King Arthur’s Snowdon
By the power of Greyskull! Oops, wrong sword.
TAKE MY GOOD sword Excalibur and go up over yonder ridge. There you will come to a dark lake in the mountain pass; and when you come there I charge you to throw my sword into that water.”
King Arthur uttered these words as he lay mortally wounded after the Battle of Camlann. As Saxon-shaped storm clouds rallied over the war-torn realm of Logres , the king had one last quest to fulfil. But where exactly are the ‘mountain pass’ and ‘dark lake’ of Arthur’s instructions to Sir Bedivere? Where did the final battle take place? The clues point to a magical ( but also very real) mountain in North Wales: Snowdon.
Arthurian folklore enshrouds Wales’ highest peak like a stubborn hill mist. These medieval legends aren’t unique to Snowdon ( let alone Wales or even Britain), but the craggy mountainsides where native princes fought last stands against ruthless invaders are a convincing stage.
It’s against this moody and mysterious backdrop that Arthur and Mordred fight to the death. It’s here that Sir Bedivere eventually returns Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake. And it’s here where Arthur and his knights are said to sleep in a hidden cave, waiting for a day when Britain faces mortal peril.
A quest to find these fabled places won’t take you to the top of Snowdon however. The action is played out in its shadowy cwms and around a regal yet seldom-climbed outlier, usually overlooked by the crowds converging on the roof of Wales, except as a scrambly finale to the Snowdon Horseshoe.
Y Lliwedd is the mountain that muscles into view as the Miners’ Track curves gently away from Peny-Pass. Its jagged west peak crowns the dragon’s tail ridge rising on the left, which bares a hostile north face streaked with gullies and grassy ledges. Scrambling to the top is a small feat of knightly derring-do, but mercifully Y Lliwedd is an 898m monster you don’t tackle head on.
Peeling away from Snowdon’s busiest summitbound trail, a lowlier path flirts with the shore of Llyn Llydaw – the largest of three lakes snuggling in the amphitheatre formed by Snowdon’s eastpointing spurs. Y Lliwedd (the ‘colourless peak’) and Crib Goch (the ‘red ridge’) face off across its inky blue waters, and together these arêtes frame Snowdon’s invitingly tapered summit.
Legends say Llyn Llydaw is the Lady of the Lake’s domain (others say it’s Glaslyn). In versions of the story that don’t include a stone or anvil, Nimue or Vivian (as she’s variously known) gives Excalibur to Arthur, confirming he’s the rightful King of the Britons. Of course, not everyone’s happy about this – not least the ‘repressed citizen’ in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, who complains bitterly that “strange women lyin’ in ponds distributin’ swords is no basis for a system of government.”
Nimue expects Arthur to give the enchanted sword back when he’s finished with it, and when he’s grievously wounded in the final battle, the task falls to Sir Bedivere. But long-serving Bedivere is hesitant about casting such a valuable blade into the lake, so instead hides it in the rushes and returns to the dying king.
Expecting to hear a miraculous tale, Arthur is furious when Bedivere reports that nothing spectacular happened. Bedivere fesses up and tries again, but the second time around he still can’t bring himself to fling Excalibur into the water. On the verge of death, Arthur gives Bedivere a third chance to prove his honour, and this time the errant knight does as instructed, hurling the sword with all his might into the lake. A samite-clad arm emerges from the water to catch it by the hilt and sinks back into the murky depths.
Bedivere (who can’t believe his eyes and must surely be knackered from all the toing and froing) then carries Arthur to the lake shore, where a waiting barge takes him to the mysterious Isle of Avalon. Or so we’re told by some sources at least, because others say Arthur was buried nearby in the mountain pass joining Snowdon and Y Lliwedd.
The path splitting from the Miners’ Track climbs away from Llyn Llydaw and zigzags nimbly towards a weak point in Y Lliwedd’s defences. It’s here you’ll need a steadying hand or two to haul yourself up onto the mountain’s east shoulder. A dizzying traverse of Y Lliwedd’s serrated crest brings you to the walk’s exposed crux – a tremble-inducing descent from the summit to Bwlch Ciliau, where the Watkin Path leads you to Bwlch y Saethau: the ‘Pass of the Arrows.’
Its name evokes a shower of arrows unleashed during the final battle and it’s also where some believe Arthur was later interred. No trace of the burial cairn dubbed ‘Carnedd Arthur’ survives, but
“A dizzying traverse of Y Lliwedd’s serrated crest brings you to the walk’s exposed crux…”
Welsh folklore speaks of another built at his behest; one so big, it blends in with Snowdon’s 1085m summit. Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon’s Welsh name) means ‘the tomb’ in English and legends claim it’s the burial place of tyrannical giant named Rhitta Gawr.
