Category: General Interest Articles

Articles of general interest on no particular subject

Recycling Bag Suggestions

Recycling Bag Suggestions

After a recent very windy rubbish/recycling collection day, I have been reflecting on the small changes we could all make to help improve our great village.

I am lucky that a kind neighbour will bring my recycling bins and bags to my front door, and tuck them safely away, if I am not at home. I appreciate that some people are out at work all day and cannot take their receptacles in promptly; I also appreciate that when it is very windy these things quickly blow away once they have been emptied. After this recent windy Friday I found myself in possession of an extra blue bag and an extra orange bag – 6 days later they still hadn’t been claimed (I, for one, couldn’t afford to lose these too often – they do cost money to replace!). If they’d only had a house number written on them I would happily have returned them to their rightful home. Please folks – take 5 minutes to label your bins and bags, and there’s a chance we wouldn’t end up with so many strewn around certain streets on a regular basis.

On a similar note, perhaps I could suggest that at the same time people take another 5 minutes to look up the current recycling guidelines and refresh their memory. I came outside on that same day to see my front lawn strewn with rubbish that filled half a black bag when collected. This was clearly the contents of someone’s plastic recycling bag – but amongst this waste was black plastic (not suitable for plastic recycling) and dirty food containers (which should be rinsed out and clean before being put in recycling). Cleaning up someone else’s dirty food containers, particularly in the current climate of this health pandemic, is not how I would choose to spend part of my Friday afternoon.

 

Let’s keep our lovely little village looking it’s best!

Burdons Close

 

 

The Chainworks Of Brown Lenox

THE CHAINWORKS OF BROWN LENOX
‘Not the cheapest, but the best’

Established as Samuel Brown & Co., but changing to reflect the financial support of Samuel Lenox, this is a multi-stranded business story that covers the development of iron chain cables and suspension bridges. Brown Lenox figures strongly in the industrial history of south Wales and beyond. First and foremost it was a commercial undertaking, started by Samuel Brown and his Welsh born smith and works manager Philip Thomas, to manufacture iron chains for the anchoring, mooring and even the rigging of ships. It would lead to the establishment of purpose built chainworks at Millwall on the Thames and Newbridge (Ynysangharad) at Pontypridd, the latter works supplying round eye bar suspension chain for Brown’s chainbridges. In the field Brown was the first to erect iron level deck suspension bridges in the country, and the Newbridge works produced the major part of the chainwork for his suspension bridges with maritime chain cable production beginning in 1818.

Captain Sir Samuel Brown, to give him his full title, died in 1852, outliving Samuel Lenox who died in 1836. Lenox’s nephew George William Lenox took over the management of the works in 1840 after the death of Philip Thomas; the family name still represented at the works by a Lenox into the 1950s. In 1969 Brown Lenox became a wholly owned part of the F H Lloyd Group and with the change of ownership came new products particularly quarry plant; ore and waste processing machinery under licence. The last chain cable order was for the Cunarder QE2.

Part of the site had been sold off to form a retail estate in 1987 and the site finally closed in 1999 drawing an end to one of the longest standing and consistently successful companies in Wales with a history as celebrated as any in the country

 

 

A Day To Remember On Skis

A DAY TO REMEMBER ON SKIS

It was a Saturday morning in the early spring and I had woken up in Chamonix, the historic town in the heart of the French alps under the shadow of the mighty Mont Blanc. We were having a rest day and planned to do one of the longest ski descents in Europe, a 20 km run called the Vallee Blanche. But first breakfast was calling and off we went to the restaurant for our baguette, croissants and coffee. Candidly we never felt that the French quite hit the mark with their breakfasts, but they were just about worth get-ting out of bed for.

