Tales from Wild Wales

Spreading like wildfire (Part Two)

*_{The “Roman Steps” climbing through burnt ground in the Rhinogydd.}*

The following day I woke early. I could see the fire still burning away but decided to keep well clear of the immediate area. I drove around the northern flank of the Rhinogydd towards Harlech and then cut across to Cwm Bychan on minor roads. The lower atmosphere amongst and to the west of the mountains was thick with blue and/or orange haze and visibility was poor. In normal circumstances my camera would have stayed in its bag but the intention was to document the conditions. I stopped several times to take photographs as I made my way slowly along a gated road (at least seven gates!) into Cwm Bychan. I think they capture the atmosphere quite well.

On reaching the “main” valley road into Cwm Bychan I came across a very definite “Road Closed|” sign. At this point I parked up, had a coffee in the van and put my walking feet on. But did “road closed” also mean no access to pedestrians? It wasn’t clear. Road walking is not my favourite activity but there seemed to be no alternative. After about an hour I reached Llyn Cwm Bychan; I could see that the crags on the other side of the lake had been burnt out, with small patches of vegetation still smouldering. At the farm there was no sign that footpath access to the Roman Steps (and the fire!) was forbidden so I carried on. Fire had fortunately not reached the ancient oak woodland on the lower slopes but as I emerged into open uplands I could see plenty of burnt ground. I carried on upwards along the Roman Steps towards the watershed.

The Roman Steps are definitely not Roman. However the rock laid in medieval times to allow sheep and cattle to be herded eastwards towards markets in east Wales and England did form a partial firebreak. For quite long stretches the flames had not apparently been powerful enough to jump from one side of them to the other.

Signs of the main fire to the east side of the mountains were becoming more obvious so I decided to turn back. I didn’t want to be a victim of the fire or the Emergency Services’ anger! I’d taken a range of images of the burnt ground and have posted the best one at the top of this post. I feel it works on more than level; it shows the results of the fire but also has abstract qualities. I drove home the way I had arrived, via Trawsfynydd; from the main road south it was clear that the entire eastern side of Rhinog Fawr was ablaze. How could this tragedy have happened? What were NRW and the Fire Service actually doing?

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Spreading like wildfire (Part One)

Last week I shrugged off my mid-summer photography slump, dusted off my camera bag and headed off into north Wales. I had heard there was a wildfire in Cwm Bychan in the midst of the Rhinogydd, a range of rugged and wild mountains (and National Nature Reserve) between the Mawddach and Dwyryd estuaries. I thought it might be interesting and useful to document it – if it was still burning. My plan was to drive towards Trawsfynydd , turn off westwards along a minor road into a forestry carpark, and then head further west on foot along the “Roman Steps” a public footpath through the mountains into Cwm Bychan.

Just a few miles north of Dolgellau it became clear that a wildfire was still burning in the Rhinogydd. A blue-ish haze suffused the landscape. It was genuinely unsettling and this feeling was accentuated when a fire engine hurried northwards, blue lights flashing. A gate barred the minor road I planned to take and a sign warned that it was closed ahead. Smoke billowed from the mountains several miles to the west. I reckoned that if the road was “closed ahead” I could legally drive as far as the point where it was actually closed. So I headed along it towards the mountains.

After faffing around for a while, and then trudging and floundering on foot upwards across a wasteland of molinia tussocks, I finally reached a point from where the source of the smoke could be viewed across the treetops. It became clear that the fire which had begun in Cwm Bychan on the western flank of the Rhinogydd more than a week earlier was now burning on the eastern flank, It had, as they say, spread like wildfire.

*Looking back inland, Arenig Fawr to the left on the far horizon. In the foreground one of several restored hut circles.*

From my viewpoint I could hear vehicles driving along forestry tracks but they couldn’t be seen. I had no real idea what fire-fighting activity – if any – was taking place. Although a breeze was blowing the smoke south-eastwards, the fire itself appeared to be progressing slowly northwards. Very strange!

After taking a series of images, the best of which is reproduced at the top, I returned to my van and a quick mug of tea. I continued up the road in the van but at the point where it enters the forestry plantation I could go no further. It really was closed here. What I had assumed was one fire truck going backwards and forwards must actually have been seven different fire trucks and they were all parked here. Dozens of fire-fighters were in attendance, plus a refreshment tent. They were surprised to see me and rather suspicious of my motives. “Are you the official photographer?” one asked me. It seemed that I had arrived just at the moment when most of the fire crew were being stood down. I heard the chief thanking them all for their hard work and I managed a few quick snaps before they left.

