Category Archives: Days Out

Sunshine, archaeology and great views at Caer Drewyn Iron Age hillfort at Corwen

Caer Drewyn aerial photograph. The entrance at the top is at the northeast. Source: Cadw

Caer Drewyn is an Iron Age hillfort located a mile north of Corwen, with remarkable stone-built defences all around its perimeter, and terrific views in all directions.  Every fortnight for two years I drove past Caer Drewyn on my way to my father’s in Rossett, and again on my way back to Aberdovey.  It was so obviously a late prehistoric hillfort that I didn’t investigate what might be known about it for some time, but every time I passed I reminded myself that I really must find out if it was accessible to the general public.  It is.

This post begins with a brief description of Caer Drewyn the Iron Age archaeological site (it is worth reading either this or another description before you visit, as there is no information signage at the site), and finishes with the the walk and views, from the car park via the farm track to the top, and back partly via the track, but also using a different, steep footpath that shortens the route.

If you use the What3Words app, which is invaluable for both locating a site and, most importantly, for giving an exact location to emergency services in the event of an accident at a site, you can find the hillfort at ///kitchen.quaking.segments.

Caer Drewyn

Willoughby Gardner’s 1922 sketch of the position of Caer Derwyn on the slope rather than around the peak of the spur.

Caer Drewyn is the most southerly of the well-known Clwydian range hillforts, The site is located on a spur projecting south and west into the Vale of Ederinion in the upper valley of the river Dee, some 800-985ft above sea level and, at its south, 500ft (152m) above the Dee floodplain.  The aerial photo shown at the top of the post gives some idea of the way in which the site dips fairly steeply from east to west over two loosely defined natural terraces. 

What differentiates Caer Drewyn from its Clwydian range peers is that instead of banks and ditches, it is defended by vast stone defences, spreading to beyond 15ft wide in places.  The Caer Drewyn stone defences are remarkable in that they do not merely defend a particular weak point; they enclose the entire perimeter – and there is an awful lot of perimeter to defend (3 hectares / nearly 7.5 acres, measuring c.629ft / c.192m north-south by 705ft / 215m east-west).  This sort of stone defence is not unique.  There are a number of examples in Ceredigion and in south Merioneth (e.g. Craig yr Aderyn, and Castell y Gaer) both on or near the mid-west Wales coast, with which the area may have had contact via the route that follows a geological fault-line. Other similar examples are further afield in northwest Wales including the famous Tre’r Ceiri on the coast of the north Llyn Peninsula, which has a complete stone perimeter and includes very clearly visible hut circles within.

Although parts of the stone walls were cleared of bracken and other vegetation in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Caer Derwyn hillfort has not been excavated, so all knowledge is based on observation of the extant features.  According to the Coflein website, the hillfort was probably developed over at least three phases.  

The earliest phase is thought to have consisted of a smaller curvilinear earthwork at the northeast of the hillfort that stands today, and survives in part as an earthwork outside and to the east of Caer Drewyn.  This can be seen on the aerial photograph at the very top of this post.

The next phase is the vast rubble-walled site that dominates the hill today.  This later hillfort was defined by the stone rampart, which Willoughby Gardner describes  in his 1922 paper as  consisting “of a core of rubble stones, faced on either side with a wall of dry masonry.”  These surviving patches of stone facing may suggest that the rampart may have been equipped with an inner wall-walk.

Instead of sitting around the peak of the spur, the hillfort actually sits on the slope, meaning that the interior can be seen from below.  Like many hillforts, it is ideally located for visibility over the landscape, in this case with views over the surrounding area, including the valleys of the rivers Dee and Alwen, which meet just to the east, the Berwyns to the south and the north and east across to the rest of the Clwydian range.  These views are wonderful on a clear, bright day.  Toby Driver points out that in spite of the defences, the above-mentioned fact that the interior of the hillfort can be viewed from below somewhat undermines its strategic value.

Willoughby Gardner’s 1922 plan of the northeast entrance of the hillfort

The hillfort could be approached from the west and the northeast, where the two entrances were in-turned, a typical feature of many hillforts that helps to control access to the interior.  Willoughby Gardner says that there was a spring a short way down from the west entrance.  The entrance in the northeast corner where the cairn is located, which is the highest point of the site and shown clearly bottom right of the aerial photo below, may have featured a guard chamber, another characteristic feature, suggested by the complex jumble of stone that implies at least one additional feature at the entrance.  Willoughby Gardner estimates a 12ft diameter. So-called guard chambers are recesses in the entrance passages hillforts, mainly in north Wales and the Welsh Marches, but the name does not mean that the function of these recesses is actually understood, and they may have been used for some sort of religious or alternative function.

You can see circular dips dotted here and there in the walls.  These may or may not be relatively modern features.  They were there in 1887 when the Reverend Hugh Pritchard was investigating.  One interpretation is that they could have been grouse butts (small enclosures used as grouse-shooting positions), but this is unsubstantiated.  You can see some of them most clearly in the aerial image below.

Caer Drewyn showing northeast entrance, annex, and circular depressions in walls. Source: Peoples Collection Wales

The interior surface has been examined by Willoughby Gardner in 1922 and by the Engineering Archaeological Services (EAS) in 2006.  Willoughby Gardner comments that there are circular structures within the hillfort.  He casts doubt on them being original because in his experience wattle-and-daub or wood was the favoured material for hut circle construction.  The EAS, acting on behalf of the Heather and Hillforts Landscape Partnership Scheme (Denbighshire County Council) carried out a topographical survey which identified eight possible hut platforms within the walls.  Apparently aerial photographs taken in low winter light confirm hut-like shapes in the central and eastern parts of the enclosure.  I had a poke around for anything resembling them on the ground, but could find nothing amongst the bracken.  Winter, when the vegetation has died down a bit, would be a better time for that sort of optimistic activity.  

To the south and southwest there are views over Corwen, the Berwyns and into the far distance.  There is excellent line of sight from Caer Drewyn to other hilltops, some of which housed contemporary hillforts.  I walked all the publicly accessible hillforts in the southern Merioneth area in mid west Wales a couple of years ago my write-ups here), and each of them had a clear line of sight to one or more neighbouring hillforts, which would make sense both for mutual support and maintaining lines of communication amongst friendly neighbours, and for keeping an eye on any hostile neighbours.

Caer Drewyn. Photograph by Llywelyn2000, CC BY-SA 4.0. Source: Mapcarta

A third phase apparently added a small  trapezoidal annex to the north-east of the fort, which employs the earliest earthwork of the hillfort.  In the aerial photograph above and to the right you can see one very clearly on the left, but there are others visible on some photographs, much fainter, which may also be hut circles.  There is nothing to indicate a date, but Coflein suggests that it may have been added after the hillfort had gone out of use in the Romano-British period, presumably because of the  possible hut circles, but it could equally have been much later.

Without excavation it is impossible to know how the interior of either earlier or later hillfort forms, or the annex were used, or to know for sure the period over which they were used. 

The term “hillfort,” combined with defensive structures such as banks, ditches, stone walls, defended entrances give the impression that these were built primarily for exclusively military purposes, but it is by no means certain that this was there only purpose or even, in some cases, their primary purpose.  Secondary uses could include storage of agricultural output, protection for livestock, and a visible territorial marker in the landscape. There is no room here to enter into a discussion on the subject, but if you are interested have a look at Toby Driver’s 2018 online paper on the subject (free to access): New Perspectives on the Architecture and Function of Welsh Hillforts and Defended Settlements.  Whatever their primary and secondary purposes, the sheer amount of work that goes into an enterprise like this, or a banked-and-ditch hillfort is considerable, and there was certainly a very desirable outcome in mind when a hillfort was embarked upon.

The site continues to be used for grazing sheep, and it is recorded that it was used as a hafod (seasonal grazing) in around 1600.  It is reputed to have been used as temporary bases for Owain Gwynedd in the 12th century during his conflict with Henry II, and by Owain Glyndwr during his rebellion in 1400.  There is no actual data to support either theory.
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Visiting details: parking, the walk and the views

I was advised that it was acceptable to park at the Corwen Leisure Centre, just to the north of Corwen (via Green Lane from the A5, postcode LL21 9RW).  When I arrived, there were only three other cars there, and no signage to indicate that parking was restricted.  By the time I returned to the car a couple of hours later mine was the only car in the car park, so I didn’t feel that I was intruding.

Walking up to the road from the car park, turn left (east).  There is no pavement, just a narrow grass verge, but you are going a very short distance, just a few metres, before a wide farm track is clearly signposted to Caer Drewyn on your left.

Follow the attractive track for a few minutes, past a couple of farm buildings on your right.  You will reach a gate.

 

On the other side of the gate is another signpost that gives a few options.

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The red box shows part of the farm track taking the easy route up the side of the hill towards the highest part of the hillfort and the northeast entrance (pink arrow). The blue arrow shows the steep footpath that cuts off a corner of the easier route. The yellow arrow shows the lowest point of the hillfort, which is also an access/exit point. Click image to enlarge. Copyright CPAT. Source: Britnell and Sylvester 2018

For Caer Drewyn you can either turn left and follow the farm track, or go straight ahead on a very small footpath straight uphill, which intersects with the farm track at a much higher level. Looking at the aerial photo to the left, it should be possible, although I didn’t realize at the time, to cross over the farm track (or, if you are on the farm track turn left at the point where it intersects with the footpath) to go up to the very lowest point of the hillfort defences and the western entrance.  I wouldn’t, myself, because I really enjoyed the views from the farm track.  It would make a shorter and easier walk for anyone who follows the track to the northeast entrance but doesn’t want to do a full circuit of the hillfort, to follow one set of walls down to the bottom of the hillfort and exit back to the farm track or footpath via the lower entrance.

The farm track is the easy option, so I decided to follow this and, on my return journey, take the footpath down.  I would strongly advise that you take the farm track either on your ascent or descent, because the views are so terrific, and you will miss some of them if you confine yourself to the footpath.

The farm track heads west for a short distance on the level, and then you will reach another signpost that points you right, uphill through a gate that has a walk-around on its right.  Take the uphill option that takes you relatively gently across the side of the hill towards the northeast entrance.  This is uphill all the way and although not particularly steep on the seethingly hot day on which I walked it, it was noticeable.

 

As you climb towards the top of the hill, you will suddenly see some stone rubble on the left, like a massive fallen drystone wall.  This is the hillfort perimeter.  Continue to follow the farm track, running parallel to the walls.  You will eventually reach a gate, which is the end of the line.  Ahead of you is a superb view to the east, and on your left, just a few metres behind you, is a mass of stonework including a roughly conical pile of stone which is a useful point to orient yourself.  This is the northeast corner and marks the following in-turned entrance and possible guard house.  From the cairn you can see for miles and miles around.  The landscape is truly stunning.  You can also see the stone defences heading out in both directions, plunging away to your right down the slope and following the ridge left before then, too, plunging downhill.

It is easy to walk the entire perimeter because all you have to do is follow the stone boundaries, but do take into account when you are heading downhill towards the far eastern extent, that you will have to walk all the way back up again if you want to do the full perimeter back to the cairn!  Alternatively, head out of the well-worn exit at the bottom end of the hillfort to rejoin the farm track.

View over the enclosure towards the west

Looking back up the hill along the northern rampart

The interior showing the topographical tilt to the west

Although there are tracks inside the hillfort, many of them created by sheep, there are no formal pathways and if you leave the trackways, it is very uneven underfoot, with the danger of turning an ankle.  I was wearing tried and tested breathable but very solid hiking trainers that are fabulous on hot days, but it would have been better to have worn summer-weight hiking boots with good ankle support.

Well worn access to and exit from the hillfort at the bottom

Puff ball

There is not a lot in the way of wildlife, but there is plenty of bright yellow gorse in flower at the moment.  I found a perfect white puff-ball (mushroom) which I later cooked in garlic butter, and some other unidentifiable mushrooms.  There were some very occasional and very pretty wild flowers, including some wonderful harebells dotted around, but there was little else to see at this time of year.  Bird song was all around, but the singers were well hidden.  Judging from the endless rabbit droppings, this is bunny nirvana.  If you are interested in lichen, there seemed to my inexperienced eye to be many different types on the stone defences and the interior rocks and boulders and later that day I read on the Clwydian Range and Dee Valley AONB website that over 60 species of lichen were identified in a 1993-1994 study.

 

On the way down I kept a close eye out for a signpost for the footpath down, which chops off the corner that the farm track takes (the blue arrow on the above annotated photo).  There is no full-sized signpost, just a little way-marker on the left/south that you need to look out for.  There is a big boulder opposite, which is a useful landmark.  The first part of the footpath, from the top, consists of some quite deep steps reinforced with wood.  It then becomes a fairly steep narrow track – much steeper than it looks in my photographs below.  I suspect that the whole thing becomes a muddy stream during wetter weather, as there are plenty of signs that water courses have made their way down.  The footpath drops you at the gate back down to the road and the car park.

It only took me about half an hour to get up to the hillfort, with lots of stops to enjoy the spectacular scenery, take photos and top up with water.  Once up there, you can spend as long as you like, of course, and it is a great place for a picnic.  I had it to myself, even on a sunny Saturday.

Hopefully the photos will speak for themselves, but I recommend this as a far from strenuous walk, mixing fascinating late prehistoric heritage with terrific views.  If you time your visit to coincide with stunning Rhug Chapel’s opening times (the chapel’s website is here), that would make a great second visit, just a ten minute drive away.

UPDATE:

After I posted about this walk, I found an official leaflet that includes a longer walk incorporating the hillfort, which looks really great.  The relevant page is shown below, but you can download the entire leaflet, with some other really excellent-looking walks too at https://tinyurl.com/2fecwr8c.

 

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Sources

Books and papers

Bowden, M. 2006.  ‘Guard Chambers’: An Unquestioned Assumption in British Iron Age Studies. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society, 72, p.423-436 [NOT free to view]
https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/proceedings-of-the-prehistoric-society/article/abs/guard-chambers-an-unquestioned-assumption-in-british-iron-age-studies/E6D627EE54566C400B07C0F42CB5F18C

Britnell W.J. and Silvester, R.J. 2018. Hillforts and Defended Enclosures of the Welsh Borderland. Intarch Issue 48 (2018). Iron Age Settlement in Wales. https://intarch.ac.uk/journal/issue48/7/index.html

Driver, Toby 2018. New Perspectives on the Architecture and Function of Welsh Hillforts and Defended Settlements. Intarch Issue 48 (2018). Iron Age Settlement in Wales. https://intarch.ac.uk/journal/issue48/9/toc.html

Gardner, Willoughby. (1922). The Ancient Hill Fort known as Caer Drewyn, Merionethshire. Archaeologia Cambrensis – The Journal of the Cambrian Archaeological Association. Vol. 77. Seventh Series. 2. Vol 77, p.108-125

Savory, H.N. 1958.  Caer Drewyn. Archaeologia Cambrensis – The Journal of the Cambrian Archaeological Association. Vol 107, p.135-6

Websites

Clwydian Range and Dee Valley Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty
Hillfort: Caer Drewyn
https://www.clwydianrangeanddeevalleyaonb.org.uk/projects/hillfort-caer-drewyn/

Coflein
Caer Drewyn; Caer Drewen – Details
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/95431
Caer Drewyn; Caer Drewen – Images
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/95431/images
Tre’r Ceiri
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/95292

People’s Collection Wales
Caer Drewyn
https://www.peoplescollection.wales/items/5482

Aberdovey Londoner
Iron Age hillforts in South Merioneth
https://aberdoveylondoner.com/category/iron-age-hillforts-in-south-merioneth/

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The puff ball as a delicious minimalist starter. Divine.

An visit to the working Stretton Water Mill

The Grade 2 listed Stretton Water Mill is recorded from the 14th century, and was in almost continuous use until 1959.  It was restored by Cheshire Council in 1975 and became a museum in 1977.  It is located not far from Farndon and Holt, in Cheshire, very near to the villages of Stretton and Tilston.  Today it is a museum, with working water wheel, gears and related machinery, looking like an enormous clockwork toy, but powered wholly by water.  The mill still produces flour, but this cannot be purchased because the methods used, which are entirely authentic, contravene modern health and safety regulations.  However, flour from Walk Mill, near Chester, is sold in the shop.

This tiny vernacular cottage-type building, part red sandstone, part weather-board, is approached down a single track road (lots of passing places) and sits in an attractive rural setting.  It lies to the east of the well-manicured village of Stretton and its rural environs.

As well as the mill building, the two water wheels and the mill machinery, there is a big millpond, a picnic area, a car park (in a small field), and access via both external steps and disabled-friendly slopes between the two floors.  There is more visitor information at the end of this post.  

Stretton Mill is is a splendid remnant of rural architecture and at the same time tells a story about the industrial importance of water power in the lives of rural areas from the Middle Ages into the 20th Century, working around the clock during the Second World War.

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Getting your bearings: The waterworks

If you find that the tour is already in progress when you arrive (the tour is obligatory due to health and safety considerations) it would be a good use of the waiting time to get your bearings.  If you go straight into the tour, don’t forget to have a look around afterwards.  Simply walk up the short footpath from the car park towards the first storey of the mill, and look at the large, motionless expanse of water behind the building.  This is the millpond, which is fed by the Carden brook.  The brook is out of sight, but can be seen running under the road just a little further up the road towards Carden from the mill.

Sluice from the millpond into the by-wash

The job of the millpond is to feed the two water wheels.  The mill pond’s level can be controlled by a sluice into a wide by-wash,which drains the water into a tail-race or escape channel that eventually meets up with the main stream.  On the other side of the mill is a short flight of steps leading up to the other side of the mill, with some picnic tables.  Sluice equipment also controls the volume of water reaching the wheels from the millpond by raising or lowering the paddles (rectangular pieces of wood that can be dropped to stop water flow or raised to allow it).  When the wheels are out of use, for example when the mill is closed to visitors or to permit repairs to be carried out, the paddles can be dropped to stop the water entirely.

A typical watercourse layout. Source: Traditional Corn Milling Windmills by Nigel S. Harris, drawings by John Brandrick, fig. 12, p.9

 

A Short History of British Milling

Grinding grain

Roman water wheel replica in the grounds of the Museum of London (at its Barbican location). Source:  Geograph, by Martin Addison CC BY-SA 2-0

Harvested grains of wheat and barley are rock solid on the outside, and there is very little that one could imagine doing with them for nutritional purposes, except perhaps soaking and fermenting them.  The prehistoric solution, and one that was followed by subsequent millers, was to break them up and reduce them to powder by grinding them between stones, by hand.  By the Roman period, water wheels had been invented, and in the Medieval period, when Stretton Mill was built, these had been turned into both an industry and an art form, using vast carved stone wheels driven by water and a series of gears in an end to end process that introduced grain at one end and produced flour at the other.

Medieval mills

The mill at Stretton dates at least to 1350.  Water-powered mills were the dominant industrial mechanism during the Middle Ages, and were widespread, rescuing householders from the time-consuming, back-breaking and tedious task of grinding corn by hand.

A mill with an overshot wheel like the one at Stretton, and mill race.  Further up the stream there are eel traps, shown in the 14th century Luttrell Psalter (Add MS 42130, British Library).  Source: Wikipedia

The millstones in a watermill, one set over the top of the other, were coarse.  They were carefully and skilfully carved with a set of precise grooves called furrows that helped not only to grind the grain but to move it from the centre of the millstone to the exterior.  The coarse stone cracks open the seed grains to allow the release of the kernel, and the grooves allow it to escape down a chute to be collected in bags below. 

