Dinorwig Quarry (Day 2)

Route 2 Map

Route Map


It is said that Eskimos have 50 words for snow. If the Welsh do not have an equivalent number for rain, then they don't go out much. Not being a native Welsh speaker, I have one word for it  and that is "Welshie". e.g. the weather today is a bit welshie, which is the type of rain that promises it is about to stop, just before producing the kind of downpour that laughs at the guarantee on that expensive waterproof jacket. 

One of the things you find when camp for a while is that you become very sensitive to rain since you find that a  tent canvas amplifies the sound of any rain making a drizzle sound like a shower and a shower sound like a torrent. Therefore I was not totally sure what was going on outside during the night, but it sure sounded a lot like a tropical monsoon had hit Llanberis. Saying that the sound of rain hitting canvas can actually be quite relaxing. Less so was the irregular drip coming from a missing down-pipe hitting a plastic rat trap on a nearby toilet block that created the Welsh equivalent of Chinese water torture.

To add to the ambience,  I found that because the tent was pitched on a slope, as gravity overcome my sleeping inertia I would end up bundled at the bottom of the tent bedroom.

It has to be said I did not sleep well.

At about 7 a.m., I finally gave up, and did the sleeping bag shuffle to open the tent doors and see if the campsite had indeed been washed away by a Welsh tsunami It was still dark, but there was enough early dawn light to show that it was still overcast and therefore my original plan to greet the sunrise on the quarry face was going to be a pointless exercise as heavy mist and cloud hung in valleys.  Therefore I contented myself with hot porridge and coffee and proceeded in making lunch for the day ahead.

By 8:30 I was finally packed and ready and set off on the 20 minute drive to the quarry car park.

The day begins

Unsurprisingly I was the only car at the bus stop car park. While the sky was still a leaden grey, it was for once not actually raining. However a small stream had appeared on the path up to the quarry as a testament to the quantity of rain that had fallen the night before .

My first decision was how I was going to carry all my kit. My lowenpro camera bag had shown it unable to withstand the Welsh weather and was still damp inside. Camera bags always seem to be great for your camera kit, they never seen to have room for anything else. This day I was going to be on the hills all day, so I would need to take lunch, fluids, emergency kit etc. I therefore packed my kit in my walking rucksack. It is not great as a camera bag, but at least I could pack the rest of the stuff around it and I hoped it would be more waterproof. Learning my lessons from the previous day, I also made sure I put on my waterproof trousers.

So ready, I set up the path for my first visit to the quarry itself.

The Quarry 

The quarry itself  is accessed by climbing over a metal gate. Despite the dire warnings, only a token attempt had been made to stop trespassers. The gate was a low metal variety and had clearly been clambered over many times before as evidenced by its dilapidated state.

Dali's Hole

Once over I decided to head for a local depression in the slate mine called Dali's hole. This is the lowest point in the middle quarry itself and the day before I had climbed above it a now wanted a closer look.

The hole itself is a bit of a mystery as to its purpose. It consists of a mini quarry dug about 20 metres into the quarry level. At some point a small slate hut was built at the bottom, although it would always be in danger of flooding as there is no exit point for water. Unsurprisingly due to the recent rain, the hole now sported a layer of turquoise water in it and a small waterfall had grown on one edge. I had wanted to get an image of that, so I headed for the rim to see if I could work my way around to the other side. There was a clear path, but at some point there had been a major rock slide making part of the route more challenging picking my way through large slate blocks. It was a salutatory lesson on the risks in places like this and I wouldn't want to be standing there when it had happened

As I got to the other side of the hole I got my camera kit out. It was here I realized I had a problem. Virtually every lens and the camera itself were fogged up. I generally carry a cleaning cloth on my camera strap, but that had got so sodden the day before that I was forced to use anything I had on me to wipe the lens and camera viewfinder. One of the disadvantages of camping is that with no heating, drying things is a nightmare. For example, my trousers from the previous day, despite my best attempts to dry them, were still sodden and would remain so for the entire trip. Similarly for the lenses and camera.

