Hidden in the lonely woods below Foel y Ffridd, a couple of miles west of Aberangell, lies the mysterious and elusive Talmierin mine. Petra and I have made a few forays here and failed to find the adit, or even the site of the mine. It was rumoured to be connected to a tramway that came down from Maes y Gamfa slate quarry, but despite searching we couldn't find it. I made enquiries online, and one sage told me that he had been in the adit with a mate and it was flooded almost to the roof- they had to use an inflatable to make progress. So we gradually consigned the place to that dusty corner marked "too much bother".

Fast forward five years, and Petra and I decided just to have a walk around the woods and see what had changed. Short answer: nothing. It was still as magical and fascinating as ever. We poked around a bit, went up to Maes y Gamfa, then on the way back I suggested to Petra that we had another quick look for the fabled adit, not really expecting to find anything. I must say that we did have a good idea where the adit was by this time, but it was just an untried theory.

Well, we stumbled about for an hour, then quartered an area of the woods where I suspected the mine might be. As if by magic, a tip appeared, like a grey mist in the trees! Despite being weary from a day's aimless stravaiging, we ran up the slope like a pair of Jack Russells scenting pedigree chum.  And there it was! A beautiful location, the kind I like best, a black adit mouth breathing out chill air to the balmy woods. Of course, we'd only come equipped for a walk, we didn't have torches or helmets. Typical! We had to come back ASAP.

A month later, we returned, with my daughter Sam, a keen mine explorer, and our good friend Dave Linton, the curator of the Merioneth Manganese and Hendrecoed Mining History sites. Equipped with lashings of ginger beer and rucksacks groaning with provisions in true Enid Blyton style, we made our way up beside the tramway past Bowley's mill. The mill looks much the same, except there are notices up to tell the unwary that it is unsafe. I'd read that it was to be converted into holiday cottages. Obviously, it hasn't, not yet anyway.

Walking past the Coed Mawr twll (also known as Gartheiniog or Hendre Meredydd) which was the working that Bowley's mill once served, we just had to go in and have a look. It's very deep and difficult to photograph. Gazing down into the depths, I absent-mindedly pondered about whether there might be a drainage adit. As soon as we were back on the road Petra and Dave had decided where it was most likely to be. Dave was off down hill, leaving the rest of us to stagger about in his wake. On our previous visits, we hadn't thought about a lower entrance to the pit, yet a little thought, (and a close reading of Richards) would have shown that it was obvious.

It was even more of a jungle below the road; steep and bramble infested, but somehow we all scrambled down. Petra found the opencut, which was choked with mud almost up to the roof, but an inspection with torches revealed that it was indeed a drainage tunnel. Luckily, the end of the opencut debouched into the river, the Nant Maesygamfa and we decided that it might be a good idea to cross the river and proceed to the mine via the tramway.

I guess at this point, the tramway is called the Maesygamfa tramway...the woods hereabouts are infested with the mysterious remains of tramways and make a fascinating study, branches going off to Hendre Coed and other quarries. The lines were also used to transport timber and until fairly recently, some rail and trolleys were lying by Bowley's mill. There is, I hope, soon to be a book about the tramways...hurry up, Dan!
We made our way up through the woods and eventually came to the adit, where we changed into underground gear. It wasn't a long adit, and it had been filled near the end of the drive with deads. Dave crawled over the obstruction anyway. We called to ask if there was anything to see, but then decided we didn't want to be left out, so over we went. It wasn't easy and, in fact, there was little to see except a few mineral flows. But we'd made it to the forehead, and we were pretty chuffed.

It was definitely a slate mine, there were some big slabs awaiting transport out. Halfway down the adit was an attempt to roof up and start a chamber, but there was no sign of the two chambers that Richards mentions. Nor was there any sign of flooding, no tide marks that you can sometimes see in other places. Above is an open quarry which seems to have been an early digging. I've been studying the maps again and note that on the OS map the mine is pretty much where "Old Quarry" is marked, although it's impossible to make out on Google Earth. I can only offer the excuse that the woods are quite thick and that you don't really see the adit and tips until you almost stumble on them.

Sad to say, there was no sign on these recent visits of the red dog at the turning, immortalised by google streetview. (Here's a link to the original post with the dog). Unlike in the Famous Five books, we didn't encounter any scoundrels or visit Kirrin Island, but we did eat well and find some secret(ish) tunnels. I still reckon it was a brilliant day. Thanks to my daughter Sam, to Petra and to Dave for their excellent company and knowledge.