Vallee Blanche

It was rather inconvenient that the main cable car we needed to use to reach the Aiguille du Midi, our starting point, was closed for repairs so we decided to drive our minibus through the Mont Blanc tunnel into Italy and to take the cable car up from that side. Hearing our conversation over breakfast a French mountain guide asked if he could join us, as he too had the day off and would like to ski the Vallee Blanche with us. So we welcomed Yves to the party and set off for Italy. We caught the first possible cable car to reach Pointe Helbronner from where we could put on our skis and ski down to join our original route back to Chamonix.

Sadly the weather at the top station was awful, a full white out which is a condition when the sky and snow appear as a white sheet in front of you which makes skiing and navigation really tricky. So we drank the inevitable coffees until it cleared. When it did we shot out of the door to make up for lost time and readied ourselves for this challenging ski descent down a glacier. As we lined up, Yves asked if he might lead us down and we thought that was a good idea as, being a Chamonix guide, he would know the safest route. So he went first, followed by John our guide who carried a rope, and I skied at the back of the group with a spare rope. We all started off in high spirits.

It was good to be skiing at last. Yves called back that we should follow his tracks as he picked his way be-tween the visible crevasses of the Geant glacier. After a few minutes, Yves and John stopped and we all pulled up, keeping a safe distance between each other. Yves had decided to rope up with John so that if he fell down an unseen crevasse John would be able to arrest his fall with the rope. Being guides they were quick and professional and in a few minutes, someone shouted that Yves had gone. I replied that was fine and we would follow on shortly. “No – he has really gone!” came the reply. In fact, as soon as he had skied off he had fallen straight down a deep crevasse. John had done a textbook arrest by simply dropping down with his skis at a right angle to the pull of the rope, which otherwise might have dragged him in on top of Yves. I told everyone to stay still and went forward with my spare rope ready to carry out a much-practised crevasse rescue of Yves. First I had to establish a belay or anchor, so I took off my skis and thrust the first one deep into the snow – to my horror the snow, about the size of a table, fell away at my feet and I was staring into a deep ice-cold blue crevasse and I was about to fall into it. Quickly I put my skis back on to spread my weight and I moved towards John. A crevasse fall is very serious. It can result in a head injury or broken bones which make extraction more difficult. In the worst case the victim becomes wedged at the bottom, where the sides narrow, and body heat melts the ice which soon refreezes and locks the body to the ice. In this case we knew from his shouts that Yves was uninjured and together we set up a pulley system and hauled Yves out, not without a few Gallic expletives on his part. Alas, he had lost a ski down the crevasse but was otherwise fine; only his pride was hurt. We were lucky to get away so lightly from this potentially dangerous incident.

Shocked as he was he insisted on leading again, now skiing with great skill and balance on a single ski. Amazingly he soon disappeared over the lip of an-other crevasse, but this time John had him on a tight-rope and he did not go far down. Again we pulled him out but we had a long descent to make which on his one ski would have been very difficult. So we made our way to the Requin hut at the side of the glacier where the kindly guardian gave us coffee and found a spare ski for Yves to use. Our adrenalin reserves were running low – it was good to take a breath.

We were now past the Geant icefall and the crevasse risk was behind us, so we skied down happily as far as we could to a point where the snow runs out. Here we took off our boots and put on the trainers we had packed in our rucksacks for the hike up a steep path, to join a modern metal staircase which had been built to give summer visitors easy access to the glacier. At the top of the steps was the small train station of Montenvers. This was the end of the line for a narrow-gauge railway, using a rack and pinion system, which was built in 1908 for the Victorian tourists. How we wished the service was running that day, but sadly it was not so we set off for the long walk back to Chamonix. Our various diversions had set us back so the sun was setting as we reached the town where we quenched our thirsts with good French beers at the Bar National. It really had been a day to remember.

 

 

Forever Amber

FOREVER AMBER

On the landing in Gran’s little house was a large oak chest of drawers on which rested the treasured family Bible. In those days just about every home had one and I remember being fascinated by the contents – the faithfully recorded entries in fading ink, the sepia photographs of long-dead relatives, clothed on their Sunday best clothes, glaring ferociously at the camera, the papery pressed flowers from long ago all of which gave me some idea of life in those times. What happened to these treasures I will never know.