It was only when I attempted to clear the condensation that I realized that some of the condensation was actually on the inside of some of the lenses and viewfinder itself. As a result, despite my best attempts to clean my lenses, I had no way of knowing what the the final image would be like. Welsh rain 1 Weather-sealing 0

Fortunately my new 100-400 mm lens seemed to be largely immune to fogging and I wanted to use it to capture the water going over the edge. As I set it up on the tripod, I realized I was not alone as a troop of teenagers in climbing gear passed me by. It was a reminder that despite the warnings, the place was actually a popular destination for climbers and outward bound groups. I had been tempted to try and traverse down to the hole itself,  but I was aware that I had promised my wife to be risk adverse, so I contented myself to just exploring the rim.

Cascades into the hole

After taking a number of images I then headed off to see if I could work out how to get higher in the quarry. My target had always been to reach the cutting sheds which I knew were somewhere on the higher levels, so I worked my way back and started looking for a easy way up.

It had by this point started raining again and I was tempted to shelter under a nearby slate lean to. However a quick examination of the state of the steel girders holding the roof up, I decided to forgo this since I noticed that the iron had been virtually eaten through with rust.

I instead followed up a wide slate path to the next level which led to a plateau, I headed to a small arch cut into the slate face. On the other side I was met with one of the reasons, this place is so popular. I was met by giant slate hole dug into the rock face and terraces of slate rising into the hillside. I have never been much of a drone guy, but i must admit I wished I had one on me to do the size of the place justice.

Looking up to the staircase

I contented myself with trying a few shots before sheltering under the slate arch for lunch. I had by this point got used to my isolation, so got a bit of a start when Irish guy came out of now where asking if I had seen a tripod lying anywhere. After telling him I hadn't, but I would keep an eye out for it, I decided to head up to the next level. This would require traversing what Greg Whitton had termed the "grand staircase".

The grand staircase

The start of the grand staircase

The grand staircase is a set of slate steps which is the easiest route to the highest levels.

In my search of satellite photos I had found it hard to find, but on the ground it was quite easy to locate. The staircase itself consists of a larger number of slate steps, with little in the way of guard rails or other barriers to guard against you tumbling into the valley below. The steps themselves have crumbled away in places making ascension challenging and descending double so. However despite my fears, the trek up was relatively trouble free and gave fantastic views of the valley below. 

Some of the original winch gear

After a couple of hundred steps, the staircase comes out at the level. A short trek takes you over to an old winching station which still contains the winch line and block and tackle as if it the worker had just popped off for a cigarette break and would back in any second. I had hoped that the fogging effecting my kit would of gone, but the higher dew point at that level meant I was still struggling,so often I had to resort to my phone to get anything at all.

After a brief wander I started looking for the path up to the cutting shed level. Again there was no clear path put it was quite easy to find a set of steps cut into the slate. As I went along this top level I cam across an old engine shed which still contained the motor that must of once powered a large part of the site.

One of the motors that used to power the quarry

The cutting sheds

The cutting sheds

Finally I came to my objective. The cutting sheds are a long shed where in its hey day, slate was sliced before being sent down to the lower levels and out into the world. The iron tables are still there, together with the cutting saws, and give a glimpse into what a working slate quarry must of been like in its heyday. It also made a fantastic photographic location with the orderly rows of saws stretching into the distance.

 With the days objective completed and it coming on 2 O'clock it was time to make my way down. I always find going down mountains in some ways harder than going up, and this one was no different. With few hand holds and slate threatening to break away underfoot on every step, I took the downward journey upon the grand staircase very carefully, but in the end I reached the bottom.

I  made a breif detour through one of the many tunnels dug through the slate to take pictures of the abyss on the other side. Then I headed down back to my car.

It was still relatively early when I got back to Llanberis, so I decided to make a brief stop and get something warm inside me, which didn't involve sitting in a damp tent. First I however I had to fight with the parking machine which managed to confuse me in not one, but two languages. Eventually I gave up and took the risk that Welsh traffic wardens are as rain adverse as everyone else and went off to find a shop that sold hot chocolate in which I could dry out a little.

I must admit  Llanberis was not what I was expecting. Obviously it had styled itself as the gateway to Snowden, but unlike some places (Cheddar gorge hold your head in shame) still retained some charm and had not sold out to blatant commercialism (a.k.a Ilse of wight needles experience).  I also noticed the plethora of cheap hotels and B&B's available which I eyed enviously before heading back to my tent, to cook dinner and sleep.

Looking down the grand staircase