INTERESTING PLACES
South Wales, Late Winter 2019
Cerrig Duon Stone Circle
I had read that this was an easy-to-find location, with a stream-side lay-by on a mountain road. The parking did indeed prove simple enough but the location of the ancient standing stones themselves alluringly more difficult to reach.
Winter colours still dominated the landscape; an undulating tapestry of russet browns and flaxen. We parked close to the coordinates I had jotted down (51.8722, -3.6701) and directions from here told of finding the stones 200m NW after a shallow wade through the stream. However, after a recent surge of fresh rainwater, the torrent was swelling, rumbling and pounding the rocks, with a few icy plunge pools dotted along its course. I crouched at the edge and slipped my hand through the glassy divide, the cold running through my fingers downstream. Giving in, boots, socks and trousers were left behind on a large boulder as my bare feet took to the slippery rocks. The water glowed like hot embers scorching my toes, ankles, and lastly just above my knees, which blushed bright purple as I reached the other side of the grassy bank.
The boggy turf proved surprisingly comfortable to squelch through barefoot. It felt somewhat primitive, quite fitting while seeking out a stone circle that dates to the Bronze Age (2500–800 BC). As greasy wool fluttered by in the breeze I spotted the glimpse of history anchored in the grass ahead. The tallest standing stone (Maem Mawr) was the monolith guidepost that had led me to an oval formation of smaller stones, poking out the land like jagged teeth. There were roughly 20 in the arrangement, some barely clearing the surface.
The name Cerrig Duon translates as 'the black stones'. One theory is that Maen Mawr acts as a sort of sundial, casting a shadow that aligns it with the smaller stones on midsummer's day. Along with other features in the surrounding landscape, they are rumoured to form a large ceremonial site tied to such seasonal alignments. Looking around, it seemed the perfect canvas for each season to paint and claim as its own. I’m not sure what it is that draws me, like so many others, to these ancient sites of unanswered questions. Perhaps it is a feeling as though the landscape’s past is very much alive, coexisting with its present.
I squeezed the earth between my toes and trampled round the wise old stones before heading back to the stream. The black water washed my feet of mud, returning the earthy matter to its landscape. Pulling my trousers and boots on, I felt all the contentment of late winter on abraded skin. Whatever the season here, it's a beautiful location, with walking trails leading to the Llyn y Fan lakes if you were able to make a day of it.
Carreg Cennen Castle
Wales has more castles per square mile than anywhere else on Earth. They are scattered like seeds across its landscape, although I’m not sure how any can be as spectacular as the brooding hulk of Carreg Cennen. Perched on a vast outcrop of sheer rock, it manages to appear older than the surrounding peaks.
Not far from Llandeilo and on the western fringe of the Brecon Beacons, the imposing castle watches over the village of Trap and beyond, its gaze stretching far and wide across the Cennen Valley. Free parking greeted us on arrival, followed by an amble through a traditional working farm set in the foothills. There is a cafe and gift shop housed in the old stables where we paid an entry charge to explore the castle grounds. Trailing a flock of sheep, we then traipsed for around 15 minutes up a dusty track.
It was a bleak day and the grey of the sky flooded the landscape. Upon reaching the heights of the limestone cliff the wind slapped my face every which way. Despite its ruined state, the castle holds itself stoically here with a sort of faded gentility. Crowning the roof of the crag it is at a magnificent vantage point, with exactly the drama and mystery of places that I would conjure up while reading Enid Blyton stories as a child. The remains of tumbled towers and fractured stone walls lie alongside others that still stand tall, mapping out a forbidding form that appears to spring from legend.
‘The castle on the rock’ dates back to at least the 13th century. Legendary references place the original fortress in the Dark Ages, held by knights during the reign of King Arthur. However, archaeological evidence suggests that the Romans occupied the hilltop centuries much earlier after a cache of 1st- and 2nd-century Roman coins were unearthed. Looking even further back in time, four prehistoric skeletons were also discovered on the site.
