Gors Farm, Pwll Trap, St Clears, Carmathenshire, Wales

               

This morning began as most Sunday mornings do, so it was not until 10 am that we set off for the day’s touring. The schedule was loose, although the general route had been discussed last night.

Our first stop was St Clear where we tracked down the Co-op store, a modern superette carrying most of the groceries one might need. We picked up another TV Choice, even though we already had one covering the week that had started yesterday. Wales’ programme scheduling differs from the rest of the kingdom, and the variation had already driven my companion to despair. What’s another 73p or whatever these weekly guides cost? Here too was an opportunity to pick up apple puff pastries which the Co-op does so well.

We retraced part of our route travelled yesterday, or at least the A40 back to Carmathen, where we turned east nor’ east and continued on up the A40, following the banks of the River Towy. This route is marked as picturesque on our map, but we were underwhelmed; the illogical speed limit of 40 mph infuriating and the river rarely evident. Certainly the valley is wide and green and pleasant enough, but so are many other places, but I had expected more. Of course the land here, while elevated and undulating, is fairly gentle, and when one reads of “high bluffs” and hills to “climb”, one tends to be disappointed with the reality.

However we pulled off near Llandeilo to visit Dinefwr Castle and Park and found the area most attractive. The car park, the surrounding parklands and Newton House are all managed by the National Trust but the Castle, accessed through these grounds by a one and a half mile walk, is now owned by the Wildlife Trust of South and West Wales, so does not attract an entry fee. It  is managed by CADWR, who allow free entry to English Heritage card holders, or at least those who have held membership for the prescribed term. 

The castle does indeed stand high on a wooded elevation, “bluff” being an exaggeration, and from the ramparts of the ruins, there are wonderful views down over the Tywi (or Towy) valley.  To understand the relevance of this castle and so many we will visit while in Wales, one needs a quick history lesson.

After the Roman army abandoned Britain, leaving the native British leaders struggling for control, three main princedoms emerged in Wales after several centuries: Gwynedd, Powys and in south west Wales, Deheubarth. The emerging Welsh princes carved a great legacy for themselves and one of the most important, Hywell Dda, championed Welsh laws. More compassionate and forward thinking than those of England, they included rights for women.

One of the last great princes of Deheubarth was Rhys ap Gruffydd, “The Lord Rhys”. He was a fearless warrior, an able diplomat and a cunning politician who ruled Deheubarth between 1155 and 1197.

When William the Conqueror seized control of the English throne, he must have quickly realised his western boundaries were vulnerable. These borders, or Marches, between Wales and England, were fiercely fought over, the invading Norman Marcher lords were highly trained soldiers and clever administrators. They were given powers by the Norman kings to collect taxes, build castles and significantly raise their own private armies.

The Marcher lords and the Welsh princes fought against each other and amongst themselves over control of their territories. When Rhys ap Gruffydd became prince of Debeubarth in 1115 the Marcher lords had gained the upper hand on south Wales. However, Rhys was able to re-establish Debeubarth as a powerful Welsh princedom.

He saw how significant castles were to the Marcher lords, so he began to build his own at strategic locations. Recognising the defensive strength of Dinefwr with its excellent views up and down the Tywi valley, he built first a timber fortress, later replacing it with a simple stone castle; this on the site of an earlier castle built in 877 by a predecessor, Rhodri Mawr, King of Wales.

Over the years it changed hands between the princes of Debeubarth and gradually evolved into a formidable fortress, falling into English hands in the late 13^th century. By the end of the Middle Ages, the castle had fallen into ruin. 

It was during this time, when the castle became uninhabitable, would-be residents built a more appropriate residence half a mile away, Newton House. This Grade II listed country house built in Jacobean style in 1660 was occupied through the centuries, the family stories told in part to those who actually bother to visit the house. After the property was sold in 1974 and later fell into disrepair, occupied by squatters and thieves who removed beams and furniture. In 1990 the National Trust rescued the property, having already taken over the deer park and the parkland four years previously.

Newton House is reputedly one of the most haunted houses in Wales,however we did not bother investigating this ridiculous claim. Instead we took our picnic into the gardens and enjoyed the peace and shade of the mature trees, the White Park cattle grazing in the distance and the jackdaws jabbering in the yews.