Millstones were sourced both from within Britain and beyond, with imports of millstones made from particularly desirable stone areas overseas recorded at ports around the coast.  The cost of the millstone itself could be considerable, and the additional expenses of transportation and fitting meant that these were high value items that were carefully maintained.   

Millstones, laid in pairs, one over the top of the other, contain a complex series of grooves, called furrows, that grind the grain and move it towards the edge.  This is one of a former pair on display at Stretton.

Some mills with twin wheels would operate different milling activities simultaneously, such as corn processing and wool processing (known as fulling).  A mill was built by the lord of the manor (the term manor referring to the estate rather than just the house), who charged tolls called soke rights for its use.  Initially this was in form of a share of the corn and later was on a cash basis. Corn mills were used for reducing grains into products suitable for human and livestock consumption.  The term “corn,” which is generally used in conjunction with mills, refers not to the New World corn but was used as a generic term for wheat, barley, oats and rye.  The soke rights paid for the initial capital outlay and maintenance costs, and provided an income for the manor.  The use of the mill by manor tenants was not optional.  Manual milling at home was banned and anyone owning private milling equipment could be fined.  It is estimated that estates could extract as much as 5% of the estate’s total income from watermills.

Run-off channel (tail race) from the overshot wheel

In the mid 14th century after a period of severe famine, the Black Death arrived and obliterated around 25% of the population.  Once recovery was underway with a much smaller population, there was competition for labour and a rise of wages.  Instead of operating mills themselves, lords of manors often leased out their mills to private tenants such as the minor gentry, merchants and specialist millers and craftsmen who found themselves in a world of expanding opportunity.   At the same time, the abrupt decline in population meant that many other mills were abandoned, and fell into disrepair before either being revived at a later date or being allowed to decay.  In the case of Stretton it is not known precisely what happened, but subsequent records indicate that enough of the local population survived to either maintain or restore that the mill after the traumas of the 14th century.  Indeed, the use of the mill to save on manual flour processing during a population crisis would probably have assisted economic recovery.
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Stretton Mill

The Medieval and Early Tudor Mill

Carden Brook, which supplies the water for the millpond and waterwheels

From 1281 the manor (estate) of Stretton was owned by the Warren family, who held it until the 15th century. The mill at Stretton dates at least to 1350, when it is first recorded in a transfer deed, meaning that it was built before this date.  Given that the Black Death was sweeping through Britain in 1348, it was probably built before that date.  It is not known exactly what the mill would have looked like before the 17th century.  The mechanism in the mid 14th century would have been very much the same as the one still working today, with the waterwheel operating via gears to turn the millstones.  There was only one waterwheel until the 18th century, positioned to the left as you face the mill, and this would have been on the outside, and was not incorporated into the interior of the building until the 19th century.

Stretton was dedicated to the processing of grain, mainly barley, oats and rye with some wheat.  Wheat bread was the most expensive, and used only for bread for the better off.  Barley could be used for an inferior bread, oats could be used to make porridge and oat cakes and rye was used bread and beer.   Barley, oats and rye could all be used for animal fodder too.

In the 1500s, Stretton Mill was purchased by the Leche family of Carden Hall.

Stretton Mill 1600-1900

Stretton Mill as it would have looked in the 1600s. Source: Author Uncredited – West Cheshire Museums

The oldest part of the mill dates to 1630.  In the 17th century the building is thought to have been made of a timber framework, filled with wattle and daub.  Wattle and daub is a mixture of thin wooden strips woven like basketry to form into a lattice, which provides a base to which a material can be added to create panels that form the walls of the building between the timber frames.  The mill was almost certainly thatched, the materials for which were easy to source in a rural agricultural location.  The fixtures that attached the wattle and daub to the frame can still be seen at the mill, and an example was pointed out on the guided tour. The windows, vital not only for visibility but to allow the flour-filled air to clear, would have been provided with shutters.  The water wheel was known as a breast-shot, and was located on the east end of the mill, to the left as you face it from the road.

The main types of waterwheel. Source: Guide to Ford End Watermill

There are four main categories of water wheel, the undershot, pitchback, overshot, and breast-shot. The main difference between them is how water is fed to the wheel, how the wheel uses this water to turn, and what sort of power this delivers to the machinery.  Each has benefits depending on a number of factors.  The overshot wheel is fed from an overhead channel, requiring a water source that is at least as high as the top of the wheel, runs counter clockwise and is the most efficient when plenty of water is available.  It is also an  expensive solution, requiring extensive installation work.  The undershot is powered by a low level water source that works by capturing the water between the wheel and the wheel pit, and is the least efficient.

The breast-shot wheel when it was under repair

The breast-shot design sits between the overshot and undershot, receiving water from a higher level than the undershot but a lower level than an overshot.  The main advantage of the breast-shot over the overshot is that it can use lower levels of water, allowing a mill to continue output even during periods of drought.

The breast-shot wheel at Stretton is unusual in that the sluice controlling access of water to the wheel has three paddles, each of which can be operated to let water into the waterwheel’s buckets at different levels.  This makes it very flexible when the water level of the millpond changes.

The water for the breast-shot wheel vanishes under the east wall of the building’s extension, into the wheel-housing, shown to the right.  Look out for this feature when you are outside at the level of the millpond’s surface.

The oldest local extant contemporary buildings in the area are Stretton Lower Hall, which was built in 1660 on a site that had been apparently been moated, and Stretton Old Hall, built in the 17th century and extended in the 19th century. 

By the 18th century, Stretton was one of a great many watermills and several windmills dotted throughout Cheshire and the Wirral.  As the map below shows, water power dominated in Cheshire whereas on the Wirral wind power was source of power for milling.  As the Industrial Revolution began to gain momentum, mechanization, mainly dependent on a water source, spread rapidly.

Map of water mills and wind mills in the 1770s. Source: Phillips and Phillips 2002, p.67

At Stretton there is an inscription commemorating major structural changes to the mill in 1770.  Improvements included a sandstone base, topped with weatherboard and finished off with a slate roof, still with a new overshot wheel added to the west end, together with a window overlooking it, on the right as you face the mill.  The breast-shot wheel at the east end was still on the outside.

Stretton Mill in 1770. Source: Author Uncredited – West Cheshire Museums

The addition of the overshot wheel was an important one.  The breast-shot wheel has been explained above.  The overshot wheel, which delivered water directly to the top of the wheel via a trough, was far more efficient when the millpond was full.  There is considerable drop from the millpond to the trough in which the overshot wheel sits.  This drop is known as the head.  The higher the head, the more powerful the potential of the waterwheel.

The water is taken away from the mill after passing through the wheels. Each has a tailrace that takes the spent water under the road, and if you cross the road you can see it leaving via small natural-looking channels that wend through the fields to re-join the Carden Brook.

The overshot wheel

The combination of the two wheels gave the mill the ability to function at maximum efficiency when rainfall provided a healthy supply of water, allowing both wheels to be operated, with the overshot wheel being particularly productive.  At the same time, when drought lowered the level of the millpond, putting the overshot wheel out of action, the breast-shot would still be viable.  The combination of two wheels was a very good risk-management strategy.

Contemporary with the mill at this period is Stretton Hall, brick-built in 1763 for John Leche (1704 – 1765) of Carden.  There were actually nineteen men at the head of the Leche family named John, and this was the fourteenth of them.

In the early 19th century the building was extended to the east to incorporate the breast-shot wheel, which could be inspected from the small arched window shown in the illustration below, and which survives today.

Stretton Mill in 1819. Source: Author Uncredited – West Cheshire Museums

The extension was built of red sandstone, but the weather-board was retained on the older section of the mill.  This is very like the mill building that survives today, albeit with less  red sandstone and more weatherboard than today’s building.  As well as the original wooden shutters, glass was probably fitted into the windows at this time.

The 1940s

The watermill was in 24 hour use during the Second World War, milling grains for both bread and animal feeds. It was in continuous use until 1959, when its last miller died, and it fell into disrepair.

The modern era

Millstone leaning against a wall in the stone room of Stretton Mill

The mill was acquired in 1975 by Cheshire County Council and was renovated in 1977 and given Grade 1 listing.  Stretton Mill as it stands today is part red sandstone, part weatherboard, and has a brick-built extension.  The fact that it incorporates earlier features of the mill building is a particularly attractive aspect of the mill that helps its history to be recreated, and apart from repairs it has changed very little since the 19th Century.  It is still fully functional, and produces flour which, unfortunately, does not conform to modern health and safety standards so cannot be purchased from the shop.
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What you see today

The exterior

Much of what can be seen of the building’s exterior today has been described above, but there are two notable exceptions.  One is the red sandstone-built chimney at far right, which connects to the hearth on the ground floor of the mill.  The hearth is a particular mystery given the risk of fire in an environment in which dry goods were being milled and could fill the atmosphere with combustible material.  The other is the brick-built extension in the middle of the three photographs above. The dates of both are unknown.  The use of brick does indicate a date after the mid 1700s, but is likely to be much later.

The water wheels

You can see both the overshot wheel on the outside, at the west end, and the breastshot wheel on the inside at the opposite end.  Of the two water wheels, only the overshot water wheel was working in late summer 2022, and was doing a great job.  The other was under repair but in June 2023, when I drove past, was not operating although the mill was open at the time, although the overshot wheel was trundling away.

The machinery

Stretton’s purpose was to grind grain.  The internal gearing translated the power of the big water wheel, via a series of interconnected wheels to turn the millstones.

The ground floor (meal floor)

If you look at the wall opposite the doorway, you will see that it is damp.  This is because the millpond is on the other side, and in the ground floor room you are well below the surface of the pond, as you can see when you walk up to the first floor level.

Spurwheel drive for two pairs of millstones. The vertically mounted pitwheel is connected to the waterwheel outside, and translates the power of the waterwheel to the smaller horizontal wallower above, and the large horizontal spurwheel above that.

The ground floor contains the drive machinery for both wheels, and on the tour the machinery for the overshot wheel is clearly visible.  When you enter the ground floor, you can see how the water wheels connect to the rest of the machinery that drives the mill via a series of toothed wheels, which interlock with one another to send power to the millstones above.  The Stretton arrangement is known as an underdriven spurwheel arrangement, where the water wheel links to a much smaller vertical pitwheel wheel that is fitted on the same axis and turns at the same rate.  This has teeth that interlock with a small horizontal wallower wheel, above which is the spur wheel, all of which can be seen in the above photograph.

This is also the room into which the processed grain falls from the stone room, so it both begins the process and ends it.

The top (bin room) and middle (stone room) floors

We were able to visit two floors, but originally three floors were in use, which is the usual arrangement for a watermill.  The top floor, the bin floor, is inaccessible to visitors, located in the eaves of the roof, and reached by a stepladder.  This is where grain was stored before being tipped into a grain bin that released the grain into a chute that entered the hoppers of the stone room below.

Source: Medieval Technology and American History

The stone floor, which is at the level of the mill pond surface houses the machinery and devices for funnelling grain.  It feels rather like being inside an enormous clockwork toy, with interlocking cogs and gears controlling the turning of the millstones and the grinding of grain, as well as the lowering and raising of the top millstone (the runner) and the raising and lowering of sacks.  With hindsight it seems extraordinary that so much equipment could be fitted into such a small space.

The meal floor gearing enters the stone floor and interlocks with two pinions called stone nuts, which turn the millstones.  There are two pairs of millstones at Stretton, each pair driven by its own wheel. The stones are contained within wooden containers called tuns.  There is a small gap between the upper millstone, the runner, millstone and the lower millstone, bedstone.  This gap is called the nip.  The nip was adjusted by the miller in response to the type of grain being processed and the fineness required.  According to the West Cheshire Museums Booklet about the mill, the breas-tshot stones are currently French burr stone from the Paris Basin and the overshot stones are millstone grit from the Peak District.

The millstones are contained within the octagonal tun. Above it, the square-mouthed hopper sits on a frame and feeds grain into the millstones

The grain falls from the bin floor, into a large wooden funnel on the stone floor called a hopper, which sits on a horizontal wooden frame called a horse.  It is funnelled down a chute called a meal ark into the millstones where it is ground before being forced down the to the edge of the millstones where it is funnelled down a meal spout into a meal bin or ark on the meal floor.

Visiting details

It is a short drive from Farndon and is shown on brown heritage signs from the main roads in the vicinity.  If you are relying on the brown signs, look out for them carefully, as some of those closest to the mill are often partly concealed behind foliage.  The postcode for satnav systems is SY14 7JA.  The road to the mill, from either direction, is single track but has plenty of passing places.

Do check out the opening times on the Chester and Cheshire West web page for Stretton Mill before visiting because the mill is only open in afternoons and only on certain days of the week.   There is a small entrance fee, £3.70 at the time of writing.  Please note that it is cash-only.  Here’s the web address:
https://strettonwatermill.westcheshiremuseums.co.uk/visit-us/

The by-wash

The site is partially suitable for those with mobility issues.  There is a footpath that winds very gently up the slope that leads to the upper level of the mill, avoiding stairs, but this would probably be a struggle for wheelchair users during or after wet weather.  There are seats at all key points for those who are mobile but need to rest legs.

Because of very valid health and safety issues, you will need to be accompanied around the interior of the building on a guided tour (see below).  You can walk around the exterior without a chaperon, and there is step-free access, as well as some nicely located picnic areas for those who wish to linger and enjoy the view over the mill pond.  It is a really lovely location.  There is a gift shop, selling postcards, books, posters, and flour (milled at Walk Mill, not far from Chester because Stretton Mill is not a commercial milling enterprise and falls below rigorous modern health and safety standards).

Walking further along the road in the opposite direction from Stretton village, approaching Carden, the rural scene gives way to golf, as you find yourself around the back of the Carden Park Hotel and its immense golf course, which spans both sides of the road.


The guided tour

Steplader leading to the top, bin floor

The guide on the day provided us with a creative version of the birth of agriculture in the Near East.  If you want to prime yourself beforehand with the basics of the spread of agriculture from the Near East through Europe to and throughout Britain see the Britannica’s Origins of Agriculture web pages, if you can put up with the adverts.

At the end of this talk our guide gave us some hard wheat grains to hold and examine.  The inner kernel is contained within a hard husk that protects it, and the husks demonstrate unambiguously why processing is so necessary.  They are extremely tough.  We were then taken on a fascinating tour of the building, starting with the water wheels. Only the overshot wheel was working when we visited, due to repairs on the breast-shot wheel.  Next, we proceeded to the first floor “stone room” to look at where the milling happens. There is a long curving ramp that enables those who cannot manage steps to reach the top floor.  We then returned downstairs to look at where the external overshot wheel meets the internal gears, and to see where the milled flour was collected.

The tour of the mill equipment was very informative and extremely useful.  Unless you are familiar with how all the pieces fit together, it is helpful to have an explanation of the entire process as it would have happened in real time.

Final Comments

The video below was taken during our first visit in summer 2022.  I drove past in June 2023 and had a look to see if the breast-shot wheel, which had been under repair in 2022, was running again, but it was not.  The overshot wheel, however, is terrific, issuing a rhythmic rumbling noise that it is difficult to describe, but can be heard in the video.

It was an absolute treat to see a working watermill, and this one is a particularly engaging example in a lovely location.

 

 

Sources:

Books, booklets and papers

The by-wash, which can be used to lower the level of the millpond

Author uncredited.  Historical Background to Stretton Watermill and the Milling Process. West Cheshire Museums.

Dyer, C. 2005.  An Age of Transition?  Economy and Society in England in the Later Middle Ages.  Oxford University Press

Harris, N.S. Traditional Corn Milling Watermills, with drawings by John Brandrick. Written and published by Nigel Harris

Phillips, A.D.M. and Phillips, C.B. 2002. A New Historical Atlas of Cheshire. Cheshire County Council and Cheshire Community Council Publications Trust

Singleton, William, A. 1952. The Traditional House-Types in Rural Lancashire and Cheshire, off-print from The Transactions of the Historic Society of Lancashire and Cheshire, Volume 104, p. 75-91.

Watts, M. 2000.  Water and Wind Power.  Shire Publications

Watts, M. 2006. Watermills. Shire Library

Wenham, P. 1989. Watermills. Robert Hale

Websites

British Listed Buildings
Stretton Mill and Steps, Millrace and Sluice Adjoining
https://britishlistedbuildings.co.uk/101279423-stretton-mill-and-steps-millrace-and-sluice-adjoining-stretton

Cheshire Live
The 700-year-old ‘idyllic’ Cheshire watermill that’s like stepping back in time by Angela Ferguson, 12th March 2023
https://www.cheshire-live.co.uk/whats-on/700-year-old-idyllic-cheshire-26422639

Geni
Carden Hall, Cheshire (for details of the Leche family)
https://www.geni.com/projects/Carden-Hall-Cheshire-England/27610

Mills Archive
https://catalogue.millsarchive.org

Stretton Mill at West Cheshire Museums
Stretton Mill – Visits
https://strettonwatermill.westcheshiremuseums.co.uk/visit-us/

Wikipedia
Listed Buildings in Stretton, West Cheshire and Chester
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Listed_buildings_in_Stretton,_Cheshire_West_and_Chester

A super visit to Blue Planet Aquarium on the Wirral

This was a completely off-the-cuff visit, as we were planning to go somewhere else but found that it was temporarily closed.  I am so glad that we were forced to change our plans, because we absolutely loved the aquarium.  Located in the Ellesmere Port area, it was opened in 1998, but it has been so well cared for that it looks brand new.

The fish are fabulous – everything from sharks bigger than me to tiny fast-moving flashes of spectacular colour and light.  the myriad of shapes, sizes, colours and types of movement is a massive eye-opener.  Nature went to town on the aquatic spectrum of possibilities.  There are also timeless tortoises, sinuous snakes, iridescent frogs and a remarkable chameleon, whose projecting, rotating eyes are an evolutionary marvel.  One of the most attractive features of the aquarium is the profusion of richly flourishing plant life.  Oh that my indoor plants would look like that!

The underwater tunnel, which passes through the aquarium, is a sensational experience, with an incredible array of fish, including sharks and stingrays, flowing around you and overhead and conger eels peering out at you from rocky enclaves.  It is the nearest that any non-divers are ever going to get to a first-hand sense of experiencing the enchantment of the aquatic universe.  Rather than carrying on with the superlatives, here are the  rest of the pics.  Visiting details (including disabled access) are at the end, as usual.

 

Where else could you possibly find yourself looking up into the intimidatingly toothy mouth of a shark overhead, or glory in the soft, pure-white underbelly of a stingray, elegance on the wing, as it glides effortlessly just inches from your eyes?  Magic.


Visiting

Blue Planet was easy to find, clearly signposted with brown signs from the M53.  When you reach it, you find yourself confronted with a series of car dealerships, and cars parked all along the approach road, but the aquarium is the big silver building on the left at the end of the approach road, with its own big car park, including disabled parking.  For SatNav users, the postcode is CH65 9LF.  Bus and other transport info is on the website’s Getting Her page.

