Gwaith 20: Leaving Stiwdio Maelor

Last week I finished my third residency at Stiwdio Maelor. My first was eight weeks in 2015 and my second was the five weeks I spent there in September and October last year before I went travelling for five weeks. The third residency was for 11 weeks, broken only by the six days spent in Germany catching up with Jo. So, I’ve spent almost 24 weeks at Stiwdio Maelor, to the point that, as a friend said at the Corris Institute café one Tuesday morning, Corris is my second home.

Clouds over Corris

I do feel I have set down some roots, however small, in the village and I was saddened to pack my bags, say goodbye to all the friends I made, many of whom came to The Slaters the night before for farewell drinks, and jump in a car to be taken to Machynlleth Station for my train to Birmingham International and the start of my trip home.

Now that I staying in the USA with one of my sons for two weeks, visiting another son, and enjoying the snow, which hasn’t fallen so heavily hereabouts for several years, I want to check my achievements during my residencies against the targets I set myself before I left.

Writing

The main target, naturally enough, related to my novel. I had hoped to complete the third draft before I left. This wasn’t the case. I only completed around 75% of the draft, around 150k words. However, as can be seen from below, I wasn’t exactly relaxing. I managed to write a number of other things.

New scene cards for the novel

 Novel:                      75% (150k)—approximately 7k words/wk, 18 hrs/wk

                                  (counting my five weeks of travelling)

Interdraft Work:        39,771 words

Short Story:               One (unexpected)

Poem drafts:              11

Haiku drafts:             36

Blogs:                       18

I also ran a poetry workshop at Canterbury Christ Church University, gave a reading at Stiwdio Maelor during the Christmas Open Day in November, and gave a talk to creative-practise PhD students at Aberystwyth University. Even though I didn’t reach my target, I’m happy with what I achieved.

Night photo of Aberystwyth, taken from Veronica's PhD studio at Aberystwyth University

Language Immersion

I have been learning Welsh on and off for a number of years on a Tuesday night at The Celtic Club in Melbourne. My level of skill wasn’t too great when I left for Wales, mainly because teaching and writing commitments had meant I hadn’t spent as much time as I would have liked on Welsh practice. During my first residency, I attended some classes and groups and I intended to do the same this time around. I knew I didn’t have a hope of achieving fluency, as I knew others had done by virtually devoting all their time when in Wales to finding opportunities to practice their Welsh, but I did hope to improve in some small way.

Mist and snow at Llyn Tegid (Lake Bala), during my two-day Welsh course nearby

Every Monday I attended a class in Dolgellau and every Tuesday morning I joined in Welsh discussion at the Corris Institute café. I also attended several one- and two-day courses, as well as three Noson Siarads, dinners where only Welsh was supposed to be spoken. Although I can’t claim fluency yet, I did find myself holding conversations longer than one or two exchanges and at times felt myself responding automatically in Welsh. I also was complimented on both my accent and my vocab, so I must be doing something right.

Sky and a dash of sun-stain on the trees

Landscape Immersion

As with my hope that learning the language will somehow help me with the writing of the book (and connect me with my ancestral roots), I also hoped that experiencing the landscape of Britain would help me create authentic settings for the novel. I visited a number of sites I am using, both in Wales and Scotland, and was in the country long enough to experience late autumn and winter. While in Corris itself, I went for numerous walks and right up to the last week I was discovering new tracks, one of which took me on a three and a half hour ramble. I have learnt about trees, seen red deer, red squirrels and badgers, seen and heard red kites and numerous other birds, climbed mountains, sat next to rivers, walked through snow, wandered around megalithic circles and sat in tombs. I have probably absorbed more than I realise and can only hope the experiences came out in my words at some point.

Mist over the war memorial of Corris, from the sun melting snow 

Photo of Llyn Mwngll or Llyn Myngul, more commonly known as Tal-y-llyn

Finally, there are the people I have met, from the people in the village of Corris to the residents at Maelor I have spent time with. I want to thank them all for being welcoming, friendly, inspirational, supportive, and encouraging. My thanks to the previous manager at The Slaters, Brian, and the current manager, Mike. To Andy and Adam at their café for the great food and coffee and their wifi. To Eleanor, Chris and the other volunteers at the Corris Institute café. To Jan at the post office for her help with my packages to be sent home. To Ellie, Diane, Inge, Beryl and others in the Welsh conversation group. To Bethan Gwanas, my Welsh teacher in the class at Dolgellau, and Mike H, Mike K, Dee, Sue, Laura, David and other fellow students. To Martin for discussions about Cadair Idris legends and Welsh language and poetry. To Hickey, Jane and Kevin, and the other regulars at The Slaters. To Eileen and Arthur, for their lifts into Aberystwyth and conversations about poetry and geology. To Simon and Andrew for conversations about landscape writing. To Lez, for his blacksmith course and his help with my many questions about the craft. To all those residents I met during my residencies—including Freya, Yuki, Chloe, Linda, Beth, Bronwen, Christina, Gwen and Chris, John, and Brett—for the discussions, the pints at the pub, the shared meals, the trips to various sites, and the inspiration and encouragement.