The drawers of the chest were largely taken over by household linen, delicately perfumed with dried lavender from Gran’s garden, but one drawer was devoted to what she called her ‘special things’ which she treasured above all else. There were gloves and a handbag in the softest leather with an amber clasp, a set of beautifully illustrated postcards entitled “The Volunteer Organist” from the 1914-1918 War and lastly two long necklaces, one of jet beads and the other of amber, only worn on Sundays to go to chapel. As a child I was allowed to play with these things, if I behaved myself.

Imagine my surprise recently when I chanced on the TV show, ‘Flog It’, as far as I could tell, an identical necklace of amber beads went under the hammer for £830.00, to the astonishment of the vendors who had put a reserve of only £200.00 on it.

Sadly all Gran’s treasures are lost in the mists of time, but when I next have a good sort- out , I shall pay more attention to what I’m discarding which my family might appreciate.‘

Point of interest.— ‘Forever Amber’ is the title of an historical novel by American author, Kathleen Windsor and was first published in 1944.

 

 

Reflections on Wenvoe – A Caring Village

REFLECTIONS

The current situation we find ourselves in has allowed time for reflection.

I am thankful for:- My family, albeit that I can only see the grandchildren and other relatives via facetime

My health; neither my family nor I having suffered COVID19;

My job offering me security and allowing me to work from home and not risk bringing infection home.

I wonder just how many times in conversation I have uttered the phrase ‘well, in the grand scheme of things’, when considering some minor mishap or inconvenience.

Then I got to thinking about the wider picture, and this is when I came to the conclusion that I am very fortunate to be living in Wenvoe. Having lived here for over thirty years, you tend to take things a little for granted. Looking back over the years, I have been involved with and in so many organisations:

Toddler Group, Playgroup, PTA, Beavers, Wenvoe Junior Football, Judo, Dance Classes, Keep fit, Cubs, Badminton, Scouts, Village Hall, Pilates, Tuesday Group, Wenvoe Library, Gwenfo School, Wenvoe Youth Club, Wenvoe Arms, St Mary’s Church, Wenvoe Choir, Wenvoe What’s On, Wenvoe Reuse and Recycle.

Then there’s the attendance at various fetes, fayres, coffee mornings, charity evenings, lectures, art and craft demonstrations and meetings. What a wonderful experience I have had. I would like to thank all of those people who have helped in making all of the above possible at any time.

Then we move to current times, and I find myself continuously amazed by how the people of Wenvoe have reacted to the situation we all have found ourselves in. Some people put up information boards in their gardens. Others provided their contact details to villagers, offering someone to talk to and assistance with chores. Cheering messages appeared on signs, changing on a weekly basis. The Easter Bunny walked the streets, waving at everyone and making them smile.

VE Day celebrations went ahead in a socially distanced manner, with several residents going above and beyond for the benefit of the rest of the village.

Footprints were painted outside the shop, including doggy prints, so everyone was reminded to keep their distance.

The Village Shop remained open, providing a much needed and appreciated service, and with a welcoming smile too. Local suppliers provided delivery/collection services.

People are conscientiously adhering to social distancing rules, stepping to one side or crossing into the road to ensure the 2 metre rule is observed. So many people participated in the Thursday Clap for

Carers. It was wonderful to see everyone out, clapping and waving to their neighbours. Some also took the opportunity for a socially distanced gossip.

Local tradesman have been available to assist with minor emergencies. Carers, delivery drivers, postmen, refuse collectors and others, too many to mention, have been thanked and offered gifts in recognition of their work. The What’s On has kept us up to date with current events.

Everyone is willing to offer advice and help on most subjects you can think of, and point you in the right direction. Villagers are happy to chat as you take your daily exercise. Everyone has been so friendly.

And for all of this I would like to say thank you to you all. I am, indeed, very fortunate to live in such a caring village. I’m not sure how much longer things will continue as they are, or when restrictions will be lifted, but I only hope I remember this feeling.

