunnels. So long as the canaries sang they knew the air was clean and safe.

Senghenydd Mining Disaster

Unlike other collieries in Wales, Big Pit Mine has the reputation of never having had an explosion or serious accident. No Welsh mining community has ever suffered such a terrible loss as the village of , the home of my great-grandfather. The first disaster was on Friday, May 24, 1901. Between the end of the night shift and beginning of the day shift, just as the last cage full of night shift workers were disembarking at the surface, the men heard a rumble and dashed for the safety of the lamp room. Two quick explosions in succession followed. A column of dust and smoke shrouded the pit accompanied by the sound of splintering woodwork and tearing metal. A third explosion rocked the village. 83 men, including my great-grandfather and two other family members were below ground preparing for the day shift when the disaster occurred. Only one man was brought out alive. William Harris, an ostler, was found alive but severely burned lying by the side of his dead horse.

The Universal Steam Coal Company, one of the deepest mines in the coalfield, had a reputation for being a hot, dry, dusty, gassy mine that produced some of the best steam coal. Many enquiries were made after the 1901 explosion, and recommendations were made but not put into place. Unfortunately, this became the precursor to a much great disaster twelve years later.

On Tuesday, Oct. 14, 1913, after the day shift had been down in the pit for two hours, a massive explosion ripped through the mine, wrecking the pithead gear, shooting the cage into the air. Fires raged underground, fed by the workings of the fans. Fallen roof beams cut off air supplies. Some men who were trapped on the east side were rescued. The rest were not so fortunate. 436 miners were killed in the blast. Only 72 bodies were recovered. No other mining community in Wales had ever suffered such a loss. Every street in the village mourned the death of a relative. One woman lost her husband, three brothers and four sons.

The Universal Mining Company was held responsible for the deaths, but after a long legal battle the site manager and company directors were fined a mere 12 Pounds between them — less than six pence for each death. What a price to pay for coal! The mine was closed in 1928. One survivor said: “There was more fuss if a horse was killed underground than if a man was killed. Men came cheap. They had to buy horses.”

Senghenydd, located in the Aber Valley, south of Blaenafon, was just a small mining village at the time of the explosions, and it has not grown much since the Universal colliery closed. I had no trouble finding information about the mine where my great-grandfather had died. A friendly shopkeeper directed me to a tiny community centre, which had once been the miner’s social club. On the walls are photos of the disaster and the retired miner at the Centre was happy to provide details.

I found my great-grandfather’s name listed in the memorial book of the Universal disasters, among the others killed. George Filer, age 73, the oldest man to die in the pit that fateful day. Great-grandfather’s address is also listed in the memorial book, and amazingly I was able to find his house on the High Street. Nearby is the memorial for the miners killed in the two disasters, a reconstruction of the winding gear used at the Universal Collieries.

Bedwas Navigational Colliers, Caerphilly Wales

My father, Fred Filer, was born in Caerphilly a year after his grandfather died. Caerphilly, was then a small mining village employing men in the nearby Bedwas Navigational Collieries. This mine, which produced both steam and house coal, was at its peak output in 1913, but after several bitter industrial struggles the colliery closed. My father began working in Bedwas Colliery when he was fourteen. By 1928 the miners, refusing to take wage cuts, forced the mine to close for two months. It reopened with scab workers and the South Wales Miners Federation, which had sought better wages and improved working conditions in the mine, was banned. There were further conflicts in the early 1930’s including riots. My father, a union activist, as well as many other miners involved had their mining cards confiscated during the dispute. Later the Mining Federation was reinstated. My father immigrated to Canada after losing his mining card, and became a Baptist minister. He was sent as a circuit preacher to Estevan, Saskatchewan to work alongside his friend, a young Scottish-born Baptist minister and future Premier Tommy Douglas, to help the troubled mining communities of southern Saskatchewan.

Nothing is left of the coal pits at Bedwas. The colliery closed, along with others in South Wales, during the miner’s strike of 1984/85 and was never reopened due to damage of two coalfaces during the strike. When I first visited it several years ago, there were still ruined buildings at the pit site. Now the slagheaps, long overgrown with grass, have sprouted new housing developments.

