New & Revised Articles
I've been out and about over the last few weeks - deftly dodging the weather and avoiding reality as much as possible. When the going gets tough - I climb the Panorama. The light there brings out the joy hiding in the gloom.
I have spent many wonderful hours in the lovely village of Bodfari - and not just eating and drinking in the Dinorben Arms. Turn a corner and there's something interesting, oh yes. But some 200 years ago, the Chwiler Gap through the Clwydians was often busy with excited Antiquarians looking for the lost Roman station of Varis - all because the antiquarian, historian, topographer and (apparently) herald, William Camden thought Bodfari and Varis were etymologically similar (they're not). And then, Richard Fenton heard of a collection of urns being found at Pontruffydd and we were off - more antiquarians roaming the gap than could be found in a pipe smoke fogged, pamphlet littered London coffee shop.
I have visted often, knowing full well that Varis is probably beneath St Aspah Cathedral, but not minding much, since I love the place. I last ventured into the gap a couple of weeks ago, during the floods. There was once a massive standing stone here - blown up a couple of centuries ago. Apparently, some of the stone of the menhir is still visible in the hedges. My glasses had misted up by the time I turned my attention from the watery tumult of the Afon Clwyd - I swam back to the car.
We can forgive Camden, I think for getting excited and placing Varis at Bodfari - it makes a sort of sense, given it's superb placement in the Chwiler Gap. Bless him, he made the leap to placing the Roman station on Moel y Gaer. Mistaken of course, but you know, easily done. No, Moel y Gaer Bodfari is a hillfort, of course, and a pretty special one at that. It can only have been built here to control the gap - Penycloddiau over the ways a while is just to far to do so. It's not particularly high, though my huffing and puffing up the steep western flanks would have gulled you into thinking otherwise. The views when reaching the summit are something quite special - try telling me that didn't impress our ancient ancestors.
We take the availability of fresh water for granted - though recently we have had cause to consider this afresh, given, in my opinion the disgraceful rapaciousness and frankly amoral behaviour of the privatised water companies, in putting dividends before the health of our rivers. But consider the miracle of fresh water flowing from the ground - think on how that must have seemed to the peoples of the past. It was with this in mind that I watched, in quiet wonder, the freely flowing, bubbling spring of Ffynnon y Garreg. I visited after the heavy recent rains, and lord how it ran.
As a child in South Yorkshire, there was a gorge through which the slow moving coal trains rumbled on their way to wherever. The sides of the gorge were almost sheer, but my friends and I often clambered down to what were a series of caves at the base. We filled those caves with all sorts of collected debris and detritus - broken bits of this and that. At the time, the coal trains used to have a guard carriage running at the back, and invariably the fella on duty used to lean out and shout at us that we shouldn't be risking ourselves on the line. Fair play to him - my parents would have killed me had they found out. I were only seven, if that. When I first visited the Talacre Hall Grotto, and explored the 'caves' I was reminded of those days in Maltby.
If visiting, be careful - it can be dangerous. There are any number of ways you can fall foul of the site.
Site Visits
I have been out and about - snatching a few hours between storms and snowfall. And every visit has been delightful, and wonderful and a chin lifting experience - whatever the weather. And I've managed to visit many places - some old friends, some new. I've visted a couple of places in the company of Red Dragon Ventures - Dave's a mate of mine. You'll be seeing some of these places in articles in the near future.
The Prayer House of Gwerfil the Red. Wowsers - get your head round that then. Up in the middle of a wonderful nowhere, Betws GC is just the sort of place that makes me want put the house on the market and disappear to. Its time to rewrite some of the articles on this little gem. I've never been able to get in the church - there's a bat colony in there. I don't mind - the bats are welcome.
Bwrdd y Tri Arglwydd ~ Carrog
It's a bit of an effort to find - which is pleasing. You won't find the 'Table of the Three Lords' on any OS map. But it's there, by the roadside, a recycled prehistoric dolmen, rendered into a boundary stone, marking the joining of the lands of Glyndyfrdwy, Iâl and Rhug - you can still see the faint traces of a R on the stone. This is Owain Glyndŵr (Glyndyfrdwy) country, and it was here that the slights of Reginald de Grey (Iâl) and Henry IV became too much bear, causing the Revolt which consumed much of Wales and the Borders of England for over a decade. Act accordingly.
Castell Dinas Bran ~ Llangollen.
You didn't think I'd miss Castell Dinas Bran in the recent snowfall, did you? I ventured out early, wrapped up against the cold. I've visited the Alps on many occasions and had my eyes and heart widened by my presence closer to the heavens than earth, but that climb up the hill, through a blizzard and in an intense cold, brought me close to Grace. The snow had made the castle grounds almost smooth - I had to remember the lay-out of the place to avoid disappearing into this trench or that ditch. I steamed my way around the castle and laughed while I was doing it. I would be less for the absence of Dinas Bran.
The Duke of Lancaster ~ Llannerch-y-môr
Full disclosure - my mother visited and I took her to the wool shop at Abakhan, taking the opportunity to slip away and visit the Duke. Still there, still rusting away on the Flintshire coast.
Erddig ~ Wrexham
Have I mentioned my mate, Dave? Yes, course I have. Founder of Red Dragon Ventures, we often venture out together, looking for interesting things to gape at. We went to Erddig to do a circuit in preparation for some work he does with schools. It were great - the Cup and Saucer, the old motte and bailey of Wristleham. Tops.