 

Again, thanks to you all.

 

 

Welsh Engineering and A Guinness World Record

GUINNESS WORLD RECORDS

The World’s Oldest Suspension Bridge And The Welsh Link

On 26th July 2020 an event was planned to commemorate the bicentenary of the Union Chain Bridge, including the unveiling of an International Historic Civil Engineering Landmark plaque by the American Society of Civil Engineers, Institution of Civil Engineers (ICE), and Japan Society of Civil Engineers, for the 200 year-old Union Chain Bridge at Berwick-upon-Tweed. Prior to this the bridge was to undergo a major restoration, the plaque to be cast in the USA and a special anniversary booklet prepared. Whilst work on the bridge had been delayed, it was not going to upset the celebrations but of course the event was upset, like normal everyday life, by COVID – 19.


In 1820 Union Chain Bridge united England and Scotland by spanning the Tweed with Welsh iron, iron chain links made in Newbridge, Pontypridd. The works that made the chains, Brown Lenox, used to be a prominent sight along the A470 through Pontypridd up to closure in 1999 and now is Sainsburys. Founded by Captain Sir Samuel Brown, it was opened in 1818 for the manufacture of maritime iron chain cables and Brown decided to manufacture a new line here, that of iron chain suspension bridges. In this field he was the first in Britain to erect iron suspension bridges for road traffic following James Finley’s lead in erecting the first bridge of this type in America in 1801. Newburyport in Massachusetts was the last surviving Finley designed bridge. But it is akin to Trigger’s broom or Washington’s axe, in that the road deck, chains and towers have been replaced, only the abutments remain to support what is a bridge of 1910 date. Union had beaten Telford’s Menai and Conway suspension bridges to opening by six years, so with its original chain, ironwork and masonry towers it can now claim to be the world’s oldest suspension bridge still open to traffic, although it is temporarily closed for restoration work at present!
So with the disappointment of a once in two hundred year celebration being cancelled, it was suggested by Chris Baglee, the conservation architect for the bridge restoration, that we get the Union Chain Bridge accepted by the Guinness World Records as the World’s oldest suspension bridge still carrying vehicles. I’ve just contributed a list of qualifications to support this and the nomination appears to have been accepted – so some compensation. Luckily we (ICE Wales Cymru) had celebrated the establishment of the Brown Lenox Chainworks and the bicentenary of start of work on the Union Chain Bridge at Pontypridd on 26 July 2019. The Friends of the Union Chain Bridge also unveiled a plaque on the same day to commemorate the start of work at Horncliffe near Berwick-upon-Tweed, where the bridge crosses from England over the river Tweed to Scotland – England and Scotland united by Welsh iron.

Stephen K. Jones

 

 

Trekking in the Himalayas

After my adventures in Kenya, and particularly, on Mt Kenya and Mt Kilimanjaro, it was time to leave Africa. Before leaving I received a phone call from BBC Radio Wales: my dad had rung in to tell them I was embarking on a trip to Everest. The interviewer tried to hide his disappointment when I said I was going trekking in the Himalayas, and would more than likely see Everest, but the intention was to bypass it rather than ascend the highest mountain in the world!

The plan was for myself and Jayne, a school friend from Wenvoe, to travel to India and Nepal and trek independently for 4-5 weeks through the Himalayas. Since the first ascent of Mt Everest, over 60 years ago, the Himalayas have become far more accessible to walkers. Hindu scriptures say that in “a hundred ages of the gods”, you could not do justice to the Himalayas. Choosing where to trek in this vast area (10 times the size of France) was difficult. We wanted to experience some of the highest mountains, gorges, forests, flowers, orchards, wild rivers, snow and sunshine that this region offers, as well as gain an insight into the different religions and cultures of the people who live in this area. We decided to start from Pokhara.