The Factoids:

Fridd Gartheiniog, ( aka Bowley's, or Hendre Coed Y Fridd) SH822117 was opened in 1850. The product was mostly slab from the Corris Narrow slate vein. There were two tunnels into the pit.  An enamelling oven was added to the mill in the 1920's to produce slate for mantelpieces and other architectural items. The mill was initially water-driven by a leat from the Afon Angell. We didn't find any trace of this. Later, a diesel engine supplied power for 6 saws and 3 planers. It closed in 1950.

Gazetteer of Slate Quarrying in Wales by Alun John Richards

Wilkinson's Gazetteer

This is the first of a series of posts following the route of the Gorseddau tramway, in a kind of back-to-front way. I'm starting at Porthmadog, although the tramway was built looking in hope and optimism towards the sea. The short distance from Porthmadog to Allt Wen is mostly under tarmac or towpath -a few marks on the palimpsest disguised as a cycle route... but Allt Wen is where things start to become interesting.

Some years ago, we visited an ailing relative at the Allt Wen hospital, underneath those impressive crags.  After dispensing grapes and much sympathy we walked a little way on a lovely public footpath that beckoned from the hospital car park. I had a vague recollection that a tramway had run somewhere near, and that there had been a switchback arrangement...but all had been buried, I surmised, when the hospital was built.

The footpath out of the hospital is at the North West end. The rather anodyne buildings and soulless car park have covered over an area here which, a century and a half ago was once the site of an iron mine and a smelting works. This was the terminus of the Tremadoc (sic) Tramway, a three foot gauge operation built to tap the iron mine here known as the Llydiart Yspytty mine and carry the minerals thus won to the harbour. Hard to imagine today; what isn't car park is thick gorse cover. We did have a good look for remains nevertheless...the prickly bushes cover everything, but Petra did find signs of a blocked adit near the access road- and we spotted what could have been the top adit and opencast, seen as a gloomy rake between trees near the top of the car park.

Before the hospital was built, an archaeological survey was made of the site- it's recommendations were that the remains were significant and should be conserved. Perhaps, in a way, that's what the gorse and cotoneaster is doing.

Parting the overgrown branches of history reveals that the mine here may have been worked from 1754, and was certainly being exploited by 1770: the Porthmadog harbour dues confirm that 3,30I tons of ironstone were shipped out between March 1839 and December 1840.  'Smelting furnaces' were built, probably in 1845, near the principal adit. In 1848- 1850, between 10,000 and 15,000 tons were shipped, suggesting that the underground workings were extensive. The last mention of the mine in the Mining Journal was in 1851, when it is assumed to have closed down. The tramway, unsurprisingly perhaps, was one of the many projects of a certain energetic gentleman, William Alexander Maddocks- and as far as records show, it was horse worked. It might have begun as an extension of the cob construction tramway. It isn't known whether Maddocks had a finger in the Ironstone pie, but I wouldn't be surprised.

In the map above, the modern hospital is at the bottom right. The Ironstone mine is marked "Old Level".

On this 1887 map, the tramway is clearly marked. It makes a switchback to gain height underneath where the hospital is sited today.  It's marked "Gorseddau Junction" because by now, after the ironstone mine closed, the owners of a quarry below the crags (Penmorfa, perhaps, or Ty Cerrig) extended the Tremadoc tramway to serve these concerns. This would be in 1856. The quarry owners were the Bangor and Portmadoc slate and slab company, who were later to open the rather more infamous Gorseddau Quarry.
It was engineered by Sir James Brunlees and as can be seen on the ground, was a well-built and safely engineered route. The area around the smelter and mine was retained as a kind of depot for the dropping off of slate and slab destined for more local users. 

Inclines
Certainly, looking at the early maps, the inclines from the Penmorfa quarry and Ty Cerrig bisect the route of the tramway. Yet at the same time, there are obvious loading banks at the side of the tramway and a possible formation beside the much degraded remains of the incline. 
It is unclear whether the switchback arrangement on the present site of the hospital was constructed at this time, but it seems logical to draw that conclusion. The tramway had gone through several iterations and changes of layout around the iron mine during it's life, but when linked to the slate quarries it would have needed to gain height quickly and economically. There was also an incline within the area of the ironstone mine, from the opencast.