See the website for the opening times and entry and parking charges.  We visited on a Wednesday at around midday, and although there were other people there, it was very quiet, and ideal for us.  A couple of school trips were in progress, but were easy to avoid as the kids were well managed and herded together.

For those with leg issues and for wheelchair users (both were there having a great time) there is a disabled lift (just ask if you cannot find it).  The aquarium ranges over two floors, and each is on the flat.  Some of the rooms are quite dark, and that may be a problem for people with balance problems.  You can find more on the disability page on the website.  There are plenty of places to sit down.

Outside, on the other side of the shop, there is the pelican enclosure (with real, live pelicans),  a picnic area, a kid’s play area, and a small wildlife reserve.  There are daily talks and events, and you can book special visits, all details available on the website.

The shop is stocked with loads of truly fun soft toys, aquatically themed.  I managed not to buy a giant fluffy stingray or octopus, but it was touch and go (had I been alone it might have been a different story 🙂 ).  There is a large café.  We didn’t try it, but it was well used.

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A great day out at Greenfield Valley Park, Holywell

On visit to Basingwerk Abbey a few months ago, we noticed signage indicating that the abbey was at the south end of the Greenfield Valley Park, the north end of which is Holywell just to the south of Holywell town centre.  The Greenfield Valley Park had been on my to-do list for ages, but it was my friend Katie’s suggestion that we go today, and she brought David Berry’s guide book with her, which included a map that we followed to make the most of the park (details below).

Map from Greenfield Valley Visitor Centre

The park, which includes the ruined abbey and St Winifred / Winefrede’s Well follows both the line of the Holywell Stream that erupts in bubbles at St Winifred’s Well, as well as the line of a former railway track that ran from Holywell to Greenfield Dock.  It is one and a half miles as the crow flies from north to south, but covers 70 acres and consists of a network of metalled paths (marked on the map) and tracks, beautifully maintained, connecting some remarkably preserved industrial heritage.  Each one of these buildings was accompanied by large tracts of water that were used to power water wheels that were built in the late 18th century and continued to be used well into the 19th century.

As well as being fascinating, the tree-filled park is a lovely place to walk, particularly appealing in its multi-coloured autumnal garb.  In the summer there are birds and butterflies, and even at this time of year there was the occasional woodland flower.  There is also the little Bakehouse café in Basingwerk House at the  south end of the park, next to Basingwerk  Abbey, which serves good coffee, cake and a small, imaginative menu of nicely presented and very enjoyable food.

This post is confined to the really gripping industrial heritage.  I’ll talk about Basingwerk Abbey on another post, and St Winifred’s well, both of which we visited on the same day, will also be dealt with separately.  The following highlights of the walk start in the north and head south ending at Greenfield Dock.  The numbers in the text refer to the map above.
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The Holywell Rail Line and bridge

The wide metalled footpath that links Holywell in the north with the A548 to the south follows the line of a standard gauge railway built in 1868.  Its purpose was to carry minerals from the Greenfield Wharf, now known as Greenfield Dock, and to ship products made at Greenfield Valley to Liverpool for sending further afield. In 1912 it was converted to carry passengers, and became known as the Little Train.   It claims to have been the steepest conventional passenger railway line in Britain, with a 1:27 gradient.  At the top of the path, near Holywell, there is a massively constructed railway bridge (10) with two wide arches.  Today, charmingly, it is a footpath, leading from Tesco to a housing estate.
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Greenfield Valley 1792. Source: Davies and Williams 1986

Battery Works

Established in 1776, the Battery Works (8), also known as Greenfield Mills, was built to manufacture pots and pans from brass sheets.  Davies and Williams describe the process (p.28-9):  Each of the four copper and brass battery mills “consisted of large hammers raised by a cog on a rotating beam.  The beam extended from the axle of the waterwheel so that each waterwheel worked up to six hammers.  Once the cog had passed, the hammer fell, striking an anvil.  Workmen would hold sheets of plates of metal on the anvils and as the hammer hit them, shape them into pans, bowls and other articles.”

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The troughs that held the water to turn the wheels can still be seen.  One of the pits where the waterwheel turned can still be seen in the photograph below, together with a section of wall with a circular hole where the wheel once turned. Like all the main industrial operations along the river, it was backed with a large body of water at its northern (upriver) side.  The water is now full of bull rushes.  Even though it is impossible, just by looking at the ruined remains, to see exactly how all the different elements fitted together, this is a massively impressive piece of the Greenfield site.  The finished products were shipped to  Africa via Liverpool and exchanged for West African slaves.  

Meadow Mill

In 1787, eleven years after the Battery Works, a new mill (7) was built by the Greenfield Copper and Brass Company to produce rolled copper sheets, and to make copper rollers for printing patterns on to cloth.  The main building was a sizeable affair, 86 x 69ft (26 x 21m), with two pillars 11.5ft (3.5m) apart supporting a roof made of copper sheet.  It was  fitted with three cast iron wheels, each 20ft (6m) in diameter.  Copper ingots were melted and moulded into plates 3 (0.9m) x 4ft (1.2m) and about 1/2 inch (1.27cm) thick, which were cut into strips, that were in turn fed between pairs of rollers to create sheets of various thicknesses.   These could be turned into wire or other products.  When this work came to a close, the site was used by a number of other smaller-scale industries, including a tin plate works.

Meadow Mill  is backed by a basin of water that fed the water wheel that powered the mill.  It is now marshy and full of algae, making life rather interesting for the moorhens, and the surrounding foliage is now home to several species of butterfly. On the other side of the water wheel, the water was taken down to the next level of the valley down a purpose-built run-off.  

In the 1850s it was taken over by Newton Keates as a lead works.  This was followed by a tinplate works, then a brass rolling and wire works, and in 1890 was leased to William Eyre for rubber grinding and processing.

Lower Cotton Mill

There were a number of cotton mills along the Greenfield Valley, built for the manufacture of cotton textiles, all water-powered, in a period when cotton was one of Britain’s primary exports. John Smalley, one of the backers of Richard’s Arkwright’s ground-breaking spinning frame, established a mill with his colleague John Chambers. Their company was the Cotton Twist Company.  The earliest mill was built from stones taken from the nearby Basingwerk Abbey, and was called the Yellow Mill.  The business was declared bankrupt in 1780 and Smalley died in 1782, but Smalley’s window Elizabeth was able to find partners to push the business forward, and the business went from strength to strength.  Upper Mill was built inn 1983, Lower Mill (6) In 1785 (in just 10 weeks) and Crescent Mill in 1790.  All were fitted with Arkwright’s spinning frames and were worked by many local people, including young children.  The six-storey mill that survives today is the Lower Cotton Mill, its spinning frame once powered by a waterwheel 18ft high (5.5m) and 7ft (2.1m) wide with a 16ft (4.8m)  fall of water.  You can see the culverts that were built to carry the water beneath the buildings and feed them further down the valley.

From where we were walking, on the upper path, we could look down into the ruined warehouse’s, which was impressive.   In the 1850s it was taken over by a flour merchang and renamed the Victorian Corn Mill; the water basin is still called the Flour Mill Pond. Later it was the premises of a wheelwright and a brickworks.

If you were on the lower path, one of the buildings (which we did not know about) has apparently been restored and now houses a steam bottling plant, a railway museum and an exhibition on the industries of the Valley.  It was something of an omission that we missed this!  A good excuse to go back.  At the time of writing, admission is free.

Abbey Wire Mill

The Abbey Wire Mill overshot waterwheel in pit. Source: Chris Allen, Geograph

The site of the former copper and brass wire factory (5), the main output of which was  pins and bolts, has little to see.  It originally covered about an acre, and was the site of the wire mills of the Parys Mine Company, where rods of copper and brass were pulled through a series of holdes of decreasing size and then heated and cooled until wire was produced.  The site does contain an original waterwheel pit in which a waterwheel is still located, now renovated and capable of producing electricity for the museum.

In 1856, Newton Keates and Co leased the site and raised the level of the dam to create a larger pool.  This was a mistake.  Water broke through and flooded in 1857 and 1858, so the height of the water behind the dam had to be lowered.  The works closed in 1894 and the machinery was auctioned off.

Apparently, at a later date in the early 20th century, a small soap-works was built on the site which produced, presumably amongst other themes, soap imprinted with images of St Winifred, the first batch of which were sent to the Pope.  The mind boggles.  Today there is a small bandstand at its edge.

Further down the path, and the Bakehouse Café is located in Basingwerk House, a fine 1930s building.   We had a very good lunch there.  Beyond that is Basingwerk Abbey (about which more on another post) and beyond that is a car park and the A458, which you need to cross to reach Greenfield Dock, which is off the above map.

Greenfield Dock

Greenfield Dock is beyond the Green Valley Park, but is only a short walk away, reached by going through the car park beneath the abbey, crossing the main road, heading left for a short distance and taking the first on the right.  This is Dock Lane, which takes you to Greenfield Dock and the Wales Coast Path.  There’s not a lot to see, just a couple of tiny fishing boats in an inlet, and views (on a less grey day) across to the Wirral, but the dock was an important contributor to the Green Valley industries, linking with the Holywell Rail Line.

The Wales Coast Path, however, looks excellent in both directions, and a great destination for a sunny day.  It starts in Chester, and can be followed continuously around the entire Welsh coastline, but can be done in short chunks.  From here, for example, one could head upriver to Flint along the Path, and visit Flint Castle (which I have written about here), which is a walk of 4.3 miles (6.9 km) from Greenfield Dock to Flint Castle, but don’t forget the return journey.
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Wales Coast Path: Flint to Holywell. Source: Wales Coast Path

Visitor Information:

This is an excellent place to visit, with stacks to see.  If you are interested in industrial archaeology, wildlife on land and water, and woodland walks, you will not be disappointed.

To give some idea of how long it took us, we started out from Churton (about 15 minutes drive south of Chester) at 1030, arriving in Holywell at about 1115, having taken the most direct route along the A55, and we left at 1530, with a short stop for coffee and a snack in the park.  This is a dry-day walk, because there is nowhere to shelter.

In the Greenfield Valley everything is open and free to see other than the Green Valley Park Museum and St Winifred’s Well and Chapel.  We didn’t visit the museum, which is behind the visitor centre but details are available here.  Details for St Winifred’s Well can be found here.  The museum and visitor centre are closed from the end of October onwards.  There are also details about children’s activities on the Greenland Valley website here.

From a mobility point of view, a number of tracks, including the one that follows the line of the old railway are wide and metalled, but there is a distinct downhill gradient from Holywell to the abbey, and of course there’s the uphill gradient on the return journey.

Sources:

Berry, David, 2012. Walks around Chester and the Dee Estuary.  Kittiwake Books

Davies, K. and Williams, C.J., 1986. The Greenfield Valley. An Introduction to the History and Industrial Archaeology of the Greenfield Valley, Holywell, North Wales.  Holywell Town Centre

Greenfield Valley visitor’s Guide and Map (A3 fold-out)

The Industrial Heritage of Greenfield Valley. KS2 and KS3 Teaching Resource
cadw.gov.wales/sites/default/files/2022-02/Industrial%20Heritage%20-%20Greenfield%20valley%20resource%20-%20English.pdf

Greenfield Valley Park:  www.greenfieldvalley.com

The Dominican Friary at Rhuddlan

Introduction

Rhuddlan Friary by Samuel and Nathaniel Buck 1742.  Click to see the larger image. Source: Coflein

Prior to visiting Edward I’s 1277 Rhuddlan Castle (upcoming) I was having a look on the Ordnance Survey map of Rhuddlan, and saw that a little way downriver from Edward I’s castle, and beyond the earlier motte-and-bailey castle of Twthill, there is a site marked as “remains of a friary.”  I was unaware of anything there, so I had a look through my books and on the Coflein website.  Sure enough, there was a substantial Dominican friary there, established in 1258 by Llywelyn ap Grufudd (Llywelyn the Last), 19 years prior to Edward I’s castleIt went the way of the greater percentage of monastic establishments, and was dissolved by Henry VIII in 1538.  In some texts it is referred to as a priory, but the friaries were originally quite different from abbeys and priories.

The site of the Rhuddlan Dominican Friary today. The farm in the foreground lies over the site, and some of the buildings incorporate elements from the Medieval building. Source: Coflein

Today there is almost no sign that it ever existed.  This is by no means an isolated case of a monastic or mendicant building being erased from the landscape.  Of around 270 friaries of the different orders, only 15 in England and Wales have survived well enough to determine their layout and appearance.  Some are known only from their archaeological remains and others have yet to be investigated archaeologically and therefore appear, for all intents and purposes, to have vanished.  In the case of Rhuddlan Friary, there are details of its past that can be recovered even without any ruins to examine, although it has been a jigsaw assembled by many people and published in different places.  The earliest useful account, by Harry Longueville Jones in 1847, worked hard to pull together the various tenuous threads, as its author describes:  “The unsatisfactory complaint, of fewness of materials for the history of Religious Houses in Wales, applies with peculiar force to that of the Priory of Rhuddlan; and the utmost that can, at present, be attempted, towards an account of it must consist in the stringing together of various brief uncorrected relics, scattered up and down in various books and a few manuscripts.”  It still feels a bit like that, but it is work like that of Jones that paved the way for people like me.

Over the site where it once stood there is now a working farm and caravan park, formerly Plas Newydd and currently called Abbey Farm.  It does, however, incorporate some stonework from the former friary, and parts of it are therefore of considerable interest.  The farm is private property and not open to visits from the general public, although a public footpath skirts it.  Fortunately, there are various accounts and photographs available of the surviving masonry and tomb slabs.  In addition, much of the friary church was still standing in the middle of the 18th century, when a drawing of it was made by Buck (above) showing a simple but substantial layout with gothic styling, with Rhuddlan Castle in the background, and this has allowed assessment of what was there at the time of the dissolution.  It has also been mentioned in a number of Medieval documents.

Rhuddlan. The map on the left shows the location of Rhuddlan (source: Google Maps). The map on the right shows the location of Rhuddlan Priory in relation to the 11th century Twthill motte-and-bailey castle and Edward I’s 1277 stone castle (source: Ordnance Survey Explorer 264 – Vale of Clwyd)———–

The Dominicans

Saint Dominic (c.1170–1221), portrayed in the Perugia Altarpiece by Fra Angelico. Galleria Nazionale dell’Umbria, Perugia. Source: Wikipedia

The Order of Preachers (Ordinis Praedicatorum), better known as the Dominicans, Black Friars or Preaching Friars were founded in Toulouse, France, in the early 13th century by Spanish priest Dominic of Caleruega.  Attwater describes a Dominican friar as “one who combines elements of the earlier monasticism – its dedicatory vows, its communal life, its daily round of praise of God in church – with the manifold works of the pastoral ministry.”  In a pre-plague era where overpopulation was a serious problem, and the poor and uneducated were clustered into many  towns, the role of the mendicant orders was conspicuous and often impressive.

The order of St Dominic (c.1170-1221) was officially recognised by the papacy in 1216.  Like the other monastic and mendicant orders they had strict rules, but unlike the majority of other British monastic establishments, they based themselves not on the rules of St Benedict but on the Rule of St Augustine.  They were therefore much closer in their practises and values to the Austins, Franciscans and Carmelites, also mendicants, than any of the orders based on the Rule of St Benedict that dotted the British rural landscape.  The three main focal points of the Dominicans were:

  1. Scholarship and intellectual integrity were seen as essential to salvation for heretics and the poor, whose ignorance led them astray.  Dominicans recruited amongst graduates and clerics. Robust theological training was given to all new Dominican friars, and education was essential to their ethos
  2. A vow of corporate as well as personal poverty was also integral, meaning that, at least in the first century of their activities, they could not engage in commercial activities and were dependent on charity for their survival, and would accept land and houses with which to establish themselves, or money with which to purchase them (unlike the Franciscans who rejected the ownership of property)
  3. A mission to both preach to and lend aid to the poor, weeding out heresy was fundamental to their ideas, following the example of the apostles to evangelize, leading the misguided and disadvantaged to salvation

St Dominic’s house, Maison Seilha,n at Place du Parlement Chapelle, Toulouse, France. Source: Wikipedia

The Dominicans organized themselves with a system of centralized government, an elected body that resembled the General Chapter of the Cistercian order (an annual conference to administer and rule the order).  The Dominican friaries were divided into provinces, each of which was headed by an elected provincial prior.  These answered to a master-general who was himself elected.  Each friary had a prior at its head who was elected by the chapter, and not only attended the annual chapter but was also accompanied by another member of the same priory whose role was, somewhat disconcertingly, to report on the prior’s performance.  This type of performance review and downward as well as upward accountability is very modern in concept.  It was this organization and accountability that turned the Dominicans from wandering clerics into a force to be reckoned with, which became important as the different mendicant orders found themselves increasingly in competition for donations, both with each other and the older institutions.

The Dominicans arrived in England in around 1221, and were known as the Black Friars or Friars Preacher.  They spread first to Ireland and then, in 1230, to Scotland. There were five Dominican houses in Wales, two of which, Bangor and Rhuddlan, were in north Wales.  By 1260 the Dominicans had persuaded both wealthy and poor that there was much to recommend them.  They had around thirty six houses in England, nine in Scotland and the five in Wales, and by the end of the 13th century there were around 60 in total.

The earliest preaching took place in public places like market squares where a sizeable audience could be gathered.  As they became established and increasingly popular, and were able to use donations to found churches to which audiences could be attracted, they began to preach on their own premises.  They tailored their preaching to their audience, and presented themselves as men of the people, sharing their poverty, quite distinct from both the upper echelons of society and the more established Benedictine monasteries.  At the same time they also appealed to the new commercial classes in the urban centres that they favoured.

Dominicans believed that ignorance was at the heart of heresy and defection from God, and that education would provide the ignorant and the poor with the tools to achieve salvation.  Throughout Europe the teaching of theology and logic continued to be of importance to the Dominicans, and each Dominican priory was responsible for setting up its own school to teach the basics, while they also set up regional schools for the further education of those friars who were academically promising. Leading Dominicans increasingly contributed to the development of Medieval universities.  Their mission to educate the laity was given an extra relevance by the decision of the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215, which required that every person should make confession to a priest at least once a year.  This required the general public to understand exactly what was required for a blameless life, and what steps were required in order to make a valid confession.

