landscape – Tales from Wild Wales

Letters to the Editor (5) …… or Spreading like wildfire (Part Three)

*Derelict cottage and burnt mountain ash tree in the Rhinogydd.*

At the end of part two (click to read) in this series I asked rhetorically what NRW (and the fire service) were doing in the Rhinogydd during the wildfire there in July this year. Shortly afterwards an article appeared on the Cambrian News website, and I wrote following response:

The fire started on Thursday July 9^th (not the 12^thas your article stated) when, allegedly, a gas stove being used by a wildcamper was knocked over and set fire to nearby vegetation. It spread, as they say, like wildfire. At some point over the weekend the farmer at Cwm Bychan (or perhaps the landowner) called in a helicopter pilot to extinguish the fire on his land, which he successfully did. The pilot offered his services to NRW in order to extinguish the fire on Crown land nearby but they turned his offer down, claiming that he was not qualified to do so.

By Monday morning (July 13^th) the fire had spread from Cwm Bychan eastwards into the Rhinogydd National Nature Reserve and by that afternoon seven fire engines were present in Cwrt forestry plantation to the east of the mountains. But what were they doing there? There seemed to be no attempt to prevent the fire spreading further into the NNR.

By Tuesday afternoon (July 14^th) the fires around Cwm Bychan were more or less out but the whole east side of Rhinog Fawr was ablaze and there had been no apparent attempt to put it out. So what exactly had the Fire Service and NRW been doing all that time?

A little bit more about Rhinog Fawr; it is a National Nature Reserve, Special Area for Conservation and Site of Special Scientific Interest. Furthermore, “because of its remarkable natural condition” it is also a Wales’s only “bioenergetic reserve”, so described because it is “one of a network of special sites across Europe chosen for their importance to try to preserve the genetic variety of European wildlife species – in this case heather”.

But not important enough for NRW to attempt to save the vegetation from fire, clearly. I believed that NRW and the Fire Service were doing nothing more than attempting to retain the economic value of the timber in Cwrt Forest. This was confirmed in a press release from the Welsh Government issued on July 23rd about wildfires in Wales. Among acres of verbiage it stated that in the Rhinogydd “key forestry assets have been protected.” I myself visited the area recently and saw the firebreaks which had been bulldozed along the eastern side of the plantation, which had been largely successful.

Since the fire NRW was widely criticised for being incompetent. But it is more than that. NRW is completely dominated by procedure and bureaucracy. It could not engage with a helicopter company actually on the spot, and qualified to put out wildfires, even in an emergency, because it was not on an approved list of contractors. NRW is also the result of an ill thought out merger of three different bodies, with three different priorities – forestry, water quality and nature conservation. It is not difficult to work out which of those three got the shortest straw in the new organisation.

Looking at the bigger picture, climate change deniers would also claim that this fire was the result of carelessness, rather than climate change; a wildcamper – who shouldn’t even have been there – knocking over a stove. Well yes, but how careless have we been to perform an unimaginably massive experiment in changing the composition of the atmosphere when for decades we have been warned what the result would be.

Climate chaos.

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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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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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As seen in the Game of Thrones (apparently)….

My partner Jane works at the Dyfi Biosphere reserve in Machynlleth, which has links to the Urdaibai Biosphere near Bilbao, in the Basque Country. So we decided to have a short holiday there in September. We’re both keen on train travel and it was a chance for me to use the Interrail pass which I had bought last December and which expired this month. So we took the sleeper train to Bayonne in France and then onward to Hendaye on the Spanish border. From there we transferred onto the narrow gauge (but electrified) line towards Bilbao. I can’t say I would recommend the latter. It took three hours and stopped at fifty-one stations! At each one the doors slid open and clanged shut, with numerous accompanying beeps. Think a three hour journey on the Tube and you’ve just about got it. But arrive we did, eventually. There is a very good network of local trains and buses in the Bilbao area so we used public transport exclusively while were there.

I knew little about the Basque Country before leaving and even less about the language. It’s fair to say that the distribution of letters in a Basque edition of Scrabble would be very different to the UK version……. X, Z and K would only score one point each, for starters! It is hilly and heavily wooded country with a dramatic coastline. One of the most well-known features of the latter is the islet of Gaztelugatxe – complete with a chapel dedicated to San Juan on its summit – linked to the mainland by a stone bridge. It is considered to be a pilgrimage site, and has always been a popular destination for visitors. It was used as a location in The Game of Thrones, and now, at busy periods, you need to book a ticket online before visiting. And there can still be queues. I knew nothing about this, of course, and was disappointed to discover that no passes were available for the day that I could visit. It took me a while to discover that in late September there were no longer any restrictions. Lucky me!

My visit started with a bus journey from Bermeo (the nearest town) well before dawn on a showery morning. It was still dark when the bus left me at the side of the road above the island. By the time I had reached the coastline it was light but no sun lit the island. A passing break in the clouds allowed a few sunbeams to hit the chapel but the camera was still in my bag. I then discovered that I had left my polariser in the hotel. This was becoming a habit!