So that's the historical context, but what of  the scene today?

The tramway ambles along through woodland, making a delightful walk. For those with a weakness for mines, the signs are there, albeit subtly.  There are vestiges of loading banks, inclines and tips shining through the trees. 

The last time we walked along the trackbed,  the temptation became too much for Petra and she was off up the slate tip...it took me a while to catch up, by which time she had found an opencut at the end of a tip run. It didn't look too much like a slate mine, the spoil was more like chunks of igneous material mixed up with shaley blocks. The opencut was blocked by a big fall of soil, but clambering up it, we found an opening. I hadn't expected that!

Of course, the adit was wet inside and not very long, but a lovely find. Judging by the spoil, it was a trial...inside, the join between slate and gangue is all too obvious; the rock is not encouraging. It was a magical place, though.
There were tips above and what looked like further workings, so we clambered up the very steep slopes to see. I was hoping to find signs of the drumhouse for the incline that crosses the road down below. We found excavations and a deep quarry, a working face had been hacked away to a depth of almost 80 feet in places. There were remains of a tramway, as the old OS maps suggest. An early adit had been topped out into an opencut and a shelter built within it. The place was overgrown and felt a little like a lost world...we explored on a beautiful day in late August, with the leaves giving a green shade to the rocks. It would feel different in winter, but the remains would be more visible.

We carried on along the level and eventually came to the top of the incline, which needed the eye of faith to see. It really had been degraded by mother nature and there was certainly no sign of a drumhouse, which was strange. Petra made the suggestion that perhaps a horizontal sheave was used, Denbigh style, although there were few signs.

Once back down on the tramway, we continued north west towards Penmorfa. There's a lovely open stretch with views across the traeth towards the Arenigs. I took two photos and merged them, but otherwise this was straight out of the camera...

We walked on, enjoying the sunshine until we came to a couple of houses in a terrace. Until recently, there was a sign here that said "Railway Terrace" and indeed, it is so marked on the 1887 map. But I guess that name isn't beguiling enough when you are trying to market a holiday let...although it would sell it to me! There are still some railway themed pottery ornaments on the wall, a crude but amusing depiction of a 14xx tank, some genuine rail and a tram waggon wheel.

The tramway then winds its way above Penmorfa, coming onto the road for a short while before crossing it. This is as far as you can walk here, as the rest is on private land, but there are things to see...

Well, that's the end of our first instalment of the Gorseddau tramway, but there's more to come soon. If you want to walk this short stretch, it is possible to park in the hospital car park (just don't tell them I said so) or in the layby at the other end near Penmorfa- SH 54582 40632  To whet your appetite, before my next posts- here's a map someone has done on Bing maps of the whole route.

We'd decided, on the spur of the moment, to have a look at the little-noted slate mines on the west side of Cnicht, that hill known as the "Welsh Matterhorn" because of it's profile from Porthmadog. In the late 1800s, the same steep profile induced slumberous local worthies in Port to mis-name Snowdon Street in a case of mistaken identity.  In fairness, it is rather serious-looking from that angle -and I suppose "Cnicht Street" doesn't have the same ring to it.
 
Our explore started off from the car park in Croesor. It was just before eight in the morning, so we had the place to ourselves. As we walked through the village I was visited by ghosts of my young children from a holiday we'd spent, many, many years ago in a cottage here. Happy memories. We walked up and through the woods on the well-marked path, noting the first signs of mining activity in the shape of a trial digging tip on the right. I hadn't expected to see any remains so far down in the woods, and after so long a time.

After a short climb, we came out of the woodland  and turned right at a junction in the path on the 230 metre contour. The way left goes on towards Gareg Bengam and into the Dyffryn Nanmor, something we noted for another day. Our way was marked "Cnicht" so no worries about the route. We climbed steadily until finding a tip on the left, and an adit on the right of the path. I took a photo, although the adit wasn't inviting, being flooded and, no doubt, short. The weather was putting on a good show with shafts of sunlight and angry clouds...but we had, for once, packed waterproofs so we didn't feel too worried. There were a couple of ruins here scattered about, but I felt they were probably the remains of sheepfolds.

Soon, we came to another junction, where the path goes off to the right. This was our cue to diverge from the Cnicht route and we followed a well-made track slightly downhill into the valley between Yr Arddu, whose magnificent crags were catching the sun to our left, and the Cnicht ridge. There would be no summits for us today, but hopefully some mines, which in our book are far more interesting. Petra has climbed Cnicht three times anyway (as a child) although professes to have little memory of it.  I would like to climb it, if only for the magnificent view of the Croesor quarry it affords...  I want that photo!

