 |
Report by Mike Annesley
Pete Stockton (non EPC)
John Taylor
Jim Thompson
Sam Townsend
Mike Annesley
Croesor and Rhosydd are old slate mines, situated northeast of the tiny
village of Croesor, which in turn is about eight miles from Tremadog.
They are
both set high up on the slopes of the Moelwyns near Bwlch Cwmorthin, a
high
pass separating the valleys of Cwm Croesor and Cwm Orthin. Both mine
enterances
are at an altitude of approximately fifteen hundred feet, and set in
beautiful,
rugged mountain scenery, albeit in one of the highest areas of rainfall
in
Wales.
Although not the biggest of the Welsh slate mines, these certainly
aren't
tiddlers either - the spoil tip at Rhosydd alone contains over two
million tons
of rock. Croesor mine is almost all underground, was worked from the
late
nineteenth century until nineteen-thirty, and consists of seven levels,
the
bottom three of which are flooded.
Rhosydd is the largest underground slate mine in Wales bar the big
Ffestiniog
mines. It consists of one hundred and seventy chambers on fourteen
levels, but
again, all levels below level nine are now flooded. Work commenced in
eighteen-forty, and, like Croesor, ended in nineteen-thirty, due to the
continuing decline of the Welsh slate industry.
There have been several large collapses in Rhosydd over the years, but
the
through trip between the mines is still possible. The link between the
two was
originally made to settle a dispute regarding their respective
boundaries, and
we can only speculate that it was not sealed off again in order to
provide an
alternative exit from either mine in case that ever became necessary.
There is
actually the remains of a wall across the route of the connection at
the
Rhosydd end, but it's hard to tell when it was built and for what
purpose.
Ok, history lesson over - but that should give you some idea of the
creaky old
age of the place, which you'll be desperately trying to forget as you
tip-toe
beneath the poised blocks above your head.
Sun 2nd June, 2002
 Following the previous evening's sunny
bouldering session at Utopia in
the Pass, it almost seemed odd to be going underground, but the weather
wasn't
looking too hot, and anyway, this was the real objective of the weekend
and so,
after a lardy breakfast in Eric's café we started to pack the
tackle bags..and
pack, and pack... we took a lot of kit. In fact, we probably took too
much kit,
but as we couldn't contact anyone who'd done the trip recently, we
thought it
better to be over-prepared rather than to travel light, and were
carrying many
extras such as a bolt-kit, a small climbing rack and some dynamic rope.
There were four of us - Mike, Sam, Jim, and John. Sel & Mel were
not
enthused about the trip and so were going to hook up with us back at
the campsite
later on...much later on as it happened. We loaded the car and set off
to the
mines, stopping off on the way to pick up Pete, the fifth member of our
party,
who lived nearby and was the only one of us who had done the trip
before, back
in nineteen ninety-four.
Sam drove the poor, overloaded car as far up Cwm Croesor as he could,
and we
stumbled out and started off uphill on the long walk in, with Jim
setting a
brutal pace right from the off.
Soon, the inevitable rain started, and by the time we arrived at the
mine my
clothes were soaked from the inside by sweat, and from the outside by
drizzle.
The walk in was longer than I expected, and took about an hour,
although it
seemed worse than it really was due to the heavy bags and the fact that
I was
not yet fully awake.
We got changed in the rain under the bemused gaze of a bunch of
cagouled
walkers, who seemed puzzled by our desire to go through the mountain,
rather
than up it. They didn't seem to be past a bit of voyeurism though, and
asked if
Sam "would get changed like that in front of them again, as they missed
it
properly the first time..." Then out of the blue appeared three blokes
with
helmets glancing knowingly at our tackle-bags - it turns out they'd
been around
to Rhosydd, to look at the other end of the trip, but were stopped at a
big
lake...my anticipation grew.
The entrance adit was gained by squeezing through a gap in the bars -
we all
clambered in, glad to be out of the rain, and stashed our now wet
clothes just
inside. Lamps on, and the super-torch was unleashed. It shone away down
the
half kilometre entrance passage; an eerie sight as there was still
blackness
beckoning, even beyond the range of the considerable beam of the
super-torch.
We made quick progress down the long adit, passing small roof
breakdowns,
flooded sections, and a strange old brick room branching off from one
side of
the tunnel, which was apparently where a certain major chemical company
used to
store their explosives - nothing left there now though, unfortunately.