The extensive ruins of the massive Fountains Cistercian Abbey in Yorkshire. Source: Wikipedia, photograph by Mike Peel

Whereas Benedictine monks renounced all personal possessions and properties, the monastic houses in which they lived and worshipped could be very wealthy indeed, and were often fairly massive and elaborate structures.  Fountains Abbey (Benedictine, Yorkshire), Glastonbury (Benedictine, Somerset) and Lewes Priory (Cluniac, Sussex) are good examples.  The mendicants, by contrast, were permitted only to acquire enough resources to survive, via begging for alms or through charitable donations and bequests.  Even so, the friars of different orders were so popular, amongst the wealthy as well as the poor, that churches grew from simple places of worship to much grander affairs.  As J. Patrick Greene puts it “the more successfully the friars gave enabled the wealthy to gain spiritual grace through the vicarious experience of poverty, the less it became a reality for the friars themselves.”  This can be seen at the Franciscan friary in Oxford and the Dominican friary in Chester. Hinnebusch expands on this, and suggests that in the 13th century the Dominicans were also able to generate income of their own:  “Most houses had gardens, orchards, groves, and sometimes vineyards and fish ponds. Undoubtedly some houses were able to sell part of the produce from these sources and thus supplement the alms of the people.”  At least in the early years of their mission, their properties were not rented out, certainly as this was in direct violation of Dominican rules, which were strictly enforced.  There is more on this in connection with Rhuddlan Friary, below.  In the later Medieval period, however, matters changed as Hinnebusch explains:

Pope Gregory X. Source: Wikipedia

In 1261, a papal bull allowed the Order to accept revenues for the purchase of ecclesiastical ornaments, vestments, and books. In 1266 friars were allowed to accept inheritances which would have come to them if they had remained in the world. These could be held or converted into money for the maintenance of the community. In 1274 after the attack on the mendicant orders at the Council of Lyons, Gregory X declared that the friars could “accept properties with a safe conscience.” The bull Supra Cathedram of Boniface VIII, 1299, in obliging the friars to give a fourth of all legacies, bequests, funeral charges, and other donations to the parish church struck a death blow to mendicant poverty. Under these conditions the quest and voluntary gifts were no longer sufficient, and the Order was obliged to seek for fixed sources of income.

Inevitably the mendicants stepped on the toes of the secular clergy, those bishops and parish priests whose congregations and incomes were under threat by the arrival of the mendicants, particularly as the mendicant churches grew and incorporated larger congregations.  Papal intervention was sought on several occasions, but the tensions continued.

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The Dominican Friary at Rhuddlan

The foundation of the friary

The Dominican Friary at Rhuddlan was established by Llywelyn ap Gruffud (Llywelyn the Last) in 1258, 19 years before work began on Edward I’s castle nearby.  He is also thought to have founded the priory at Bangor in the mid-13th century.  It was a tradition amongst the Welsh princes to found monasteries.  Although Cistercian monasteries were particularly prestigious amongst the princes, with one in each of the main cantrefs, Llywelyn was not a lavish spender on elaborate monastic projects, although he occasionally made financial gifts to those houses established by his ancestors.  He became a benefactor of the very small Cistercian monastery at Cymer near Dolgellau that had been established by Gruffudd ap Cynan of Gwynedd in 1198, as well as of Beddgelert Augustinian Priory near Bangor, thought to have been established by one or more of the lords of Gwynedd in 1200.  He made a loan to an abbot of Valle Crucis Cistercian Abbey near Llangollen, which had been founded by Madog ap Gruffydd Maelor, ruler of Powys (north), in 1201.  Perhaps when it came to founding his own houses, he preferred the ideologies and practices of the Dominicans; it is also possible that they represented a rather less eye-watering investment.  It should be noted that Samuel Lewis, in his 1849 Topographical History of Wales, believed that it had been established in 1197 by Ranulf III of Chester, but he gives no explanation for his thinking.  

Rhuddlan Friary was established on the River Clwyd, 4.8km (3 miles) to the sea on the cost of North Wales, set above the floodplain, with a short cliff separating it from the valley below.  A town had been here since the Anglo-Saxon period, taking advantage of the best pace to ford the river.  William the Conqueror is thought to have ordered the building of the Twthill motte-and-bailey castle which was built in the 11th century and was probably still maintained for defensive purposes when the Dominicans set up their friary.

Inscribed tomb slab. Source: Coflein

There were only two Dominican houses in north Wales, the other being in Bangor, established in 1251, seven years earlier than Rhuddlan, again probably by Llywelyn ap Gruffud.  Wales was not strong on mendicant orders in general, primarily because they favoured urban areas, and Wales in the 13th century lacked the busy towns that were growing up in England.  There was only one Franciscan house in north Wales, on Anglesey, and a single Carmelite house, at Denbigh.  Given that there were so few mendicant orders represented in north Wales it would be interesting to understand why Rhuddlan, of all the possible towns in Wales, was selected as an attractive site for the Dominicans.  Although it may have had something to do with Llywelyn himself, it is also possible that the founding friar may have had input, and may have had a connection to Rhuddlan.

Whether parish church, abbey, priory or friary, all religious establishments came under the wing of a regional ecclesiastical body, a diocese, headed by a bishop.  By 1291 Rhuddlan Friary came under the diocese of St Asaph (in English), Llanelwy (in Welsh), together with other ecclesiastical deaneries (groups of parishes) like Aberconwy Cistercian Abbey, Strata Marcella Cistercian Abbey near Conwy, Valle Crucis Cistercian Abbey near Llangollen and Basingwerk Cistercian Abbey near Holywell.  Rhuddlan Friary, Valle Crucis Abbey and Aberconwy Abbey all provided St Asaph with bishops.  Rhuddlan’s Prior Anian II (or Einion II) became the bishop of St Asaph in 1268.

It is not known where the friars came from.  Dominican scholarship was an important component of their ethos, and the Rhuddlan friars would have received training when they joined the order, although Latin would have formed a common language, and a common bond.  Rhuddlan had passed between the English and Welsh through its history, but because friars mingled with communities, it is probable that at least some of the friars must have been Welsh speakers.  Attwater points to the dozen Dominican bishops that he knows of with English names, but says that the impression they give is misleading, and that Welsh friars predominantly had Welsh names.  Potential sources for friars to populate a new friary could have included the other Welsh friaries, but also reasonably nearby was Chester, where a Dominican friary had been established in 1236 and was doing very well.

The friary architecture

Although there is almost nothing left of the Dominican friary at Rhuddlan, it will have been built on the lines of other Dominican communal establishments.  Like the more numerous Benedictine monasteries and priories, a Dominican friary consisted of a church, which made up one side of a complex of buildings that were arranged in  square or rectangle around a garden, the garth.  The church would usually be on the north, and the domestic and administrative buildings were incorporated into the other buildings over one or two storeys.  The image below shows the layout of the mainly 14th century Dominican friary at Norwich, as an example, in this case fairly elaborate but, like most Dominican friaries, the church had no side transepts which makes them look significantly different from Benedictine-style abbeys and priories.

Ground plan of Norwich Friary. Source: Giraud, E.J. and Linde, .J.C. 2021 – via Google Books

The drawing by Buck shown at the top of the page and shown again below has been invaluable to architectural experts who have been able to clarify the main features.  The following is taken from Clapham, published in 1927, who has done an excellent job of deconstructing the image and reconstructing the friary, and concludes that the friary was built on a “much more ambitious scale than was usual among lesser friaries.”

Rhuddlan Friary by Buck. Source: Coflein

The whole length of the building shown was no doubt occupied by the dorter [dormitory] on the first floor and at its north end is some indication of the junction with the church, though even then this building had been entirely destroyed. Projecting eastwards from the range is a gabled structure, with three lancet-windows in the east end and three in the south return wall; this was undoubtedly the chapter-house with a room above it. Further south, in the main range, is the archway of a passage from the cloister, and still further south a chimney-stack, probably that of the fireplace in the warming-house.
At the south end of the range is a large doorway, at the dorter-level, evidently that leading to the rere-dorter [latrines], the ruins of which, with its connecting bridge, are also shown. Of the southern range of the cloister court, the eastern part of the inner or north wall is still standing and contains four small square-headed windows of red Chester stone, set high in the wall, above a string-course which probably marked the level of the cloister-roof. The rest of the range seems to have been rebuilt, but the south side of it is shown in
steep perspective in Buck’s view. The only other ancient portion of the existing buildings is the northern portion of the outer wall of an outbuilding on the west of the yard.
It appears to have projected westward from the original western range, as there is a return angle at the south end. It contains two pointed windows, probably of the fourteenth century, and blocked with ashlar. The rest of this range contains other pointed windows, but they appear not to be original and the walls themselves to be of post-suppression date.

Inscribed stones in vicarage wall at the Friary near Rhuddlan Church, taken by Leonard Monroe. Source: Coflein

At Abbey Farm today, the farmyard is thought to occupy the site of the cloister garth and part of the south cloister range, with the farmhouse occupying the site of the church, and the southern range perhaps incorporated into another farm building where blocked windows probably date to the 14th century.  Modern buildings have obscured what was probably the cloister, c.26-28m square.  Medieval building materials have been identified and in one of the farm buildings at the east of the farm complex, with some sepulchral slab fragments  incorporated into the walls, as well as a niche with a heavily eroded 14th century effigy still visible in it, shown below.  Clapham picks out details that were incorporated into the farm buildings that sit over the site, including bits of architectural and sepulchral masonry (tomb slabs).  Some of the tomb slabs are shown on this page, thanks to a digitization programme by Coflein, but with no attempt to put them in any particular order.  See captions for credits and links.

Built into the garden-wall, to the north of the yard, are portions of a moulded and cusped arch of early fourteenth-century date and probably part of a tomb recess. Of the various funeral monuments built into the walls of the buildings round the yard . . . .

Engraving incorporated into a wall.  Photograph taken by Leonard Monroe. Source: Coflein

On the east side of the yard: (a) effigy in high relief of a civilian in hood with flap, belt with skirt of gown tucked into it and holding in both hands a baton, or possibly a mace, probably fourteenth-century; (b) part of a coffin-lid with inscription.

On south side of yard: (a) incised slab with figure of an archbishop1 in mass-vestments with cross-staff and marginal inscription to William Freney, archbishop of Rages, c. 1290.
This slab has now been removed to the parish church; (b) slab with raguly cross in relief, head in a quatrefoil, sword at side and inscription to Robert, son of Robert de Bridelton, early fourteenth-century.

On west side of yard: coffin-lid with elaborately enriched cross on stem inscribed ‘Hie jacet [here lies] Snaisii,’ the rest of the inscription destroyed, thirteenth-century. The inventory of goods taken at the suppression mentions the quire with a table of alabaster on the altar and new stalls, two bells in the steeple and the kitchen.

There are references to the friary church having a particularly magnificent rood screen, which attracted pilgrims, about which more below.  In 1849, Samuel Lewis writes that “near it [the friary] is a fine spring, from which the priory derived water, conveyed to it by leaden pipes, that were taken up not many years ago: from this spring the town of Rhuddlan is now supplied during seasons of drought”

Unlike the better known Cistercian monasteries of north Wales, which were built in areas where the monks could worship in isolation, as separate from the world beyond the cloister as possible, the Dominicans always intended to be part of the local community and their friaries were built either on the edge of towns, like Rhuddlan, or within them, like Chester’s Dominican friary.  The friars’ lives were a balance between the communal living and worship that too place within their monastic premises and the preaching that they carried out in neighbouring communities.  They built their friaries in or near towns and the friars would have been familiar figures around the town of Rhuddlan where they would have mingling with townspeople and recruiting support in their missionary roles.

How the friary sustained itself

Inscribed stones in vicarage wall at the Friary near Rhuddlan Church, taken by Leonard Monroe. Source: Coflein

The friary appears to have been well provided for throughout the 13th century, and must have had significant status locally.  By 1283 there were 23 friars at Rhuddlan, a very healthy number.  In Cardiff and Haverfordwest, both Dominican friaries, numbers are recorded in 1285 as 30 and 39 respectively, but Rhuddlan was rather more remote.  In 1268 Rhuddlan Friary’s prior “Anian (Einion) of Nanneu” became Bishop of St Asaph, a significant honour.  It is unlikely that such an appointment would have been made from a minor establishment, a suggestion supported by other appointments to the position from the big Cistercian abbeys of Aberconwy and Valle Crucis in north Wales.  Records of payments to the monastery also give a sense of its importance, including a payment in 1281/1282 at the time of the birth of the princess Elizabeth at Rhuddlan, Edward and Eleanor’s 5th child, of 7s 8d to the friars of Rhuddlan and 1s 1d for the brethren of the hospital of Rhuddlan (about which more below); a bequest in the will of Bishop Gervase de Castro in 1370 of 60 shillings and another bequest, this time of 20 shillings, from Llewelyn ap Madoc, bishop of St Asaph, in 1373. 

The friary also appears to have been taking steps, beyond accepting alms and bequests, to care of itself.  Hinnebusch comments “At Rhuddlan in 1534, the prior leased several gardens and an apple orchard ; two years later a second apple orchard was leased. When the house was sup pressed, the sale of the effects of the priory included kine and pigs.”  Kine were a type of cattle.

Map showing Rhuddlan on the Welsh pilgrim routes, which link north and south Wales. See the following link for the full UK map. Source: The British Pilgrimage Trust

The excellently researched academic Monastic Wales Project website states that “Pilgrims flocked to visit the rood at Rhuddlan,” but does not expand on the comment.  The rood is the screen that divides the nave (where the public worship) from the chancel (the sanctuary at the eastern end of the church that was confined to the friars).  It is usually ornate, and made of open tracery in wood or stone (more likely wood at a Dominican friary like Rhuddlan, as it was much less expensive).  It was usually topped with a beam that held the rood (a depiction of the crucifixion), often accompanied by other key figures from the Christian story.  At Bangor, part of the rood survives, and symbols of the evangelists, the ox, eagle, lion and man, accompanied Christ.  Some rood screens attracted pilgrims either because of their particular design or because of associated miracles, In her PhD thesis, Lisa Garland says that many depictions of Christ became objects of pilgrimage, particularly in the 15th century, many gilded.  In north Wales, both Rhuddlan and Bangor had rood screens that attracted pilgrims, were celebrated in Welsh bardic poetry, and and were located on Welsh pilgrim routes, as shown on the map above right.  Pilgrims might be depended upon for offerings to a religious institution, helping to support them.  The rood at Rhuddlan was celebrated by the poet Gruffudd ab Ieuan ap Llywelyn Fychan, which would probably have been good PR for the friary.

The Impact of Rhuddlan Castle

Edward I saw himself as a devout Christian.  He had been on crusade, and he had made a vow to build a Cistercian monastery, which he founded in east Cheshire at Vale Royal in c.1270.  Edward I’s military activities often dragged monastic establishments in Wales into the conflict.  Being devout, or at least concerned about his status in the eyes of God, Edward compensated a number of monastic establishments in north Wales, both big and small, with significant sums of money and other gifts.  These included Basingwerk (near Flint Castle), Valle Crucis (near Llangollen), Aberconwy (near Conwy), and Cymer (near Dolgellau).

Inscribed tomb slab incorporated into the wall above a doorway. Source: Coflein

There is no surviving record of Rhuddlan Friary suffering damage to building or losing resources such as grain or livestock, but Llywelyn surrendered at Rhuddlan Castle in November 1277 and it seems improbable that the friary escaped entirely unscathed during the conflict.  The friars of Rhuddlan are credited with having organized the care of the wounded at that time, so were clearly in the thick of it.  Whether from guilt about harm inflicted or from appreciation of the Dominicans, Edward continued to finance the friary after Llywelyn’s death in 1282.  This is not particularly surprising, as both Edward’s father Henry III and Edward I himself were supporters of the mendicants in England, providing them with the much-valued stamp of royal approval.  In addition, Edward had a policy of compensating religious houses for damage inflicted during his conflicts with Llywelyn in Wales. By way of thanks for royal support, Rhuddlan Friary supplied Queen Eleanor with honey from its own hives. Queen Eleanor died in 1291, Rhuddlan Friary was a beneficiary from her will, which included a grant of 100 shillings each to the Dominican houses of Wales and England.  Rhuddlan Friary was also allocated 2 and 1/2 acres of land.

The community of Rhuddlan friary

The Danse Macabre or Dance of Death (1493) by Michael Wolgemut, from the Nuremberg Chronicle of Hartmann Schedel. Source: Wikipedia

Very little is known about the individuals who lived within the community of Rhuddlan Friary or any of the activities that were carried out, including their preaching.  Rhuddlan is considered to be a probable source of a version of the danse macabre (dance of death, also known as the dance of Paul’s). Several of the mendicant orders used the danse in their sermons, and the Dominicans were particularly enthusiastic about its terrifying imagery, often featuring death as a cadaver coming to claim the living, which was a warning of perils to come, and a reminder of the need to prepare one’s soul for the inevitable.  Here’s a flavour from a paper by Gray and Hale, translated from the Welsh, by poet Dafydd Ddu Hiraddug:

The corpse that was full of excess in a dirty closed place
As food for insects without worthy blessing …
The beautiful eyes now rounded holes
Full of maggots, in truth;
The comely mouth, which was so playful,
And was haughty, sad its form
A sardonic black hole, unlikely to be loved,
Black sorrowful nape, pathetic loneliness:
And the white teeth like old pegs
Dirty grey putrid bones
The long arms and the beautiful legs
Are sticks with gristle: offensive and putrid!

Enough to put the fear of God into anyone.

Only one of the community members is known for certain, and that is because he achieved prominence outside the friary’s walls as Bishop of St Asaph.  I have included his biographical details below because it is some indication of the level of seniority that the friary could attract.

Effigy of Anian in St Asaph Cathedral. Source: Wikipedia

Anian, the Rhuddlan prior who  became Bishop of St Asaph in 1268, was often a chosen intermediary between Llywelyn ap Gruffudd and both Henry III and Edward I, but he became alienated from Llywelyn as the relationship between the prince and Edward I deteriorated.  Towards the end of 1273 Anian he wrote to Pope Gregory X to make charges against the prince.  This put him in confict with the Cistercian order in Wales, whose abbots in turn wrote to the pope, on 7 March 1274 in defence of Llywelyn. His loyalties remained with the king and he continued to represent Edward’s interests against Llywelyn.  When Edward was defeated in 1277, Anian’s diocese, St Asaph passed to the control of the English Crown.  In 1281 Anian was given support from Edward in his bid to the papacy to move bishopric from St Asaph to the new royal castle and its accompanying town at Rhuddlan, a far higher status location, but this came to nothing.   During the resumption of hostilities between Wales and England in 1282, the cathedral of St Asaph was burned, infuriating Anian, who refused to lend the king further support and excommunicated the soldiers who attacked the cathedral.  The king seized his goods and denied him the diocese.  The rift was repaired in 1284 with the intercession of the Archbishop of Canterbury, Pecham.  Anian was granted the advowson (vacant ecclesiastical appointment) of Rhuddlan in return for a good will gesture of 500 marks.  Throughout this period he fell out with many other secular and religious dignitaries.  He died on 5th February 1293.

In 1284 some indication of the status of the friary is provided by the appointment of the prior of Rhuddlan by Archbishop Pecham to the commission of inquiry tasked with assessing the need for rebuilding and repair of churches damaged during the Edwardian wars in Wales.  This was not Anian, who was by now the bishop of St Asaph, but I have not yet tracked down his name.

St Mary’s Church on the River Clwyd, Rhuddlan, which now houses the tomb of William de Freney.  Edward I’s Rhuddlan Castle is shown in the bacground.  Source: photograph by Mike Searle on Geograph.

There would have been  cemetery at Rhuddlan Friary, where the inmates would have been buried.  There are various pieces of tombstone incorporated into stone walls at Rhuddlan, re-used as building materials.  Only one of the burials has been identified for sure, dating to c.1290: when William de Freney, archbishop of Edessa (Upper Mesopotamia), was buried at Rhuddlan.  His tomb was saved because it was removed to St Mary’s Church in the town, where it remains.  If this was done at the dissolution it is something of a puzzle why none of the other tombs were moved at the same time.  William de Freney was a Dominican monk, but although he was buried at Rhuddlan, his career unfolded far from north Wales, and although it is possible that he ended his days at the friary it is by no means certain.  He was a diplomat and skilled orator and linguist.  It is possible that when Edward went on crusade in 1270, de Freney went with him, but his movements are unclear until his death at Rhuddlan.  Edward I spent a lot of time in the 1270s and 1280s in Rhuddlan, and the presence of de Freney at Rhuddlan was almost certainly connected with Edward’s own movements.  The tomb slab is inscribed with a legend in Norman French:PRIEZ PVR LALME FRERE WILLIAM DE FRENEY ERCHEVESHE DE RAGES (Pray for the soul of Brother William de Freney Archbishop of Rages).  The name Rages appears to have been identified with Edessa.