We shared the space with another couple, younger and more beautiful than us, who also proved to be charmingly generous as well. They offered the last of their strawberries to us, which we enjoyed enormously. They were the first northern hemisphere strawberries I have ever eaten, and certainly the largest ever consumed. I shall remember this “clean skinned” couple, uncommon these days, she in a sundress and he with his trendy day-old beard, clearly in love but not requiring the directive to “get a room!”

We had encountered a local more mature couple on our return from the castle who joined us for the last part of our walk. I had perhaps foolishly remarked that their dog was not as fit as the man who walked ahead, and it was that which started a conversation that lasted for half an hour or more which delayed our day’s tour. But then travelling should include acquainting oneself with the “natives’ and we learned much about this couple, their life and their future plans, so perhaps I have incorrectly  used the word “foolishly”.

Back on the road, we headed up into the Brecon Beacon National Park, that western expanse of upland , in contrast with the Black Mountains, also in the same National Park far to the east that we viewed when heading to Hay-on-Wye. 

I was intent on visiting a second castle, this the Carreg Cennan Castle, described as being the most magnificently sited castle in Wales. Chris was not keen so I offered this in stages; first that we should simply arrive at the car park and look at it from afar, with the possibility that I walk up to it and he stay and read the newspaper in the car. His tentative approach arose from yet another description; its “vertiginous location”, having a three hundred foot drop to the Cennan River below. Arriving in the car park, with the ruins in view, I was adament that I was going up there; my husband decided that I needed a chaperone, so off we went.

This castle falls under the auspices of the CDWR, so we flashed our English Heritage cards yet again and headed on up, glad to have taken our tramping sticks. The approach is steep, the last part up a slope dodging limestone outcrops and sheep faeces.

The castle’s origins are a little fuzzy and credit Rhys again as the builder, although human remains found on the site suggest there was activity going on here back to prehistoric times; it may well have been an Iron Age hillfort. But the ruins we walked about are those of a later castle built mainly by John Gifford, an English lord who fought with Edward I to defeat the Welsh in 1283. His plan to rebuild the fortifications seems to have been carried out in three separate phases over the following thirty years or so.

Carreg Cennan remained in English hands, although it did fall temporarily to the Welsh in the 1403 during the Owain Glyn Dwr’s uprising. Eventually, to prevent it from becoming a base for local robbers, five hundred men were paid just under £30 to demolish the castle in 1462.

We certainly enjoyed the views from the ramparts over the countryside all around, and could see quite clearly why its position was chosen. Interpretation panels are scant and I remarked to my ever suffering husband that I might have felt short changed had we paid an entry fee.

He was pleased to descend the site and resume our trip which from now on became a driving tour. We travelled up onto the bare moor of the National Park, crossing a cattle stop which keeps the wandering cattle, sheep and ponies from straying down into the more gentle terrain. Our route took us in a sweeping semi-circle from Trap to Brynammon, the Park always on our left and views across a wide valley to Gwaun-Cae-Gurwen, its charming rows of houses belying its coal mining past.

In truth there seems to be little lovely about the Welsh villages in this part of the world because although they might seem picturesque in the distance, on closer scrutiny the houses are more likely to be shabby, dreary and unattractive.

At Brynammon, we turned up into the Black Mountain, the road winding steeply into more barren rounded tops, grass and tussock growing to feed whatever livestock might wander hereabout.  High up the road passes the remains of limestone quarries, now just pits and piles and little else. 

Descending on the northern side of the Mountain toward Llangadog, the road switches back on itself a couple of times. At the northern edge of National Park we turned west and travelled back around to Ffairfach near Llandeilo on a minor road, offering delightful lovely views to the north, once more  across the Towy valley.

Rather than drive back along that speed restricted road to Carmarthen, we drove up the much prettier road on the southern banks of the River Tovy / Tywi, then joined the dual carriageway heading for home. Our timing was perfect; the forecasted possible showers arrived as we pulled into our camping field and we were able to watch Russia bravely battle Spain in yet another soccer game.