Before long, we encountered a fine ruin which didn't look like a shepherd's hut or a farm. Somehow, it had an air of mining about it- not surprising since a little distance away was a fairly substantial tip. Sadly, the entrance to the adit was run-in. It looked as if it had been filled in many years ago, lost to explorers wanting excitement and sheep needing shelter. This is one of the trials on the Criblwyd sett.
The landscape had a really wild quality to it - our day began to have a special feel, of days spent in the wild country under the Gamallt, or stravaiging towards Serw. And yet, we only had to turn round to see Moel y Gest in the distance, the town of Port nestling under it and the sweep of the bay. I imagined having a coffee at Costa's later in the day. In the middle distance was the Aberglaslyn and towering over it, the cloud harried flanks of Moel Ddu and Hebog. A small, distant wisp of steam and a stentorian whistle carried by the wind announced the passage of the first WHR train of the day. This is why I love Wales!

Petra reckoned that she could see more mine tips from the Criblwyd operation, so we forged on. Stonechats were calling all around us, sounding like the sorting ladies at a lead mine, knocking stones together. The country became a little craggier, and we heard our first raven of the day. We encountered another, almost identical adit and tip, marked as "old level" on the 1913 OS six inch map.  We'd left the path by now, beguiled by mining remains. We yomped over tussocky grass, rife with small brown butterflies and skirling birds until we reached a natural amphitheatre, formed by the beetling western slopes of Cnicht, the gap of the Bwlch y Battel and on our left, the crags of Yr Arddu. Here was a fine working, a fan of tips like four fingers leading to a blocked adit. The opencut had been packwalled and the tips were substantial, I reckoned that it must have gone to some chambering. We'll never know.

The view from this working was most intriguing. Across what looked like a rather tricky area of bog was a pit working with the remains of a two-storied house! Our way to this working wasn't too dramatic, only resulting in soggy boots, but what is a day walking in Wales without those? We pushed through an outbreak of waist high bracken, worrying about ticks, and came up to the flattened work area.

The first thing that claimed my attention was a strange structure that looked at first like a sheave pillar- on further reflection, I decided that it might have been a multi-sided walliau, where you could work in shelter despite the vagaries of the wind. There were candle alcoves on each side. Large slabs were scattered around, probably from a makeshift roof to the structure, but flung off in one of the storms that famously ravage this spot. Behind this wal is a deep opencut which appears to lead into a collapsed adit. There have been a couple of rockfalls which make exploration impossible.

We walked back on to the working area and approached the house, which feels like a distressed version of the mysterious Llwyn y Betws in Cwm Pennant. While the place has been badly treated by the weather, there is still evidence of some very fine masonry work. The building is marked on the 1888 OS map, so it's construction had obviously been solid. There appear to be too many doors for a house and we thought perhaps this had been an office and barracks structure, although why the need for two stories, given the challenging nature of the weather here is anybody's guess. It must have felt like being on a ship, sleeping upstairs in the winter. Perhaps the place was built in a rush of optimism and a desire to attract investors.

Petra wandered around the back of the structure and discovered the remains of a smithy hearth, with an arrangement for a bellows to the rear. There was also what looked like a storeroom.  A fine set of steps climbed down possibly to a path, obliterated by high bracken growth. A ruinous outbuilding lay nearby, of indeterminate purpose- too close to be a powder store.

We climbed up to the top level and found the remains of an adit, untopped as work proceeded downwards. Unexpectedly, a deep pit opened out, with what looked like an attempt at chambering at the bottom- but again here there had been a significant rock fall and it was difficult to interpret much. We had an early lunch sitting on a slate slab and gazed up at more workings going towards the ridge above. Very tempting, but not today...expect an update on those very soon. We wandered on westwards, towards the path which heads towards the Nantmor defile. I was glad we had done this, as we found the powder house for the mine on the outcrop, a satisfying discovery.

