Tal-y-llyn: the art of glaciation

Tal-y-llyn Lake, also known as Talyllyn Lake, Llyn Mwyngil or Llyn Myngul is a large glacial ribbon lake formed by a post-glacial massive landslip damming up the glaciated valley

How deep is the Mawddach Estuary?

According to my tame geology expert, the Mawddach estuary is not an estuary at all but a fjord carved out by the glacier and then filled with sand and sea as the ice melted and retreated.

But how deep is this estuary/fjord?

I certainly can’t say, but perhaps the prospectors of rich minerals who have drilled here over the years could tell us….

So where do you stand on the rhododendron?

IMG_3509

So big news today.

Rhododendrum ponticum is back in the media and back in the frame.

Not only is this exotic shrub bad news in the short term for its knack of muscling in on other woodland flora but also bad in the long term with its existential threat to the micro-biome. Not everybody would agree with this view, but Victorian industrialists who wanted quick results in prettying up their newly acquired baronial demesnes probably didn’t foresee the long term consequences of introducing it.

But if you really want to know, ask Stuart Holtam, Headmaster and Warden of Farchynys. Or read all about his personal War against the Rhodies in Marians on the Mawddach:

Bleary eyed, we returned to Hades and the fires of Hell  – We came, we sawed, we got tired.”

 

 

Coach House Cuisine

Memories of food at Farchynys

IMG_1890

Friday was the dangerous day: tea came with us on wheels,

Our minibus smelling of boys and batter and non-standard tomato sauce;

Perhaps not exactly Mrs. Watkins’s Taste the Difference fish

Was stored precariously under seats in scratched Aluminum and threatened,

As we climbed the heights of Dinas.

Saturday often brought surprises after long fresh-air days

Like Geoffrey’s Boeuf Stroganoff and the dark brown slush of

Poires au vin du Bourgogne,

The sight of which tested the saporific nerve of even Alpha boys

But nevertheless soon passed our eager invigilation and was gone.

On Sunday, the reward for finding long lost Roman roads

Was JAD’s Brithdir Roast: a great golden bird

Displayed with squadrons of spuds and roots

And plattered to fill us up and lift our hearts for

The journey back to Mocks.

The Kitchen spick once more,

The light falls in the Dayroom,

Refectory tables are stacked,

The Coach House stands empty

Yet full of the aromas of our histories.

 

The Two Marians of The Mawddach

Steve B and I have been friends for fifty years. Our first meeting was in short trousers at QMGS in September 1967.

We are both tremendous Farchynys enthusiasts and recently enjoyed re-introducing our wives to wonders of a weekend of active service on the Mawddach.

We decided however that a resumption of the search for the Lost Roman road at Brithdir was an amuse bouche of nostalgia too far….