Gillian Monks

On another of those final glorious days of summer recently, my husband and I decided to visit a neighbouring village where afternoon teas were being served in the canolfan, (Welsh for community centre), to raise money for a memorial for the slate quarrymen who laboured so hard all around this valley.

Originally built for the workers and their families, the village of Y Fron sits another 350 feet above our own village along a lane which passes through tall waste tips of broken slate, and then out onto the open heathland where sheep and cattle freely roam and graze. The village is a compact community of traditional houses with surely one of the most breath-taking views in Wales. At the top of the valley sits Yr Wyddfa, (Mount Snowdon), the tallest mountain in England and Wales. All along the valley  opposite runs a jagged line of mountain peaks which constitutes the Nantlle Ridge, with the villages of Nantlle and Talysarn far below and out of sight. Away in the distance and lost in the hazy air is the tall slender finger post of the television mast at Nebo, and further beyond that, the sea.

Stepping out of the car into the balmy mountain air, I feel like I am in another place entirely. And it is beautiful – achingly beautiful! The heat of the sun rebounds from the slate… cows amble past our car and lazily roam along the village street and across the common… the mountains shimmer in the warm air beneath a baby-blue sky where buzzards mew and call as they gently circle and wheel on the warm rising thermals as they search for their next meal.

We cross the road to the canolfan – once the village school – but now purpose rebuilt to form an equally important community hub. Here, I am amazed to discover that there is not only a good-sized hall for meetings and activities, but also a dining room, kitchen, general store selling all manner of groceries and other necessities, a laundrette which is open twenty-four hours a day and luxury bunkhouse style visitor accommodation for up to eighteen people.

However, it is the back of the building that we are aiming for, where there are tables set out all along the glassed-in conservatory which looks out onto the marvellous aspect of the whole valley. Here, my husband and I sit spell bound by the natural splendour before us. We are invited to choose our preferred cakes from the huge mouth-watering selection housed under individual glass domes – all home made by the volunteers who pay for the ingredients out of their own pockets so that all the takings can go directly towards the memorial fund. We both settle for large wedges of triple chocolate cake… it is simply scrumptious… the pots of ground coffee and tea arrive.

Later, I simply cannot just get back into the car and drive away. If I was more mobile, I would love to walk one of the lengths of footpath which bisect or follow the line of the valley, or the disused tramway embankments, and the lanes to long-gone quarry workings. Instead, we drive to the end of the village and take an illicit turning out onto the open mountainside. Here, we are nearly a thousand feet above sea level. The day is welcomingly cooled by a lively breeze and I feel that if I were to spread my arms I could simply take off and float high above this wonderful valley, just like the buzzard. 

I rest against a drystone wall where an old gate once allowed access onto the open mountainside, now bound shut by barbed wire. I am just a couple of miles from home – as the crow flies – yet my visit here has been so unexpected, such a joy and complete change, I feel as if I am somewhere else entirely, as if I were on holiday. The mountains which have taken me so by surprise are my own mountains which I see every day from the windows of my home, yet here, just a short way away, they look entirely different. Perhaps this should tell me something about the importance of getting out and about, of changing one’s perspective to gain a truer picture, or a totally different take on a place, situation or event?

I breath deeply, drawing in the essence of the land and the mountains, recognising and appreciating how good it is to be alive, and, in this turbulent and violent world, just how blessed we are by the deep peace all around us. What a gem of a day this is… and what a precious find is this little hub of human hospitality and activity.

Perhaps we should all pay more attention to the places close around us and do a little more exploring of our localities, instead of always dashing off to far-flung foreign places? What hidden gems of welcoming and fascinating places can you discover in your neighbourhood? Places which you possibly don’t even need a vehicle to reach but can travel to on foot or by peddle power. Do you really know the who, what and where of your local area? Or perhaps you did once, but have been too busy to go there in recent years and need to reacquaint yourself with it?

Why not make this an autumn of reconnection with your home turf… of appreciation and quiet enjoyment. There is a whole miraculous world out there on your very doorstep, just waiting to be discovered – go and enjoy!