We reached the end of the tunnel with no obvious way on - to the right
was a
short tunnel leading to a huge water-filled chamber. All of the
chambers in
this place turned out to be vast; although most of them not very wide,
they are
high and very long, with parallel roofs and floors, inclined at about
thirty
degrees to the horizontal. Since the mine is flooded below the level of
the
entrance adit, the particular chambers here had deep water for a floor,
and
although they have been crossed (guide line still in place), this was
off our
chosen route, so we didn't investigate any further than shouting into
them to
hear the gloomy and boomy echos bounce back at us. We stopped this
after we'd
seen the state of the ceilings - the less provocation aimed at those
pointy,
shed-sized blocks the better.
The way on was now up an old incline to the site of the old furnace.
This was
an easy scramble up, following a huge old clay flue pipe on the floor
of the
passage until another junction was reached. To the right is a
high-level window
into the same flooded chambers just mentioned, and to the left was our
way on,
or rather down, via an abseil into another vast chamber.
There was some old fixed rope in place, but this didn't look so hot, so
the triple-bolt belay was re-rigged with an old static rope we'd
brought along
for this very purpose. The abseil was only about seventy feet, but I
found it
quite worrying due to the scale of the chamber we were lowering into,
the
rub-points over slate edges, and the big loose flakes on the way down.
I abbed
at a snails-pace to prevent rope-bounce, but this was really not
necessary as I
later noticed on the second abseil that the rub points had mostly been
polished
down by the passage of other parties.
At the bottom, we found ourselves in a another huge room, the floor
(and
ceiling) of which consisted of large, sharp, loose blocks. We picked
our way
across the chamber to a vague window in the other side, to find the
next abseil
point. This time, there were no bolt belays, but just ropes belayed
around
boulders with rope-protectors for the sharp edges of the blocks. Again,
the
existing rope was junked in place of one of ours, and we tentatively
made our
way down into yes, you've guessed it, another huge space. I was
starting to
feel a bit more at home in the place now, but still hadn't got over the
size of
everything which was way beyond the scale of most things I've come
across
during our usual forays underground.
The old route from this chamber to the next was a hard to find squeeze
down
through boulders in the floor, which dropped into a tunnel and from
there into
the next chamber.
A few years previously, there had been a roof collapse, and this way on
was now
completely blocked. Luckily, at the bottom of the chamber there was
another
window, the only problem being the fact that to get over to it was
going to
mean somehow crossing the water-filled bottom section of the chamber.
In such a gloomy and intimidating place as this old mine, it was a
revelation
to find that the lake was actually quite beautiful; the water was deep,
but
crystal clear and it sparkled emerald green under our lights.
In order to cross the wet bits, we'd brought along two front wheel
inner tubes,
kindly donated by helpful farmer back in Derbyshire, which were then
tied into
the middle of a long piece of baling twine so that they could easily be
pulled
to and fro across the lakes. As we put the amateur looking kit together
and
pumped away at the tyres, we giggled like fools at the strangeness of
the
situation. The place was exhilarating, oppressive and impressive at the
same
time.
Sam was first off to test the tyres, and all was going swimmingly until
he
neared the 'far shore' and the twine became tangled - he was now in
full-on
paddling mode and wasn't stopping, driven on by the cold and the
thoughts of
that deep water below. Luckily, soon the tangle was sorted and he
clambered out
on the other side, an easy scramble up into another tunnel.
After ferrying across the tackle bags, and then ourselves, we
discovered that
the tunnel was only about ten feet long and led straight to another
lake. The
same tactics were used to cross this one, the only difference being
that we had
to lower ourselves down an old bit of chain to get into the water (this
might
be tricky if you ever need to reverse this bit, so check the state of
the chain
on your way through). By the time we'd all crossed, I was freezing -
that water
is cold, and the mine draughts hard in places. I danced about on the
crunchy
slate floor - feeling foolish, but keeping toastie.
We took a moment to look about at our surroundings, once more
unleashing the
super-torch. Old, high-level passages were spotted, and in one place a
rusty
old ladder about 80ft high was dangling temptingly down into the
chamber. Well,
not that temptingly really, one step on it would probably bring it down
on your
head, along with whatever it was attached to - we'll leave that one for
the
moment, thanks.
So, onwards we went through big, echoey chambers along old cart tracks,
with rails
still in-situ in many places, until we arrived at the first old bridge.
The
route continues at a window on the other side of the chamber, the floor
of
which is a lake with vertical sides, twenty feet below. The bridges are
simple
- at the halfway point, old, rusted metal beams hang from the roof,
each
holding one end of a timber cross-member in place, and the bridge is
simply
laid across this support to reach each side of the chamber.
This first one's not too bad, at least the two main beams are in
reasonable
nick, but I've heard of someone who had to be cave-rescued from here
when they
fell through the old planks in the middle of the walkway, and couldn't
get back
off their rope, so the whole thing still needs to be treated with
respect.
