I slept long and soundly last night in Newcastle Emlyn, hardly having any dreams, which is unusual for me. My nocturnal adventures tend to be many and brightly colored. I started the day lazing around with the luxury of having tea in bed and reading my book. I left feeling tired and sluggish. Am I running out of energy during the walk? I walked into a small Becws (Welsh for bakery or bakery) and had a large, leisurely coffee. The effect was rapid. Clearly it was a simple caffeine deficiency that caused my slow start and I quickly set off in search of my next holy well. I arrived by bus because it’s a lazy day.
Saint Llawdog
The holy well of St Llawdog, sometimes called Ludoc, had its own charm. It is located in a small park, next to the Teifi River, which widens here forming a wide, slow curve. Clear spring water poured out and flowed into the river. This must mean that from here to the sea the Teifi is now a sacred river! Ffynnon means well or spring in Welsh.
Saint Llawddog, born in the 7th century, was a nobleman, son of the king of Usk, a region in southeast Wales. Llawddog performed many miracles and became abbot of the island monastery of Inys Enlli, also known as Bardsey. This holy island, off the coast of Wales, is said to have thousands of saints buried there. I think it would have been easier to become a saint in those days. Modern life does not encourage holiness.
Water from the well gushed abundantly, and people leave small offerings at the well, mainly pebbles, one with the word “be kind.” After bathing my hands in the water (will it be healing?), I enjoyed the quiet place, listening to the birds, especially the mellifluous song of the blackbirds, possibly the most beautiful of all.
I drew the old stone bridge and then went in search of lunch.
This mural summed up the attractions of Cenarth and the words mean the place of tea. The ship is called coracle. It has a flat bottom, ideal for shallow water, and is made of hides and willows. They were used to catch salmon in the rivers of Wales and were already used with the arrival of the Romans in the 1st century, until the 20th century. There are still coracle makers in Cenarth, but for leisure and heritage reasons. The round holes in the bridge were an inspired way to make it lighter and less prone to damage from flooding that can occur on the Teifi River.
A large plate of salad and a slice of Bara Brith (tea and butter bread) were enough. In the cemetery next door was an ordinary-looking piece of stone. The church history book revealed that it was called Gellidywyll Stone, the scratched letters are from Roman times and read «Curcagnus son of Andagelli». The stone was in various places before arriving at the cemetery in 1896.
Inside the church was a baptismal font with carved heads, dating from the 12th century and which had also been in various places before being returned to the church. Those eyes really look right at you. The baptismal font had been moved away from the church during reconstruction and renovations, and had been used as a pig trough and flower pot. His age was finally recognized and he was back where he belongs. This made me reflect on the past (again). These are densely populated parts of the world, with a history recorded for thousands of years. What should we do with all the things of the past? Many previous generations neglected or eliminated old things. We can’t hold on to everything. In my own life I don’t look for much information about my ancestors, I’m more interested in the present than having a big family tree to look at. I also let go of things from my past. I am trying to reduce the amount of “things” I hold on to. Paradoxically, I highly value ancient things like churches and holy wells and think we should preserve them.
Loose packing in the forest
I took the winding path along the river over the bridge, through more beautiful forests. I drew the old mill which has hardly changed since a drawing made in 1840. I’ve been thinking about drawing today. I draw less frequently than I usually do on walking trips. Maybe this is because my health makes me slower than I used to be, so on days I have less time to sit. I also spend more time just looking at the flowers, the water, the amazing greens of spring, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude that I can be out here, doing this.
Today I had time. For me, the main goal of drawing is not really to record what I see, but to make me look closer. Today I was able to do that, sit in the sun and see what’s there.
This leaf bank had so many beautiful shapes.
The road took me back along an easy route and I covered 300km!
An unexpected bonus
Back in Newcastle Emlyn for the night, I noticed there was a play on! So I went to a small auditorium called the Attic Theater (it was actually in an attic) to see a big play called Portraits. She imagined bringing together five women artists, from different centuries, and reflected on their conversations. They were the medieval nun, writer and artist Hildegard of Bingen, the Renaissance painter Artemisia Gentilleschi, the early 20th century actress and suffragette Kitty Marion, the 19th century feminist writer Mary Wollestonecraft and the mid-20th century writer Eleanor Blair. What would they have talked about if they had met? Eleanor Blair dedicated her own writing career to caring for her husband George Orwell, cooking, cleaning and typing his work, in very difficult circumstances (sometimes without adequate running water and cooking over an open fire). It is often forgotten that she served in the Spanish Civil War, like him. She probably contributed ideas contained in some of her famous books. The play gave the audience pause and was very well performed. I’ve had the best day today. Tomorrow the Teifi gorges call me, as I head towards the sea.
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