The friary and the town

There are no records about interactions between the friary and the town, although they must have been frequent and various.  The friars must have been impacted just as much as the townspeople by the famine and then the plague, both of which swept through England and Wales in the first half of the 14th century.

Rhuddlan Castle. Source: Mike Searle, Geograph

Where Edward built castles in Wales, he changed the entire character of each of those areas. Oddly, the friary was not included in the new borough established by Edward in 1278, which went against usual practice.  I have read nothing to explain this.  Perhaps the exclusion was at the request of the friary itself, to maintain its independence, or for other reasons of its own.  The town that the friars attended before the arrival of Edward I in 1277 was a very different place from the one that Edward built for English immigrants, a Gascon-inspired planned town called a bastide, and the friary presumably extended its reach to the English newcomers, although it is very probable that the majority of the Dominican friars were in fact Welsh.  This could of course have changed over the decades as the town changed and new members were accepted in to the friary.

When Edward’s engineers and labourers had finished straightening out and deepening 2 miles of the River Clwyd to enable seagoing ships to reach the castle, the friars may have benefitted.  As soldiers and sailors arrived by ship, the friars would certainly have had new audiences for their preaching might, which might very well have been welcome as they contemplated war with Llywelyn, the privations of the terrain and the weather and their own mortality.

Unsurprisingly, given the order’s pastoral mission, during the Black Death of the 14th century, the order was very nearly wiped out as the friars throughout Europe mixed with their communities, attempting to bring support, and placing themselves at the highest possible risk.  Figures are highly elusive for Wales, but one estimate suggests that by the end of the 14th century the population of Wales had been reduced from a total of around 300,000 to under 200,000, a reduction of some 100,000 people. Although an earlier famine had some part to play in that figure, successive resurgences of the plague were the main cause.  Most of these would have been in the minority of lowland urban centres like Rhuddlan, rather than in the upland areas where the population was more dispersed, but its impact was still ferocious.

It is not known exactly how the Black Death impacted Rhuddlan, but enough of the population survived to enable both town and friary to survive. Under 100 years later, the senior occupants of the burgess and their land are recorded in a document dated 1428.  Most of the survivors noted are English names, probably those descended from Edward I’s settlers.  As well as recording that a community of burgesses had formed a landholding corporation, and that St Mary’s itself had land holdings.  No mention is made of the friary, but this was excluded from Edward’s new borough.

A public footpath connects the friary to the still-surviving motte of the 1073 Twthill motte-and-bailey castle, and Edward I’s 1277 stone castle beyond.   This part of the valley must have been quite a sight in the 13th and 14th centuries, with the canalized river running at the foot of friary and the cliff below both castles, new and old, with ships moored against the river.

The dissolution

The opening page of the Valor Ecclesiasticus, showing Henry VIII presiding over the valuation of the religious houses prior to their dissolution. Source: Wikipedia

The friary was dissolved in 1538, when six friars signed the Act of Surrender.  The surviving details of the abbey, as meagre as they are, have been discussed above.  The process of dividing the assets for sequestration and sale was overseen by Richard Ingworth, Bishop of Dover, who was ironically Dominican.  He recorded that he sold “cows and pigs for 22./-; paid for servants, and carried off a little chalice.”  The chalice would have contributed to the treasure trove being amalgamated from the dissolution by Henry VIII.  The premises additional to the church and cemetery are recorded at that time as a hall with three chambers, two other chambers, a kitchen and a stable.
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A monastic hospital?

Rhuddlan Castle in 1749 by John Boydell. Source: National Library of Wales via Wikipedia

There is considerable confusion about the presence of a hospital during the 13th century, when the friary was founded.  There are two references to it in documentation associated with Edward I, but it is by no means certain that it belonged to the Dominican friary.

In 1848 Harry Longueville Jones, in the second part of his piece on Rhuddlan Priory, gives a description of the hospital’s location, although he still gives no further idea of why he thought that a hospital was located here:  “The Hospital stood about a quarter of a mile to the NE of the priory on the southern side of the road leading to Diserth;  an old building, although perhaps not original, was standing here until within a few years.  It is now replaced by an ordinary cottage, in which all features of antiquity are disappeared.  Leaden pipes and conduits, leading from the hospital to the priory, have been dug up in the fields near that latter building” (p.48),  He goes on to suggest that it was “not improbable” that it could have been a “Lazarhouse” (a hospice for lepers), but this seems simply to be speculation.

Effigy in a wall at Abbey Farm. Source: Jones 1847

One of Edward I’s edicts states that the burial ground at the church of Rhuddlan had become inadequate, and that another site near the hospital should therefore be made available, suggesting at the very least that a hospital was in the vicinity.  One possibility is that references to a hospital refer not to a permanent facility, but to the work that the Dominicans are recorded as having carried out during the 1277 war, tending the wounded on a temporary basis.  The friars must have been involved again in Dafydd’s rebellion of 1282, and there is reference to money being granted to a hospital in the same listing where a much larger sum was also granted to the priory.  The friars were probably spared the violence in the national uprising led by Madog ap Llywelyn (in the north) and Morgan ap Marededd (in the south) in 1294-5 when English troops were garrisoned at Rhuddlan, but the castle was not one of those that was attacked by the rebels.

One idea, repeated by Harry Longueville Jones in July 1847, is that there might have been a Templar hospital at the site, perhaps adopted by the Dominicans after the closure of the Templar order.  A piece of data discussed in this context is the presence of a farmhouse near the friary that was called Spittal or Ysbythy, although the word Ysbyty (hospital) can simply identify land that belonged to the Knights Hospitallers or Templars, and does not always indicate the presence of an actual hospital. 

Excavations carried out to the east of the castle in 1978 as well as beyond Edward’s borough defences found no traces of a hospital, and so far remains have not showed up on aerial photographs.   It was presumably completely robbed out for building materials. 


Final Comments

It is easy to see why the mendicants, who combined secluded worship and pious austerity with community involvement the religious education and salvation of the poor would be attractive to the wealthy, their offering far more visible and easier to relate to than the older, more remote orders.

The remnant of a lovely tomb slab at the Abbey Farm (also shown above in black and white). Source: Geograph, by Mike Searle

The stories of Rhuddlan and former Rhuddlan friar Anian, who became Bishop of St Asaph, show how religion and politics are inevitably intertwined.  The Dominicans had no way of Knowing, when they established their new friary in Rhuddlan, that Edward I would follow a decade later, and the new royal castle and town would have changed the entire profile of the area, introducing not only a garrison but English settlers, and drawing a target on the town for the wars of 1277 and 1282, although it appears to have escaped attack in the uprising of 1294.  This would have raised the importance of the Dominican friars as a source of Christian values and salvation within a war zone, but in times of peace, a perhaps even more important role was attempting to help cement the different elements of the royal town and the local Welsh interests.

At the moment, there are many more questions than answers about the Rhuddlan Friary, but answers may lie under the surface.  Further excavations around Rhuddlan may clarify the remains of the friary, help to date of some of the fortifications, and clarify what other buildings may have existed during the Medieval period.

The surrounding former abbey precinct that once extended across the surrounding fields has suffered the same indignity as Valle Crucis Abby in Llangollen, being used a caravan and chalet park.  The friars would probably have been turning in their graves, had their graves survived.

Rhuddlan Abbey Farm. Over the lintel of the blue door on the far left the above tomb slab has been incorporated into the stonework of the wall.  Source: Geograph, by Mike Searle

There are no visitor details on this post, because the remains of the friary are on private land, and are not open to the general public, so I was unable to visit.  There is a footpath that runs around the outside of the farm. 

I have not yet visited Rhuddlan for well over a decade, and am looking forward to a visit to the castles.  The friary is a real insight into how much one can learn from published and online resources without visiting the site.  A big hats-off to those early illustrators and writers who have captured so much that later writers have used to recreate past buildings and landscapes.  I wrote this entire piece without leaving my house, and that’s a massive reflection on how much work others have done.


Sources

The sources that I have used are listed below.  For a full bibliography for Rhuddlan Friary, see the Monastic Wales Project website at
https://www.monasticwales.org/browsedb.php?func=showsite&siteID=61

Books and papers

Attwater, D. 1949.  The Black Friars in Wales.  Blackfriars, Vol. 30, No. 354 (September 1949), p.421-424 https://www.jstor.org/stable/43812856

Burton, J. 1994. Monastic and Religious Orders in Britain, 1000-1300. Cambridge Medieval Textbooks. Cambridge University Press

Clapham, A. W. 1927.  The architectural remains of the mendicant orders in Wales. Archaeological Journal, 84 (1927), p.96-7
https://archaeologydataservice.ac.uk/archives/view/archjournal/contents.cfm?vol=84&CFID=3f7f06e0-94cc-44a1-8b8d-c7796029e9c7&CFTOKEN=0

Clwyd Powys Archaeological Trust 2014.  Rhuddlan.  Historic Settlement Survey – Denbighshire – 2014. CPAT
https://cpat.org.uk/ycom/denbigh/rhuddlan.pdf

Cule, J. 1977. Early hospital development in Wales.  National Library of Wales journal. 1977, Winter Volume XX/2.
“Extracted onto the pages of GENUKI with the kind permission of the National Library of Wales. This is a complete extract of this article (Gareth Hicks May 2003):”
https://www.genuki.org.uk/big/wal/Archives/NLWjournals/EarlyHospitals.

Davies, J. 2007 (3rd edition).  A History of Wales.  Penguin.

Garland, L.M.2005.  Aspects of Welsh Saints’ Cults and Pilgrimage c.1066-1530.  Unpublished PhD Thesis, Kings College London
https://kclpure.kcl.ac.uk/portal/files/2935809/420753.pdf

Giraud, E.J.  and Linde, J.C. 2021.  A Companion to the English Dominican Province: From Its Beginnings to the Reformation.  Brill
Sample:  https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=8BkgEAAAQBAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_atb#v=onepage&q&f=false

Gray, M. and Hale, D. 2021. Dancing and Dicing with Death: literary evidence for some lost wall paintings in Wales. Ancient Monuments Society Transactions Volume 65 (2021), p.7-19

Greene, J.P. 1992. Medieval Monasteries. Leicester University Press

Gumbley, W. 1915. The Dominican Priory of Rhuddlan. Flintshire Historical Publications 5 (1915), p.34-35
https://journals.library.wales/view/1256711/1257147/46#?xywh=-936%2C-227%2C4106%2C4136

Gumbley, W. 1915. The Dominican Bishops of St Asaph. Flintshire Historical Publications 5 (1915), p.31-33
https://journals.library.wales/view/1256711/1257147/46#?xywh=-936%2C-227%2C4106%2C4136

Gumbley, W. 1915. The Dominican Friary of Rhuddlan. Flintshire Historical Publications 5 (1915), p.43-44
https://journals.library.wales/view/1256711/1257147/46#?xywh=-936%2C-227%2C4106%2C4136

Hayman, R. 2018. Rood Screens. Shire Library

Hinnebusch, W.A. 1944.  The Domestic Economy of the Early English Dominicans.  The Catholic Historical Review , Oct., 1944, Vol. 30, No. 3 (Oct., 1944), p. 247-270

Jackson, P. 2005. Freney, William (fl. 1263–1286). Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (Online [2014] ed.). Oxford University Press.
https://www.oxforddnb.com/view/10.1093/ref:odnb/9780198614128.001.0001/odnb-9780198614128-e-92436;jsessionid=11E5391F2DD975CD06FDDFAA92E58B14

Jones, H.L. 1847.  Priory of Dominican Friars, Rhuddlan, Flintshire. Archaeologia Cambrensis, July 1847, p.250-259
https://journals.library.wales/browse/2919943

Jones, H.L. 1848.  Rhuddlan Priory, No.II.  Archaeologia Cambrensis, January 1848, p.46-49
https://journals.library.wales/browse/2919943

Lewis, B.J. Gray, M., Jones, D.C. and Morgan, D.D. 2022.  A History of Christianity in Wales.  University of Wales Press

Lloyd, J.E. 1959.  Anian II (died 1293), bishop of St Asaph.  Dictionary of Welsh Biography.

Morris, M. 2008.  A Great and Terrible King.  Edward I and the Forging of Britain.  Penguin.

Platt, C. 1995 (2nd edition).  The Medieval Abbeys and Priories of Medieval England.  Chancellor Press

Taylor, A. 2004.  Rhuddlan Castle (abridged from a text by Arnold Taylor). Cadw

Walker, D. 1990.  Medieval Wales.  Cambridge University Press

Websites

Abbey Farm Caravan and Camping Park
History
https://abbeyfarmrhuddlan.co.uk/portfolio-item/history/#top

Based In Churton
Valle Crucis abbey (ongoing series of posts about the abbey). By Andie Byrnes
https://basedinchurton.co.uk/category/valley-crucis-abbey/

British History Online
A Topographical Dictionary of Wales. Originally published by S Lewis, London, 1849.
https://www.british-history.ac.uk/topographical-dict/wales/pp345-356

Cadw
Rhuddlan Castle
https://cadw.gov.wales/visit/places-to-visit/rhuddlan-castle
Rhuddlan, Norman Borough
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/303586

Coflein
Rhuddlan Friary (Dominican); Abbey Farm
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/157155/

Monastic Wales
Rhuddlan Friary
https://www.monasticwales.org/site/61

 

Day trip: Flint Castle – Edward I’s first permanent Welsh foothold

Northwest “garrison” tower at far left, with the big detached southeast “Great” tower in the middle and the northeast “Eagle” tower at far right.  Out of sight, opposite the Great Tower, is the southwest “Prison” tower

A visit to Flint Castle is not really a day trip if your starting point is the Chester-Wrexham area because it’s only about half an hour away, but because we started out quite late, and decided to combine it with a visit to Basingwerk Abbey in Holywell (a 10 minute drive from Flint), and had a long, lazy coffee in the sun, it did turn into something of a day trip.  If you are into fascinating ruins, I recommend both Flint Castle and Basingwerk, particularly as they are such a short distance from one another and overlap chronologically.  Basingwerk Abbey was founded in 1132 and closed in 1535, so its inhabitants would have seen the first construction of Flint Castle.  I’ll be talking about Basingwerk on another occasion.

As Edward began his castle building extravaganza, Llywelyn at last paid homage to the king of England, sitting to the left of the king’s throne, with Alexander of Scotland at the king’s right.

I have already posted the background story to Edward I’s castle building programme in northeast Wales, describing how different generations of Llywelyn the Great’s descendants clashed with England and the Marcher lords in a fight for territory and prestige in Wales.  I have not repeated any of that here, so if you would like the background information, do have a look at my earlier post.

Flint Castle is right on edge of the river Dee estuary, with beautiful  views across to the Wirral, and even though it is on the edge of a busy town with somewhat chaotic traffic, the castle itself is set back from a quiet housing area and stands apart even from that.  Although the river has silted up in front of the castle today, when it was built, the river flowed up to the castle itself.  It has a sense of isolation and peace about it and is a lovely place to visit, and can be combined with sections of the Wales Coast Path.  See my notes about visiting the castle at the end of the post, together with maps.

The Who, When and Why of Flint Castle

Artist reconstruction of the southeast and northeast towers of Flint Castle by A. Hook. Source: Ancient and Medieval Architecture

When Henry III died in 1272, Edward was on his way home from an underwhelming crusade, having narrowly survived an assassination attempt, and he took his time to return to England.  He was not crowned until 1274.

Henry III and Edward had been troubled throughout Henry’s reign with rebellions in Wales, masterminded by Llywelyn ap Gruffud, known as Llywelyn the Last.  Several treaties had failed to achieve long term peace, and although the Treaty of Montgomery of 1267 looked as though it might hold, Llywelyn ap Gruffud was labelled an outlaw in 1276, and war was declared in 1277.  A peace was brokered, but although Edward had every reason to believe that the treaty might secure peace between England and Wales, he began to build a series of castles in northeast Wales, beginning at Flint in 1277 and rolling out along the coastlines throughout the next two decades.

Why here? The location of Flint Castle

Strategic importance of the castle

View down the Dee estuary towards Chester showing Flint Castle in the foreground. The build-up of marshland is a recent phenomenon. In the 13th century, the castle was right on the edge of the river, accessible by boat.  Source: Coflein

The unoccupied site for Flint Castle was chosen for its excellent views for miles around, and the slab of bedrock on the edge of the estuary, on which the castle would be built.  Although the castle was sited on a floodplain rather than on a more traditional hill, its location on the Dee floodplain still provided clear lines of sight in all directions.  It would be impossible to sneak up on Flint Castle unless it was foggy.  With tall towers on all four corners, any approach by land or water would be easy to spot, and the town that Edward had planned from the beginning sat on the landward side of the castle, preventing any large-scale onslaught from going unnoticed.

Map of the Welsh Cantrefi showing the location of Flint Castle. Source: Wikipedia.

Although Flint was in English hands in the heart of Llywelyn’s former territory, it was only a day’s march from Chester, one of the great earldoms along the Welsh border.  The castle could be supplied with food and other essentials from Chester by boat, and the estuary provided a potential, although not terribly reliable route of escape, should it be needed.  In addition, a small garrison was maintained at Ness on the Wirral, opposite the site of Flint Castle. When the tide was out, the river between Flint and Ness could be forded.  Most importantly, Flint Castle was a stepping stone into Wales, allowing Edward to build his series of castles one day’s march from one another.  This simple linear network, which could be supported by the sea, began to enclose Gwynedd, particularly as Edward and his magnates began to repair or rebuild Welsh castles that they had defeated.

Castles under siege were always at risk from running out of supplies, but the potential of being restocked from the sea was one form of additional security, and the castle had two wells, one in the centre of the inner ward, and one in the detached southeast tower.

Economic potential of the area

Flint Castle northwest corner

Although Flint Castle was a military installation, Edward intended for it to have a town accompanying it, to take advantage of the area’s natural resources.  A new town would need to attract inhabitants, and as well as incentives, the land itself would need to be able to support the town.

Although there was no settlement at Flint, which was named by either Edward or one of his entourage, it would be wrong to think of the land along the estuary as deserted when the castle was first thought up in 1277.  As far back as the Domseday survey of 1086 the nearby hamlet Atis Cross had a church, a corn mill and a a hide of land, something in the range of 120 acres, belonging to Hugh Lupus of Chester, and there was a lead smelting works here.  Nearby Coleshill (Cwynsyllt) was also mentioned in the Domesday book, and Hen Blâs motte and bailey castle at Bagillt, just over a mile away, which lies within the township of Coleshill Fawr, may have served as the llys (court) for the commote of Coleshill.  Archaeological excavations in the mid 1950s concluded that the castle was replaced by a fortified manor house in the early 13th century, which was in turn abandoned in the late 14th century.  In 1132 the abbey of Basingwerk was built here, and in the 13th century it had water mills and a nearby windmill.  This was potentially a prime area for water mills, as water dropped at speed from the hills towards the Dee, ideal for turning water wheels for processing grain or sheep’s wool.  The area was also suitable for agrarian development, sharing with Anglesey a lowland, fertile location that could be cleared for fields and farmed.

