Big Dam
We are in Wales driving up a steep hill in low gear at the mercy of Google maps. The two previous right turns were not the ones we wanted. One of them was to a disused lead mine. At the third attempt we find the correct route.
I park the car in front of several other vehicles beside a sheer rock face. There's a red sign warning against climbing. With low clouds and rain dripping off the slick rocks it wasn't something I'd considered.
Phil and I hop over the puddles, climb some steps and peer over a low wall. We are treated to a view of a dam. A big dam. The reservoir retreats into the drizzle and mist some six miles away between the hills.
We came to see the dam. We have seen the dam. We walk further up the hill and at the top look down on the dam from a slightly higher elevation.
We're getting wet.
Earlier, the owner of the cabin we are staying in had described in near rhapsodic terms an attraction at a local beauty spot. Apparently you walk down a valley and then up through an actual waterfall. I picture double rainbows and shafts of golden light breaking through cloud cover to illuminate visitors as they ascend the rocks to the sound of choral music.
It is by all accounts spectacular if you like that sort of thing. We do but the dam is nearer and it has a cafe. We walk back downhill for lunch.
Poking our heads inside the cafe we discover it is busy with knitters. We take a seat in front of the wall-sized window with impressive views over the dam and wait for our 100% plant-based lunch. Mostly we earwig in on the various conversations.
The group of knitters nearest us has a member who is trying to generate interest in her film club. She describes it as mostly showing obscure films. Despite this she appears to be collecting contact details from those sat at her table. When the film buff inquires of a separate table as to their interest in joining the film club, she is met with less enthusiasm. One knitter is emphatic: she doesn't do subtitles. Also, Wednesdays aren't great.
I'd like to sign up. I am free Wednesdays and I do subtitles. Shame it's in the middle of Wales.
Fortified by our 100% plant-based lunch that came with a mini fryer basket of tasty chips, we retrace our steps to the disused lead mine at the base of the dam. Standing at the bottom looking up, we get to appreciate the big dam from a new perspective. There's no doubt it's big.
The grey stone ruins of the lead mine bear a sign warning not to climb on the remains. To emphasise how dangerous it is, half a dozen hazards are illustrated by stick figures in attitudes of distress. It reminds me of one of those traumatising Public Information films from my youth.
Reading the faded interpretation we learn there are the remnants of crushing houses, roasting ovens, numerous buddles and something called a jigger box. We find it baffling, but agree that it appears to be a dangerous business. I can't imagine the miners enjoyed a long and healthy life crushing rocks for lead.
On the way back to the car park I hop over a gap in one of the derelict structures, risking a fatal fall into an ore bin. Despite all the warning signs I have learned nothing of the perils of lead mining.
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Paris, the fairy tale romance beautifully drawn by Simon Gane and written by me is coming out from Image comics in May. The handsome hardcover will feature twenty new pages of art and extras from Simon. Please navigate the arcane pre-order process if you can (Previews code JAN220156) to avoid supply chain/paper shortage disappointment.
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