For some, the magnet is the heartbreaking story of Prince Llywelyn the Great, his infant son and his dog…
Returning from hunting, wondering why his hound had left the pack, Llywelyn, a new father finds an overturned cradle, the infant missing and his much loved Irish wolfhound sporting a bloodstained mouth. That said only one thing to him. The large dog, named Gelert, had killed and eaten his child. Such an animal cannot continue to live. The prince kills his hound but as it yelps with the fatal injury, a baby’s wail is heard. The infant is found under the cradle and the bleeding body of a dead wolf lies close by. Immediately, the father realises what really happened. The blood on his hound’s mouth was that of the wolf. The joy of finding his son safe is dabbed with the grief of having killed his faithful, courageous hound.
Gelert’s grave lies on the edge of the village. Heading south on the footpath alongside River Glaslyn, his grave (folks place flowers here) can be seen with a forlorn yet proud hound cast in stone – as always on guard.
Some come via this gateway to the many exits to walk the trails and climb the mountains. There are those who come to stroll the streets – Brynffynnon, Rhiw-tir, Gwynant, Yr Eglwys and Smith, admiring the festoon of flowers adorning the cottages and shops, feeling their hearts beat faster – revved and yet strangely calmed by the river rushing through.
Then there’s the tidbit about the yellow trousered, Rupert the bear. Mary Tourtel brought this bear to life in 1920 and Alfred Bestall, living in this village inherited him when Mary retired in 1935.
And then again, some are drawn by the knowledge of the happening back in 1949 when a meteorite crashed into the Prince Llywelyn hotel. A dazzling light had been seen zipping earthward through the sky. Unusual sounds were also reported. It was not until the morning that the reason for the noise and light was understood. A jagged hole in the hotel’s ceiling and corresponding roof tiles was discovered. In the lounge, a cricket ball-sized rock lay on the floor. The mysterious rock was identified by an old miner at the pub.
The meteorite dated at over four and a half million years old has a two-pound replica, but slices of the original were distributed to various museums and universities. One of those pieces is displayed at the National Museum of Wales in Cardiff. Note – two of the eleven meteorite landings in Britain have been in Wales.
Others come here to Saint Mary’s Church. It’s believed to be on the site of a Celtic clas. It is one of the earliest Christian establishments in Wales. A priory turned Augustine house was recorded by Giraldus Cambrenis (Gerald of Wales) in 1216. After many disasters and rebuildings, it stands as an active church at the end of Stryd Yr Eglwys (Church Street). Indeed, one of the construction conversions was patroned by Prince Llywelyn.
There is more… This little village was starting point of the first official ascent of Yr Wyddfa in 1639… Train enthusiasts, old and young come here to experience history riding on the narrow gauge rails of heritage Railway Station.
That here is snuggled amidst the mountains, where the rivers Glaslyn and Colwyn meet in a swooping Y. That here is Beddgelert. Translation: Gelert’s grave. A small, mountain village of stone houses, served with shops, pubs and teashops. Lucky locals number much below 1,000. It is along the surrounding paths and trails where one may – may find the rare Brwynddail yn Mynydd. In English (not a translation) it’s the Snowdon Lily. Though easily found in other parts of the world, this flower is rare in North Wales.
Moel Hebog is Beddgelert’s very own – closest mountain, but the range of other peaks are accessible from her perimeter – Moel Lefn, Moel yr Ogof, Moel Siabod, Tryfan, Glydar Fach and Glyfar Fawr, Carnell Dafydd, Y Garn, Pen Yr Olde Wen and of course Yr Wyddfa. Some closer than others. A hiker and walker’s paradise!
And then, there’s the mist. Mist that often lingers on the mountain peaks, drifting into the village, creating fairylike streets. Mist, inspiring travellers sitting at the river or at Glaslyn Bridge listening to the river’s voice; mist whispering to walkers to have tea with a Mynydd Cymreig (type of welsh cake) and to children to imagine the breath of dragons and fairies waiting for the sun.
Finding Beddgelert: Both the A4085 and the A498 converge on Beddgelert, North Wales. Parking fee applies.