But the fire was still burning. It was more widespread than it had been earlier in the day. The great pall of smoke was still heading for Dolgellau and onward. What had they actually been doing?

Part Two will follow.

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Performing Well.

Earlier in June the birding media put out a “Mega Alert”. Forget the jargon, this meant that an exceptionally rare bird had been seen in the UK. It was, in fact, a Western Reef Heron, and it had been found near Penegroes, Gwynedd, where my friend Jonathan lives. I had been contemplating meeting up with him so this seemed to be an ideal chance to kill two birds with one stone – not literally of course. Fortunately he is also a birder. We met on the Monday and headed off straight away to Foryd Bay, on the coast just to the west of the village, and it wasn’t long before we saw a line of cars parked at the side of the coast road and then a gaggle of birders with tripods, telescopes and long lenses. We had arrived.

The western reef heron is clearly an elegant member of the heron family, very similar in structure and size to a little egret, with the exception of the bill, which is longer. In fact the two species can interbreed in areas where they occur together. The nearest population is in west Africa although the species is being seen more frequently these days in Spain and France. This individual is the first that has ever been seen in the UK; so perhaps it heralds the eventual colonisation of the UK by the species following the little, great white, and cattle egrets. Probably not in my lifetime, though…….

*Little egret on the left with lemon yellow feet. Reef heron on the right, with golden yellow feet.*

To use birders’ terminology the heron was “performing well”. I took a series of record shots but rather too soon the bird had flown and disappeared. It was refound roosting with grey herons at Caernarfon harbour, a few miles to the north. We were back on the coast the following morning, where it was feeding in exactly same muddy channel as the previous day. It flew again but was refound later in day at Caernarfon, roosting in the same tree. Obviously a creature of habit.

On the Wednesday morning we headed straight to Caernarfon where several dozen birders were already congregating on the harbour wall. The heron was feeding quite happily on the opposite side of the river, slowly walking along the muddy shoreline. I made a dash for the footbridge and walked a short distance upstream. Hiding amongst the boats pulled up on the mud I managed a series of fairly close-up images of the bird set against the colourful reflections of the town in the water. It was really a quite delightful experience!

What also impressed me was the behaviour of the other birders and photographers around the bird. It was all very good natured and there was none of the selfish behaviour sometimes (apparently) occurring at twitches. And the bird was not disturbed at all, as far as I could see.

Returning home and processing the images I realised that some of them would work well “Bird/land” style (see here for an explanation). I selected three and put them into the Bird/land template. I think it works very well.

Over the last week or so the reef heron has been doing a tour of the north Wales coastline, visiting Deganwy and Conwy RSPB reserve among other places. It emerged that it had also been photographed in Pembrokeshire during May, without being identified. It must like the Welsh coast, but where did it hide away unseen for almost a month?

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Coed Tamsin Part Four – Bob.

Although Coed Tamsin is owned by Felicia, her partner – Bob Shaw – is the heart and soul of the place. Philosopher, mystic, woodsman, teacher, and Friend of the Earth, Bob is truly one of a kind.

Born into a farming family in the south of England, he went to agricultural college there in the mid-1960’s, before moving to mid-Wales in 1969. I first met him around 1980 when he was a committed Buddhist (me less so…..), and we have met socially, in FoE, and elsewhere, over the years since then. Still somewhat “old-school”, he doesn’t have a mobile phone or computer of any kind. He has witnessed first-hand the intensification of agriculture over the last fifty years, and the consequent loss of wildlife this has entailed. And it hurts him. He can very eloquently explain how we need – and could return to – a countryside that is more nature-friendly; but, despite being very well read, he has never been able to commit his ideas down on paper.

A lifetime of manual labour can be seen in his hands. They wouldn’t feature in a nail-varnish advert, but they were one of the first things I wanted to photograph during the project. And it wasn’t difficult. He was a brilliant subject, never phased by the sight of a photographer lurking around as he worked. Although he never acted the prima donna, perhaps he secretly enjoyed being the centre of attention? He does deserve it!

Coed Tamsin is a monument to all the hard work that Bob has put into it. I do hope that when the time comes, he and Felicia will have found a buyer who will keep the spirit of the place alive. I’d like to think that my work there – available for all to see at the National Library in Aberystwyth – will provide a visual record of the place should all else be lost. It has been an honour for me to have been the person that created it.