Caerphilly, most noted for it’s well-restored Norman castle, still boasts many of the original buildings of my father’s time, including the school he attended, the mining chapels where he often spoke. The family home on Windsor Street is now converted to a law office. In the cemetery of St. Martin’s Church are many graves of those killed in the Senghenydd explosion: fathers and sons, brothers and uncles. Ironically, one of my cousins lives in what was once the posh district of Caerphilly, in a newly renovated mansion formerly belonging to one of the mining bosses.

Mining, once Wales’ former major industry is now almost extinct. Only one deep mine is still working: the Tower Colliery, at Hirwaun, Glamorgan, operated by the Miner’s Co-operative since 1984. There are other small mines still in existence including Blaenant drift mine, which is located next to the Cefn Coed Colliery Museum at Neath, near Swansea.

If You Go:

INFORMATION ABOUT THE BIG PIT MINE:

Big Pit National Mining Museum,
Blaenafon, Torfaen NP4PXP
Open 7 days a week, March – November, 9.30 – 5 pm
For winter times, please telephone.
No charge for entry.
Visitors must be 5 years of age or at least 1 metre tall to go underground.
Wear warm clothing and suitable footwear.
No electrical devices, flash cameras or lighters are allowed in the underground
Tel: 01495-790311 – Fax: 01395- 792618

Movie tour of Big Pit Mine

MORE INFORMATION ABOUT MINES AND MINING MUSEUMS
www.theheritagetrail.co.uk/industrial

RHONDDA HERITAGE PARK (Lewis Methyr Colliery)
www.netwales.co.uk/rhondda-heritage

WELSH SLATE MUSEUM
www.nmgw.ac.uk/wsm

BEDWAS NAVIGATIONAL COLLIERY
www.users.waitrose.com

TOWER COLLIERY
www.minersadvice.co.uk/tower.htm

SENGHENYDD UNIVERSAL COLLIERY
www.welshcoalminers.co.uk/GlamEast/Senghenydd.htm

CEFN COED COLLIERY MUSEUM
www.aboutbritain.com/CefnCoedCollieryMuseum.htm

SOUTH WALES MINING MUSEUM, near Port Talbot
www.neath-porttalbot.gov.uk/tourism/heritage

About the author:
W. Ruth Kozak grew up hearing her father’s mining stories so the opportunity to actually experience what it was like down in the coal pits was a remarkable adventure. Ruth recently toured the Britannia Mine Museum and mine site near Squamish B.C. once the largest copper mine in the British Empire. The recent rescue of the Chilean miners from their 68 days of entrapment were are reminder of the dangerous lives her family members once lived.

Photo credits:
First Blaenavon Big Pit photo by: Steinsky / CC BY-SA
All other photographs by W. Ruth Kozak.

Llanberis, Snowdonia

by W. Ruth Kozak

The view from the summit of Mount Snowdon, when the cold wet mist evaporates from the barren slopes, is a vista of yellow-brown hills and intensely green meadows. Far below the precipitously steep cliffs, a river flows through a valley where the stone houses of Llanberis village nestle beside twin lakes. This rugged region of North Wales served as a training ground for Sir Edmund Hillary’s mountaineering team before their ascent of Mount Everest in 1953. British climbers still train here for the Himalayas.

As the sun moves out of the clouds, the rocky summit is silhouetted against a clear blue sky, and the breath-taking panorama of green slopes, deep chasms and towering rock faces become visible. It is easy to see why the Welsh call this area of North Wales known as Snowdonia, Eryri, the land of the Eagle.

Being of Welsh heritage, to climb Snowdon had been my life-long dream, however when I arrived at the town of Llanberis (pronounce the double “Ll” as a guttural slur), my enthusiasm was dampened by the weather. A fine Welsh rain was falling. Ruddy-faced Welshmen wearing Wellingtons and tweed caps hurried into the shelter of the nearest pub. A thick shroud of ominous clouds hid Snowdon’s peak. I wondered if my journey had been in vain. These mountains can be treacherous for hikers and it isn’t advisable to venture up into the hills in inclement weather where the mist and rain can close in with an alarming speed.

