The Fairy Glen-A Final Resting Place

I woke up early Tuesday morning on 18 April. Restless, I guess. Today I was giving Wales some of my Maw and Paw. Our plan was to go to Betws-Y-Coed and The Fairy Glen, then drive up to Llanberis and take a train up Yr Wyddfa (Snowden Mountain).

Paw died in December, 2018. Maw died in January, 2020. They were cremated, and Robin and I have their ashes. Maw and Paw told us they wanted their ashes scattered at various points around the world, wherever we thought they might like. Robin had scattered some of their ashes in Hawaii, at a secluded waterfall looking out over the Pacific Ocean. We had planned on scattering some at Clingman’s Dome in the Smokey Mountains, but the dutiful son forget to bring the ashes. This time, the dutiful son got it right, and so a small tube containing Maw and Paw’s ashes was ready for worldwide distribution.

I went out on the patio that faces St. Mary’s with my coffee and some toast. The sun was just coming up in the east, as it often does, and my seagull buddies were there hoping for a treat. Well, hope springs eternal, or so they say. As it turns out, he got a morsel, cuz I’m a sucker for a hard-luck story, and having him tell me his hard-luck story was either an impressive display of God-given, miraculous talent, or a sign I need to have a CT-scan of my brain, because something is going on. I’m leaning toward the first.

After a bit, Robin got up and we were able to hit the road to Betws-Y-Coed, a small hamlet deep in the Snowdonia National Park. It is located at the confluence of Afon Conwy (Conwy River) and Afon Llugwy (Llugwy River). It is a delightful little town which is an artist’s community, as well as an outfitting post and a beginning point for climbers heading up into the mountains. Here’s where I get to pause dramatically, lean forward and darkly mutter, “Some ne’er to return!” At which point Robin will roll her eyes, say, “Rubbish!” and walk off.

I will say that Apple Maps has been very helpful for most of the trip, although even the Welsh roads have, every now and then, proved to bee to confusing for even Siri. But in this instance, the directions landed us at a small car park outside of a farm south of Betws-Y-Coed. We locked up the car and began walking a path following a sign that helpfully pointed the way, and met the farmer’s wife. The entrance fee was Ł1 each, plus Ł1 for parking. I had a pocketful of change, but only Ł2. We had read that the farmer that’s owns the farm was rude. FOr a while hikers were not allowed back to the Fairy Glen, and since it’s private property, he gets to do that. However, the woman we spoke to was pleasant, if a bit reserved. After all, we were two adult strangers carrying a stuffed snow leopard (More on that later!), so I could understand her reservations. In any event, she accepted the Ł2 and wished us a safe walk.

Near the beginning of the walk, the path split in two. A sign pointing left said “Fairy Glen”, a sign pointing to the right said, “River Walk”. I had never seen a walking river, so we headed to the right to see this Welsh marvel in the land of the Giants. We had read earlier that the left path was a bit easier, but it did have some ups and downs, so we thought a bit longer but more level path was in order. Silly Americans.

The river walk, disappointingly, was just a walk alongside a river, in this case the Afon Conwy. It was beautiful, peaceful, and easily managed by two slightly overweight, slightly disabled and slightly old people. The sound of running and falling water (Probably because it was drunk…) was constantly in the background. The whole thing was very relaxing.

We finally ended up above the Fairy Glen. The path was above the gorge, and a fence indicated the end of the property line of the farmer. Robin found herself a nice spot to sit, and she said, “I’ll be here when you get back.” I took over possession of Ranger, the stuffed snow leopard, and followed some slate steps down into the gorge. It was a task that required some concentration on my part, mainly because I’m slightly overweight, slightly disabled and slightly old, but mainly because I can’t feel anything in my legs from the knees down.

I got to the bottom of the gorge intact, and still in possession of both my parent’s ashes and Ranger. I paused atop a large rock in the gorge, feeling a sense of…something. Because I’m slightly overweight, slightly disabled and slightly old, I made sure the feeling wasn’t my aortic aneurysm giving up the ghost after the climb down, and I started to look for a suitable place to scatter the ashes. Upstream was the Fairy Glen. It is a gorgeous location. The river flows down between two very close cliff walls. It looks other-worldly, and certainly felt other-worldly. Now, it’s a given that the story of the Fairy Glen was spun up to separate superstitious Victorian English people from their pounds. Kinda like what happened to two slightly overweight, slightly disabled and slightly old Americans.

The concept of Fairies is English. The Welsh have the Tylwyth Teg, and they don’t involve little people with gossamer wings. That’s just crazy. The Tylwyth Teg involves little people without wings. Like normal folktales. A lot of Tylwyth Teg stories involve water as a doorway between earth and the realm of the Fae. That makes sense, and would explain the feeling I had as I stared into an entrance to the world of Fae. Gossamer wings. Pffft! Crazy talk.

Seriously though, there was a very strange sense of something there. It might have been some feelings I brought with me, but I had a very strong sense of rightness when I thought of Maw and Paw’s ashes being scattered here. I thought both would have definitely approved. They both would have appreciated the hike here, and the seclusion offered by this place. The sound of the water burbling over the rocks gave the place a very peaceful feeling. On a large rock that jutted into the river, I found a small alcove with what looked to be rose quartz through it. This was it. It felt right.

Then I hit a small snag. The tube was stoppered with a plastic cap that is designed to be snug and secured, so icky ashes don’t get out and get all over stuff you don’t want it to get on. Normally I would use a pocket knife to pry it open, but since both TSA and the UK are not fine with pocket knives, I did not have one handy. My fingernails are typically short and blunt, so I had a bit of a sticky wicket, as they say here.

Between a key and my blunt fingertips, I finally got it sorted and got the ashes onto the little alcove I had found. I said a couple of prayers, one a Christian one, one a prayer to the old gods. To both I asked that my parent’s ashes be accepted, and to let my parents know we would be re-united again, possibly very soon if Gravity woke up to the golden opportunity I would give her on my way back up from the gorge. I spent a few moments reflecting on how much I missed them, then slowly made my way back up to the top.

As I got there, I saw a small Robin flit to a tree next to where my Robin was sitting. I had a sudden, strong sensation of Maw. It certainly could have been her saying of letting me know my prayers had been heard. Robin told me that she was taking pictures of a bumblebee, which reminded her of Paw. Seems like we were both getting messages. They were good messages, so that was quite all right.

Robin and I made our way back, getting to the “Fairy Glen” path. Even knowing the disapproval we would get from the sheep, we decided the shorter path was the way to go. It was a beautiful day, and even the sheep were in a better mood. We made our way back to our car without incident, and headed into Betws-Y-Coed.