The Giant Phantom ~ Derwen
There can few more disturbing traditions as that of Penglogau - the fixing of the skull of a sheep to the door of a young woman who had the apparent temerity of spurning the advances of her would-be suitor. Elias Owen tells the tale of a young man who, on the way home from fixing penglogau was confronted by a giant phantom crossing the River Clwyd. Seems fair to me. Anyways, I went looking for the bridge upon which the phantom was seen - I think I may have found it, but then maybe I didn't.
Nant y Ffrith ~ Flintshire/Wrexham
It had rained for days, but no mind, I ventured down to the Nant y Ffrith with Dave - you know Dave. It's becoming known again for its caves, but that was for another day. We were taken with the woods - a Forestry Commission conifer plantation and an assuredly eerie thing, in truth, but also the huge, moss covered rocks overlooking the steep sweep to the angry little stream beneath.
The Panorama ~ Llangollen
I've been walking the Panorama for over 20 years, I reckon. Hopefully, I'll be walking it for 20 more. When I'm gone, I'll be there until the Sun expires.
Pennant Melangell ~ Powys
The We and I went down the Tanat Valley on a whim. Not sure what possessed us, but to say we were grateful would be an understatement. We are becoming used to seeing red kites now - they have breached the Berwyn Wall and are in the Vale of Llangollen in some force now. But Lord - in the Tanat Valley they were everywhere. Along with buzzards, kestrels and herons. We were here to visit the shrine of St Melangell. We weren't the only ones.
The River Dee Company ~ Ffynnongroyw
The We's nain used to live in Ffynnongroyw, and she has happy memories of playing on the foreshore. We visit often, usually on our way to Talacre. Ffynnongroyw has been described as unlovely, which seems a terrible thing to say about a place. No call for that. It reminds the We of her nain. It reminds me of Bridlington South Sands. The We has no bad memories of her nain, and I have none of Bridlington. The stone marker here is the only known remains of the River Dee Company's holdings at the estuary. Forlorn and worn, it embraced the weather wonderfully.
Y Garden Hillfort ~ Ruabon
The We and I moved to Ruabon when we married and I've always had a soft spot for the place. A two up, two down little new build. On moving in, a neighbour congratulated us on choosing Bryn Street. 'You've got an old peoples home here and an undertaker opposite,' he says. Happy days. There's not much to say about the hillfort, which is just dandy as far as I'm concerned - little excavation has taken place. It'll have its time, no doubt.
St Collen's ~ Llangollen
I ventured into Llangollen to pick up some coffee but as usual ended up having a wander. The Church was open - they were putting up the the Christmas Tree. The workies apologised for the hustle and bustle. There was no need. I love the roof (or is it ceiling?) - its a Welsh wonder. They're looking to raise funds for its repair. Click here to be a Welsh wonder yourself.
Church of St Mary's ~ Derwen
I sometimes read through my earlier articles and gringe into a many angled thing. I visited St Mary's again, to study the wonder that is the Churchyard Cross and have a look in the church. Honestly, I love St Mary's, as empty and wearied as it is. The rood loft, the organ, and the memorials. I take my time with the memorials - I read them all. It's what I'm there for, after all, to remember those gone.
The Graveyard at St Tysilo's ~ Llantysilio
By rights, the graveyard ought to have it's own dedicated page, and I'll get to that I fancy. But until then, it's worth having a browse through all the pages on Llantysilio on the site. The graveyard has many tales to tell, and most seem to be focused on the owners of Llantysilio Hall. You'll find them here - in the grounds of St Tysilio. You might find me there - I'll be the one with the flask and wearing my Wrexham AFC bobble hat.
The Rood of Grace ~ Corpus Christi, Tremeirchion
Of miracles, it was said to have no compare, save the Gwenfrewi's shrine at Holywell. The Rood of Grace was the subject of a lenghty ode by a bard with a similarly lenghty name, Gruffydd ap Ieun ap Llywelyn Vychau, but which Ellis Owen refused to translate. It was sold off by the church authorities in the 19th century to pay for new lighting, and Owen was incensed - they apprently scurried away from the angry vicar of Efenechtyd and his questions. I can't imagine Ellis Owen being angry - it doesn't fit.
Other Matters Arising
The We bought me a camera for my birthday in the Spring - a proper one, like. The kind of camera for which the lenses cost twice as much as the body - a proper one. It's taken a while, but I know now that if someone had put a camera in my hand when I were 12 and told me to go out and take pictures, my life would have been different. Digital photography is creative democracy - film was unforgiving and expensive. It's easy to look back and think to yourself that different is better - but that way madness lies. As much as I love the past, I love the future more - a source of present pain but not a little hope.
Anyway, to cut a short story long, I've started to build something of a portfolio of photographs, and I'd love your opinion. You can also purchase a print or two for a couple of quid each - you could even order a print for a loved one for Christmas. Yes, I know you could lift the pictures from the web and be away with them, but you might want to support an Efrog with two dodgy knees and wide eyes. I may not have had a nice camera when I was 12 - but this 54 year old has one now, and I'm ready to make up for lost time.
Anyways, have a look and tell me what you think.
Also, I'm going to repeat this here - the Just Giving page of Suzanne Evans who is collecting for the repair of the roof of St Collen's. At the time of writing, she had raised 13% of the £20000 needed to ensure this 16th century Welsh wonder is preserved - for the future, for me, for you.
We'll speak again before Christmas, but should you be too busy to lean into the whimsy of this Efrog...
Nadolig Llawen to you all.