For an introduction to the Coed Tamsin project, please click here.

Edit: I met Bob yesterday at Coed Tamsin. We talked wildlife, farming, and people we know in common. He suggested that people should walk silently around the wood, and try imagine where the “edge” was between them (the individual), and nature. He slips these ideas in during conversation, without you even noticing.

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Coed Tamsin Part Three : Beltaine

Well, the beginning of May arrived far too quickly! But conditions in the wood were ideal for photography: no wind with light cloud overhead. the latter ensured that levels of contrast under the trees were very manageable. By early afternoon the musicians and guests were arriving and soon the maypole was erected. As mentioned in the previous post, Beltaine 2025 was the inspiration for this project and this year’s celebration was due to be its finale. So I got busy with the camera.

*A sense of movement (click to enlarge)*

It was my intention to suggest a sense of movement around the maypole by slowing the shutter speed right down. In my opinion this tactic was successful although the movement is perhaps not as smooth as I would have hoped. There’s a good reason for this…… two rings of people surround the maypole, each person holding a ribbon, and each ring moves in a different direction. No wonder people were confused…. I think you can see it in their expressions.

I often moan about the wet and windy weather here on a west facing hilltop in coastal mid-Wales, but at least we are spared the exhausting, record-breaking heat the south-east of Britain is suffering from at the moment. After ten days down there recently it is a relief to get back home, catch up with work in the garden, and wonder what to do next. I may sneak in a final visit to Coed Tamsin – just to tie up a few loose ends!

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Coed Tamsin: Part Two – Bluebells

*The overwhelming beauty of springtime in Coed Tamsin*

Almost exactly twelve months ago I was a guest at one of Bob and Felicia’s parties in Coed Tamsin – this one to celebrate the coming of spring – otherwise known by its Celtic name of Beltaine. Bob had set up a maypole which at the appropriate time would form the centrepiece of the celebration. Now at the very thought of any kind of formation dancing I run a mile and this was no exception. I left the others to it with their coloured ribbons and all. I walked alone through the valley and discovered a patch of bluebells of such an intense blue that I decided I would have to return with my camera the next day to try an capture it. And so I did.

*That patch of blubells, early May 2025*

But that was not all. For years Bob had been inviting me into the woods, but I had never taken him up on the offer. I knew that the future of this special place was in question, with both Bob and Felicia being well past retirement age, and that no decision had yet been made about its future should one of them pass away. It came to me in a moment of certainty – this special place needed documenting before it was too late. To cut a long story short, and after a few sticky moments, the National Library of Wales in Aberystwyth agreed to purchase a set of prints of their choosing for their Collection.

Fast forward almost a year and the woods are looking spectacular. The sunny weather helps, of course, although for the photographer bright sun can be a disadvantage in woodland. Contrast levels can be terribly high. The bluebells are stunning, set off by a whole spectrum of fresh spring greens, and I feel I am blessed to have been able to spend so much time there. Just being there bathed in light and colour has sometimes been quite an emotional experience. Thank you Bob and Felicia.

Next Saturday is Beltaine again and out will come the ribbons and the maypole. This, I feel, will be the climax of my year in Coed Tamsin and this time I will be there with my camera to document it.

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Coed Tamsin – Part One

This is my favourite “sit spot” in Coed Tamsin. Bob has installed a bench here, and I believe has felled some trees/shrubs on the other side of the stream to enhance the view. I’ve been tempted to call him “Capability Shaw”! I’m full on with the project at the moment. Things change so fast in spring time. Blink and you miss it……….

For an introduction to my work in Coed Tamsin, please see this post.

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Coed Tamsin – an Introduction

It’s always good to have a photographic project on the go and since May last year I’ve been documenting a woodland near Aberystwyth. This has involved numerous visits during the course of the year which will culminate on Mayday 2026, the spring festival of Beltaine. I’ve been very lucky in that the National Library in Aberystwyth has agreed to purchase a set of prints of their choosing so that a permanent record will exist of the woodland and the activities taking place there. The following paragraphs have been written for the library as an introduction to the prints.