Richards, in his Slate Gazetteer, mentions an access track for this mine, which he calls the Bwlch Battal, Gelli or Craig Boeth working. We couldn't find the track, unless he is meaning the footpath to the west. We followed this anyway, heading north through the bwlch. It forged enticingly onwards and we were keen to see what transpired at the top. We came first into an area which had a shallow, boggy Llyn, reminding me of my youth in the Galloway hills and the "Silver Flowe". I realised that on the opposite shore was the cave that it is now fashionable to sleep the night in, thanks to certain outdoor magazines and the "Independent". A feature easily found by anyone with a map, but now the facebook and Instagram hordes have found it, so we stayed away- although it looked uninhabited on this occasion.After more climbing, we arrived at the place where the path descends down into the next valley. There are some ancient settlements here worthy of further study, but today we were weary and after drinking in the views of Snowdon in the distance, we made our way back down the track.

As usual, back home, studying Google Earth and the old maps, I discovered a small trial adit above the mine. The completist in me will have to go back!

Grid ref for the Bwlch y Battel mine: SH637463.

Below- some images from the walk:

You might remember a couple of posts ago that I mentioned we were going to have a look at the area south of Tal-y-Fan which is rich in prehistoric remains. We finally got round to it, and it was better than we could have hoped. Remains of prehistory are thick on the ground here, from obvious standing stones to more subtle manifestations of our distant ancestors.

We started from the Bwlch y Ddeufaen car park. Unlike our last few visits (here), we headed east along the road as it heads back towards Rowen-just for  a short way. Within a few minutes, we had arrived at the site of Cerrig Pryfaid stone circle. It's unassuming, shall we say. You have to sit for a while and soak up the place (and it's stunning location). The stones fight for attention with the tussocky grass, but after a while you begin to see ten or twelve stones in a ring about 22 metres across. There appears to be a stone missing towards the north west end of the circle and there are a couple of outliers. Looking at Coflein's map, it seems that there were many other prehistoric features immediately nearby- a burnt mound, some hut circles and a longhouse. These things all take time to discover and to recognise, so it looks like we'll have to go back. One thing is for sure, this area was of considerable significance in neolithic times.

After trying very hard (and failing) to take any meaningful photos of Cerrig Pryfaid, we walked on until a fork in the road at SH73187147, where we went left and then through a gate.

The road becomes a trackway here then winds uphill through a wonderful landscape of low hedges, boulders and walls, always with a panorama of hills as a backdrop. We stopped by a big pile of rocks which must be an ancient clearance cairn and had our lunch. In the distance could be seen the hillfrot of Pen y Gaer (link to previous post). Areas of burnt gorse made me realise that when we'd been at Pen y Gaer last, the smoke had come from over here.

After a pleasant ten minutes or so, we came to a sheepfold- not a very old one. A carving on the very fine gatepost gave the game away...1884.

The fields here are littered with stones left by the glacier as it retreated. It must have been quite a job to clear the fields of these monsters, each weighing a good few hundredweights.

We had been walking beside a wall, which gradually petered out until it was simply a line of boulders. It wasn't particularly straight, either. This type of wall, probably medieval, is known as a "Wandering Wall" which seems a nice image and fits these things very well.  The rewarding thing about walking round an area is that gradually you begin to join the dots and see things from different perspectives. So here we were coming up to Craig y Celynin towards the east- a hill that we had walked around from the South, the Parc Mawr direction a few weeks earlier. Wales is compact and bijou- but that's it's charm, after all.

Caer Bach Hillfort SH74427296
It was time to walk up to Caer Bach hillfort. From the south east it looks like nothing at all, but once on the site it's origins are obvious. The atmosphere wasn't helped by the gorse having been burnt over the hillfort, but at least it cleared the ground and made the remains more visible.
It is a small fort of only 38m internal diameter. Strangely enough, it is built on a spur of land above the trackway, not a naturally strong position for defence as it is overlooked from above. However, it has  a massive internal wall 5-6m in width and an outer defence of a large bank and ditch. This outer bank is unusual in that had a stone outer facing, some of which can still be seen on the west side. Little remains of the inner wall and the lack of tumbled stone has been suggested to show that it was unfinished or had been robbed to create the outer rampart in a second phase of use. Who knows...but the remaining stones left in the platform are useful for photography!

We made a little detour here to visit a mine; what I expect was a trial adit for the Tal y Fan slate mine a few hundred feet above. This was at SH74347332 and shows up well on Google Earth satellite view. The opencut was too choked with gorse to even attempt a look without some serious bush cutters. There is quite a quantity of spoil, but no discernable trackway to the mine.