However, when I got to the bridge and looked along the coastline things started took a turn for the better. Talk about moody! Stormy skies, rock stacks, skerries with white water breaking over them, and rain showers passing across the landscape. I decided that long exposures using a neutral density filter would make the best of the conditions. Without a tripod I had to brace the camera carefully against a stone wall and rely on the image stabilisation for which Olympus kit is renowned. I took a series of exposures in the region of 1.6 to 4 seconds long and hoped for the best. Short breaks in the cloud even allowed the sun to illuminate the most prominent stack, leaving everything else in shadow. All my extremities were crossed at this moment! And the islet with its chapel was illuminated for short periods of time too.

I spent hours processing some of these photographs on my return home to the UK. Most of the long exposures needed some serious sharpening, but taking into consideration how long they actually were, that’s not surprising. Without the latest technology they would have been virtually impossible (without a tripod), say, ten years ago. Thank goodness I had arrived early because by mid-morning the area was thronged by visitors. And thank goodness it hadn’t been a blue sky day!

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Some reflections on my Pembrokeshire trip.

After a session trying to photograph St Davids Cathedral (click to read), I decided to go for a coffee. It was while I drank it that I had a brain wave. Why not take a wildlife cruise out from St Justinians later in the day? Conditions seemed perfect. So I compared the options available from the various boat operators in St Davids and chose a ninety minute “evening shearwater cruise” leaving at 6.30 p.m. I was so sure I would have some great photographic opportunities from the boat that I slouched around the St. Davids area for most of the day. I suppose some measure of complacency had crept in.

Come 6.30pm I boarded the boat. It was a RIB with fixed seats and once seated the punters were expected to stay in place. The boatman told us that “every seat is a front row seat”. The company owner was on board with four of her friends; needless to say they had the best seats – at the front. We were then informed that – actually – there were very few shearwaters around at the moment. Once underway we did a clockwise half-circuit of Ramsey Island: this meant that those in the seats on the starboard (right-hand) side of the boat (and the front…..) had uninterrupted views of the few seals in the caves and coves. I was on the port side – and it was very frustrating. Then we headed a couple of miles offshore to search for shearwaters, and there were a few, but all very distant. It also occurred to me that there were hardly ANY seabirds around at all. I should have known better than to book a wildlife cruise at the end of August when most of the seabirds would have left the cliffs several weeks earlier.

But the boat company should have warned potential passengers that this would be the case. Falcon Boats was the culprit in this instance but I’m sure they all do it. I’ll certainly be far more careful before going out on a tourist boat again.

I recounted in this post how I managed to get some good photographs of an osprey from the Curlew hide at the Teifi Marshes on the journey down. There were other photographers in the hide and a few visitors popped in and out. The “locals” engaged in conversations with each other over the heads of other people in the hide. On the way back I called in there again and inside was another bunch of local photographers in there. They talked very loudly to each other about some incident in a car park that one of them had experienced. It was as if they owned the place. How must other people in the hide have felt about this? It was so rude. I left suddenly and shut the door after me. I wished I had slammed it harder to make my feelings known.

The problem with the Teifi Marshes is that access to the hides is via a multi-use path from Cardigan to Cilgerran that is frequently used by non-birders, including families with small children and dogs. In fact, judging by some of the vehicles I have seen in the car park, the path is also popular with commercial dog-walking and child-minding operators. Some of these people have no idea of how to behave in a hide. Several years ago one of the latter, complete with toddlers and a pram, crammed themselves into one of the hides and began chattering away to her friend. I asked her to keep the noise down and was met with a mouthful of the foulest language you can imagine.

Hide etiquette can be tricky. I’ve often enjoyed conversations with fellow birders in hides and the exchange of information there can be useful. I’m happy to help less experienced visitors with bird ID as well. Sometimes a position in the front row of a hide is a very valuable asset and the photographer is reluctant to give it away. I’ve done it myself – at the Snettisham wader roost, for example. My thinking went something like this: “I got up really early, walked two miles to get here, waited for my turn and I’m damn well going to take my time.” But there is no excuse for the rudeness I experienced that day in Cardigan.

Well, I know this post has been a bit of a moan. We all like a moan sometimes but sometimes there are good grounds for it. Just don’t get me started on the dog-owners who don’t control their pets while out in the landscape!

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Watching me, watching you.

Following a successful and worthwhile visit to the Teifi Marshes, culminating in a stunning photograph of an osprey carrying a fish (click to view) , I continued towards St Davids. One of my very best postcard customers has a shop there and I had been asked to do some more designs of the area. I have to consciously think “postcard” when this is the objective. I suppose I expect other people to have the same visual sense as I do. It was a sunny day with little cloud and a rather dusty atmosphere – not surprising considering all the dry weather we have had this summer. Long distance visibility was not great.