One night at The Slaters, with Gwen, Chris, Yuki and Bronwen

Most of all I want to thank Veronica Calarco, the founder and coordinator of Stiwdio Maelor, for her vision, her persistence (even in trying situations), and her hard work, in creating such a wonderful place for artists and writers to take time out from their normal lives and explore their ‘craft or sullen art’, as Dylan Thomas put it. Most of all, I want to thank her and her partner Mary for their friendship.

In my last days in Corris, many people asked if I’d be back, then said before I could answer, ‘I’m sure you will’. True. I will be back, for I have made many friendships and I find the village and the landscape around it inspirational. I also want Jo to meet everyone and see the sights I love.

Thanks again, Stiwdio Maelor and Corris.

Corris from near the summit of Mynydd Fron Felen (Mountain of the brown/yellow hillside)

I hope you enjoyed this post. As always, I welcome your comments.

Flying over the pole to Seattle

Cofion Cynnes

Earl

Gwaith 7: Leaving Corris (8 Oct 2016)

Helo Pawb (Everyone)

Today I finished the first part of my residency. Last night, the Stiwdio Maelor crew, Veronica and her partner Mary and the three visiting artists, Catherine, Zoe and I, went to the Tafarn Dwynant (Dwynant = Welsh for 'two streams') for a farewell dinner. We forgot to take photos, but below is one of me from earlier in the week, taken at The Royal Ship (known locally as The Ship) in Dolgellau. Not all those glasses in front of me were mine.

Drinking at The Royal Ship

Given that it’s been three weeks since the last update about my progress, I thought this is an ideal moment

to sum up my experiences of my time in Corris.

Writing

Below are my writing achievements since leaving Australia:

Draft 3 of the novel: 30,556 words

Interdraft work (structural editing and conceptual re-jigging): 26,604 words

Blog posts and other writing: 4,217 words

Blog posts (including this one): 5

Haiku drafts: 20

Poem drafts: 3

Short story drafts: 1

Given my daily writing time is 3.9 hours and my average word count is 1589, I’m reasonably happy with my efforts, though I am hoping to do much more than this when I return for another 11 weeks at Stiwdio Maelor.

Language

Since arriving in Corris I have attended five Tuesday Welsh Discussion Group meetings at the Corris Institute and three formal classes with Bethan Gwanas at Coleg Meirio-Dwyfor in Dolgellau. I’ve had the occasional conversation in Welsh with shopkeepers, though usually I have had to resort to English after a couple of exchanges. There have been moments when my mind and tongue has responded with Welsh without my thinking about it, which is obviously a result of the immersion I am experiencing over here. Some people have actually noted how good my accent was, which has been pleasing to hear. I’m looking forward to continuing my Welsh practice when I return in November.

Landscape

After my lack of fitness was exposed in the first week when Freya, Yuki and I climbed Cadair Idris, I have been out walking two to three times a week. My muscles and lungs are slowly increasing in capacity, though I won’t know how well I’ve progressed till I climb something equally difficult during my travels in the next few weeks. As for my appreciation of the landscape, I have taken lots of photos and made plenty of notes about the colours and sounds of water, the textures of moss and grass, the colours of the trees as they start turning to autumn splendour, from dull brown to wild yellow to rust red.

Below are some photos of tree, river, mist and cloud.

Some of the woods near Dolgellau

The Afon Dulas, near Aberllefenni

View of the Corris valley, from high on the ridge behind the village

Clouds above the Corris valley

For those of you curious about the village of Corris, I’ve included some photos.

View of part of the surroundings of the village

Andy and Adam's store

Stiwdio Maelor during Helfa Gelf, with Freya out the front doing some writing.
(This was before the new paint job.)

The Slaters Arms and Stiwdio Maelor in purple.
(I'll post a better photo of the new paint job when I return to Corris.)

I left Corris late morning and, after a leisurely drive, with one wrong turn, I arrived at Ty Dderw Country Inn, my home for the next three nights.

Ty Dderw, showing the hedge lining the one side of the long path from the road

After settling in, I went for a walk, but more about this in my next post.