We flew into the bustling city of Delhi, where ear muffs to drown out the constant noise of horns, would have been a useful accessory. We arranged our bus transfer from Delhi to Kathmandu, then Pokhara. A crowded bus, with no air conditioning, but numerous live chickens, was our first challenge; the second was constantly saying “NO” to the insistent hands and pleading eyes of  villagers trying to sell us snacks through the bus windows at every stop.

Travel Route

Pokhara is a city on Phewa Lake and a gateway to many treks. The start of our trek was delayed by the onslaught of “Delhi belly”, something that my usual walkers at Cosmeston or Barry Island do not need to worry about!

Pokhara

Fully recovered and with rucksacks packed, we loaded ourselves onto the back of an open truck and were transported through the hills to start our trek. We knew there was a network of basic lodges to stay in, which provided local food so carried clothes and essential toiletries to get us through the next weeks. Lunch provisions had been brought from Wales: packets of crackers and jars of peanut butter! I am not sure Edmund Hillary had similar nutritional ideas when he made his final ascent but we thought instant energy would be important! The Nepalese children were intrigued by the peanut butter and were delighted to be offered a jar.

Trek Locations

We had deliberately chosen to do our trekking in April as there is no monsoon, the skies tend to be clearer and the hillsides are full of the most spectacular displays of bright red rhododendrons. Our trek was to take us through many small settlements and as we passed the villages of Landruk and Ghandruk we had stunning views of the Annapurna range. Ghandruk is a typical village of Gurungs with idyllic rural scenes, forests and a diversity of birds in the oak forests. At Tatopani, we had the luxury of immersing ourselves in hot springs. Tatopani means hot water in Nepali and the village gets its name from the hot springs that emanate from the rocks below the Kali Gandaki  river. The majority of people here are of ethnic Sherpa and Tamang. In Ghorepani( 3210m),  we got up early to climb Poon Hill and watch the sun rise over the colossal peak of Dhaulagiri, the 7th highest peak in the world. It was not a huge effort to get ourselves up as we had spent the night on straw beds in the kitchen in our lodging! The walking itself was not too difficult: there were trails to follow, friendly locals to point us in the right direction(always greeting us with a “Namaste”), rope bridges across gorges to navigate, the Kali Kandaki river to follow and narrow wooden beds in home stays or a mattress in a lodge, to rest up in between the walking.

Muktinath Vishnu Temple

Muktinath was the highest point on the trail (3710m).Muktinath is a Vishnu Temple, sacred to both Hindus and Buddhists. It is located at the foot of the Thorong La mountain pass and is one of the world’s highest temples.  It is an impressive sight and is visited by thousands of Hindu and Buddhist pilgrims every year. We were fortunate to have the place almost to ourselves. The peace and tranquillity of the temple, the awe inspiring snow covered mountains that surrounded us and the bright blue skies above us combined together to ensure this was the highlight of the trip.

AT Jomson there is a local airport, where many trekkers return by small planes to Pokhara.  Not us, we were walking back. The highlight on the return journey was Birethanti (1100m), a small village set at the foot of the Modi Khola valley. Mule trains set off from here to deliver goods to less well connected villages. Final stop was Nayapul, where a friendly truck driver picked us up and returned us to the relative comfort of a Pokhara hotel. After 30 days walking we could remove our walking boots!

In Nepal, the scenery, people and walking on our trek was special. But Cosmeston and Barry Island are special too:  you will be offered great scenery, a warm welcome, fresh air and time to reflect…… looking forward to meeting up again soon.

 

Namaste!

 

 

75th. Anniversary VE Day

A Personal Reminiscence

I was prompted, to put pen to paper, by the recent hype of the 75th anniversary of the end of WW 2, particularly the coverage of Captain Toms’ “100 years young”, raising £30 million plus for charity [ Isn’t he a marvel ], the Dan Snow BBC coverage of D-Day landings, WW2 history footage, etc. and lastly, the photo of Mike Tucker in uniform in the June “What’s On. I worked regularly with our uniformed lads and lassies during my career as an estate surveyor with the Ministry of Defence [MoD].

