Thursday 28 May 2015

Cyfaredd 11: Farewell to Corris, With Thanks

Haia Pawb

Now that I will be heading back to Australia, I think it opportune to detail the benefits of my eight-week residency at Stiwdio Maelor. When I applied for the residency, I had hoped the time away from normal routines would dramatically help me with my dark ages project. It certainly did this, even if I didn’t achieve exactly what I had hoped.

As you may have gathered from previous posts, my achievements during this trip, like climbing mountains, don’t usually happen in the way I expect. Sometimes this has been because of a tendency to jump into a situation without given it the right level of planning. In regard to my novel, I thought eight weeks would be enough time to redraft the 100,000 words of the manuscript. That I didn’t achieve this was more to do with the over-estimation of my editing and rewriting pace than with a lack of foresight or planning. For example, I found myself spending the early period of the residency in an unexpected structural edit of the manuscript, before resuming the line editing.

Still, I'm happy with what I achieved during the residency, which I’ve listed below:

Fiction
Editing of previously redrafted novel chapters          =           11, 864 words
Writing/editing/re-writing of new chapters                 =          50,195 words
Notes and other interdraft materials                           =            21,077 words
(However, the novel is growing in size, to an estimated 150,000 words, so I still have a long way to go.)

Poetry
Number of old poem drafts completed           =          3
Number of new poems written                       =          2
Number of haiku drafts written                      =          25

Other
Number of blogs written         =          11
(So far. I'll write up the rest of the trip after my return to Australia.)
Blogs and other pieces            =          10,703 words

This is all very good for my writing goals, but the residency meant I could also explore other pertinent interests. Every few days I went for a walk, taking tons of photos and making notes about weather, trees, water flows, birds and flowers.









I also attended an Easter School in Welsh language, a weekly conversation group and, for several weeks, a formal class. This immersion in landscape and language I hoped would inform my writing: its rhythms and textures, its colours and contours, its character and story arcs. Certainly I feel more in touch with the mythic and spiritual aspects of the Land and know this will, at some point after I’ve processed my experiences, help authentic the tone and content of the novel.

I also received benefits I never expected, like stimulating conversations with fellow artists at Stiwdio Maelor, with neighbours, and with folk met at the pub next door and at the Welsh language sessions. Such conversations included the history of slate mining in the area and the foundation of the Centre for Alternative Technology (CAT), the nexus between language, landscape and worldview, the changes in the local landscape over the years, and the increasing friendliness of the village, possibly because of the influx of artisans and others with alternative ideas and careers. Some of these people have become friends, another bonus.

All in all, my experience at Stiwdio Maelor has enriched my work, my soul and my life. I would like to thank Veronica Calarco for accepting my application and for being such a hospitable, helpful and supportive studio manager, a wonderful conversationalist and a patient occasional Welsh language tutor. A residency at the studio is a fantastic opportunity for an artist to find the freedom, the headspace, to create new work, or edit old work, or explore ideas and techniques that may or may not result in any work but at least enhance the artist’s creative processes. For those wanting their work to flourish, put in an application and enjoy the experience and the results.

Thanks, also, to those who made my time in Corris fun, warm, informative, interesting and stimulating: Mary; Brian, his staff at The Slaters Arms, and the pub’s friendly patrons; Inge; Ellie and the Tuesday Welsh conversation group; the volunteer staff at the Corris Institute cafĂ©; Jan at the Corris Post Office; Adam and Andy (best of luck with your new village venture); Adam and his son, Arthur; Lee Berwick, a fellow artist-in-residence; Martin and Beryl; and the many smiling, welcoming people of Corris I met in the street or during my walks around the village. Diolch yn fawr iawn.

So happy and productive was my experience in Corris that I have already promised I will return as soon as I can, maybe not for a residency but at least for a visit so I can catch up with everyone and introduce them to Jo, while showing her the village and the landscape around it.


Farewell drinks: Martin, Earl, Marilyn, Bill, Andrew, Simon
(from the Stiwdio Maelor Facebook page)
Till next time.

Cofion cynnes (Warm wishes)
Earl

PS. For those of you interested in applying for 2016, see here.

