Prince for a night
If you’re going to sleep rough, you may as well pick somewhere sprinkled with royal stardust. Welcome to the rugged, regal surroundings of Owain Glyndwr’s cave…
Trail heads deep into Snowdonia to sleep in a right royal hideout – Owain Glyndwr’s cave high up on the exposed edge of Moel yr Ogof.
What is it they say about not knowing someone until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes? Well, I reckon the same is true for rebel Welsh princes. Only, I’m not going to walk in his shoes, I’m going to sleep in his hideout; a cave clinging to a vertical wall of rock, near the top of a mountain. That is, if I can find the thing… Let’s start at the beginning. Owain Glyndwr was the last native-born Prince of Wales. He lived from 1359 to 1415. In 1400 he instigated a rebellion against the English rule of Wales, known as the Welsh revolt. This went well to start with, with large areas of Wales once again back under Welsh control. Alas, due to the larger numbers of English troops and superior weaponry, the revolt crumbled and in 1409 Owain Glyndwr went into hiding. The last recorded sighting of him was in 1412. Despite huge rewards offered by the English, he was never betrayed and is said to have died in 1415.
In Snowdonia, near the village of Beddgelert, there’s a mountain called Moel yr Ogof, or ‘Mountain of the Cave’. It’s right next to Moel Hebog, the peak that dominates the village. Now, as the name of the mountain might suggest, there’s a cave (actually more of a shallow cleft) high on a north-facing rock wall. It is said Owain Glyndwr hid here for around six months during his fugitive years. Look on an OS map, the cave is clearly marked. The true cave is the one on the face. There’s an easier one to get to, which is actually a mine opening on the side of the mountain, and this is what most casual cave-seekers know as Owain Glyndwr’s cave. The real cave is actually very obvious. If you look up at Moel yr Ogof from the A4085 road, the north-east face of the mountain is clear to see. Towards the top left of it is a horizontal cleft, and it’s in this that the cave lies. Knowing the location is one thing, getting to it is quite another. Sleeping in it, well, let’s see how that goes…
The approach
Before we go any further, I’m going to patronise you all on the grounds of safety. The cave is 200ft up a vertical cliff face and the way to it involves a few tricky moves of scrambling that are Grade 2-ish. Then there’s the actual ledge you walk out onto... It’s very dangerous.
An hour of walking through Beddgelert forest gets you to the base of the face. I’d studied the cleft and the ledge that leads to it from a distance, on the walk-in. Once you’re closer, it seems a little more doable. I went up to the left of the crag and soon found the lower cave. There were clear signs of activity; old tea-lights on the ground and a few scraps of litter. People had been sleeping here. I explored above it and found the series of rock bands that work towards the main ledge at the front of the face. I was doing all this with a heavy rucksack on, I had my overnight gear and camera equipment. This made one of the moves a little testing and when I turned around to make sure I would be able to reverse it on the way out in the morning, I decided it was a ‘bit sketchy’. So, I forgot the cave for the time being and explored until I found a way off of the mountain that I would be able to do in the half-light of dawn. This involved getting to the ledge above the cave ledge, then scrambling up, over the top bands of rock. Easy, so long as I didn’t look down.
The scramble
Once that was sorted, I could relax. Now time to get to the cave. I’d been once before on a recce a few years ago. I’d remembered the front ledge leading to the cave and in my mind I’d built it up to be worse than it actually was. There is a wonderful moment, walking out, then rounding the corner onto the face of Moel yr Ogof. Fear is different for everyone. It’s brown for me. Not wanting to meet with it, I focused really hard on the moment and the foreground, just the area I was going to travel over. This kept me calm and sure-footed. You are in such a serious location that focusing to this degree is easier than you think. A few times in my life I’ve been in emergency situations where there was no choice about
what to do. It’s the same here. If you want to visit this cave, there is no room for hesitation. You must know your limits. You must focus. At the end of the day, our being in places like this risks the lives of those who may come to rescue us should things go badly wrong.
The last few feet of the ledge, before you get to the cave proper, present the intrepid cave hunter with a tricky decision; go wide and extremely close to the edge(!), or crawl on hands and knees through a low gap, knowing you’re safe despite the rather humble arrival. What better way to arrive at a prince’s cave than on hands and knees? After all Owain Glyndwr was the latter day equivalent of Luke Skywalker (he led a rebellion against a fledgling empire). I swallowed my pride a long time ago, so I crawled.
The Prince’s Cave
In the ‘cave’, (it’s really a cleft about 12ft deep), there’s enough room to sleep two people and just leave enough space to move about. The floor consists of dry, compacted earth, perfect for a good night’s sleep. Sheep shit had been liberally sprinkled everywhere, so a little housekeeping was in order. Nettles grew around the edges, a sure sign of the passing of liquids and solids, presumably from sheep, but you never know… The nettles may still be flourishing 600 years after Glyndwr fertilised the floor for six months. There’s a bit of a lip at the mouth of the cave, so you feel oblivious to the drop. It’s a snug spot. Oh, I nearly forgot to mention the most impressive part of the cave; the view. What could be more fitting for the last true born Prince of Wales than Snowdon herself? The mountain sits centrally in the rock-framed view. There’s a surprise though. To the right and a little further back of Snowdon, Moel Siabod (dare I say it) steals the show.
Clouds came and went. The low evening sunlight search-lighted onto various parts of the landscape, highlighting something different every time I looked out. Dusk was soft with cloud and the hiss of my stove. Sleep came easily. By about 9pm I was awake again. Maybe it was the Special Forces helicopter skulking around the black valleys that woke me. Whatever it was, I was grateful. The whole of the sky visible through the cave mouth was lit with more stars than I could do justice by trying to describe. Knowing that Owain Glyndwr, if he ever did use this cave, would have seen the same mountains and the same stars shrinks that gulf of time, making it seem that bit more real. One thing is for certain; Glyndwr led a revolt and was never betrayed by his people. In this world of laughable leaders, people like Owain Glyndwr shine that much brighter.
“WHAT BETTER WAY TO ARRIVE AT A PRINCE’S CAVE THAN ON HANDS AND KNEES?”