The castle’s long and eventful history is a wavering one having changed ownership numerous times until it met its end in 1462 following the War of the Roses. Since then it has been left in a ruinous state, the romance of which started to attract artists in the 18th century, including Turner who sketched the castle in 1798. A Mr Gwylim Morris decided to buy the farm and surrounding fields in the 1960s when, through an extraordinary boundary mix-up with the deeds, the parcel of land he purchased accidentally included Carreg Cennen. He was obviously delighted and the family still own the castle today, running it with the help of Cadw, the Welsh Government’s historic environment service.
Standing in the outer ward amongst remnants of defensive fortifications, I traced the contours of deep pits that wooden ramps now permit access across. The stout and wrinkled face of Carreg Cennen glared back at me with strength and defiance, even now. It was easy to picture how threatening the fortress would have appeared in its heyday. Breaching the castle walls we entered the square court and were surrounded by the remains of six differing towers. Traces of the past here include a carved stone fireplace, baking ovens, water cisterns and flights of steps now cut short and leading nowhere. I imagined a rain of arrows falling from the gatehouse tower to meet any attackers that had made it this far, souls of the fallen lurking in the shadows.
In the south-eastern corner of the inner ward, we came across a steep set of stairs leading down to a vaulted passageway. The light soon faded, the exterior world falling away until torches were needed to navigate through the dark of a limestone cavern. The bedrock beneath the castle is sliced by numerous natural fissures, but this one has been bolstered and carefully lined with stone. It was perhaps reinforced to provide ample water to the castle above, as deep in the hillside a freshwater spring can be found. This would have been especially useful during times of siege, the passage allowing safe access to the hidden water source. Thinking of the Roman coins and ancient remains discovered here, I ran my fingers along the silky calluses of rock that felt and looked like candle wax folds, polished in cold streaks of green and grey that glowed in the faint light of our torches. Pooling droplets of water echoed through the ancient silence, sending whispers bouncing around the tunnel. Making our way back towards daylight, we noticed a series of pigeon holes built into the stone walls. These would have once formed a dovecote to house and breed homing pigeons; an important medieval food supply in winter months.
We returned to the farm and warmed up with a cup of tea. Before leaving, we discovered that there was an 11th-century longhouse nestled in the centre of the farmyard to investigate. This sagging old heritage building is a humble time-capsule museum that has managed to remain unchanged for hundreds of years. It houses a display of agricultural artefacts, antique equipment and tools, various connections to an earlier age. I imagined twisted hands from decades of hard labour using the objects, wondering how different things would seem if dwellers from the past were to return.
The farm retains its agricultural purpose alongside the castle being a visitor attraction. We were told that a visit in spring offers the chance to feed newborn lambs. Looking at the OS map, there are various walks around Carreg Cennen to take in its glory from all sides. In particular, a steep climb from the SE and through woodland paths looks to be an interesting approach if you have more time to spare. As we drove away, I stole numerous glances back to the castle looming above the valley. All the more beautiful as a ruin; evidence of a living past that now has a life of its own.
Clydach Ironworks
Built in the 1790s, Clydach Ironworks were in production for over 70 years and employed over 2000 people. Once at the heart of the industrial revolution, they now lie overgrown and mostly forgotten in the Clydach Gorge, a steep-sided valley to the south-east of the Brecon Beacons.
The ironworks are signposted from the car park at Clydach village hall. A short walk down a former tramroad incline, the ruins of two towering masonry furnaces can be viewed from behind a fence. Being the only visitors we took the liberty of crossing the fence for a closer look (please take great care if you follow suit), discovering that the eerie furnaces are still charred in parts and connected by various tunnels and passageways. The ghostly overtones of the scene are impossible to ignore. Adorned with grasses, creepers, shrubs and trees, there is all the romance of a lonely ruin reclaimed by the wild.
The Clydach Gorge is an enchanting place to scout. Rich in industrial archaeology, it borders the oldest beech woodland in Wales to form the Cwm Clydach nature reserve. Over 400 species of fungi, rare plants, birds and butterflies can be spotted, while folklore has it that Shakespeare was inspired by local tales of fairies, goblins and witches to write A Midsummer Night’s Dream in a cave nearby. A passing walker told us that tracks of wild garlic are abundant in spring and that peregrine falcons nest not far from the ironworks. By the ruins, we crossed a historic cast-iron bridge over a pretty stream that has a number of tempting dipping pools dotted along its course.