The village of Llanberis is nestled among some of the highest mountains in Wales. The loftiest peak, Snowdon (1,085 metres) is the highest mountain all of England and Wales. These mountains were the stronghold of the fiery Welsh patriot Owen Glendower, who waged war against the English for ten years, from 1400 until he vanished without a trace. His legend lived on for centuries and took on the attributes of the ancient gods of Snowdonia.

The legends of Snowdon are of giants and demons who battled in the clouds hurling red-hot stones into the valleys. Snowdon, in Welsh Wyddfa means “burial place” and was said to be the home of the legendary giant Rhitta Gawr who was renowned for his coat made of the beards of his vanquished enemies. He is said to be buried at the foot of the mountain.

My journey to Snowdonia began with a nine hour coach trip from London to the town of Caernarfon, situated on the west coat of Wales by the southern end of the Menei Strait.

The dark towers of Caernarfon castle loom over the town. On these stone ramparts sentries once scanned the horizon for the rebel armies of Llywellyn ap Gruffydd. King Edward I built this massive fortress, along with eight others, between 1277 and 1295, in order to conduct his military campaign against the Welsh. Caernarfon, the largest and strongest of them all, with massive walls and twelve towers, is where the English Prince of Wales is invested with his title. Prince Charles was invested here in 1969.

The Welsh, who call their country Cymru, are fiercely nationalistic in North Wales, and Welsh is the spoken language. Here the fabled figures of Welsh myth and history lived: Merlin, the magician of King Arthur’s court; the rebel leader Owen Glendower; the martyred Prince Llewelyn the Last, and Owen Tudor whose grandson Henry defeated Richard III at the Battle of Bosworth Field. He became King Henry VII, the first Welsh king of England.

North Wales is majestic, a land of mountains and streams, massive medieval castles and stately country homes now converted to museum and hotels. It was the home of the poet Dafydd Ddu Eryi and the novelist T. Rowland Hughes, whose home “Angarfa” is now a museum in his memory.

The road to Llanberis, a short bus ride from Caernarfon, winds past meadows and stony slopes where sheep graze on the sparse grass and patches of lavender. It is like a scene from a fairy tale. The area is steeped in legend. Tales are told of the fairy folk, Tylwyth Teg, magical creatures who can put unsuspecting mortals under their spell.

At the outskirts of Llanberis, across the emerald fields, the single gray stone tower of Dolbardarn castle rises above a grove of oak trees. This old, ruined castle, situated between the twin lakes of Llyn Padarn and Llyn Peris in the Llanberis Pass, is one of Wales’ oldest castles, believed to have been built and occupied from about 233 B.C. It was once used as a prison for Owain Goch, who languished there for 23 years, locked up by his rebel brother Llewelyn the Great. Dolbardan was the last Welsh stronghold to be surrendered to Edward I after the death of Llewelyn in 1282.

Located at the foot of Snowdon, on the shores of the twin lakes, Llanberis is a traditional centre for climbers and walkers. Of the six routes to the summit of Snowdon, the path from Llanberis is regarded as the easiest, the longest (8 km) and the most popular. There is plenty of reasonably priced accommodation in the town of Llanberis, and many things to see in the immediate vicinity. Attractions include the Museum of the North, the Welsh National State Museum, craft workshops and the narrow-gauge Llanberis Lake Railway.

The local folk heroine was Marged Uch Ifan, known as “Queen of the Lakes”. She could make and play harps and outshone the local men at most tasks such as rowing, wrestling, hunting and fishing for torgoch, a fish unique to these lakes. A boat said to be hers, was found in the bottom of Llyn Padarn, and is in the Llanberis museum.