The designer and the design 

1919 plan of the castle grounds that were passed into state care, showing all four towers, the inner keep, the well and the remains of the connecting walls.  Only part of the outer keep is preserved.  The same area  remains under Cadw guardianship today. Source: Coflein

Although much of the castle was deliberately torn down following the civil war in the 16th century to prevent re-use, many of the key features are still visible on the ground.  Castle architecture has some basic requirements that are shared by all castles, but Flint itself showed a number of innovations that make it stand out today. Most of Edward I’s castles in Wales were designed primarily by Master James of St George, but Flint Castle was the brainchild of Richard L’Engenour (d.1315), a wealthy resident of Chester, an architect, master mason and military engineer, the owner of three farms in the Chester area, who in 1304 became Mayor of Chester.  It is probable that Edward’s input is reflected in features of the castle that resemble the castle of Aigues-Mort from which Edward left on crusade in 1270.

The wide open site placed few constraints on its designers and builders.  The castle has a number of notable features, including a double moat and the massive offset donjon, that were innovations in British castle building.  Although Flint began with the castle, a town was always part of Edward’s plan for Flint, so the layout of castle and town were conceived of together.

The castle comprised an inner ward (or bailey) and an outer ward, separated by a moat and drawbridge.  The outer ward protected the main gate into the castle and acted as an interface between the inner ward and the outside world.  It was shaped rather like a funnel, allowing access via a single gatehouse into what was effectively a holding area, narrowing into a path that connected it to a gate into the inner ward, which was overseen by the battlements and by the southwest and southeast towers.  It would have had buildings to house and feed troops stationed there, together with stables for horses and a gaol for holding prisoners.

The rectangular inner ward was made up of round towers built into the walls on three corners, and a detached round tower on the south-eastern corner.  Sturdy curtain walling connected all four towers, with the detached tower joined to the inner keep by a footbridge.  Some foundations remain within the inner ward, plus the all-important well.  On the day that I visited in mid June, the water of the well in the inner ward was clearly visible at about 5ft (152cm) below the ground surface.  Buildings within the inner keep would have included a bakehouse, brewhouse, kitchen, chapel and a hall.  Both wells, the one in the inner ward and the one in the donjon, were fed by the freshwater Swinchiard Brook.  Uniquely, the castle had two moats.  An inner moat protected the main castle and an outer moat protecting access from the town.

The southwest tower and a stretch of the curtain wall.

Each of the towers was different.  Although all had spiral staircases leading to battlements for defence, each had its own function.  The southwest tower is, according to Vicky Perfect, recorded in the payroll as the Prison Tower, so may have served as a gaol before a more formal building was added to the outer ward.  It originally had three storeys.  The basement, where prisoners were presumably held, had no steps, which would certainly have frustrated attempts at escape.  The northwest tower, also known as the Garrison Tower, had four points of access, which was useful for deploying troops to the battlements in a hurry, and its basement was probably the store for weaponry.  The northeast, Eagle Tower, was three storeys high, with a basement that was accessed via a trapdoor.  Guests and servants were housed here, and there was a fireplace on the second floor with a chimney up on to the battlements.  A spiral staircase ran up one side.  The potentially standalone southeast Great Tower (also known as the castle keep or donjon), is of particular interest.  Its isolation from the rest of the castle was an additional form of security against any successful incursion, accessible only via a drawbridge, now replaced by a permanent bridge. Sitting within its own portion of moat, it is unique in Britain.  It is a truly massive piece of architecture, about 20ms in diameter, was accessible only on the drawbridge, and contained a central space some 6m diameter.  It was several storeys high.

Southeast Great Tower, donjon or keep.  In the centre and on the right, images sourced from Coflein

The donjon or southeast Great Tower

On an everyday basis the Great Tower was the home of the Constable, but also housed the king’s chamber, which was completed in 1286.  The walls of the keep were 7 meters thick at ground floor level, but were still 5 meters thick at upper levels.  To add to its independence from the rest of the castle, and to provide the king with some privacy when he was in residence, it was provided by its own well.  Holes in the floors above it allowed water to be drawn rather than carried, and a wooden wheel was fitted to raise and lower the pail.  It was also provided with garderobes (toilets) and its own chapel.  Its basement, shown right, had a barrel-vaulted ceiling, limewashed to provide reflective light, but also illuminated by torches.  At times of siege, livestock could be moved into the tower to provide supplies on the hoof.

A watergate was built into the north wall, with steps down to the river frontage.   This was for loading and unloading boats directly into the castle.  A smaller watergate was also built into the donjon, again reflecting its design as a standalone unit.

Building the castle 

The first stage in the construction of the castle was to clear an overland route to Chester.  Although the castle could be supplied by boat, there was no road to Flint from Chester. The tidal character of the river meant that the castle could only be reached at high tides, so an overland route was vital.  More immediately Edward was unwilling to run the risk of penetrating the alien countryside where he could be attacked by those with superior local knowledge.  The road allowed him to travel with realistic protection to his new castle, and to enable his army advance unhindered along the Welsh coastline. A road was carved out of the densely vegetated coastal landscape.  It took 10 days to clear the route to Flint, and from there the castle was linked with routes to Rhuddlan, Degannwy and eventually to Conwy.

The next step was to dig a deep ditch around the chosen site at Flint to protect builders and visitors alike, which took three weeks.  The castle was to be built on bedrock, which gave it a solid base on the otherwise soft floodplain.

View from Flint Castle across the estuary and the River Dee to the Wirral

Wood for scaffolding, lifting equipment and for the defences that would surround the planned town was sourced mainly from the Forest of Toxteth (now part of Liverpool).  The fill of the walls of the castle was built mainly of yellow sandstone, much of which Vicky Prefect says was sourced from Ness on the Wirral, opposite, across the estuary, and other locations on the edge of the Wirral.  Ness could be reached over the sands when the tide was out by fording the river, but stone could also be brought in by boat.  Edward kept a small garrison at Ness.  Other sandstone was available locally, along with other natural resources including lead ore, lime for mortar and white limewash for walls (both lead and lime available from Halkyn Mountain).  Although yellow sandstone dominated, red sandstones were employed for some parts of the outer and inner walls, some of which came from Burton Point, a bit upriver from Ness, with the inner space between them filled with mixed rubble, including stones from the beach and broken building materials.

Many of the original payrolls for the construction of the castle have survived, meaning that details of names, home towns, job roles, and salaries of the workers who built the castle have survived.  Just as the king could demand that his noble subjects should provide men for his armies, he could assemble workforces of specialist craftsmen from across England, whether they wanted to go or not.  The building site and the craftsmen were protected by armed forces. This formula worked so well at Flint that the same model, and many of the same craftsmen, were used at the subsequent castles.  Here’s Vicky Perfect’s description of the first weeks of work in the summer of 1277:

The workforces were placed under the control of various knights, and split into groups under their twenty men (foremen). . . . In week one of the the build a total of 1858 men were involved in the first stage of the building of the castle.  Most were dykers who were required to help prevent the water from filling in the newly dug foundations.  The first order of 10,000 sandstone blocks was placed at the quarry of Ness prior to 25th July 1277.  Large numbers of carpenters and wood cutters were employed, some working in the forest s at Toxteth cutting the timber and building the 250 rafts needed to transport the stone across the water.  Many others were working on site, constructing the stockade required to keep the men safe and making the lifting machinery to move the sandstone blocks into place.  There were also numerous masons, working the stones delivered from Ness Quarry.  Smiths were employed to make and mend the metal tools required for the project.

By week two, the workforce had increased dramatically to 2,911, indicating the urgency of making the site safe.  More specialist workers were brought to the site, such as Carbonarii (miners) to mine the coal to fuel the smith’s fires.  The number of dykers working on the site doubled, including a group from Holland.

The well in the Great Tower.

The rest of that chapter is worth reading in its entirety, providing some fascinating facts and figures including lists of some of the workers, their trade, the number of them employed and how much they were paid.  For example, in the first two weeks, the castle employed dykers, smiths, carpenters, masons, woodcutters, miners, cinder carriers, masons and constables, paid from 2d to 8d a day, the latter reserved for the specialist Dutch dykers.  Other specialists were brought in as work progressed.  John le Blund, for example, was brought from London and paid 19 shillings for dressing stones for the well in the Great Tower.

The castle was not completed until the mid 1280s, by which time it had been painted with  white limewash, and the towers, which had been provided with temporary roofs of thatch, were now provided with lead roofing.  In 1302, following storm damage, lime was brought to repair the castle walls.  In 1304, wood from Ewloe produced 60 boards, 12,000 pieces of wood for tiling, 1000 lathes and four louvres for repairs so kitchen and stabling.

The town

John Speed early 17th century map of Flint. Source: Coflein. Click to enlarge.

An accompanying town, (or “implanted bastide”) was part of Edward’s original plan for the castle.  The idea of establishing defended new towns around castles in hostile territory came from Gascony, where Edward had already founded a number of new defended towns.  Pioneer settlers were granted considerable commercial privileges as incentives, and were expected to help defend the town should it come under attack.  These new towns reinforced the network of castles with economic as well as military foundations, and the enclaves of English commerce also introduced English urban traditions within rural Wales.  Flint and Rhuddlan were two of the earliest examples. 

Writing in 1924, Patrick Abercrombie commented that “There is no town in this country that is of greater interest to the student of Town Planning than Flint. Laid out by Edward I, in 1277 as an appendage to his mighty castle, it has preserved its mediaeval plan almost intact. Like most artificially planted communities, there was no fundamental human need in this place for a town, which accordingly grown in the past little beyond its original size.”  It is a fascinating idea that new towns, built from scratch, arrived with the Normans.  According to Francis Pryor, a total of 172 of these towns are known in England and 84 in Wales, and Edward was the “last great instigator” of the new towns.  As well as the layout of the towns, functional considerations were also important, and Edward believed that to support markets, good road links were vital.  Communications became one of his mantras, vital for a peripatetic king and court, but also for the movement of troops and the commercial viability of new settlements. 

Excavations in 2015 explored what are thought to be part of the town’s defences. Source: BBC News

An indication that the beginnings of the town, which  were already established by early in 1278, was a proclamation of a weekly market each Thursday and an annual fair.  Edward decreed that the burgesses of Flint should hold a market on Thursday of each week, and an annual week-long fair at the time of the Pentecost (50 days after Easter Sunday).  The castle constable was to serve as mayor, one of Edward’s own brothers was installed as chaplain at the castle, and agents were appointed to rent out plots of land to any pioneering English inhabitants who were prepared to chance their luck even though the defences were incomplete.  To encourage take-up, in 1282 these agents offered plots in the town free of rental for ten years, followed by a reduced rate in subsequent years, and residents came under English, rather than Welsh jurisdiction.  Burgesses (property-owning merchants) were exempt from the payment of tolls. In 1284 the town received its first royal charter, which conferred full English-style free borough privileges.  The settlers had their own guild and courts.  Conveyances of property suggest that many of the settlers were from Cheshire, who took advantage of the provision of land in the royal demesne and forests.  Others probably came from Shropshire.  A town mill was constructed, and permission was granted for another, which incurred an annual rate of ten pounds. Even with these benefits, it was obviously an uphill struggle to attract residents at first, in spite of the fact that by 1300 much available land in England was in use and the expansion of population during the 13th century meant that it was becoming increasingly difficult to find land.   By 1292, however, the town had taken off and there were 74 burgesses registered for tax in Flint.

The main source of information for the town’s layout is John Speed’s sketch of 1610, shown above.  The Norman new towns were built as grids.  The maps show that Flint still preserved its Medieval layout, and that it was one of the most symmetrical known, with a very precise underlying geometry.  Four parallel roads ran perpendicular to the river, whilst Edward’s coastal road passed through the middle of the town parallel to the river.  Whether the dog-leg was original or developed between the 1280s and Speed’s map of 1610 is unknown.  One of the four parallel roads, along the route of modern Church Street, connects the entrance to the town with the entrance to the outer ward, passing in front of the Church of St Mary’s and the town square.

Tithe map of Flint area, showing the original Medieval field systems. Flint castle is handily under the left-hand red blotch, and the grid layout of the town is easily seen, as are the neatly arranged fields.  Source: People’s Collection Wales

The economy of most of north Wales was based on livestock herding. Nearby Basingwerk Abbey depended for some of its locally derived income on its 53 heads of cattle and its 2000-strong herd sheep.  However, some lowland areas could be developed for mixed farming.  Anglesey was “the bread basket of Wales,” and the river lowlands at Flint were potentially ideal for agrarian land use.  In order for agriculture to underpin the activities of the settlers at Flint, clearance of neighbouring land took place to create new fields, the outlines of which survive, remarkably, on the 1839  tithe map, shown above.  This shows Flint town’s four parallel roads immediately in front of the castle, but extended on either side beyond the bissecting coast road.   The surrounding land is similarly divided up on a grid pattern of long, thin fields.  Although residential, commercial and industrial growth have obliterated much of this, some of it still survives to the south of Flint town.

Access from the outer ward into the inner ward

Writing about the design of Flint Castle’s town, Caroline Shillaber concludes that “Viewed in historical perspective, Edward I appears as the forerunner of British planners who regard the creation of new towns as a function of national government, who locate and plan the towns to serve an overall administrative policy, who lay out the towns  in accordance with the needs of the people, and who devise economic conditions conducive to their growth and development.”  Some areas were riskier than others, however, as the settlers in Flint discovered in 1294 when renewed hostilities between England and Wales resulted in the town being burned to the ground.  Even though residents received compensation and the town was rebuilt, it must have been a daunting thought to stay in a town where its supposed protectors were willing to burn it down if the need presented itself.

A tax assessment of the town had been made in 1293, naming residents like Adam the carter, Benedict the miner, Godfrey the carpenter and Nicholas the smith.  The assessment recorded 76 households.  Only five of those named were Welsh, like Madog ap Iorwerth and Einion Cragh, indicating that even in an English enfranchisement Welsh people held property.  Things changed after the town was burned down after 1294, perhaps due to bad feeling about the devastation of the town thanks to Welsh hostilities.  This is reflected in a petition of 1297, written when the town was still being rebuilt.  The English burgesses of Flint complained that in an English town, Welsh individuals had “bought land in the town and bake and brew, contrary to their charter and custom,” although there was actually nothing in the 1284 town charter to restrict the nationality of residents. 

Matthew Stevens gives an account of an Englishman named Richard Slepe who had been in Flint town from its inception, and had remained after the town had been burned down.  His daughter Agnes had married a Welsh man, Adda ap Einion.  When Richard died in 1327, Agnes and her husband inherited Richard’s properties, but because Adda was Welsh, they were confiscated by local officials.  They appealed the decision but were turned down.  Enfranchised Welsh towns, occupied by the English, made no concessions to a mixed-nationality marriage, a situation that continued until the 1536 Act of Union giving Welsh nationals equal rights to English.  

The castle under attack during the reign of Edward I

In March 1282 Llywelyn’s brother Daffyd launched a ferocious assault on Hawarden Castle, and this was followed by further attacks on Flint and Rhuddland castles, in which Llywelyn appears to have participated.  Attempts by Archbishop Pecham to negotiate a peace failed, and Edward through everything he had at the brothers, as described on my previous post.  Llywelyn was killed in battle in December 1282, and Dafydd was captured and put to death the following year.  The Flint area, including Basingwerk Abbey, was trampled underfoot, but Basingwerk was given significant compensation and Flint Castle was repaired and construction work completed by 1284.

As mentioned above, in September 1294, those who had been lured to settle in Flint met the dangers of living in the shadow of a strategic military facility head-on when the constable of the castle, William de la Leye, ordered that the town be set on fire to prevent forces led by Madog ap Llywelyn from using it as a protective screen.  Madog ap Llywelyn, one of Llywelyn the Last’s more remote cousins, considered himself to be a successor of Llywelyn and made a bid for power, supported by other Welsh landowners.  Some of them joined Madog on an opportunistic basis, with territorial claims in mind, but all of those who retaliated at this time acted in response to a massive tax demand, and a culling of Welsh men to supply troops for his activities in Gascony. Attacks were co-ordinated and took place at castles both built and appropriated by Edward, at Aberystwyth, Builth, Castell-y-Bere, Denbigh, Criccieth, Harlech, Caernarfon, Morlais, Flint and Rhuddlan.  It was a serious rebellion, and it demanded a serious response.  Edward immediately diverted the troops waiting to ship out to Gascony, sending them instead to Wales, where they advanced from three bases. Madog’s revolt was put down after some delay in March 1295, with Madog surrendering in July.  Edward compensated seventy five burgesses with £521.00, and the buildings were all re-built, but life next to a strategic outpost of an invading nation cannot have been particularly reassuring.  

View along the Dee towards the west from the inner ward

Edward I died in July 1307 at the age of 68 and was succeeded by his son Edward II (April 1284 – September 1327), who had been declared Prince of Wales in 1301.  Edward’s reign was colossally unpopular and he was forced to abdicate in January 1327 in favour of his 14-year-old son, Edward III. Following the quashing of the rebellion of Madog, North  Wales remained more or less at peace until the rebellion of Owain Glyndŵr under the reign of Henry IV in 1400.  Flint Castle continued to be strategically important, and retained a garrison.  The town, protected by the castle, was a financial and administrative centre during the 14th and 15th centuries, meaning that even in times of peace the castle retained its importance and was accordingly well maintained.  Future archaeological excavations may provide information about the original town, both before and after the fire.

Back in the wars after Edward I

Richard II 

Richard II at his coronation. Source: Wikipedia

In terms of great events after Edward, Flint Castle’s next claim to fame was as the venue for the abdication of Richard II (1367-1400) in favour of Henry Bolingbroke, who became Henry IV.  Richard II was the grandson of Edward III, and on the death of his own father, Edward the Black Prince, became heir to the throne, succeeding in 1377 at the age of 10.  He was deposed in 1399.  Flint Castle itself had had nothing to do with Richard II’s career up until that point.  Richard’s regency was managed by a number of councils.  One of his most important advisors was his uncle John of Gaunt. 

The regency councils saw England through the continuing eruptions of the Hundred Years War and the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381, and Richard himself was forced to deal with a number of substantial disruptions, including the threat of invasion from France.  As he came into his own power, Richard’s mistrust for the aristocracy lead him to select both his friends and personal guard with care, causing discontent amongst the powerful aristocracy.  When a group of them took control of the government in 1387, refereed to as the Lords Appellant, Richard was able to reinstate himself, but punished the conspirators with exile or execution.  One of the exiled was his cousin Henry Bolingbroke, son of his advisor John of Gaunt. 

