I recently had two close friends come and and stay with me in Wales for just over a week. Below is a journal entry relating to the larger of the walks we took within this timeframe.
I managed to convince two of my dearest friends to travel hundreds of miles by coach to carry my camera equipment for a whole week, the fools.
For about 8 years I’ve called Duncan my best friend, I've spent more time with him since then than I have with some of the people I live with! That was until 2020 anyway. Bar a brief Garden chat in December 2020, The last time I saw Janaan or Duncan in the flesh was new years eve 2019. So them being able to come and visit me was a big deal. Luckily for me they both also love the outdoors, so much like Ben’s infamous Feb 2020 trip here, I got to show my friends my project and even more exciting, my new 4x5 Intrepid Mk4 camera.
I’ll leave out the catching up and such we did, and just focus on the longer walks on which I took out my Mk4 for this journal entry. For our first major walk I took them up to Castel Bwa-drain. The weather was lovely so we decided to pack a picnic for the top of the hill. This was a good opportunity for me to retake some of the images that were poorly exposed on my first visit here. The lighting conditions were similar to my first trip, but the temperature was a lot milder which was welcomed as most of this walk was done exposed to the elements with little to no cover or shade.
The walk there was much of the same as last time. The sheep stayed well clear of us, watching almost ominously from the distance, and some of the horses came up against the fences to greet us. One in particular was incredibly friendly and would walk alongside the length of the fence to keep up with us. We leisurely strolled through the majority of the trip there, only speeding up once we reached the gate on the road to the hydroelectric station. I always enjoy taking people from back home out on walks in Wales because even though the bus here from Aber was so very short, we were suddenly in such a vast expanse of countryside its shocking to those not used to it. We are quite lucky back home to be able to reach countryside and woodland in such a short time from the city center, but even that doesn’t compare to this. I’ve written about it before but the landscape is so vastly different in Wales compared to Sussex that even now, 5+ years on from moving here, I’m still shocked and awed every time I step out of town.
Once we reached our picnicking spot, Janaan got started on getting the food out whilst Duncan began setting up the stove for a tea. I had a scout around the area, looking for the location I took the pictures at last time and also for any new angles I could consider. I felt like I knew my camera a lot better now, but was still nervously optimistic for the exposure times of each image, perhaps it wasn’t an app issue but more of a human error when pointing my light meter at the scene? After taking my two images I decided to just enjoy the time spent with my friends, we had more walks planned that I could take more images on and with this location being so close to town I could feasibly come back any time if needed.
Throughout the week I took Janaan and Duncan of a tour of local walks, I decided not to take my camera out on these for a few reasons. Either I did not feel like the location fit my concept or I wanted to just enjoy my time with my friends without focusing on the practical side of my work – I am always thinking about it however. As these walks included places such as Penglais woods I thought it would be fine to not take my camera as I could get to these spots within 10 minutes of my front door so there would be no difficulties if I decided I did want to capture it on film in the future.
I did, however, take them out to Devil’s Bridge. This location holds some significance for myself and Duncan, as we had attempted to go there at least 3 times previously, but due to bus timetable changes (without notice), weather issues stopping public transport, and the will of God, we had never actually managed to make it there. This was potentially the last time they would visit me in Wales due to me moving home next year, so it was now or never. What we thought one of our mistakes was previously, was trying to catch the free weekend bus there. I can’t be certain, but what I think happened was bus routes had been cancelled and changed, but the timetables online had not been removed or amended, as we always managed to find multiple timetables, but no busses. So this time we decided to suck it up and pay the bus fare on a week day.
Each mile closer to Devil’s Bridge we got, our excitement just grew. We were finally going to see the falls we had tried to see so many times before! The bus stopped a little up the road, and as we began to walk toward the route entrance we could hear the sound of running water getting louder and louder. To get onto either route, we had to squeeze through some floor to ceiling turnstiles. Halfway through I was worried I was going to get stuck however, as the gap you had to stand in was incredibly small and I had my large backpack full up with my 4x5 and a camping stove. The brief anxiety felt in this moment, however, all melted away as we were immediately greeted with a view of the bridges and part of one of the many waterfalls we had longed to see. It was like stepping out of that turnstile absolved all the frustration and disappointment of not managing to come here on all our other attempts over the years.
