While shepherds watched their flocks

Too many sheep, with consequent overgrazing, has damaged the rich mix of plantlife at Hafod y Llan, the farm that rises from the Nant Gwynant valley floor to the summit of Snowdon. Believe it or not, sheep are picky eaters, with a bit of a sweet tooth for particular plants, leaving others to thrive and dominate the mountain sward.

Bilberry and heather regenerating on the foothills of Snowdon

Since the National Trust acquired the farm 15 years ago the number of sheep has been halved but the plantlife has not recovered everywhere or as well as hoped. The problem is that sheep, like nature, abhor a vacuum and sheep from neighbouring farms have been trespassing. Worse still, they like to graze on the more sensitive areas on the higher slopes of the mountains.

To sort this out a shepherd was employed in 2014 to push the sheep into the correct areas and to evict the trespassers. But when he knocked off, the sheep ‘came out to play’. So this year a second shepherd has been appointed and between the two of them they can provide 7 day cover during daylight hours in the summer. Hopefully the mountain tops will soon be a purple haze of blooming heather and fruiting bilberry with sheep growing fat on the pasture below.

If you’d like to know more about this project, embracing traditional shepherding to tackle a current issue, this film might be of interest (Welsh version first and English version below):

Snowdon - safe and tidy

Helen where Pyg meets Miners

It’s a big old mountain to be in charge of with 400,000 walkers a year. Last year 187 of these had an accident and 8 or 9 were fatal. Helen Pye is the new warden, previously a warden in the Brecon Beacons, with mountain safety as her top priority. I joined her on patrol above Pen y Pass.

Fatalities tend to be participants in extreme activities, well planned and equipped but unfortunate to have an accident. Non-fatalities tend to be annoyingly avoidable, down to lack of planning or provisions and inappropriate clothing. 

As we walked she chatted to people we passed, many of whom were sensibly equipped, but some were ludicrous.  A woman with sunglasses on immaculate hair was indeed wearing boots, but knee-high with four inch heels! Her partner was in all the right gear; would this relationship survive?

Another woman in short shorts and T shirt was wearing a pair of plimsolls. When asked how she found them in terms of support she explained that she’d only worn them to come down but had gone up bare foot. 

A grateful walker hurrying down the mountain handed back the laminated A4 map Helen had given him earlier that day; yes, many people walk the mountains without a map, let alone a compass.

At Bwlch y Moch air-freighted bays of stone were ready for building a dry stone wall to steer all but the intentional away from Crib Goch.  Later and from way below on the Miners Track I watched through binoculars as three walkers crawled over the scary Crib.  

Helen’s other priorities include footpath maintenance and litter. The paths that I was on were in good shape, thanks in large part to Snowdonia Society volunteer workdays, but every now and again a boulder needed pulling out of a drain. The litter situation also seemed under control but Helen explained the wardens tried to keep these main paths as clear as possible, human herd instinct means we are less likely to litter a clean path.

As we walked we stuffed bits of rubbish into our rucksacks and near the end picked up a carrier bag of empty cans and bottles, neatly tied at the handles and stuffed into a drain. ‘Probably Three Peakers’ was the verdict. The sign in the toilets at Pen y Pass reflects their reputation as some of the worst offenders.  Snowdon is typically the last of the peaks attracting the worst of behaviour - TAKE IT HOME!

The Glaslyn’s so blue, so blue .....

A clear view from the Cob is always spectacular but fishermen, and I don't mean the ospreys, just gave it that extra something today. High tide was retreating and the anglers were settled in for their competition with prizes for the heaviest fish and the heaviest overall catch. Nothing so coarse as would need to be thrown back but tasty sea trout.

Snowdon: The Story of a Welsh Mountain

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Everyone of course knows it’s in Wales or do they? As the first book about the mountain in ninety years, I think the author wanted to emphasise its roots in the local landscape, history, folklore and community as opposed to viewing it in isolation. Having taken a swipe at the ‘colonialists’, the record has now been set straight.

There’s nothing glossy about the book which boasts not a single illustration, not even a map. Going against the adage of pictures painting thousands of words Jim Perrin says you can convey so much more in writing; mixes of description, history, hopes, fears and so on. The writer can direct the reader more specifically, creating a mental picture, forcing thought and contemplation as opposed to a quick flick through.

That sounded plausible but I also liked what the publisher (Dylan Williams of Gomer) said at the book launch. Not only was Jim’s manuscript seven years late it was more than double the target wordcount. In parallel with the words, photos by Ray Wood had been commissioned and delivered but, with 65,000 words that were too good to be cut, there simply wasn’t the room for them.

It’s a very learned book, with many of those words being quotations from older texts or footnotes, and a ‘select bibliography’ stretching to seven pages, but it’s also very personal. Even the man who drove his Vauxhall Frontera to the summit (twice) gets a mention. This is followed by an admission of the author’s ‘hoodlum’ motorbike rides to reach the best climbing cliffs in time for an after work climb .... ‘It ill becomes old men like me, whose pasts will scarcely bear the weight of scrutiny, to grow sanctimonious’.