Anyway, a rope was rigged in addition to the existing handlines so that
we
could haul the heaviest bags across, it would be poor to end up in the
water
below wearing a heavy tackle bag. The lake below was a horrible dank
pond with
no easy way out, so we carefully tiptoed across the slimy beam across
to the
next bit of solid passage.
After a short distance, an identical room to the first one appeared,
but the
bridge here had completely collapsed into the water. Old explorers were
forced
to make a traverse around the chamber, following a small ledge to a
tiny beach,
then swinging back across old fixed-ropes to gain the window at the
other side
of the room. Luckily, some enterprising folks had rigged a tyrolean
cable
straight across the void making it easy work to just zip across on a
pulley...
...and then came the third and final 'bridge' crossing. The state of
this bridge
is appalling - two bendy old rails, just resting on rotten wood and
unsecured
at each end, span the gap to the support in the middle of the room.
Although
there are fixed lines here, it's pretty scary shuffling across these
rails,
especially when they're flexing alarmingly, and you realise that most
of the
fixed ropes are attached to the centre support. The support beam rocks
gently
to and fro, and this is where I was trying hard to forget about the age
of the
rusty supports driven into the roof, and holding everything up. The
pool
underneath is green and gloomy, and full of old bits of bridge, and
other crap
- most uninspiring to say the least.
From the centre support, an eight mill bolt in the roof supports
another little
tyrolean wire, so the second half of the crossing is fine, and
certainly better
than the original way on which was to 'a cheval' across a rotting beam
of wood
full of sharp, rusty nails. People have fallen into the water from this
beam,
and I'm sure glad this didn't happen to any of our party. Once across
this
obstacle, I knew the main difficulties were over and despite enjoying
myself
intensely, I was freezing again and was looking forward to the way out.
One last obstacle remained, the third and final lake crossing. This
last lake
is much wider and deeper than the others, and there is a forty-foot
drop just
to get to the water. As we were starting to get the tyres rigged up
again, somebody
pulled on the long bit of twine attached to the abseil point
and...across the
water came a dinghy, fully inflated and looking far more inviting than
our
little tyres. There was much rejoicing at this point, as we knew we
wouldn't
have to get wet again. It was unforgettable as I dropped off the rope
into the
dinghy and the others pulled me across the lake. I just lay on my back
and
watched the huge cavern roof glide silently by above my head.
A quick climb up a fixed rope at the other side of the lake and we had
reached
the end of the trip - we were now in Rhosydd mine and in celebration of
this
fact, previous parties had built a bizarre 'shrine' to the crossing.
Ok, really
this was in fact a heap of junk, but it was really funny to find it
there, with
such things as a badminton racket, a coffee machine, a stylish (!) old
red
handbag, etc. We had nothing left but a nutrigrain bar, so that was
added to
the pile.
Things aren't quite over here however, as you still have to get out of
Rhosydd,
but fortunately this was fine and, after a few wrong turns through the
now much
smaller tunnels, passing some interesting old mining artifacts, we
suddenly
arrived in a vast cavern where daylight could be seen shining in from
above.
The exit chambers were truly breathtaking, and with the light pouring
in ahead,
the climb out from the darkness was amazing.
Once out, we paused for a team photo and then proceeded to get
completely
disorientated in the mist on the mountain top. Sam's compass, although
it
looked like something you'd get out of a Christmas cracker, saved the
day and
we picked our way back around and down the hill to the Croesor
entrance.
By the time we'd got back at the car, our "three to five" hour
trip had stretched into over eight hours, and I for one was very happy
to get
back to Eric's campsite and a chance to get back into normal clothes
and to see
Selina, who was a bit worried by the fact that we'd got to within half
an hour
of our cave rescue callout time.
So, all in all a great trip, very different to anything I've done
before and
I'd definitely do it again...but maybe not just quite yet.
As an aside, if you knew the two fixed ropes at the start were in good
nick,
then maybe the best, and quickest way to do it would be by wearing
wetsuits, carrying
buoyant waterproof bags, and just swimming the lakes.
Links
Further pictures from our trip:
http://www.ukbouldering.com/croesorpics.htm
Pete’s great article:
http://www.anchor.co.uk/home/rob/GwyneddCavePot/Ogofa/Ogofa3/CroesortoRhosydd.htm
Other accounts of the trip:
http://www.cowdery.demon.co.uk/Rctrip.htm
http://www.subwales.co.uk/mines/croesor.html
Some older and scarier pics:
http://www.cowdery.demon.co.uk/Pics.htm
Top
|
|