In 1970, I was posted from the Defence Land Agents [DLA] office, Dorchester to the DLA office in Dusseldorf which was responsible for the estate management of the military bases, airfields, married quarter sites, etc., in the north western part of Germany “policed” by the British Army of the Rhine [BAOR] area. At this time there was still two “wars/conflicts” in progress; the Cold War with Russia [Breznev, a hardliner, was the President at this time], its’ “Iron Curtain” allies and the conflict with the IRA in Northern Ireland.

During my first week, I had to attend indoctrination courses which involved the tactics of Russian/East German agent activities in Western Germany, particularly their movements, spying and possible infiltration by way of “honey traps”, etc. One eye opener of the course was the communication method of getting coded messages to their agents on the ground. This was done by a radio broadcast every day at exactly 10:00 hours from East Berlin by a female, nicknamed “Berlin Annie”. She would read out in a monotone staccato voice, a series of four numbers from 1 to 9: for example, zwei, sieben, acht, funf [ 2, 7, 8, 5 ] . drei, neun, eins, vier [ 3, 9, 1, 4 ] and so on for a period of about ten minutes. The agents would note these numbers and decode them into messages. By the time British Intelligence deciphered the messages, it was apparently almost too late to take any action.

The Russians were allowed to travel in vehicles in West Germany but they had to display a yellow background number plate with a number and Russian flag display with the wording underneath “SOVIET MILITARY MISSION BAOR” this was called a “SOXMIS” vehicle. If any of these were spotted during our travels around Germany we were to report the number and location immediately to the military police especially if the vehicles were in a restricted area such as a military installation, barracks, etc. As civilians, we apparently had the power to “detain” the vehicles by “boxing them in” !!!!!

As already mentioned, another “sinister war/conflict” was still continuing in Northern Ireland but the IRA were now expanding their operations outside of the UK – Several IRA activists were detained in Gibraltar about this time, for example. They were also now operating in Germany and the Netherlands. During 1972-1973, Dusseldorf barracks, where the DLA office was situated, was

subjected to periodic security alerts strongly tightened on intelligence of IRA presence in the area. Dusseldorf, the BAOR HQ at Rheindahlen and the RAF bases at Bruggen, Laarbruch and Wildenraath are closely situated to the Dutch border where British families often crossed to visit such places as Arnham, for example, and the nearest town of Roermond for its shops and cafes around its central square. It was here that the IRA targeted a cafe frequented by Brits and exploded a bomb which fortunately resulted in no serious casualties.

I had to travel to London on several occasions for meetings, briefings, etc. I always travelled on “Air Trooping” aircraft with military personnel on route to and return from Belfast. On one return flight back to Dusseldorf, I sat next to a corporal [Chris] who sat in the window seat. During our chats, he told me he was excited at returning, after six months duty, to see his three month old daughter for the first time. Half way into our flight, the captain announced that we were, for technical reasons, being diverted to RAF Gutersloh, an hour’s train journey to Dusseldorf and that relevant passengers would be given train passes and ferried on to the station. At this point, Chris started to become agitated, mumbling that he wasn’t going to see his first child. He eventually calmed down but on landing at Gutersloh, he suddenly tried to shoot out of his buckled seat shouting we are going to crash !!!. The reason for the outburst was the noise of the engine brake and he saw the wing flaps suddenly drop for further braking. This was obviously a case of PTSD [Post Traumatic Stress Disorder].

On the train from Gutersloh, I sat next to a Sergeant and his comrades who were also returning to Dusseldorf after their six months duty in Northern Ireland The train was travelling at a high speed when suddenly a another train passed us in the opposite direction, also at high speed, which produced a high sounded “WHOOOSH/THUD” which was frightening. The sergeant and several of his colleagues suddenly jumped into the aisle, taking up a kneeling/crouching position, holding imaginary rifles and furtively looked around the train. This was an eye-opener, witnessing the aftermath of what our lads had gone through and were still going through in defending our country and freedom. It is therefore disgusting that some have been and are still being persecuted for historical allegations of murder. Etc. It is understandable why our lads suffer from PTSD.