 Just for the heck of it, we decided to scramble up to the top of Craig y Celynin...there were some impressive rocks on the top and I thought there might be a view towards the church below, but that was masked by some small drumlins. What we did see were some wild horses, so there are some gratuitous Carneddau pony shots at the end of the post.

Maen y Bardd SH74067178
It was time to walk back and go cross-country to find Maen y Bardd. We retraced our steps, then picked up a path going downhill through the ruined farmstead of Pen y Ffridd.

There are all sorts of remains here, from victorian farm remains through to medieval field systems and long houses. Everything you see seems to have some past significance. Gradually we descended towards Maen y Bardd.

So here we were at last.  Maen y Bardd,  'Bard's Stone'  is thought to be all that remains of a burial chamber built around 3500 BC. Tradition suggests that the dolmen was originally covered by a large cairn, but only scattered traces of stones remain.

The burial chamber consists of a large, flat, capstone supported on four standing stones forming a rectangular inner chamber. The chamber is about 1.2 metres high (roughly 4 feet) and the capstone projects beyond the upright stones to form an entrance, or portal. For that reason this type of burial chamber is often called a portal dolmen.

The chamber is sometimes called Cwrt-y-Filiast (Kennel of the Greyhound); a reference to an ancient legend that says that a giant's (in some versions, Arthur's) sheepdog took shelter under the dolmen and his master threw a spear across the valley at the hound, who sheltered in the chamber.

It's a fine spot, all the more so for being surrounded by other remains in a rich landscape of prehistoric settlements and fields, the majority probably belonging to the later Iron Age and Romano-British periods. It also lies adjacent to a sunken trackway which bisects the earlier fields, thought to be the line of a Roman road.

Ffon-y-cawr  standing stone SH73927170
The trackway that leads past the stone connects it to a couple of other interesting megalithic remains. The next one was the standing stone of Ffon yr Cawr (the Giant's Stick) or Piccel Arthur (the Spear of Arthur).

Legend has it that this stone, over 7 feet high was originally a spear belonging to that all-purpose mythical figure, Arthur. Apparently, Arthur was gathering his sheep on Pen y Gaer but the dog ran off and sheltered in the dolmen. Arthur threw his staff in exasperation, and it landed nearby. Not a bad shot.

By now, it was becoming rather gloomy and my shot of the Cae Coch standing stone further along the sunken trackway (SH73557164) was pretty useless. Luckily, Terry Hughes had taken an excellent shot for which I give grateful thanks. We managed to miss quite a few things on this part of the walk, meaning that a re-visit will have to be done, but that's the fun of it, isn't it?

And to finish off the post, some Carneddau Pony shots, as promised...

We knew from our previous visits here that there were a good few remains of cairns and settlements to be found. Coming back, with the objective of looking closely at them, it surprised us how many there were- and how little care is taken over these remains, which date from possibly 2,000 years ago.
We started by parking up in an area that has been used by Conwy Forestry as a storage area for their giant tree strippers and log movers- these days, nothing is done by hand. Rubbish was everywhere, plastic bottles, scrap metal, discarded piles of young trees in white bags...even a broken-backed caravan- the hallmarks of chaotic and disorganised conifer extraction. I suppose I am guilty of thinking back to the (thankfully) short time in prehistory when I worked for the F.C. in South Scotland, when we took trees out using a horse and cleared up after ourselves lest the D.O. would come by and bollock us all. Changed days, it would seem.

Anyhow, we started up a footpath, marked on the map as such but we proceeded uneasily, because notices told us access was forbidden. We were aiming for Bedd-y-Brennin cairn and cist, marked on the map up in the woods above Cwm Llwyd. The footpath had had an upgrade, anyway. It seemed as if it had been used recently for a car rally. Luckily, it was dry and we managed to make a pleasant, if steep climb out of it. I wasn't expecting much of the "grave of the king" as Bedd Brenin translates. Apparently it was excavated in 1851, when human remains were found in the cist (an ancient coffin or burial chamber made from stone, pronounced "Kist") Shortly after that, a farmer built a sheep fold on top of the cairn. They were different times, eh? Here's the unedifying scene at the cairn.

I think, considering everything, the cairn still looks impressive. Hopefully the scars of modern extraction will fade as nature heals them and the place will return to peacefulness and the songs of woodland birds.