And I couldn’t find my polarising filter. I had “mislaid” (not quite officially “lost”) my first choice polariser and could mentally picture my spare sitting on the desk at home. I don’t use one for bird photography but find it indispensible for landscapes. Without it, what would I actually do on this trip? I decided to concentrate on the area around the Cathedral and Bishops Palace, both situated in the shallow valley of the River Alun, west of the main built up area. I was on the edge of the woodland overlooking the Bishops Palace when I happened to glance upwards – and there was a fox calmly looking down on me as I went about my business.

*_{First sight of the fox (ISO 1600, 1/13 sec at f4)}*

The only lens I had with me (a 12-100 mm zoom) was long enough. I had time to adjust various settings for optimal quality, but I was grateful for the image stabilisation built in to the lens. By this time light levels were rather low.

Eventually the fox carried on its way. I quietly followed it on a parallel path and then, reaching a track, went upwards. The fox re-appeared from the vegetation and looked at me silently again. I took another burst of images, including the main photo above. I’m going to have to admit here that there was some extraneous and out-of-focus vegetation around the animal but I found it was easy enough to remove it using Lightroom’s AI Removal tool. (Almost too easy, really: where will it end?) None of these images would win the Wildlife Photographer of the Year for that reason , but I’m contented enough. What do you think?

*_{Would this make a good postcard, I wonder?}*

I had a fitful night’s sleep, waking about 4 a.m. and frantically ransacking the van again for my polariser, but to no avail. Come the morning I looked through my bag again and there was the polariser. It was just sitting there in one of the pockets. How could I have missed it?? So it was over to the Cathedral with a spring in my step. As well as being a crucial photographic tool for me I think it must also be a comfort blanket. The Cathedral has surely been photographed a million times and it was difficult to envisage anything different, especially with a postcard in mind. I spent a while around the Cathedral grounds trying to find something new but I’m not sure I succeeded.

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Into the ice cave……

Earlier in the year in a post about willow/marsh tits I happened to mention that I had been in the Swiss Alps during March. How did that come about? Well, if I had had a bucket list it would have contained two must-do’s ; revisit Venice and travel across the Alps by train on the route of the Bernina Express. Using the indispensible “Man in Seat 61” website* I discovered that I could do both on one trip – travel out to Venice on a sleeper train, and back over the Alps via the Bernina Express. Talk about killing two birds with one stone!

I had four days in Venice followed by three elsewhere on “The Lagoon”, and then made my way to the Swiss border for the start of the scenic route. And scenic it certainly was, but not in the way I was expecting. For most of the three days I was in and around the Alps the cloud was well below mountain top level and fine snow fell almost continuously. Think hill fog and drizzle at 6000 feet altitude and temperatures around zero. While in some ways this was disappointing, it was very atmospheric.

I stayed in Pontresina, a resort not far from St Moritz. Winter sports are very big there, as you can imagine, particularly cross-country ski-ing. There is a network of XC trails which are apparently swept every morning to make sure conditions are just-so for the skiers. Walkers are also well catered for; there are two low level, easily do-able (even in complete snow cover) walks from Pontresina; one up Val Roseg to a mountain hotel famous for its cakes (I had cheesecake) ; the other involving a short train ride then an uphill walk towards the ice-cave at the mouth of the Morteratsch Glacier. I say ‘towards’ because the first section is easy enough but then you need to go off-piste, upwards and cross-country. I doubted whether I would be capable of it. For one thing my walking boots were completely unsuitable for deep snow. I decided to go for it anyway and see what might happen.

*_{My Swiss friend inside the ice cave}*

Shortly after leaving the railway station I fell in with another man who was going my way. He was from a town not far away, a proper mountaineer and a photographer to boot, and kitted out for the occasion with camera bag, tripod, heavy duty footwear and XC skis. He was heading for the glacier. We talked photography and landscape non-stop and in what seemed like no time at all had arrived at the end of the marked trail. Here he persuaded me – in the nicest possible way – to accompany him to the ice cave. I couldn’t say no! So he jammed his skis into the snow, left them there, and we set off. When progress got more difficult he loaned me his walking poles, and even carried my camera bag for me in the trickiest sections. How kind of him!

I can’t say it was easy even with his help, in some places wading through deep drifts of soft snow overlying boulder scree, but we did eventually arrive. At that point we did our own thing, he with his heavyweight full frame Nikon gear including a clutch of prime lenses and me with my puny (but effective) micro 4/3rds set-up. A guided walking group arrived before we left and they formed a nice contrast to the primeval scenes within the cave. I found myself particularly visually drawn to a ribbed ice formation just outside the cave entrance, which allowed some nice abstract images..

It was soon time to leave as I had a train to catch – the first stage in my journey home. I slithered and slid down to the trail where we parted ways again. He had been so patient with me! We said our goodbyes, he fitted his skis and was soon whizzing away downhill. I walked quickly back to the station and ….. surprise, surprise ….. there was a restaurant with a fine selection of cakes! Earl Grey tea and a slice of apricot tart for me please!

* NB : For anyone considering long distance rail travel to or in Europe or elsewhere I cannot recommend The Man in Seat 61 website highly enough.

www.seat61.com

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