Tuesday 19 May 2015

Cyfaredd 10: Climbing Dinas Emrys

Haia Pawb

As I indicated in a previous post, in 2013 I climbed what I thought was Dinas Emrys. For those of you who don't know, Dinas Emrys is a mountaintop stronghold made famous in the Historia Brittonum and Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia Regum Britanniae as the place where Merlin (or Ambrosius Aurelianus) as a child confounded King Vortigern's advisors and uncovered the prophecy of the Red and White Dragons. Being quite interested in Merlin mythology, I decided to experience the place myself.
Dinas Emrys (photo from here)
However, as my post on Cader Idris indicates, I have a tendency to go off on my own and not (re)consult maps and the like. After I climbed the mountain and found what I thought was the pool under which the dragons had been 'discovered', I didn't know till I arrived back in Australia and started looking at other people's accounts that I hadn't climbed Dinas Emrys at all, but a mountain further down the road. Somehow, I had missed the real location and found a mountain with a similar profile but which was much bigger, hence the aching limbs and tiredness that prevented me from climbing Cader Idris the next day.
Dinas Emrys (diagram from here)
This time around, I was determined to climb the right mountain. I followed travel instructions I found online, arrived at the Craflwyn car park (one mile north of Beddgelert) and studied the map that detailed the various paths.
Map board at Craflwyn car park
Of course, as you can probably guess by now, my walk didn't go exactly to plan. The colours used on the map weren't the same as the colours used on the trail markers and I ended up going on a long hike before reaching the track that took me up Dinas Emrys. For those of you aware of The Hero's Journey, based on Joseph Campbell's The Hero with a Thousand Faces, you'll understand how I was starting to feel as if the landscape was acting as some sort of Threshold Guardian and testing if I was worthy enough to reach Merlin's mythological site.
The path up the ridge to Dinas Emrys
So, after two attempts and a long detour I arrived at the summit of Dinas Emrys, with its ramparts and remains of walls and foundations. The views from there were amazing, which is probably why it was chosen (apparently by Llewelyn the Last) as a castle stronghold to guard the mountain pass of Snowdon.
Remains of a tower
View of Llyn Dinas from the top of Dinas Emrys
View of surrounding mountains
I knew I had found the right mountain because finally I was able to see the famous pool and its platform, though apparently the platform is dated later than the accepted periods for Vortigern and Ambrosius.
Pool and platform
Fortifications
More fortifications and building remains
With the masonry, the pool, the trees budding with Spring growth, the green moss and dormant heather, the hidden birds chatting amongst themselves about the quiet intruder, and the wind tousling leaves and rippling across the open areas, the place felt both mysterious and familiar.




Brief video of trees, birds and wind
A touch of magic
After exploring the summit, I found a small cave that kept the wind out and ate my lunch, after which I closed my eyes to concentrate on any mythic whispers that might come out of the earth. Maybe an idea for a scene in my book or useful images. White-knuckle mountains. The new leaf of a hazel tree feeling like the skin of a baby. Rivers like sweat from the brow of Gofannon, the Celtic God of metalworking.
The cave
I spent almost two hours on the summit and was only been interrupted once, by a man and a woman asking for directions. Luckily for me, they showed no interest in the place itself, no awareness of its mythological importance. But after some time in the cave I felt the need to move on. Just in time, too, for a group of walkers, who seemed intent on exploration, came up the ridge as I started down. After the testing by the Threshold Guardian, I had been blessed with quiet and inspiration and so could continue my own explorations elsewhere.
A waterfall I passed on the way back
When I returned to my car, I continued along the A498 to find the mountain I had climbed in 2013.  It was about another mile down the road. I still don't know how I missed Dinas Emrys the first time. That Threshold Guardian, I suppose.
The mountain I climbed in 2013
Dinas Emrys, in 2015 (less than half the height)
I hope you all manage to move further along your own hero/heroine journeys.

Till next time.

Pob Hwyl
Earl

Monday 18 May 2015

Cyfaredd 9: Wildflowers for Jo

Haia Pawb (Hi Everyone)

Jo and I have a standing joke about my photography. Ever since our Europe trip in 2007, I tend to take photos of clouds, trees, megalithic tombs and stones, iron age ruins, birds and landscapes. After my several trips to Ireland and Britain since 2007, she has always asked, with a cheeky smile, 'What, no houses or flowers?' So, this trip I've been taking photos I'm hope she will like.

Given that I have been in Britain for Spring, this particular blog post will showcase some of the wildflowers I have encountered during my recent walks. Most of them come from a trip to Thor's Cave with my good friend Grevel Lindop (more about this in another post). So, here's a short photo essay of wildflowers for Jo:

Native bluebells, plus white and pink variants
(in Grevel's front garden)
Wood Anemone
Early Purple Orchid
Cowslip
Forget-Me-Not
Primrose
Mouse-ear
Wild Strawberry
Jack-by-the-Hedge (Garlic Mustard) 
Unknown
White Dead Nettle
Celandine
Butter Burr (its leaves were used to wrap butter)
Unknown
Buttercup
Red Campion
I love the common names: Mouse-ear and Jack-in-the Hedge, the first because it looks like its name and the second because it is commonly found growing along the margins of hedges.

By the way, if anyone can identify the two 'unknowns', please let me know.

That's it for now.

Pob hwyl
Earl


Sunday 17 May 2015

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