Woolly says – It was a dark start to the day, in fact it seems to be a dark month with the steel grey skies refusing to let any sunlight through. As we headed through the Snowdonia national park the mountains looked ominous and uninviting and rain showers set the windscreen wipers racing at regular intervals, I kept my paws crossed that at least we wouldn’t get soaked.
I was super excited about today’s destination, a new place that the lovely Ann who Jo once worked with had put up on her Facebook page and one that looked well worth the hours drive. Known as Little Italy, Jo and I had researched as much as we could knowing that Alfie the Dog wouldn’t make a six mile walk with his little arthritic legs so had decided to park in the nearby village of Corris and take a shorter route.
A former slate mining village set within the Dyfi Forest 5 miles north of Machynlleth, Corris has a population of around 600. Summer tourists flock to the area to visit the Corris Craft Centre which showcases the work of local craftspeople and several former slate mines one of which is now the King Arthur’s Labyrinth and underground tour. The narrow gauge Corris Railway from Aberllefenni used to carry slate to Machynlleth to be shipped from quays on the River Dyfi; the Railway’s stable block is now used as a museum for the line, we knew that most of this was closed for the winter. Arriving in the small village Jo managed to squeeze the car onto the only parking area and we set off to discover all things Italian.
Small slate cottages lined the two roads where single file traffic was the norm, the gushing river could be heard everywhere as the water cut through the village throwing spray into the air.
A former garage caught my eye with its old pumps and signage and the village church sat with a wonderful view across the valley.
Having reached the top of the village we arrived at the footpath and started to make our way upwards, less than half a mile into the walk the human found her feet sunk into the mud with the mutt struggling to get his short legs through it at all. I peered up ahead and it appeared to continue as a bog as far as my eyes could see. I sighed, knowing that this didn’t bode well.
Having removed my booted feet from the sludge realising that my feet were now wet and my footwear caked, I then retreated pulling the poor dog behind me to extract him from his muddy pit, I looked down at Alfie the Dog and my small friend.
Woolly says – I knew what was coming and tried to mammoth up to the fact that it was mission aborted just as an avalanche of rain hit us and Jo dragged us back down the path bundling us into the car before we were soaked through. Although I was itching to sulk, I felt that this might not help the situation and instead suggested that we find somewhere for barking boy to have a walk of some kind as well as a toilet as I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold on. We navigated the small village lane and hit the main road with Jo failing to realise that we had gone the wrong way.
Being Welsh Mountain roads which are notoriously bendy we drove onwards keeping our eyes peeled for a spot to turn, several miles passed when a blue P came into view and we took a sharp right skidding onto the carpark of a forest, which much to my delight also had a toilet block. An oversized dormouse sat by an information sign telling us that we had arrived at Tan y Coed and that the forestry commission had begun planting the woodland during the First World War as the war effort had used up all of Britain’s timber, this had continued through WWII with the land army girls known as ‘Timber Jills’ maintaining the work.
We followed the leaf strewn path on its gentle slope enjoying the lack of rain and much better walking conditions until we reached a stream racing through the woodland and dropping into the river down below. With free flowing water under the paws we turned and headed back to the car, I sighed, today wasn’t going well.
Both of my furry companions looked a bit down in the dumps and wanting them to cheer up I suggested a stop at the Corris Craft centre for cake, this was greeted by the pair of them speeding up and leaping into the car on our arrival.
Retracing the road, we passed the turning for Corris Village we took a left into the car park.
Woolly says – Corris Craft Centre is in the Dyfi UNESCO World Biosphere, the only Biosphere in Wales and with its funky looking hexagonal units it has welcomed millions in its forty year history. This being winter meant that the crafters were sensibly tucked up at home keeping warm and dry, but the café provided us with slabs of bara brith for Jo and myself and a doggo treat for muddy paws along with drinks. Feeling somewhat mollified although disappointed we set off back along the mountain roads. Reaching the small hamlet of Dinas Mawddwy Jo took a sudden right turn onto the site of Meirion Mill a place we had passed many times and today it appeared that we were going to look inside.
Meirion Mill is a woollen mill and is located on the site of the northern terminus of the now defunct Mawddwy Railway. Originally built in 1867 as a warehouse for the nearly quarry in 1946 it was bought by a consortium of local farmers who converted into a woollen mill, lots of sheep about so that makes sense.
The Turner Brothers of Bridlington, a manufacturer of bedspreads, took over as the operator of the mill in 1963. They upgraded the machinery and sought to purchase the business outright, but the Society declined to sell it. Turner Brothers then abandoned their use of the mill. In 1966, Cheshire industrialist Raymond Street took over. In 1973 the Welsh Weavers Association was founded there but slowly over the years wool production decreased although visitors had increased, by the 1980’s it had become more of a shop.
Inside was warm and had a slightly mothbally smell, other than the building the only other things inside of its former life was an old loom, other than that the shelves were filled with all things wool. We wandered round admiring the fluffiness and warmth of slippers, blankets and socks before heading back outside.
A small building would have once been the railway office and a short walk towards the rapid river flowing along the perimeter led us to a fascinating sight. In the 17th century a small bridge had been built to cross the river and allow packhouses, stagecoaches and wagons to bring supplies to the former quarry site, Pont Minilyn had connected one side of the river to the other. We stood looking at the incredibly narrow bridge pondering how on earth a horse on its own had got across let alone a carriage or wagon.
We climbed down the slippery steps to view it from the riverbank and agreed that it was a beauty covered in its green moss. Alfie the Dog was all for crossing it but the sensible ones in the party decided that wouldn’t be a good move and instead just enjoyed the lovely view it gave us. With nothing else to see we headed back to the car and home for the start of all things festive.
For those of you that want to see what Little Italy should have looked like we have taken some pictures from google….you can see why we wanted to go we just need to wait for enough dry weather to allow us to get there.