The walk itself wasn’t an incredibly long one, most estimates put it at between 45 and 60 minutes long, and the punchbowl on the other side of the road at about 10 to 15 minutes. We had arrived early enough to be able to take the walk slowly, giving me time to properly compose shots and weigh up what I wished to capture, as well as giving Janaan and Duncan chance to have a relaxed lunchtime picnic complete with freshly made tea at some point. It wasn’t long before I found a place I wished to take an image. I was looking for places with good leading lines, preferably from paths going through the shot. Aspects like this would mean creating a ghostly trace of a person walking through my long exposures easier and more cohesive visually. It was still early in the day so the light was soft and the air cold, we could smell the dew still on the leaves and grass. Everything felt incredibly fresh and cleansing as I set up my camera for the first time today. It was still a little too muted in terms of light to be able to see much on the ground glass through my pinhole lens, so I composed and framed the shot by feel and eye.
As we continued on the path, the air around us was buzzing with a childlike energy. The seemingly silly accomplishment of arriving in a location that shouldn’t have been so hard for us to get to before, and our first waterfall of the trip. Over 300ft of falling water is truly something to behold and as we reached a small gazebo set up along the path we could see it in the distance, peeping out from between the trees, enticing you to just stop and experience it with all your senses. This is where I decided to take my next shot, I knew I wouldn’t be able to capture anyone walking through the shot, but I wanted this scene to be immortalised in silver regardless and I’m not opposed to having only a portion of my images include the ghosts I've been looking for.
It was whilst stood here we encountered our first set of other people that day. A middle-aged couple came walking down the path toward us, expecting nothing much more than the usual pleasantries we nodded and said good morning to them. They returned the sentiment, and I noticed the man’s eyes clock my camera and light up. He came over and started asking me all about it, how it worked, why I had it, what I was doing with it. I was more than happy to show him it all, and he was fascinated by it all. His partner, however, you could tell, was less enthused he had gotten sidetracked and continued a few steps away and encouraging him to continue with what I assumed was supposed to be a romantic day out for the two of them. Interactions like this serve to remind me just how magical film photography, and especially large format photography, is. It resolidifies my own love for the discipline and even though I know I love sharing the ins and outs of all things photographic, having the opportunity to talk about it in an informative way to others, no matter how briefly, fills me with such a feeling of joy and love that it can sometimes catch me off guard.
The next section of the path we had to deal with was the Jacob’s ladder, an incredibly steep and worn down set of 100 steps. On this day the steps were wet from the light drizzle so we had to take it slowly and cautiously. At regular intervals down this set of steps there were metal bars jutting out so that if someone were to slip and fall, these bars would hopefully stop the person from falling the full length of the stairs. It was at this point my thoughts went to similar places they often do on my walks, about the people whose steps I am tracing. It’s one thing to see the bridges and think about the people who crafted them and the reasons for needing a bridge and how that small piece of architecture altered their lives, but it’s the smaller more mundane aspects that really affect me. These steps have been here for centuries, and thousands upon thousands of people have walked them over this time. Victorian women on days out, in their multiple skirts and heeled boots, working locals in whatever clothing of the time period, modern day tourists from around the world, all of them have stood in the exact same position I am stood in now in my hiking boots with a camera in my backpack. Every person was an individual, with their own complex set of thoughts and feelings, their own experiences that brought them to the moment they were stood on this step. Have any of them ever thought about the people who were here before? Or did any of them think about the people after them? Did they, or could they, imagine I would be stood here too? What will this place be like in another hundred years? Will the people then think of me now? When we as humans are gone, will these steps endure? Will the slate I capture visually still be around to be viewed by someone, or something, and will it produce thoughts and feelings of the natural world and time gone past? I’m not sure what other people think about when they're stood at the top of a very tall and steep set of stairs on a rainy Monday morning, but something about locations like this just sets my mind off running a mile a minute about things that were, things that are, and some things that have not yet come to pass.
At the bottom of the Jacob’s ladder, there is a small arched footbridge crossing the river. The shape of this bridge really stands out, it looks like something you’d find in an illustration of a fairy tale. Gorgeous green painted metal tracing the edge of a circle across the deep flowing river, dark because of the slate it flows through. This was a truly magical and fantastical spot that I had to take a picture of. I set up my camera so that the path leading to the bridge was in the frame, but so that the bridge itself was the focus. I tried to get the trees and other foliage to almost frame these two aspects, and was hoping that ghosts of myself, Janaan, and Duncan walking down this path would show up once I developed the image. We spent a long time stood on this bridge looking into the swirling water below, it was mezmerising. All these tiny droplets of water, on their own not capable of much, but like the footsteps on the slate the sum of each droplet creates such a force, this one natural compared to the human based interaction of stepping.