The Gilfach Ddu slate workshops, built in 1870, have a display of original equipment and puts on a demonstration of the art of slate-splitting. Once an ancient bard prophesied that the stones of Mt. Snowdon would be turned to bread. Years later, Snowdon became a major slate industry, ensuring employment for thousands of men and women in the area. Slate is used everywhere, from the roofs of the stone-built houses to the pavement on the narrow street.

The morning after my arrival, I set off with the intention of climbing at least part way up the mountain. It was early June, fine weather for walking, but Snowdon’s conical peak was still shrouded with a thick, furry cap of gray cloud. I was well prepared for the trek: comfortable walking shoes, a layer of warm clothing, a rucksack packed with waterproofs, first-aid kit, whistle and local map. Still, the weather looked unpredictable, and after careful thought, I opted to ride up on the little single-track locomotive run by the Snowdon Mountain Railway. The train goes right up to the summit, a long slow haul of 55 minutes.

The coal-fired steam engine pushes the coach in front, up the mountain. The views from the window are spectacular. The track meanders up the steep slopes, winding along the crests of the hills, past crumbling ruins of farm houses and stone walls. The rock-strewn fields are almost colourless, the grass bleached pale green. Tiny alpine lilies and heather cling tenaciously among the boulders. Grazing sheep have stripped the mountain slopes to the bone. Although Wales has only two million people, it has six million sheep.

By the time we reach the summit, the mist has evaporated and Snowdonia’s lofty mountain ranges unfold in a view of breathtaking beauty. The entire region is criss-crossed by dozens of well-trodden footpaths leading down into the lush valleys.

Sunshine lit up the entire countryside from Snowdon’s barren slopes to the distant verdant fields of the Druid’s isle, Anglesey, in the gray Irish Sea. I breathed in the fresh, cool mountain air, overwhelmed by he sensation of being atop this enchanted mountain. I felt as though I truly was under the spell of the magical Tylwyth Teg.

I walked down the mountain, an easy three hour descent along the Llanberis Pass trail. The path winds along the same twisting route as the rail line. The pace is gentle. Tourists and locals, seniors and children share the path, some with canine companions.

I looked back. Snowdon’s peak was again hidden by a swirl of white mist. But far below, where the tranquil village of Llanberis lies sheltered between the mountains, the twin lakes of Llyn Padar and Llyn Peris shimmer like pewter in the bright afternoon sun.

More Information:

Welcome to Llanberis: Guide to the Very Best of Llanberis
Llanberis Development Group website
Information about Dolbardarn Castle
Information for Caernarfon

TRAVEL ADVISORY: Those unaccustomed to hill walking should use caution and common sense. Wear sturdy shoes or boots, warm clothing, and take food, a first aid kit, a flashlight and a whistle. Good maps such as ordnance surveys and a compass are also essential if you are going on he less frequented trails. These maps are available anywhere in Snowdonia. Paths are well marked, but often the signs don’t indicate exactly where they lead or give the distance you must travel. If you want to make an overnight trek, you will most certainly be granted permission to leave some of your luggage at your guest house, especially if you reserve a room there for your last night’s stay. It is wise to let someone know the details of your route and allow yourself plenty of time to return before dark. The weather in Snowdonia is notorious for its changeability. Don’t hesitate to turn back if the weather gets worse or the route is too difficult for you. Organized treks are available in the area and usually include accommodations and some meals, guide service and local transportation.

THE SNOWDON MOUNTAIN RAILWAY: The trains run from mid March to November 1, weather permitting, with a minimum of 25 passengers. Journey to summit: 1 hour.

GETTING THERE: Buses from Caernarfon to Llnaberis run frequently throughout the day from the main square opposite the castle in Caernarfon.
There is also a train from Bangor. Trains and buses run from London.
Accommodations in guest houses are available in Caernarfon and Llanberis.

About the author:
W. Ruth Kozak owes her Welsh heritage to her father who was born and raised in Caerphilly, South Wales and worked as a miner until immigrating to Canada in 1931. She has visited Wales many times, and climbing Snowdon was a dream-come-true experience. Her website is www.RuthKozak.com

Photo credits:
All photos are by W. Ruth Kozak.