“Yn union”.

A Statue For Abolitionist Iolo Morganwg?

DOES THE VALE’S IOLO MORGANWG DESERVE A STATUE?

The current debate over statues and memorials brings to mind one of the Vale’s most notable historical figures, Edward Williams, better known by his bardic name, Iolo Morganwg. Iolo, born near Cowbridge in 1747, is the inventor of the Gorsedd of the Bards, the ceremonial gathering of druids at the National Eisteddfod. However he was also one of Wales’s best-known campaigners for the abolition of slavery. Below is an extract from one of his poems in which Iolo (who styled himself ‘The Bard of Liberty’) addresses the goddess Liberty.

 

 

Join here thy [i.e. Liberty’s] Bards, with mournful note,

They weep for Afric’s injur’d race;

Long has thy Muse in worlds remote

Sang loud of Britain’s foul disgrace.

In the mid 1790s, Iolo opened in Cowbridge, what was possibly the first Fair Trade shop in Wales. He once displayed the book ‘The Rights of Man’ in his shop window. Two government spies bought the book, thinking it to be banned work by the radical Tom Paine, only to find a copy of the Bible inside its covers. What better book to expound the rights of man, retorted Iolo to the enraged spies!

In line with his anti-slavery, Iolo refused to sell books to Bristol slave merchants and to sell West Indian sugar produced by slaves. Instead, he stocked East Indian sugar produced by free labour, with a sign in his shop window reading: ‘East India Sweets, uncontaminated with human gore.’

Ironically, his two brothers were prosperous sugar planters in Jamaica, owning 240 slaves. It seems Iolo could have gained substantially from the slave trade but refused any financial help from them, including a sizeable inheritance. ‘May the vast Atlantic Ocean swallow up Jamaica and all the other slave trading and slave holding countries before a boy or girl of mine eats a single morsel that would prevent him or her of perishing from hunger, if it is the produce of slavery.’

Iolo is a controversial character, deserving of praise but also not immune from criticism. In spite of his stance on slavery, by 1815 and in great debt, Iolo accepted £100 from the will of one of his brothers to pay off his debts and set his son up as a schoolmaster in Merthyr. This he knew was money made from the slave trade. As a Unitarian he was a religious man. He was a collector of medieval Welsh literature and did much to promote Welsh history and culture. On the other hand, on occasion he forged ancient documents. He was a great thinker, but also used the opiate laudanum; on the grounds it helped his asthma.

Iolo has several memorial plaques, including one at Primrose Hill in London and a blue plaque at his

Vale birthplace. He has a Welsh-language school, Ysgol Iolo Morganwg, named after him, and Super Furry Animals vocalist Gruff Rhys dedicated a song to him on his 2014 album, American Interior.

The writer and former archdruid T James Jones described him as a great visionary who realised Wales needed its own institutions such as the Senedd. James went so far as to argue that Iolo Morganwg deserves a statue in his honour in Cardiff Bay. It is topical to consider whether such a statue should be erected or if there was one there already, would there be justifiable calls for it to be removed

 

 

A Walk Leader’s Adventures

WALK LEADER’S ADVENTURES

Returning from a Kenyan safari in 1932, Ernest Hemingway had many trophies including buffalo hides and rhino horns. Four years later, in ‘The Snows of Kilimanjaro’, Hemingway described the summit of Kilimanjaro as ‘wide as all the world, great, high and unbelievably white in the sun’.

 

With no Living with Cancer or Carers walks to report on, attention turns again to the youthful experiences of this Walk Leader in ascending Mt Kilimanjaro – a dormant volcano in Tanzania. It is the highest mountain in Africa and the highest free standing mountain in the world at 5,895 metres above sea level. For this adventure 12 teachers, two 18 year old past pupils and the Head Teacher’s son made up the group.