Next on our agends were some erratics which were supposed to be in the woods here. We followed the road back down and found them quite easily, since the trees had been taken away from three sides. Conwy forestry had arranged more litter, guest starring a diesel drum underneath the stones to add the finishing touch. Here they are...

Bryn Seward Stone Row
We headed back to the road and on to the next feature, Bryn Seward Stone Row. Thankfully, this was still here and relatively unscathed, although some giant tyres had been placed nearby. I managed to elide them out of the photos.

The stone row measures  61m long, including at least five medium and large-sized stones standing up to 2.14m high. It's situated on a north facing slope with sea and landscape views and reveals. It is considered likely to be of Bronze Age date, and have been built into a probable Post-Medieval field wall. The row is situated alongside the ancient trackway known as the Ffordd Ddu.
However, in the 1970s the Ordnance Survey suggested that there are actually four stones, and although this view has been endorsed by many, it appears that there is no definite conclusion regarding the number of stones constituting the group - as they are incorporated into the field wall, several of the larger stones at the base of the wall could be part of the original group. [Thanks to Nina Steele, Gwynedd Archaeological Trust]

At the lower end of the row was a large cairn on an eminence above a small valley.

It's obvious that this cairn has been robbed in antiquity, probably again in the 1850s. The cist has been taken, but enough of the structure remains for it still to be impressive.

A wonderful trove
We carried on over the fence and into the land to the north of the road, where we found a wonderful trove of remains...cairns, hut circles, field boundaries and settlement remains.

As we moved further down the hill, the area below came into view. The blue pool, or Golwern Quarry- now sealed up because of irresponsible activity by tourists. At least it means that there will be a super nature reserve there. It's very difficult to access except by the blocked tunnel. Here's a link to our explore of the place some years ago.
Some huge rocks loomed at us as we crested a small ridge and we had a pleasant lunch sitting in their shadow...

Climate Change Refugees
We looked down to Fairbourne and reflected that this will be the first settlement in North Wales to be lost due to climate change. It is only a few feet above sea level. I wonder where the villagers will be re-housed. The council have been trying to build a big flood defence wall, but it's a massive task, judging by the number of loaded stone trucks going past my study here in our old slate mill below the Ffestiniog quarries.  Now, they have given up. It's also cost over £6 million, a good proportion of that from Europe. Although this is because of climate change, the council prefers to call it "decomissioning" the village.  I feel very sorry for the folks losing their homes, as no compensation will be available for them. Ironically, some of the villagers refuse to accept climate change, being firmly in the Trump camp- one resident said it was "a load of la-la". I can understand it must be difficult to part with somewhere you have invested money and time into. Better to dig your head, literally, in the sand.

Guardian article about Fairbourne

On the southern side of the road were a considerable number of remains: cairns, enclosures and clearance cairns. Coflein thinks they are all sheep folds, although I can't quite get behind that interpretation. Yes, some look like clearance ...

Another standing stone.
We had a little time left, so we trundled across to Llyn Cregennan, to find another standing stone- and a bonus mine- there's always time for one of those!

Not too much to say about Carreg-y-Big, except that it is impressive and stands out for quite a way. A little way further north east, we found a mine- a manganese trial of some age, and probably associated with the ones at nearby Hafotty Fach.

Here's a gallery of images showing the forestry vandals handiwork...nothing too terrible, just a bit oblivious of them...as if they really didn't give a f...

As your reward for reading this far, here's a nice photo of a farmhouse on the road back to Dolgellau :-) Pity about that power line.

A very unusual excursion into England, and a trip in the time machine back to 2013...

In Ludlow with a few hours to kill before meeting a customer, I was idly studying an OS map when my eye caught the name "Clee Hill". It was only six miles away and by the looks of things, had a quarry. We fired up the car and high-tailed it up to the village of Clee. After the Georgian gentility of Ludlow, this place seemed like a Kentucky mining village. It has what must be the unfriendliest village shop in Shropshire; but I liked it. A pub called "The Kremlin" was also noted, surely a story there. Provisions purchased, we headed up by the sign marked "Dhustone". From the Welsh name for Dolerite, apparently, although the locals called it "Jewstone".

Much has been written about the railways hereabouts, and I won't labour the point; there are other places on the web for that. I'll give some links at the foot for those who want to browse further. We rolled up the steep road, noting what looked like a ruined incline beside some lovely brick houses with fantastical chimneys, built by the quarry company for it's workers. One rejoiced in the name "Hedgehog Cottage".

