MOUNTAIN PORTRAIT
Jim Perrin tells the tale of a folkloric tragedy set on the slopes of Yr Eifl, a fine Welsh summit surrounded by sea
WHEN IT RAINED in Eryri in the 1960s – by no means an unusual occurrence – a favourite weekend option was a trip to ‘The Deserted Village’ nestled in the deep valley of Nant Gwrtheyrn on the northern slopes of Yr Eifl, in which was located the old quarrying village of Porth y Nant with its ruinous jetty jutting out towards Ireland. We went here often, gathered driftwood, sat round fires telling stories like the cyfarwyddion (the itinerant storytellers of medieval Wales). It became a venue for acid-head parties, dancing to the Grateful Dead, music provided by speakers powered by car batteries carried down from travellers’ vans parked at the top of the then-undrivable track. It didn’t disturb anyone, was too remote for the police to worry. The village was so derelict at the time that little damage could be done.
There’s a marvellous modern folk tale I first heard from Alun Jones Pontypridd, which hinges on that traditional Celtic device of the triple curse – here placed not upon an individual, but on a place associated with an individual: Nant Gwtheyrn! In his mellow South Walian tone, amused brown eyes fixing on each of his audience in turn, Alun told of three seafaring monks in the Age of the Saints who were cast ashore on this windswept coast and received no hospitality: the gravest of transgressions in these early days of Celtic Christianity from the valley community Vortigern/Gwtheyrn had founded here. So, the monks, one by one, turned on those who had refused assistance and sustenance and pronounced the following curses: no church would ever be consecrated here; no marriages could ever take place; the village would fail three times, and have no future.
There were three farms in the valley. At Tŷ Uchaf lived two orphans, Rhys Maredydd and his sister, Angharad. At Tŷ Hen dwelt Meinir and her father. The three children were cousins, the bond between Rhys and Meinir always the closest. Rhys and Meinir duly fell in love. In those days there was an ancient tradition called the wedding quest. After their return from church the bride would hide and the groom would have to hunt for her. So, on returning from their wedding in Clynnog, Meinir left her father’s house and ran for the hills. Rhys searched the
