Mystical Wales Photos

Photograph by Jim Richardson

The valley of Nant Gwynant preserves a quiet pastoral beauty above the town of Beddgelert in North Wales. "I drove by the valley often on the route up to Mount Snowdon," says photographer Jim Richardson, "passing a little boathouse tucked against the hillside on the way to more important destinations. Finally one day I decided that this was the important destination. I knew it was a beautiful place, but I wasn't prepared for the stunning symmetry I saw through the viewfinder of my camera. Then I shot way too many pictures because it just felt good to push the button."

Photograph by Jim Richardson

Caernarfon Castle dominates its namesake town. Begun by Edward I in 1283 as part of his campaign to hold back the Welsh people, Caernarfon is perhaps the most famous of Wales's many castles. Standing at the mouth of the Seiont River, it was the site of the investiture of Prince Charles as Prince of Wales. "It's ironic that Edward built this hulk to suppress the Welsh and now they make money off it bringing in tourists," says Richardson. "In the evening, the lights come up, and folks walk their dogs and stop to talk. But take heed: The swinging footbridge, which moves when sailboats enter the harbor, opens for the last time late in the evening. Get caught on the wrong side of the bridge and it can be a long walk back to your hotel."

Photograph by Jim Richardson

Proud young Welsh farmers parade their prizewinning sheep at the Anglesey County Show. "Few events capture the agricultural character of Wales like the county fair," says Richardson. "You see livestock of all breeds, and handlers dressed up in their white smocks showing off their animals and ogling the blue-ribbon eggs. Agricultural fairs in Wales are commercial expositions with the requisite food stands and corporate hawking going on, but still, I found a very serious attitude toward livestock excellence."

Photograph by Jim Richardson

Members of a Welsh men's choir break into song in the Tanronnen Inn in the village of Beddgelert, much to the delight of Richardson, who was lodging here. "One evening I heard singing and went down to the pub below to find these men having a pint before heading home after their concert at a local church," he says. "Tanronnen is a great little inn with good food. It's set in a picture-book village with a burbling stream. There are tables out front of the inn flanked by flowerpots. You can sit there, drink your pint, and watch Welsh life go by."

Photograph by Jim Richardson

The Colwyn River flows under a vine-covered bridge on its way through the village of Beddgelert. "Beddgelert is so perfect that I suspect they put the stream there just so they could have an excuse for the bridge," says Richardson. "The cozy Tanronnen Inn sits close by the arched stone bridge. I certainly managed to find reasons why I should stay a few more days at the inn. It's run by friendly folk who looked out for me, keeping my parking place clear with traffic cones. And the grocery store stayed open till 10 p.m. just for the likes of me. Even the rain clouds settling over the hills were welcome. I think tea always tastes better with gloom."

Photograph by Jim Richardson

Micky Fairbridge, alias Guy of Saxony, a member of the Harlech Medieval Society, prepares to take part in a demonstration of battle techniques in Caernarfon Castle. "The great castles almost all have weekend programs of historic interest," says Richardson. "Often one of the reenactment groups will be about, wriggling into their chain mail and bashing each other over the head with swords." Dr. Robyn Lewis, former archdruid of Wales's National Eisteddfod—an annual cultural celebration dating to the 12th century honoring top poets and writers in the Welsh language—wryly notes that most Welsh castles were built by English invaders: "We're very rich in castles—that meant it was quite a job to keep us down."

Photograph by Jim Richardson

Octavia Owen sits at the oars on the shore of Llanddwyn Island after returning from a row with her brother Oliver. "The lovely little island and its lighthouse are off the southwest coast of Anglesey in North Wales," says Richardson. "Reached at low tide across a spit of sand, the island is a favorite of locals who come for the romantic tranquillity. It's also a favorite mooring place for sailboats." To help perpetuate the ancient language of Wales, schoolchildren such as Octavia Owen are taught their mother tongue, so knowledge of Welsh is on the rise. Commenting on the influx of English families settling in Wales, bringing their habits with them, writer Jan Morris says, "It's a constant struggle to keep Welsh culture alive."

Photograph by Jim Richardson

Driver Sam Miller mans the controls of the Blaenau Ffestiniog Railway, which runs from Porthmadog to Blaenau Ffestiniog in the mountains of North Wales. Built to provide a means for hauling slate, the railway now supports a popular tourist train. "During the trip's first few miles," says Traveler author Michael Shapiro, "we pass so close to people's houses that I can see the photos on their nightstands. We climb into woodlands embracing turquoise lakes. After the 75-minute ride to Blaenau Ffestiniog, we have a few minutes to explore the old slate quarries. You can still see mountains of waste slate and the trails the men slid down at the end of their shifts." Photographer Jim Richardson recommends getting off the train at Tan y Bwlch, the halfway point, for a cup of tea in the café: "Tea OK, setting great."

Photograph by Jim Richardson

Barry Wilson and his dog contemplate the Dee Valley from the brow of a hill near the crumbling ruins of Castell Dinas Bran, which looms above the town of Llangollen. "As a Celt myself of the Cornish persuasion," says Richardson, "the old hill fort was a cherished destination. I was miles away on the evening that the urge to see it hit me. I shouldn't have tried. I was too far away, the predictions of how long it took to climb to the summit were dire, the light was murky, and I was running low on gas. What happened was pure Celtic magic. I got there just in time, sprinted up the hill, the light was mystical—and I didn't run out of gas."