From here the rest of this circuit now took us back up to the top of the falls. We nipped off the path and into the woods to set up our picnic sheltered from the rain under the trees. Whilst we were setting the kettle up, a little robin hopped down to the ground and joined us. We had been hearing his song all day, so to have a chance to chat and thank him for his company on our walk was quite a beautiful moment. It isn’t just humans interacting with the landscape that I think about, I think that would be selfish to do even if my project focuses more on that, but every creature born into this world cannot escape the landscape no matter where or when they come into existence. It is as much a certainty of life as death is. It is harder for me to ponder the intentions and thoughts of these animals. I could never accurately do it for I don’t know what it is like to be a robin, only what it is like to be a human thinking about what it may be like to be a robin, but I enjoy the moments I can think about it in the moment with the animal in question there to observe first hand.
The next location on this walk that really grabbed me was the “robber’s cave”. The story behind this is it was once a small cave, now opened up to prevent similar situations in the future, where two robbers hid from the authorities. One of their sisters would deliver them meals and provisions until unfortunately they were all caught, the two robbers hanged and the sister burnt at the stake. Behind the small information plaque, the cave walls are covered in carvings from previous visitors. Many of the usual inscriptions you’d find anywhere, initials and dates, but the apparent age of some of them was fascinating. The oldest one we could find was “R W M 1660”, but that wasn’t the only one dating back over 100 years. There were some that read dates in the 17 and 1800s. Stepping into the cave it was oddly quiet, we were only a couple meters from a large section of the waterfall, but the sound of crashing water faded into the distance once you crossed the opening to the cave. Being able to trace your fingers over the tactile carvings, placing your body and hands where the carver for a particular inscription stood all those centuries ago was electric. Touching history with your hands, but not awesome history in the biblical sense, this is everyday history. The history of the people. Actions that individuals took, probably not even for a second intending for someone almost 400 years later to be looking at their mark. I don’t know these people, or even their full names for the most part, but in us experiencing this they have endured and lived on long after they are physically gone.
Walking up this side of the circuit, we were much closer to the falls than on the way down. The sound was overwhelming at points, a sensory experience teetering on the edge of too much. Just enough to start your nerve endings tingling but you couldn’t pull away from it, not that you'd want to in the slightest but its like we were rooted to the spot just taking everything in. Each time we would come away from one of the viewpoints to continue up the steps, we would get sucked back into the next one to just stand and experience it from a different perspective. This whole location was magical and had a real air about it. It’s the perfect place for this project as it has a bit of everything. Clear historic human interaction with the landscape both large, bridge construction, and small, worn down steps. Devil’s bridge drips with individual history, so much so you can taste it in the air.
After spending some time at the top of the stairs to look through the telescope before sitting down and just taking in the scenery, we came off of this path and made our way to the entrance of the punchbowl on the other side of the road. We could see the whole loop of this shorter walk from the beginning. There was a small playpark area with some benches looking over at the bridges, then the path went down close to the river level before taking you toward the underside of the bridges then back up to the entrance. We sat down for a bit near the play park, this is where I got my camera out again to take an image of the bridges. It had started to drizzle with rain again by this point but if anything it just added to the atmosphere of the place. There was one of those painted standee cut outs where you can put your face through a hole so it looks like you're either, in this case, a monk or a little devil, as well as a small collection of fairy doors affixed to some of the trees up here. Walking down the steps we come to a point where I think it could be good to get a shot looking up at the bridges. It’s a very tight spot to set up my tripod, and part of my camera is hanging over the edge of the railing, threatening to drop into the river below. I take the shot nervously but before I pack my camera up I turn and see the steps behind me, potentially more worn down than the ones we saw at the Jacob’s ladder earlier. I hadn't stopped thinking about the steps all day, being restricted to such a narrow path you cant take a step outside of where countless others had, because of this I thought it would be a perfect opportunity to turn my camera around and take the shot. I framed it so the stairs were our focus and the only ghost traces would be of our feet. The slate was wet from the rain and the light was reflecting off it in a prominent way. If only one photo from today turned out well, I wanted it to be this one.
We spent the rest of our time here marvelling at just how deeply the force of the water had cut into the rock. There was one section where it had burrowed through the slate, creating a tunnel for the water to flow through. We could see the underside of the bridges from here, towering above us. The sound of the water was amplified, echoing off the banks surrounding it. Every few minutes of staring, one of us would notice something else fantastical about the formation of the land and we would all begin wowing at that before eventually one of us spotted something else. It was a magical day bonding with the landscape and each other. By the time we got back on the bus we were somehow both exhausted and invigorated, we couldn’t stop talking about what we had seen, touched, heard, smelt, and tasted, what we had experienced with every atom of our being.
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