The weather wasn't promising at all, but as we reached a plateau, the bulk of Titterstone Clee loomed from the mist. It's not high by Welsh standards but it's imposing. 533 metres, and the third highest in Shropshire. From this distance it seemed more like a gigantic spoil tip, but I could make out the remains of  rock bins and the concrete standings for machinery.

We parked up and walked about, heading for a water filled hole. Rounding the corner of a spoil tip I had a sudden stab of alarm. Slowly revealing itself from the mist was an enormous white golf ball on the skyline, like something from a 1960's Dr Who episode. I checked, none were filmed here, although they should have been. I felt the scene needed a Cyberman coming towards me and imagined the Brigadier screeching to a halt in his Mk 1 Land Rover nearby. It was only a strangely disoriented gull, unfortunately, but it didn't spoil the magic.

The golf balls; the larger one is part of a National Air Traffic Control radar network, it's little brother being  a Met Office weather radar . There are also the remains of an RAF radar station here, too, mainly bits of concrete in the grass. A bronze age hillfort completes this embarrassment of riches, although I failed to note any evidence of ancient activity- but my eye was concentrating on the quarry remains.

We noticed graffiti  everywhere with the motif "RIP Mitch". I wondered if someone locally had died here, but later found that it referred to Mitch Lucker, frontman and vocalist of a California Death Metal band called Suicide Silence. Their music is typical of the genre, but interesting...so the artist was a fan, I guess.

As normally happens when we explore places, I charged about excitedly like a Jack russell terrier scenting rat and ran up to the summit. Petra more sensibly decided to mooch about near the stone crushers and crafted some fine images. All too soon, it was time to leave, as the mist came down to veil the hill again.  Later in the afternoon, listening to my customer, I couldn't help but notice the hill in the distance, with it's two strange white shapes atop the crest. I couldn't help wishing I was back up there. It was a fascinating explore and one worthy of another expedition.

Links and interesting facts:

I found a site while browsing for information which has some fascinating photographs of the quarry from 1955, with many other interesting details, called "Photos by D J Norton". Recommended.

Factoids courtesy of the Industrial Railway Society:
" The quarries date from 1858 when a railway was being constructed from Ludlow for the transport of coal. A quarry, opened to produce ballast for the Ludlow & Clee Hill Railway (opened on 24th August 1864), produced such good stone that the industry has flourished there ever since. Three main quarries have operated over the years and in one of these a 3ft 0in gauge rail system was introduced with horse haulage, going over to steam about 1910 when a second-hand loco was obtained. This 0−4−0 saddle tank (Bagnall 1717 of 1903) came to Titterstone Clee from H. Arnold & Sons Ltd, contractors for Embsay Reservoir, Skipton, on which job it was named MARY. It is assumed the loco proved to be superior to the horses, as a few years later a new 0−4−0 side tank was purchased from Avonside (1666 of 1913) and put to work carrying the name TITTERSTONE. This loco was followed by a new Sentinel 4−wheel geared-drive shunter (6222 of 1926) which was named LILIAN.

Wagons were pushed by hand along tracks from the quarry face to a collecting point in the middle of the quarry known as "the turnout", from where they were hauled by locomotive to the crusher. From the crusher a mile long incline, which included a three rail section, ran down the side of the hill to an interchange point at Bitterley on the standard gauge line. Although the rail system was closed in 1952, the quarry remained in use until 1962, the stone being conveyed in road vehicles."

There is a widely held belief in the local area that the Clee Hills are the highest land eastwards until the Ural Mountains in Russia. Hence the name of the pub in Clee Hill village - The Kremlin Inn. It has even been known for radios in the area to pick up signals via the air traffic control masts from Radio Moscow.


The Clee hills are mentioned in A.E.Housman's poem "From Clee to heaven the beacon burns", which is a section of A Shropshire Lad.

• Titterstone Clee and Brown Clee also figure in Ellis Peters' Brother Cadfael mystery, The Virgin in the Ice.

• The Clee Hills have given rise to many place names in the area, including the villages of Cleehill, Cleeton St Mary, Cleestanton and Cleedownton.

• Some people believe that 'The Shire' in Tolkien's famed novel 'the Lord of the Rings' was based on this area, which he was known to visit frequently, having grown up in Birmingham.

• Clee Hill features prominently on the Hereford Mappa Mundi.

Bullet point factoids courtesy of Wikipedia