Coed Tamsin is a woodland a few miles from Aberystwyth belonging to Felicia Jervis, and managed by her partner Bob Shaw, a woodsman, environmentalist (and philosopher….) of many years experience. It was bought in 1987 as a memorial to Felicia’s daughter Tamsin, who had died the previous year in a road accident, at the age of 21. Tamsin’s father was John Jervis of Bryneithin Hall, Llanfarian, then a privately owned museum of Welsh country tools, other artifacts and techniques. Bob and Felicia’s intention was to manage the woodland for wildlife, people and timber, whilst also acknowledging John’s legacy.

Previously known as Flat Covert, Coed Tamsin was originally part of the Nanteos Estate. Prior to the purchase the woodland consisted largely of conifers and had long been neglected. Under new ownership the conifers were thinned or removed altogether, and broad-leaves planted using locally derived seed. Trees have been managed to produce good quality timber, coppice products, and material for woodland skills training. Alongside these aims, the enhancement of biodiversity has been a primary objective. In recent years the arrival of ash dieback and the consequent felling of mature trees has led to an explosion of woodland ground flora in spring.

Coed Tamsin has been used extensively over the years by groups of disadvantaged children and adults, for example, those excluded from school, or with learning disabilities, and recovering alcoholics. Groups from the Centre for Alternative Technology and elsewhere in the community received training in woodland management and green woodworking there. The changing seasons have regularly been celebrated at Coed Tamsin, with music, food and fire; notably at Beltaine, the Celtic May Day festival.

During 2025/26 the wood has been a meeting place for “Meini Hirion / Elders for Wales” – a project of the Welsh Government’s internal Culture Change Service which forms a core element of Wales’ response to the UN Convention on Biological Diversity.

At the time of writing the long-term future of Coed Tamsin is uncertain. There is no guarantee that ownership of the woodland will pass to someone sympathetic to the aims of the current owner and manager.

Photographer Jeremy Moore first visited Coed Tamsin in 1989 when working on his exhibition ‘After the Wildwood’. A photograph taken there appears in the exhibition catalogue. As a friend of Bob and Felicia he has visited the woodland on many occasions since then. However it was not until spring 2025 that he realised how important it was that this very special place should be documented before it was too late. He has since visited the wood many times in an attempt to present a picture of Coed Tamsin in perhaps its finest hour.

It’s impossible to choose one photograph to illustrate the whole project. So many photographic approaches have been involved…… landscape, documentary, portraiture and nature…….. But the one above goes some way to illustrate the links between nature and people which have been so important at Coed Tamsin over the last thirty-nine years. I’ll add some more images in separate posts over the next few weeks. So watch this space!

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Mulling it over……..

It was always going to be a bit of a punt, visiting the Isle of Mull at the end of February. I’m not going to tell a lie, the weather was pretty poor. While we were able to get outside every day, even if just for an hour in the evening, I can’t remember a single moment when the sun shone from a clear blue sky. Maybe a peek through thin cloud now and again on a good day…….

At that time of year we hoped to see eagles (golden and white-tailed) and…yes… we did. I surveyed eagles on Mull for the RSPB in 1981, before sea eagles became established. It became apparent that the island was just bursting with golden eagles. Where a territory had no suitable tree- or cliff nesting sites, they would nest more or less on the ground. I’m sure I didn’t find them all but it was thought that there were probably 25 pairs on the island.

There has been a school of thought that during the following decades, as white-tailed eagles successfully colonised the island, golden eagles might be driven out of their territories, especially along the coast. But on the evidence of our visit that did not seem to be the case. Most of our eagle sightings were of birds high in the sky a quarter of a mile away or more and nearly all of them were goldens. While we did see some white-tails they tended to be closer to ‘civilisation’ and thus easier to see. I know this is very poor evidence to support any kind of theory but it was interesting. I’d love to know the truth.

This white-tailed eagle drifted across to take a look at us on our first evening.

But the eagles were by no means the only highlight of the week. Our last morning was wonderful, with little wind and blue skies. From the Oban ferry I picked out what I first thought was a group of small cetaceans. Further observation suggested they were probably blue-fin tuna; I’ve searched online for ID pointers but most websites are far more concerned with catching them than identifying them! Wintering great northern divers were common and the chocolate shop at Craignure was wonderful! Perhaps my most enduring memory was of an otter at the narrow mouth of a sea-loch, Loch Spelve. Sitting onshore and looking across the water I noticed a disturbance mid-channel and it turned out to be an otter, heading inland from the ocean. Every so often it would appear for a few seconds, then dive, its conical tail being the last part of its body to be visible. It came onshore briefly and I managed to get some photographs of it before it headed off again.