Rhitta wore a cloak made from the beards of 26 vanquished kings; only Arthur’s facial fuzz was missing. When Rhitta demands it, Arthur vehemently refuses and rides out to meet the giant in his mountain court. During the ensuing duel, Arthur strikes a deadly blow with Excalibur, slicing Rhitta in two. Arthur’s men then pile rocks over the giant’s mangled corpse.
Rhitta’s body isn’t the only dark secret buried under Snowdonia, as a shepherd discovered one dark night, while searching for lost sheep among Y Lliwedd’s crags. He discovers an opening in the cliffs and squeezes himself inside to find a deep cave. Striking a light from his pocket, he’s amazed to see a circle of sleeping knights with an ancient king in their midst. Taking a step back, the shepherd brushes against a bell, which sends a deafening ring through the cavern and wakes the slumbering sovereign.
The king asks if it’s day, but the shepherd assures him not to worry. Inviting the shepherd to take from the treasure stashed in the cave, the king goes back to bed, vowing to rise again when Britain needs him. Duly freaked out by the experience, the shepherd scarpers and never finds the cave again.
The ‘Cave of the Young Men’ fable imagines a hopeful fate for Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. But another story tells how Arthur met his end. It’s the legend of the final battle, which chroniclers say was fought at Camlann – a remarkable soundalike for Snowdon’s Cwm Llan.
From Bwlch Ciliau (the ‘Pass of Corners’), the Watkin Path retreats into this broad, hanging valley, pockmarked by signs of slate quarrying. Carved up by white water streams, it’s refreshingly
green in contrast to the ‘grey mountain’. Cwm Llan may or may not have witnessed a seminal battle in the Dark Ages, but it was the setting for a speech given by a real-life British leader in 1892. The 83-year-old Liberal Prime Minister William Gladstone arrived to open the Watkin Path and address a crowd of 2000 from the large rock which now bears a plaque commemorating the event. Ahistorical events are far more exciting however.
Arthur’s final battle is almost resolved amicably, if it weren’t for a meddling serpent. The story deserves a precede, which all kicks off when Sir Lancelot (Arthur’s noble champion) falls in love with Queen Guinevere. When their affair is exposed, Lancelot flees, but Arthur’s scheming, inbred, bastard son Sir Mordred is baying for blood.
Guinevere’s disloyalty condemns her to burn at the stake, but just as she’s about to go up in flames, Lancelot arrives to rescue her. He whisks her away to his castle and civil war breaks out. Arthur and Guinevere are reconciled when Lancelot protests her innocence, but he is banished to France. Sir Gawain still can’t forgive him for killing his brothers however, and convinces Arthur to sail abroad and avenge their deaths, leaving treacherous Mordred in charge.
While Arthur is away, Mordred stirs up rumours that Arthur is dead and usurps the throne, but he fails in forcing Guinevere to marry him and she sends for help. The rightful king hurries back to Blighty, where matters come to a head on the Plain of Camlann.
It wouldn’t take Excalibur to cut the atmosphere in no man’s land, where Arthur and his closest aides meet Mordred’s entourage and begin to discuss peace terms. Their armies have orders to attack if weapons are drawn. While negotiations are ongoing, an adder sinks its fangs into the foot of Mordred’s bannerman, who unsheathes his sword to kill it. Big mistake.
The flash of steel alerts the opposing armies, both sides charge and a bloodbath follows. By dusk, only Arthur, Mordred, Sir Lucan and Sir Bedivere are still standing. Arthur sees Mordred leaning on his sword among the heaped bodies and calls for his spear.
“Traitor, now is your death upon you!” he cries. Mordred picks up his sword and hurls himself at Arthur, but as he brings his blade to bear, he’s impaled by a deft thrust of Arthur’s spear. Arthur is gravely injured by this fatal act and our story comes full circle as Sir Bedivere attends him. Logres has fallen.
No one knows for sure if Arthur ever really existed, or where he lived and died; but legends about his life and fantastical kingdom have gripped our imaginations for over a thousand years. Perhaps he does lie in wait for day when Britain needs its greatest leader again. If anywhere can rightly lay claim to Arthur, then it must surely be somewhere that looks very like Snowdonia.
“If anywhere can rightly lay claim to Arthur, then it must surely look something like Snowdonia.”