That’s it for now. As always, I welcome any comments.

Cofion Cynnes (Warm Regards)

Earl

Cyfaredd 8: Climbing Cader Idris

Haia Pawb (Hi Everyone)

When I stayed in Dolgellau in 2013, I planned to climb Cader Idris, that mountain on which if you spend the night you come down either mad or a poet. Unfortunately, the day before this planned ascent I climbed what I thought was Dinas Emrys, which proved a tougher task than expected (more about this in another post) and was so stiff and sore I couldn’t contemplate attempting Cader Idris. This trip, however, I decided to tackle the famous mountain first.

Cader Idris and the various paths

The route I took is called the Minffordd Path, which is steep in places (two climbs of over 300 metres), but also shorter (4.4 kilometres) than the easier track (Pony Path, 5.0 kilometres). After dutifully following signs and huffing my way up the first steep section, I came to where the track ended at a t-intersection. The way to the left seemed to take me away from the mountain, so I took the right one. I’d been walking in light drizzle to this point, but I felt sure the weather would clear soon enough. I was wrong on both counts.

It turned out the right-hand path lead to the lake in the middle of the ‘chair’, Llyn Cau, and not up the mountain. Of course, if I had consulted my map I would have realized this, but I had looked at the instructions at the start of my climb and thought I knew what I was doing. Although the choice was wrong, I was glad I came upon the lake. No sound but occasional bird call-signs. A slight breeze that wove intricate patterns on the surface of the lake. Mountains towering above me. A seabird that used the thermal above the lake to soar upwards. No other walkers. A great spot to sit for a while and contemplate whatever thoughts came up, or no thoughts.

Llyn Cau, with the back of the 'chair', Craig Cau, in the background.

Then came the time to continue my ascent. A path wound around the lake, which I assumed would eventually lead upwards. Wrong again. It ended near a steep section of scree-fall. Undeterred by the increasing rain and the descending mist--I had seen such sights around the mountain from Dolgellau and watched them vanish after a while--I started upwards. Step by step. One or two slides, but no concern. Heavy going. Use embedded rocks and knots of grass to pull myself up. Clamber. Watch the mist clear a little, the rain drop. Clamber. Stop for breath. Climb in sets of steps, each set reducing in number. Stop for breath. Keep going till the top is in sight. Dig in to scree and cracks in the rocks. Keep going. Get there.

View of Llyn Cau after my climb up the scree.

Where I emerged, happy to find the right track!

I gained the Minffordd Path and continued towards the top of Cader Idris, which is called Penygadair. The mist had thickened, but not enough that I couldn't see the cairns that had been set up either side of the track for just this eventuality. The temperature was so cold, snow still gathered in nooks and crannies:

Eventually, Penygadair came in sight:

The monument at the top of Cader Idris.

I clambered over the rocks and stood on the summit (893 metres). The mist was so thick, I couldn't see much at all. However, the sense of accomplishment, of doing the climb the hard way and succeeding, compensated for the lack of views and the tingling feeling in my fingers from the cold that penetrated my thick gloves.

Video from Penygadair when I first arrived.

After finding a cleft that protected me from the buffeting cold wind, I ate my lunch, listened to the wind whistle around the mountain and watched the mist open and tantalise with glimpses of brown, green and blue, then close. Soon it cleared completely, and the views, of distant mountains and of the coast, were stunning.

Video after the mist cleared.

Other walkers started arriving at the summit, so I decided to head back down. I took the track that continued around the chair and after a a couple of tumbles on wet stones, I reached the car park.

The plateau on the other side of Penygadair,
part of the track back down the mountain.

The whole trip took seven hours. Strangely, I wasn't exhausted but exhilarated by the experience--the physical test of the climb itself and the views of the land I have come to love.

View on the way down: Llyn Cau, with Craig Cau behind it,
and Penygadair at the top right. The long black line stretching from the lake
to the ridge on the right of Craig Cau is the scree-fall I climbed.

Of course, the climb also had a lesson for me. It showed me that sometimes I turn relatively easy tasks into difficult ones, mainly because I don't re-check my plans/facts when I should. Maybe I was lucky that the weather didn't turn worse, though if it had I would have turned back. I had faith that the rain and mist would clear, because of previous (albeit limited) experience of the mountain, and it did. Next climb, I'll be better at my planning and the execution of my plans. Stay tuned.

And to continue my jackdaw fascination, this is a photo of one taken from my room when I arrived in Moffat, Scotland:

'Made it, Ma! Top of the world!' (James Cagney, White Heat)

I hope things are going well for you and you're double-checking plans when you should :)

Until next time.

Pob Hwyl

Earl