There is a particular spur of the Moelwyn range of mountains in Gwynedd which finally falls into the sea as the narrow peninsula known as Trwyn Penrhyn, or Aber Iâ, and now mostly as Portmeirion. On either side of this peninsula lie the estuaries Traeth Mawr, which carries the river Glaslyn to the sea, and Traeth Bach, which carries the Dwyryd. It is an area which for some reason has attracted more than its fair share of eccentrics. The nearby township of Porthmadog owes its existence to Williams Maddocks, Member of Parliament for Boston in Lincolnshire in Napoleonic times. It was he who, coming from an area of dykes and polders, thought of damming the Glaslyn estuary, thus creating a vast tract of grazing land behind the ‘Cob’, and incidentally easing transport from the east towards his projected port for the Irish Packet-boat on the Llŷn peninsula. This latter never came about, for Holyhead was eventually chosen, leaving Maddock’s new town of Tremadog and the nascent Porthmadog high and dry.
Percy Bysshe Shelley visited Maddocks at his house, Tan-yr-Allt in Tremadog, there completed his poem ‘Queen Mab’, and caused a certain amount of local consternation by putting maggotty sheep out of their misery, thus raising the ire of local farmers, who have their own recipes for dealing with the multifarious diseases of sheep.
Still the area attracts its eccentrics. Clough Williams-Ellis the architect and his wife Amabel the writer lived at Plas Brondanw on the lower slopes of Moelwyn Mawr. John Cowper Powys lived out his last years at Blaenau Ffestiniog within sight of the mountain. Bertrand Russell settled for his last years in Plas Penrhyn, a small mansion overlooking Traeth Mawr. Arthur Koestler lived here a while, and on the eastern shore of Traeth Bach, Richard Hughes the novelist lived the greater part of his life and died there. And so on.
Is it the climate? It may be. The area knows little frost and enjoys its own special micro-climate, though rain can be plentiful in a wet season. On the other hand, in a good season it is absolute heaven, with the blue of the mountains framing the golden sands of the estuary and shore. Is it the comparative isolation from the rest of Wales and more particularly from England? It may be, for although the isolation is easily felt and probably enjoyed by those who settle here, it takes a not too arduous journey to get out and to London if need be. It is even possible to travel all the way from Porthmadog and Penrhyndeudraeth to Euston by train, and though I recommend the glorious scenery all the way to Shrewsbury, it is not the quickest way to London if time be of the essence. Is it the very air, which inspires creativity? It very well may be. Whatever, it is still an odd and closely knit community, eccentric or not, and my wife and I have enjoyed it immensely since 1948 when our generation began to settle after our own war, to rear a family and carve out our lives in the peace that is possible in this landscape.
The Gallipoli Diary, Jonah Jones, 1989. Seren Books, ISBN 1-85411-010-1. Available from The Cidron Press at the Jonah Jones Store.