The coronation of Henry IV, from a 15th-century manuscript of Jean Froissart’s Chronicles. Source: Wikipedia

On the death of John of Gaunt, Richard denied Henry Bolingbroke his inheritance, and this was enough to push Henry to open rebellion, landing in Yorkshire in June 1399. Richard II seems to have been very unpopular, and it does not appear to have taken Henry a substantial amount of effort to depose his cousin.  While Richard was in Ireland, Henry moved south.  Richard landed in Wales in July 1399 and entered negotiations with the Earl of Northumberland before surrendering to Henry on 19th August at Flint Castle.  Shakespeare puts these words into Richard’s mouth (Act 3, scene 3):

Cousin, I am too young to be your father,
Though you are old enough to be my heir.
What you will have, I’ll give, and willing too;
For do we must what force will have us do.

Henry Bolingbroke, in Shakespeare’s version, shows all due reverence and offers the king dignity and reverence, but the reality is that Richard was forced to resign in exchange for his life and was forced follow behind Henry to London, where he was incarcerated in the Tower of London.


Owain Glydwr 

Northwest tower

In 1400, a wealthy and London-educated Welsh nobleman was the source of the final great rebellion.  Owain Glyndŵr was the descendent of Llywelyn the Great and the princes of Powys, Owain Glyndŵr (c.1359–c.1415), and had served as a soldier under Richard II revolted against King Henry IV of England, using guerrilla tactics and his knowledge of the terrain to inflict damage on English forces. As with Madog in 1294, his primary grievances were unfair taxation, land disputes, and systematic neglect by the English government.  Owain’s first move was to attack key English castles, including Flint, placing it under siege in 1403.  The burgesses retreated into the castle whilst the town was plundered, inflicting damage that again took substantial time to repair.  Owain inflicted a number of defeats on the English forces with the aid of foreign assistance, and for a few years controlled most of Wales.  He called a parliament in Machynlleth in mid Wales, which was also attended by foreign dignitaries, where he named himself Prince of Wales, presented his plans for an independent Wales, which included building two national universities and the reintroduction of the traditional Welsh legal system.  In the long term, however, even with foreign military aid Owain was unable to compete with England’s superior forces and the king began to regain control of Wales.  Owain Glyndŵr continued to be a thorn in England’s side until 1412, when he disappeared after escaping a siege at Harlech.  He became something of a folk hero and a powerful symbol of Welsh nationalism and heritage.


The English Civil War (1642-1651)

Colonel Roger Mostyn (c.1623-90)

When Charles I acceded to the throne in March 1625, he came into conflict with Parliament from very early in his reign.  Like Henry III, he believed that the king ruled by divine right, and this in turn meant that he was answerable only to God, and not to any earthly authority.  His marriage to a Catholic did not help his popularity.  Constant bickering over religion and funds for Charles’s various projects, none of which Parliament was willing to fund to the king’s satisfaction led to the deterioration of the relationship, and in 1642 the country was torn in two, when civil war broke out.

By this time Flint Castle had been abandoned and was in very poor condition.  It was still, however, located in an excellent strategic position and local landowner Roger Mostyn made the decision to repair the castle and install a garrison as a contribution the Royalist cause.  A useful store for supplies for Chester, the castle changed hands several times during the conflict.  Back under Roger Mostyn, Flint found itself under Parliamentarian siege on 1st June 1646 and held out for nearly three months until all supplies had been exhausted and the garrison under Roger Mostyn surrendered rather than starve.  Although the Parliamentarians allowed them to leave unharmed, they were taking no chances regarding the castle, which was immediately slighted (rendered unusable).

The king was defeated at Rowton Heath, south of Chester, on September 24th 1645.  John Taylor in A Short Relation of a Long Journey, which he wrote in the summer of 1652, painted a thoroughly gloomy picture:.

Surely war hath made it miserable; the sometimes famous castle… is now almost buried in its own ruins, and the town so spoiled that it may truly be said of it, that they never had any  market (in the memory of man). They have no sadler, taylor, weaver, brewer, baker, botcher, or button maker; they have not so much as a signe of an alehouse . . . and this (me thinks) is a pitiful description of a shire town.

Future archaeological excavations may provide information about the original town, both before and after the 1294 fire.

An object of artistic interest

J.M.W.Turner’s painting of Flint Castle. Source: williamturner.org

Although it’s life was over as a military installation, Flint Castle joined other nearby ruined castles and abbeys, like Beeston Castle in West Cheshire and Valle Crucis Abbey near Llangollen, as popular tourist destinations, which were also popular with artists.  The best known of these was J.W.W. Turner (1775-1851), who painted both of the previously mentioned sites, and created a typically atmospheric view of Flint Castle too.  It is fairly typical of Turner’s paintings of this period, produced in the 1830s.  It shows the main subject of Turner’s interest in the background, with contemporary activities in the foreground.  Rather than place his ruins centre stage, Turner usually placed them where they eye was drawn to them, but in much less detail than the activities taking place in his foregrounds.  The man on the right looks towards the castle.  The sun rises at the castle’s side.  A line of blue-grey along the horizon draws the eye from left to right, tying the composition together.  The castle’s silhouette contrasts spectacularly with the yellows, reds, oranges and golds of the rest of the composition.  Everything in the painting draws the eye away from the more detailed and busy foreground to the static silhouette of the the castle’s profile.  Both beautiful and clever.  This was not Turner’s only study of Flint Castle, but it is my favourite.

View of Flint Castle by Richard Reeve 1812. Source:

I also very much like Richard Reeve’s earlier, far more prosaic and much less virtuoso portrait of Flint Castle.  Painted in 1801, instead of Turner’s juxtaposition of past and present, it blends the two, showing everyday life in in harmony with the ruins.  In Reeve’s view, the castle, the the beached boats drawn up on the shore alongside, the cottages in the foreground and the horse and cart driving away all occupy the same time zone without difficulty.  The men pulling in the nets are so accustomed to the castle’s looming presence that it is a mere backdrop to their activities.

Although no-one of Turner’s luminary talent has been drawn to the castle since the 19th Century, probably because of its urban and industrial surroundings, plenty of artists and photographers continue to find inspiration from Flint Castle.

Flint Castle today

Today the castle is a tourist attraction managed by Cadw.  It is beautifully maintained and money has been lavished on creating staircases that give safe access to and within the towers.  The views from both the inner ward and the towers are superb.

There is not much in the way of explanatory signage.  If you want to be informed, it is best to do the reading in advance.  There is a Cadw guidebook that takes in Ewloe castle as well, but it is out of print and difficult to get hold of.  Former mayor of Flint Vicky Perfect has dedicated a small but excellent book to Flint Castle, which is very well researched and written, and includes photographs, illustrations and maps (details of both books are in Sources at the end).

Visiting

Map showing the location of Flint Castle relative to Chester and Holywell (Basingwerk Abbey, marked as “Abbey” at the top left of this map, on the coast at Holywell, can be combined with Flint Castle for a visit). Source: streetmap.co.uk

You have to watch carefully for the road signs directing you to the castle (little Celtic cross symbols) because they are easy to miss.  Alternatively, as we did, check it on the map first to get an idea of the location and then just rely on GPS (I use the free Google Maps app on my iPhone, which works a treat).  There is a good car park overlooking the castle and estuary, with picnic benches on the grass below.

Short walk taking in Flint Castle, and suitable for those with mobility issues, although accessing towers within the castle requires the ability to tackle staircases.  Even without entering the towers, the sense of the castle from within the inner keep is excellent, and the views from the inner keep across the estuary towards the Wirral are lovely.  Source: Flintshire County Council

Flint Castle itself is a bit of a mixed blessing for those with unreliable legs.  One of the best things about Flint Castle is that it is possible to walk up staircases (both original stone ones and bright, modern metal ones), some of which are quite steep.  Although access is on the flat into the outer and inner wards, and the views from the inner ward are lovely, it is difficult to really experience all the components of the castle unless you tackle some stairs.  On the other hand, the walk shown here (from the Flintshire County Council website) shows a walk that includes that castle but could easily be done for those with unwilling legs.

Access to the castle is free, but check the Flint Castle pages on the Cadw website to check if it is closed for certain seasons or specific dates.  The car park is also free of charge.  There was a mobile café van whilst we were there, but there are no other café type facilities on the site.  There is a nice café at Basingwerk Abbey in Holywell if you are combining the two on a single visit to the area.

A section of the Wales Coast, marked with green diamonds, heading west from Flint Castle (marked at left with a white cross on a blue background). Source: Wales Coast Path interactive map

If you like walking, the castle is handily located on the Wales Coast Path, and although the Welsh side of the Dee is characterized by light industry, the views from the Wales Coast Path are across the estuary towards the Wirral.  We’ve not yet done any of the Wales Coast Path in that part of Wales, but the views from the castle argues that it has lots of potential, and I am hoping for sea and marsh birds too.  I cannot state whether or not it is suitable for those with unwilling legs, but it does seem plausible, because it is all on the flat.
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1726 print of Flint Castle.  Source: Coflein

Sources

Books and papers

As usual, the main sources used are shown in bold.

Note:  Vicky Perfect’s book on the castle (listed below) is great guide to Flint Castle in one convenient publication, with excellent illustrations.  In particular, Chapter 3 “The Building of Flint Castle” makes excellent use of primary sources to provide a fascinating insight into the resources required, the techniques used and the men involved in the construction work (including details of some of their roles and daily pay).

Abercrombie, P. 1924.  Flint.  The Town Planning Review, Vol. 10, No. 4 (Feb., 1924), p.241-244
https://www.jstor.org/stable/40101411

Butlin, R.A. 1978. The Late Middle Ages, c.1350-1500.  In Dodgshon, R.A. and Butlin, R.A. (ed.) An Historical Geography of England and Wales.  Academic Press, p.119-150

Davies, J. 2007 (3rd edition). A History of Wales. Penguin

Dyer, C. 2002.  Making a living in the Middle Ages.  The People of Britain 850-1520.  Yale University Press

Jack, R.I. 1988. H. Wales and the Marches. In Chapter 4, Farming Techniques in Hallam, H.E. (ed.) The Agrarian History of England and Wales, Volume II, 1042-1350. Cambridge University Press, p.412-496

Jenkins, G.H. 2007. A Concise History of Wales. Cambridge University Press

Hume, P. 2020. The Welsh Marcher Lordships. I: Central and North. Logaston Press

Morris, M. 2008. A Great and Terrible King. Edward I and the Forging of Britain. Penguin

Perfect, V. 2012. Flint Castle. The story of Edward I’s first Welsh castle. Alyn Books

Pryor, F.  2010. The Making of the British Landscape.  How we have transformed the land, from prehistory to today.  Allen Lane

Renn, D.F. and Avent, R. 2001 (2nd edition). Flint Castle – Ewloe Castle. Cadw

Rowley, T. 1986. The High Middle Ages, 1200-1500. Routledge and Kegan Paul

Saul, N. 1997. The Oxford Illustrated History of Medieval England. Oxford University Press

Shillaber, C. 1947. Edward I, Builder of Towns. Speculum, Vol. 22, No. 3 (Jul., 1947), p.297-309
https://www.jstor.org/stable/2856866

Stephenson, W. 2019. Medieval Wales c.1050-1332. Centuries of Ambiguity. University of Wales Press

Vening, T. 2012. The Kings and Queens of Wales. Amberley

Walker, D. 1990. Medieval Wales. Cambridge Medieval Textbooks


Websites

Ancient and Medieval Architecture
Flint – Castle (particularly useful for images) (Janusz Michalew)
https://medievalheritage.eu/en/main-page/heritage/wales/flint-castle/

BBC News
Historic Flint Castle defences found under block of flats. June 7th, 2015
https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-wales-north-east-wales-33032562
Flint Castle: History behind castle chosen for sculpture. By Matthew Frank Stevens (Senior Lecturer in History, Swansea University). 1st November 2019
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-wales-50260758

Cadw
Flint Castle
https://cadw.gov.wales/visit/places-to-visit/flint-castle
Flint.  Understanding Urban Character.
https://www.flintshire.gov.uk/en/PDFFiles/SHARP/Flint-Understanding-Urban-Character-(Cadw-2009).pdf

Clwyd Powys Archaeological Trust
Historic Settlement Survey – Flintshire
https://cpat.org.uk/ycom/flints/flint.pdf

Coflein
Site Record: Flint Castle (with some excellent image and plans)
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/94448/

Curious Clwyd
https://www.mythslegendsodditiesnorth-east-wales.co.uk/

Halkyn Mountain
https://www.halkynmountain.co.uk/

Wales Coast Path
Home page
https://www.walescoastpath.gov.uk/?lang=en
Interactive Coast Path Map
https://www.walescoastpath.gov.uk/plan-your-visit/interactive-coast-path-map/?lang=en#

 

 

A Visit to Cholmondley Castle Gardens

On a bright, sunny day that turned out to be seriously hot, we decided to go to Cholmondeley Castle Gardens.  It’s a great place to go on a hot day because there are lots of open areas if you like the sun, but a lot of leafy shade beneath the trees to keep you cool.  I had no idea that it was so near to the Chester-Wrexham area, just to the east of Bickerton.  I had never been there before, although it was a favourite of my parents.  The castle is not open to the public, but the gardens are, albeit only a few days a week (so do check before you go), and are very impressive.

We parked at the far left of the car park field (see map at end) and entered through the gate at the corner of the field and the drive, which allows you to enter on the flat.  Along the front of the field there are other points of access too, one of which leads straight up a long slope towards the castle and offers a great view.

Cholmondeley Castle itself is the brainchild of a vivid imagination, a hotchpotch of ideas assembled in 1801-02 and added to later in the 19th century.  The castle is not open to the public, but the gardens, which are open several days a week, reach right up to the edge of the castle’s own private garden area, giving a great view of the exterior.  According to the website, the Cholmondeley family have occupied the site since the Norman period, but the current castle replaces an earlier hall, a decision by George James, 4th Earl of Cholmondeley.  It was designed by local architect William Turner of Whitchurch, and was extended in 1817–1819.  In 1828 turrets designed by Sir Robert Smirke were added, and the castle has not been much changed since.  It was occupied by the current earl’s mother Lavinia until her death in 2015, and is not now permanently inhabited.

The garden consists of naturalistic water features, formal gardens, a 19th century celebration of classical ruins, all set within an arboretum.  It has an awful lot going for it.

The large ponds are not neat and formal rectangles, but look natural, whether or not they are, with large colonies of water lilies on the water, and water-loving plants along their edges.  They feature small mock-temples, some of them on artificial islands, which are clearly not authentic but are a lot of fun, typical of a lot of 19th century and earlier celebrations of classical architecture.  The first of these that you reach from the car park is the Temple Garden Pond.

 

The formal border, called the Lavinia Walk, leading from the Temple Pond via a rose garden to a small circular domed pavilion, is sensational, with a glorious mix of penstemon, alstromeria, roses, phlox, eremerus, rudbeckia, crocosmia, salvia, delphiniums, dahlias and lots of other brightly coloured species, some of them climbing parallel rows of round-topped obelisks that flank the path.

The second pond, the Folly Garden Pond and surrounding garden, is another aquatic treat, connected to the Temple Pond.  As well as some magnificent hostas, apparently untroubled by slugs, and a lovely cornus kousa in a shade of deep rose pink, is a walnut grove and some wonderfully scented, heady meadowsweet.  Slender, brilliant electric blue damsel flies were a wonderful, shimmering, endlessly shifting light show.

As well as these main areas of focus, there are some fun architectural and structural features between the main run of gardens, some excellent walks in the wooded and grass areas that sit between the main footpaths, and some superb flowering shrubs dotted everywhere.  This is the sort of garden that has a central focus in the form of a formal garden, but also provides considerable rewards in return for wandering around to get a full sense of the place.

The trees, which in a traditional estate garden would be a narrow range of species dotted around parkland, such as at Chirk Castle, are far more closely spaced and include many varieties, and are an essential part of the garden landscape at Cholmondeley, a proper arboretum.  Dotted around are some enormous and gorgeous hydrangeas, and in one meadow, tellingly named Orchid Meadow, we spotted beautiful wild orchids (shown left).  In spring, the Tower Hill Woodlands contain a bluebell walk and plentiful rhododendrons, there’s a laburnum grove to the east of the Lavinia Walk and running along the line of the Ha Ha is a daffodil walk.

One visitor that we met said that he was disappointed that the once manicured grass on slopes and borders surrounding the main area was no longer being cut, and was being allowed to run wild.  He speculated that this was due to the rise fuel costs.  At the same time, it looked as though some areas were being redeveloped.  Like all managed gardens, whether big or small, they all undergo change as new ideas are incorporated or new needs have to be accommodated.

There are details of some of the species to see on the Cholmondeley Castle Gardens website on The Gardens page.  Something that looked like giant rhubarb (and I do mean giant, shown on one of the above photos around the lake) with thorny stems turns out to be Brazilian giant-rhubarb or, more formally, Gunnera manicata.  I was particularly pleased to find that the row of trees that flanked the drive just as we approached the car park were identified on the website: Tibetan Whitebeam, or more formally Sorbus thibetica ‘John Mitchell’ (which has an RHS Award of Garden Merit).  It is quite sensational with large oval leaves, light green on one side and almost white and slightly furry on the other.  We missed both its flower (spring) and fruit (autumn) but even without either they were still very eye-catching.

As you drive in to park up, you pass a sizeable lake, and there are additionally lakeside walks, as well as a picnic are and children’s play area, all accessible from the main car parking area.  From the tearoom, the drive continues behind the castle, and a 20 minute walk away is the St Nicholas Chapel.


Visitor Information

The opening times and ticket prices are updated on the Cholmondeley Castle Gardens on the Your visit page.  It is not particularly well sign-posted so I would suggest that you either prepare in advance or use GPS.

We were handed a very useful map on arrival, shown left,  which ensured that we did not miss anything of the gardens, and which also shows potential disabled access.  My creased copy is shown left, but you can download a pristine copy from the Cholmondeley Castle Gardens website here.

Parking is at a field on the approach to the castle.  Disabled parking is at the tea room, which can be reached by continuing past the main parking zone, along the lane and through the stunning white gates to the tea room and the disabled parking is behind the tea room.

The tea room itself was  overwhelmed with visitors when we were there, and was unimpressive.  It was a hot day and as well as being airless and steaming inside the tea room, the girl on the ice cream counter could not take payment, so customers had to take their rapidly melting ice creams and stand at the end of the queue for drinks and meals to pay for them, which took some time.  It was all a bit of a sticky, disorganized mess.  On the other hand, the outside seating, on the usual wooden tables with attached benches, located in both sun and shade, with views over the garden and towards the ornate gate, was very pleasant.

If the weather is nice, I’d opt for a picnic on a groundsheet under the garden’s trees, which several people were doing, overlooking the water.  It all looked like a very mellow option.

I am not sure how friendly the gardens are to wheelchair users and those who have any difficulty walking. The map shows metalled lanes and gravel parks that are in theory friendly to both, but if you want to see the main attractions of the gardens there are some gradients and stairs that might pose problems or, should you be looking for ways round, may be difficult to circumnavigate.

 

Eaton Hall Gardens Charity Open Days 2022

My father and I booked for the open day on Sunday 26th June.  All tickets have to be booked in advance, both for the gardens and for the train a narrow gauge railway.  We skipped the train option so I don’t know what that experience was like (lots of children, I would imagine) but the gardens were superb, and in some ways unexpected.  Brief comments on practicalities for those considering July or August visits, in terms of parking, suitability for those with mobility issues etc, are at the end of this post.