Otter , probably sprainting, Loch Spelve.

I’m trying to get in touch with Dave Sexton, the RSPB’s “man on the ground” on Mull (now retired) for some thoughts on the relationships between golden and white-tailed eagles on the island. If I get a reply, I’ll update this.

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Should I? What if?

After rousing myself from the sofa a couple of evenings ago I noticed my phone on the kitchen table. It showed a very high red aurora alert. I cursed my laziness when I saw that it had been red all evening! I rushed outside and through a break in the cloud – a rare phenomenon in itself – I could see that that, yes, the sky looked rather “different”. I threw on some more layers , grabbed my camera and tripod and walked along the road. As explained previously we live on an exposed east-west ridge with (almost) unobstructed views to the north and south – ideal for seeing the Northern Lights. I soon came across a couple who were obviously aurora watching. They had come up from the nearest village and told me how amazing it had been and showed me pictures on their phones. I was downcast but set the tripod up anyway; and soon noticed that the camera was almost out of battery! So it was back to the house and more piddling about. Finally almost semi-organised, I came back out just in time to discover that cloud was, by then, almost 100%. A popular photographic maxim in the past was “1/125th second at f8 and be there”. Those settings are clearly not appropriate for photographing the aurora but the last requirement certainly is and I had failed it completely!

2024 had been an excellent year for seeing the aurora here in west Wales, as it was in many other parts of the country. Twice – in May and October – I saw spectacular displays with a further moderate display on my birthday in September. So I’d had some fairly recent experience of the pitfalls and problems involved in aurora photography. I wrote about these experiences in this post and this post . In the former I said I could write a book on aurora photography: I was exaggerating, of course, but I do find the subject absolutely fascinating., and not only in a technical, “how to” sense.

I explained in this post why it is that we see much less colour in the aurora when we look at it in “reality” than when see a photograph of it. To summarise, our eyesight is more sensitive to black-and-white than colour at low light levels. It is just the way our eyes work. So a digital sensor (or even film) will pick up more colour than our eyes do. The sensor is more “objective ” than our eyes are. Even that, I suspect, is a generalisation: The first time I ever saw the northern lights – in about 1984 – I was with a friend. My memories of that event were of a white-ish or pale green aurora, whereas he remembers a colourful one. There must be individual differences in the human ability to pick up colours at low light levels.

Another consideration might be how our camera (or phone) is set up to take and produce the photographs. When the photographer sees the result of their shutter press on their phone or the rear screen of the camera, they are looking at a jpeg file , already automatically processed by the device to give optimum results no matter what the subject is. Other photographers set their camera up to produce a raw file only, which needs to be manually processed using software (such as Lightroom) designed specifically for the task. When downloaded onto a computer the raw file usually looks like a dull version of reality, which needs individual treatment to get the best out of it. The camera also produces a jpeg which is what appears on the rear screen. And over- or under- exposure will affect the intensity of the colours in the digital file. Yet another variable!

Anyway…….. yesterday evening had been more or less cloudy but by 11 pm there were signs of a clearance coming up from the south. As I lay in bed , through the window I could see that the sky between broken cloud looked paler than normal. Could it have been a full moon effect in some way? No…. that was about a fortnight ago. I lay there considering the pro’s and con’s of leaving my warm and comfortable cocoon. Should I? What if? Steadily and calmly adding layer after layer of warm clothing and collecting my camera gear from several different locations (ever organised, me……) I was outside by about 11.20 pm. and straight away could see an aurora with the naked eye.

I had mounted a fixed focal length Panasonic 9mm f1.7 lens on the camera (18mm full-frame equivalent). While this is too wide for most situations I had purchased it partly with the Northern Lights in mind. Its main advantage is the f1.7 aperture. This allows much shorter shutter speeds to be used, and it gives an excellent depth of field, even open wide. I set the tripod up and pressed the shutter. I was elated on seeing the result. A deep crimson was visible on the rear screen which was barely visible to the naked eye, while the off-white/pale green colouration which had been visible became a deep lime green. Over the next fifty minutes the intensity of the aurora diminished steadily and although I waited for it to be re-invigorated it wasn’t to be.

One final philosophical consideration, though. If we can’t literally see something, does it really exist? My feeling is that it does.

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