The Guide - The Great Plynlimmon - A Dangerous Path - Source of the Rheidol - Source of the Severn - Pennillion - Old Times and New -The Corpse Candle - Supper.
LEAVING the inn, my guide and myself began to ascend a steep hill just behind it. When we were about halfway up I asked my companion, who spoke very fair English, why the place was called the Castle.
"Because, sir," said he, "there was a castle here in the old time.""Whereabouts was it?" said I.
"Yonder," said the man, standing still and pointing to the right.
"Don't you see yonder brown spot in the valley? There the castle stood.""But are there no remains of it?" said I. "I can see nothing but a brown spot.""There are none, sir; but there a castle once stood, and from it the place we came from had its name, and likewise the river that runs down to Pont Erwyd.""And who lived there?" said I.
"I don't know, sir," said the man; "but I suppose they were grand people, or they would not have lived in a castle."After ascending the hill and passing over its top, we went down its western side and soon came to a black, frightful bog between two hills. Beyond the bog and at some distance to the west of the two hills rose a brown mountain, not abruptly, but gradually, and looking more like what the Welsh call a rhiw, or slope, than a mynydd, or mountain.
"That, sir," said my guide, "is the grand Plynlimmon.""It does not look much of a hill," said I.
"We are on very high ground, sir, or it would look much higher. Iquestion, upon the whole, whether there is a higher hill in the world. God bless Pumlummon Mawr!" said he, looking with reverence towards the hill. "I am sure I have a right to say so, for many is the good crown I have got by showing gentlefolks like yourself to the top of him.""You talk of Plynlimmon Mawr, or the great Plynlymmon," said I;"where are the small ones?"
"Yonder they are," said the guide, pointing to two hills towards the north; "one is Plynlimmon Canol, and the other Plynlimmon Bach - the middle and the small Plynlimmon.""Pumlummon," said I, "means five summits. You have pointed out only three; now, where are the other two?""Those two hills which we have just passed make up the five.
However, I will tell your worship that there is a sixth summit.
Don't you see that small hill connected with the big Pumlummon, on the right?""I see it very clearly," said I.
"Well, your worship, that's called Bryn y Llo - the Hill of the Calf, or the Calf Plynlimmon, which makes the sixth summit.""Very good," said I, "and perfectly satisfactory. Now let us ascend the Big Pumlummon."In about a quarter of an hour we reached the summit of the hill, where stood a large carn or heap of stones. I got upon the top and looked around me.
A mountainous wilderness extended on every side, a waste of russet coloured hills, with here and there a black, craggy summit. No signs of life or cultivation were to be discovered, and the eye might search in vain for a grove or even a single tree. The scene would have been cheerless in the extreme had not a bright sun lighted up the landscape.
"This does not seem to be a country of much society," said I to my guide.
"It is not, sir. The nearest house is the inn we came from, which is now three miles behind us. Straight before you there is not one for at least ten, and on either side it is an anialwch to a vast distance. Plunlummon is not a sociable country, sir; nothing to be found in it, but here and there a few sheep or a shepherd.""Now," said I, descending from the carn, "we will proceed to the sources of the rivers.""The ffynnon of the Rheidol is not far off," said the guide; "it is just below the hill."We descended the western side of the hill for some way; at length, coming to a very craggy and precipitous place, my guide stopped, and pointing with his finger into the valley below, said:-"There, sir, if you look down you can see the source of the Rheidol."I looked down, and saw far below what appeared to be part of a small sheet of water.
"And that is the source of the Rheidol?" said I.
"Yes, sir," said my guide; "that is the ffynnon of the Rheidol.""Well," said I; "is there no getting to it?""Oh yes! but the path, sir, as you see, is rather steep and dangerous.""Never mind," said I. "Let us try it."
"Isn't seeing the fountain sufficient for you, sir?""By no means," said I. "It is not only necessary for me to see the sources of the rivers, but to drink of them, in order that in after times I may be able to harangue about them with a tone of confidence and authority.""Then follow me, sir; but please to take care, for this path is more fit for sheep or shepherds than gentlefolk."And a truly bad path I found it; so bad indeed that before I had descended twenty yards I almost repented having ventured. I had a capital guide, however, who went before and told me where to plant my steps. There was one particularly bad part, being little better than a sheer precipice; but even here I got down in safety with the assistance of my guide, and a minute afterwards found myself at the source of the Rheidol.
The source of the Rheidol is a small beautiful lake, about a quarter of a mile in length. It is overhung on the east and north by frightful crags, from which it is fed by a number of small rills. The water is of the deepest blue, and of very considerable depth. The banks, except to the north and east, slope gently down, and are clad with soft and beautiful moss. The river, of which it is the head, emerges at the south-western side, and brawls away in the shape of a considerable brook, amidst moss, and rushes down a wild glen tending to the south. To the west the prospect is bounded, at a slight distance, by high, swelling ground. If few rivers have a more wild and wondrous channel than the Rheidol, fewer still have a more beautiful and romantic source.
After kneeling down and drinking freely of the lake I said:
"Now, where are we to go to next?"