An essential part of any venture outdoors is to ensure you are well prepared. On Kilimanjaro, the trekkers had a hard job collecting the down jackets, thermals, boots and woollen socks that were necessary for the trip, as living and working in Mombasa required little more clothing than shorts, T-shirts and cool cotton clothes to teach in. Most of the party begged or borrowed equipment from visiting relatives who were asked to add socks and bobble hats to their luggage of sandals and sunhats!

The convoy of three cars rattled and rolled along dirt tracks from Mombasa to the border. Here the guards took a particular interest in the cassettes we were playing and made it clear that the price of crossing the border was to ‘gift’ a large number of these cassettes to them! We arrived at our hotel just outside the Kilimanjaro National Park and excitedly planned for an early start the next day.

Day 1. We met our porters and guides at the Marangu Gate, the entrance to the park. The porters would carry our food, water and cooking gas whilst we would carry day packs with essential items: drinking water, snacks, spare clothes. The hike to our first stop, the Mandara Hut, 2,715m, would be about 5 hours through montane forest. The forest trail followed a stream, and we spent most of the trek in a thick mist under trees.

Porters

The main advice for high altitude trekking is, ‘GO SLOWLY’ or ‘Pole, Pole’ in Swahili. For the fitter, younger members of our group this proved difficult, even though they had been told to walk slowly and enjoy the scenery. Coming from 0 metres in Mombasa, the altitude was always going to be a challenge, so there were constant reminders to slow down: the slower you walk the more time is given for the body to acclimatise.

The Mandara hut was a welcome sight; the party settled down for the night. Everybody had made it.

Mandera Hut

Day 2. We set off to the Horombo hut, at 3,705m. We walked through a short section of forest before emerging into moorland. Here we could see the giant lobelia and giant groundsel. In the distance we could see, tantalizingly, the peak of Kibo.

Moreland Walk

At the Horombo hut, the trek, unfortunately, finished for one member of our group. David, a very fit and active sportsman, who had followed all the advice was showing symptoms of altitude sickness. He had a splitting headache, was nauseous and felt exhausted. The guide advised he should descend immediately, as a drop in altitude is one of the most effective treatments. Reluctantly, we said goodbye to David, as he set off down the mountain with a guide.

Horombo Huts

 

Day 3. We set off on the 9km trek to the Kibo hut, 4.730m, all agreeing to go at a snail’s pace. We were now in an alpine desert. We all arrived at the Kibo hut and looked towards the peak. The summit was another 1,190m away and we were going to make the ascent that night. We went to bed around 6pm and were woken at 11pm.

Kibo Hut

Day 4. The path to the summit zig-zagged up the mountain on stone scree. All I could see were small patches of light ahead and behind me as our group’s head torches bobbed in the darkness. All I wanted to do was sleep. I had a headache. I felt sick. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to sit down. Everybody felt the same. We encouraged each other to stumble, shuffle and struggle upwards. The sun rose….we were on the top of the mountain. It felt like we were on top of the world. And unbelievably, in the distance we could see Mt Kenya.Feelings of nausea and exhaustion subsided. Elation, exhilaration and excitement took over. Photos were taken and then the descent. We were to walk to the Horombo hut, a total of 15kms and a day’s total walking of 14 hours. The descent seemed like we were walking on air; the effects of the altitude subside as you descend. The Horombo hut was a very welcome sight and we sank into the bunk beds.

Day 5. Back the way we came. We were welcomed by a disappointed but healthy David, who joined in with the celebration beers.

Physical and mental stamina helped us to the summits of Mt Kenya and Mt Kilimanjaro. Cosmeston and Barry Island strolls may not offer the same extreme physical and mental challenges as these mountains, but the companionship, the sense of achievement and pleasure and enjoyment from being outdoors will be the same.

The Group

 

 

Lynne Frugniet

 

 

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