The Eaton Hall Gardens are open to the public three times this year, the last Sunday in June, July and August, all in aid of three different charities.  If you are intending to go, but have not yet booked a ticket, I suggest you book immediately via EventBrite, as it sells out every year. I missed the chance last year.  The benefiting charities for the 2022 events are Cheshire Young Carers, Cheshire Wildlife Trust and Kidsbank.

We entered via the Belvedere gate just north of the Grosvenor Garden Centre on the old Chester to Wrexham road (the B5445).  It is an ostentatiously long approach to the property.  Just in front of a gigantic obelisk is a checkpoint where you show your tickets.

Young RAF Air Cadets were on hand everywhere to direct traffic and answer questions, and did an absolutely splendid job of keeping the traffic moving.  Once we had followed their directions and parked in a field (but see my notes on disabled access at the end), and walked up towards the estate buildings, you pass through a gate where your tickets are checked again.  Here you are handed a leaflet about the charity being supported, and another highlighting garden features that you might want to visit by head gardener Jan Lomas, with an excellent map on the back showing the locations those features, with  recommended routes between them, which is absolutely necessary if you are not going to miss anything.  You can download my battered copy of the map here if you want to plan your visit in advance.

We were lucky with the weather, because although it was overcast, with only short burst of occasional sunshine, it remained dry, and it was warm.  You can click on any of the photos to see a bigger version.

The description of the gardens on the EventBrite website gives some idea of the treats in store:

Eaton Hall Gardens extend to 88 acres and have been developed over many years by prominent designers, most recently by Lady Arabella Lennox-Boyd. The gardens have a wide variety of planting, including four formal colour-themed rose gardens and grand colour-themed herbaceous borders. There is a newly completed hot border design and a stunning bedding scheme in the Dragon Garden which is not to be missed. Visitors can also enjoy the walled Kitchen Garden, as well as the wildflower garden and the lake walk, where you can take in fabulous views of the Hall and grounds. Finally, the Tea House is filled with roses and herbs and sits perfectly at the end of a short walk past the lake area.

We found all the gardens except the wildflower garden (up a flight of stairs out of the Dragon Garden), and we didn’t do the lake walk simply because it was getting rather late, but looks like a brilliant venue for the picnics that were being carried by more organized visitors.

The first place that we visited was the camellia walk, a long, slender glass corridor lined with camellia bushes.  Although none of the camellias were in flower (they are a spring flowering species), the conservatory building itself was a thing of real beauty, and the sense that it goes on and on without visible end is wonderful.

Nearby are the sheds and the platform for the narrow gauge railway (with open-sided carriages pulled by a steam engine, which used to connect to a Chester-Shropshire railway line siding some 3 miles away).  We walked along a track round the walled kitchen garden towards the courtyard entrance, which is an intriguing little walk, as there is a lovely tree-lined walk towards the kitchen garden, and a couple of quirky buildings, but no signs that it is in use for anything.

The first port of call for most people is the former stable block surrounding a courtyard.  The stable courtyard is open to the public, and there is a horse-drawn carriage display in the light-filled atrium that gives access to it.

The open courtyard itself is laid out with tables and chairs, and is one of the places where refreshments are served in aid of charity (for cash only), and was very congested, but the surrounding buildings were not at all busy.

The former stables themselves, built by Alfred Waterhouse in around 1869, are open.  The saddle horses and harness horses were stabled separately, and there was a harness room and a carriage house too.  There is some information about the horses stabled there and a reconstruction of the stud manager’s office, as well as the family history and exhibition rooms.  You can also, from the stable courtyard, access the bizarre shell grotto and the 1870 Eaton Chapel from the courtyard (stained-glass windows by Frederic James Shields).  Live organ concerts were being played in the chapel, majoring on Johann Sebastian Bach, a lovely, intimate sound in that small space.   

After visiting the courtyard, which is the first place that everyone seems to filter into first, the nearest of the gardens to visit is the walled kitchen garden.

Along one of the walls is a broad border filled with brightly coloured flowers, many of which grow on a massive, upwardly skyrocketing scale.  Within the walls, the beds are divided into squares and rectangles by multiple pathways, many of which are provided with colourful arches.  Some of the beds are defined some defined by short hedges of interlaced apples.  Some of the flowers are exotic and gaudy, others are more humble and subtle, and there is a lively mix of floral displays and vegetables, with lots to see.  The overall impact is one of careful husbandry with a real eye for colour, scale and shape.

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From there we walked down to the Parrot House, a little round building looking rather like a Graeco-Roman temple, but designed to keep tropical birds.  It was built in the 1880s by Alfred Waterhouse and was fitted with heating to create suitable conditions for such birds, but apparently never housed anything more tropical than some budgies.  There were hay bales outside for visitors to sit and watch the band.

From here it was a short walk to the rose gardens, which sit in front of the Eaton Hall house, offering the first real glimpse of the house and the great clock tower of the neighbouring chapel.  The Country Seat website offers the following very useful potted history of Eaton Hall (not open to the public, but an unavoidable presence).

A Victorian Gothic iteration of Eaton Hall in the late 19th Century. Source: Lost Heritage

The first notable Eaton Hall was designed by William Samwell and built in 1664 but was replaced by a vast Gothic creation by William Porden in 1803, which was then enlarged by William Burn in 1845. This was then replaced by the Victorian Gothic of Alfred Waterhouse in 1870, before the whole edifice was swept away in 1961 as the trustees of the then young Duke couldn’t imagine anyone living in such splendour again. Faced with being a Duke with no seat in his 11,500-acre estate in Cheshire, in 1971 the 5th Duke commissioned a starkly white modernist country house from John Dennys, (who also happened to be the Dukes’ brother-in-law) which was as striking as it was controversial. This was then given a vaguely ‘chateau’ style makeover in 1989 for the 6th Duke, to designs by the Percy Thomas Partnership. So of the five major houses which have been graced with the name Eaton Hall, the current one, though impressive, still doesn’t quite have the gravitas of the others. Perhaps, in time, a future Duke may decide to replace it again.

The current house is an ugly great block of a thing looking not unlike Faengslet prison. I daresay it has more going on in its favour on the inside.  Next to it, rather more endearing in a uniquely Victorian way, is the Eaton Hall chapel clock tower and the chapel itself, behind which is the the stable courtyard.  Although the history of the house is of interest, the visit is all about the gardens, which are excellent.

The gardens are dotted throughout a park that sits above a lake and extends to the east.  Instead of being clustered around the house, as in most houses and estates of this type, the different gardens are dotted around, approached both via metalled surfaces and grass paths mowed through stretches that have been allowed to run wild.

The rose gardens are probably the highlight of the gardens at this time of year, with climbing roses climbing up trellis obelisks and running along heavy rope links.  The twin gardens flank a long rectangular ornamental pond that runs towards the house.  The pond is often shown with fountains, but they were not operating when we visited.

The rose gardens, supplemented by other species to complement the colours of different sections, form part of a remarkable of a set of terraces.  The top terrace, not accessible to the public, is on the level of the house.  The rose gardens are next down, and below this is the lioness and kudu pond, which in turn overlooks the slope down to the lake, which is fed by the River Dee.

The rose gardens and the pond are flanked by wooden arches connected with thick ropes, and both the arches and the connecting ropes support white and palest pink roses.

On each side of the pond are two square rose gardens, separated by yew hedges, cleverly offset so that one garden cannot be seen from the next, giving the impression of being the entrance to a maze.  Each of these rose gardens has a central focal point, a circular path, and four beds, each with a massive obelisk in its corner.  Each of the gardens is colour-themed.  One, for example, is blue and yellow, whilst another is pure white.  The roses are certainly the dominant flower, but they are supported by penstemons, clematis, geraniums and various other species that help to create a mass of different textures and shapes.

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The Dragon Garden is named for the dragon sculpture in the centre of the garden.  A formal geometric garden, planted with small species  of blues, purples, lilacs and mauves, this is a delightful sight, highly structured and precise.  There is a statue of a figure on each corner of the garden, possibly former family members.

After a pause to enjoy the view at the end of the terrace, and to look down over the lioness and kudu sculpture (a truly bizarre thing) we went towards the Dutch Tea House and the accompanying Tea Garden.  Outside this garden, and elsewhere on the estate, several of the vast oaks are wrapped in fine mesh.  I had seen this on a previous visit to the Aldford Iron Bridge on the other side of the estate, and had wondered what it was all about.  A helpful sign explained that it was an experimental measure taken against acute decline disease, thought to be caused by a parasitic boring beetle.  The mesh restricts the movement of the beetles and prevents them spreading.  At the same time, the roots of the tree, under soil compacted over the decades, prevents water and nutrients reaching the tree, so a programme of mulching has been undertaken to help retain water and help the transfer of nutrients and water via the roots into the trees.

The Tea House is a little ornamental building, approached via a path that leads through the pet cemetery, and look out for a delectable little wooden Wendy house on the other side of a low hedge.   If you have a pushchair or wheelchair / buggy, there is a side entrance to the garden that avoids the steps down from the Tea House.  Giant fennel plants give a wonderful bitter-sweet scent on approach to the garden.  The garden has a statue of Mercury at its centre (standing on a personification of the wind).  The garden is beautiful in a less formal way than the rose gardens, with a more unaffected feel, with lovely block-paved paths and beds filled with flowers and highly aromatic herbs that deliver a gloriously chaotic range of different aromatic scents that follow you around.  On a hot day I imagine that it would be even better as the aromas heat through.  

From here there was a choice of walking down to the lake, or taking one of the grass paths to another little temple-like building, referred to as a loggia.  We opted for the walk to the loggia, rectangular this time, which was flanked by two genuine Roman columns and housed a genuine Roman altar, the latter found to the east of Chester between the Tarvin and Huntington roundabouts, about 320 metres east of Boughton Cross, and 1.8 km due east of The Cross, Chester.  Given how much Roman architecture has been lost from Chester, it was probably a kindness to remove and preserve them, although the public only rarely have access.

The altar is today known officially as RIB 460.  On two sides it reads “Nymphis et Fontibus
leg(io) XX V(aleria) V(ictrix),” translated as “To the Nymphs and Fountains the Twentieth Legion Valeria Victrix (set this up).”  It was rediscovered first in 1821.

There is a grass avenue from here back to the Parrot House via the terrace with the lioness and kudu pond.  The band’s little white marquee is stationed in front of the Parrot House so you don’t really get a sense of the connection between the two buildings, but it is a nice arrangement.  As you walk onto the pond terrace, you pass through a grass path flanked with two borders filled with lavender.  We paused to run fingers through it and release the splendid scent.  The wall that runs below the upper terrace where the rose gardens were located is covered in white hydrangea petiolaris, a form of hydrangea that climbs. The pond itself has a vast greened sculpture in the middle showing a lioness about to leap on and kill a kudu (a deer-like animal).  As you walk up behind it, the change of perspective gives a strange sense that the lioness is in motion. It is absolutely not my cup of coco, and I would have it moved somewhere a lot less conspicuous, but it is certainly attention-grabbing.

From the Parrot House it was a short walk along the bottom edge of the walled garden to the field where we were parked.  We found the Air Cadets who were stationed around all the entrances and exits very helpful in sorting out somewhere where I could easily pick up my father.

Later, whilst my father was masterminding a fabulous culinary extravaganza in his kitchen, I read the leaflet about the Cheshire Young Carers charity that the day’s takings were to support.  It was something of an eye-opener to learn how many children care for their parents or their siblings, unsupported by any official mechanisms.  I was so pleased that our tickets had gone towards helping this excellent organization, which not only helps with practical support but organizes away days for children, activities that allow them to escape their responsibilities for a short time.
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Visiting Practicalities

The parking arrangements were very well managed with plenty of Air Cadets and other personnel at the ready to give directions and advice.  The car park was a field.  The field surface was dry buy very uneven.  A brief conversation with one of the parking officials enabled me to drop my father off on the hardstanding that led up to the gardens, and park nearby, where some spaces had been kept free, but if you have a disability badge, there are is special parking right by the entrance to the gardens.

There is a disability stand where disability scooters and other aids can be collected, and the gardens as a whole are generally easy for those with mobility issues, as well as for wheelchair and pushchair users. The gardens are connected with the lake by metalled paths leading between gardens, and within some of the gardens and in the park between them, there are level grass surfaces and light slopes throughout, which (at least on a dry day) are suitable for wheelchairs and pushchairs.  There are not many benches or seats around, and none between the gardens.

It was only moderately busy.  The car parks seemed to be stuffed full of cars, but the park and gardens seemed to swallow visitors very easily.  Only in the places where people tend to convene, like refreshment areas and places where there was live music, was there a sense that it might become crowded.  The gardens themselves gave no sense at all of there being too many people for the space.

Full details of the event, plus booking information, are on the Eventbrite website at:
https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/eaton-hall-gardens-charity-open-day-tickets-308591705097

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Sources:

EventBrite
Eaton Hall Gardens Charity Open Days 2022
https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/eaton-hall-gardens-charity-open-day-tickets-308591705097

Historic England
Eaton Hall Park and Garden
https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1000127?section=official-list-entry

Lost Heritage
Eaton Hall
http://www.lostheritage.org.uk/houses/lh_cheshire_eatonhall_info_gallery.html

Roman Inscriptions of Britain
RIB 460
https://romaninscriptionsofbritain.org/inscriptions/460

The Country Seat
Country houses of the 2014 Rich List – Top 10
https://thecountryseat.org.uk/tag/eaton-hall/

Day trip: Bodnant Gardens in Conwy are looking fabulous

Bodnant Gardens are currently stunning.  Bodnant is always stunning, and it gets better every year.  This time of year is one of its particularly shining moments, with the laburnum walk and the last of the azaleas, the rhododendrons in full bloom, the wisteria flowing like water, fabulous guelder rose (actually a viburnum), a few glossy camellias still in flower, some charming early roses, and enormous pieris shrubs the size of trees blooming with flowers that look like lily of the valley.  These are complemented at ground level with some brightly coloured arrays of perennial flowers, glossy and eye-catching, even in the deep shade, where careful choices have produced fabulous results.  The formal ponds were dignified and peaceful, whilst the bubbling brook at the bottom of the valley was utterly stunning, with birdsong and water over stones combining to create an audio-visual sense of peace and harmony that was really rather magical.  Even the views are wonderful from the formal terraces, looking out over the river Conwy across to the hills that lie between Bodnant and the Menai Strait.  I have  run out of superlatives, but Bodnant merits it.

Visiting notes, including notes for those with unwilling legs, are at the end.

 

 

 


Visiting notes

Although we had set out for Valle Crucis Abbey, just outside Llangollen, it was closed.  I did not bang my head helplessly against the nearest wall, in spite of all the emails I have sent down the black hole of Cadw‘s multiple “contact” email addresses to find out when it would be open again.  Instead we took out the road atlas and considered our options and Bodnant looked like a distinctly uplifting improvement on the day to date, particularly as we were planning to go next week anyway.  The weather was a bit dodgy, but what the heck; we decided that the A5 was just down the road, and with a swift right turn onto the A470 at Betws y Coed we could be at Bodnant Gardens in no time – which is to say about 45 minutes from Llangollen.  It was only noon, which gave us plenty of time to get there and spend the rest of the day wandering, especially if we returned to Dad’s in Rossett via the A55 dual carriageway and had a pub meal afterwards to avoid the need to cook (which we did).  The weather improved all the time and by 4pm it was sunny, blue-skied, hot and perfectly gorgeous.  In spite of a false start to the day, it became a marvellous day.

As you would expect with a National Trust property, there is loads of parking.  As Bodnant is on a hill, the car park is quite steep and if you have anyone with leg issues, there is a drop off point (and a pick up point opposite) with some benches considerately provided.  It was impressive that a new pedestrian underpass has been built.  It was always a bit of a take-your-life-in-your-hands moment to cross the road from the car park to the ticket office, but the new walkway, flanked with some lovely plants (including the biggest euphorbias I have ever seen), is a major contribution to the experience.

One of the truly admirable things about Bodnant is that so much thought has gone into making it friendly not only for those with unwilling legs, but for wheels, which includes wheelchairs, push chairs and wheeled support frames, all of which were being used when we were there.  The map above was downloaded from the National Trust website, but on the map that they hand you in the ticket office, there are two routes marked, one in red (step-free) and one in blue (suggested route with wheels).   Wheel-friendly paths are not only marked on the map, but are signposted.  Other tracks and pathways are also shown, allowing people without leg issues additional freedom to explore. Those trails not picked out in blue or red are, when appropriate, marked with triple chevrons to show where there is a steep gradient.  The whole thing is really well thought out.

Exiting through the gift shop, the eternal formula for visits these days, is given a slightly different twist to it, as not only is there a garden centre with some very healthy plants that were being snapped up by visitors, but a series of small Welsh craft shops.  Within the garden centre there is a rather tatty coffee shop (although it did a good latte).  There is also an official National Trust gift shop as you reach the exit.  When you return to the car park via the new underpass, a much more upmarket café is available, which was well attended.

For official visiting information, including opening times and prices, see the Bodnant pages on the National Trust website at: https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/bodnant-garden

When I read that Storm Arwen had taken down some trees that were over 100 years old, I felt a sense of real loss on their behalf.  Sincere credit is due to the design strategists at Bodnant, because you really wouldn’t guess that 50 trees (fifty!) had come down, including some enormous redwoods.  The impact of the existing trees is just as good as it ever was, and if there are one or two gaps, they are being speedily filled with replacements.  Only one tree remains prone, its roots encased in earth, its footprint so enormous that it looks like something geological or vastly palaeontological, and completely anachronistic.  It was planted in 1897, and now lies like a bitter accusation against Storm Arwen, itself a symptom of climate change.  I didn’t have the heart to take a picture of it, but you can read more about it, with a picture of some of the damage on the Bodnant Gardens website.

 

 

A visit to Chirk Castle yesterday for the snowdrops and daffodils

It was such a gloriously sunny day yesterday that even though I had marked today for giving the house a much-need top-to-toe clean, I abandoned the whole project, jumped in the car, and  stopped off to pick up my Dad before driving down to Chirk Castle to enjoy the pristine garden and the walks in the small woodland.  It is a great time of year for it.  The castle, the only one of Edward I’s Marcher fortresses still inhabited today, always a little intimidating in its block-like immobility, is far less bellicose in the bright sun.

The topiary is great at any time of year, and the colours of new foliage and bright heather give a real lift to everything, whilst the daffodils and snowdrops, popping up everywhere but particularly good in the woodland, are a joy.  The snowdrops are all in full swing, but although a lot of daffodils are out and looking terrific, there are still more to break out of their buds.  We stopped off on a perfectly placed bench for a blissful half hour in the sun to look out beyond the ha-ha over the rolling hillside towards the view below.  It’s only a short outing, but a very agreeable one.   I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.

 

 

Plan of Chirk Castle grounds. Most of the snowdrops are in the Pleasure Ground Wood, but the daffodils are everywhere.  Source:  Chirk Castle, National Trust (website and free leaflet available in the ticket office)

Details of visiting are on the Chirk Castle website (National Trust).  Regarding my usual comment on access, a wheelchair user might be able to see some of the gardens, but the woodland is probably not advisable.  As for unwilling legs, yes if you keep in mind that the ground is uneven.  There is a shuttle from the car park to the castle entrance, as the walk up can be challenging for unwilling legs.