Legends of Snowdonia – Fairies, King Arthur, Merlin and a giant!

A couple of days ago I visited a place I've been wanting to go to for a long time, Mount Snowdon! Mount Snowdon (Yr Wyddfa) in North Wales is the highest mountain in England and Wales. It has been a magical kingdom since ancient times, the haunt of fairies and spirits. But since Victorian times there has been a railway line all the way to the summit, which has impacted somewhat upon its remote and mystical atmosphere. North Wales is home to the Tylweth Teg, the magical fairy people of Wales, as well as being home to the Pendragons, the dragon kings of Britain.

Snowdon Railway

I took the train up there this week, a hot August day, and was amazed by the amount of everyday people who were making the arduous climb to the summit on foot, a hike of several hours. It was like a modern day pilgrimage to a sacred mountain, though today people simply go to climb this iconic landmark and to admire the spectacular views.

I had never been up Snowdon before and I found the views from the top to be absolutely amazing, one of the greatest panoramic views I’ve ever experienced, the kind of view you can only get when you’re on the highest of mountains! 

View from summit of Mount Snowdon

The whole mountain range of Snowdonia is laid out before you, as well as the entire Llyn Peninsular, the whole Isle of Anglesey, with the sea circling all around. I was really not prepared for such a view, it took my breath away!

View from summit towards the Llyn Peninsula

However, I was not here for the views, I was here to investigate the magical places that are hidden away on the mountain. The first that I spotted was from the train window, Llyn D’ur Arddu (The Black Lake of Arddu) where fairies have been seen many times dancing on the shores of the lake. But unfortunately I didn’t have time to visit it on foot on this trip as I was going to be hiking down the other side of the mountain.

Llyn D'ur Arddu where the fairies dance!

The summit of Mount Snowdon was once topped by a huge cairn where a giant named Rhita was said to be buried. This giant had a cloak made from the beards of the kings he had killed, but he was eventually killed himself, by none other than King Arthur! Unfortunately the cairn was destroyed in Victorian times to make way for a tower.

Summit of Mount Snowdon where the giant Rhita was buried

I climbed to the Eastern edge of the summit and then got my first view of the two lakes that were the main objectives of my journey. Glaslyn (The blue/green lake) lies just below the summit.

View of Glaslyn and Llyn Llydaw from Snowdon summit

A shepherd once helped a fairy woman here by lending her his shirt to wrap her baby in, ever afterwards he was rewarded by the fairies with silver coins until he became a rich man. Another story concerning this lake is that a terrible water monster known as an avanc was captured far away near Betws-y-Coed and then dragged here by a team of oxen before being released into this lake. The story covers many features of the local landscape during the journey and makes me think of the songlines of the Australian Aboriginies. Perhaps the ancient Britons once had their own songlines too?

Glaslyn fairy lake

The lake beyond Glaslyn is called Llyn Llydaw and it is said that King Arthur’s sword Excalibur was cast into this lake before his body was taken over the water to Cwn Dyli where he and his knights now lie hidden in a secret cave.

To the south of Snowdon is a valley called Cwm y Llan where a shepherd once rescued one of the Tylweth Teg who was trapped under a rock. He was rewarded with a magical walking cane which ensured that all his ewes gave birth to two healthy lambs each year.

Fairy haunted valley of Cwm y Llan

Not far from Cwn y Llan is the hill know as Dinas Emrys (The Fort of Myrddin Emrys) where King Vortigern, after fleeing the Saxons, once tried to build a fortress. The boy Emrys was brought in to be sacrificed as the fortress kept falling down, but instead of being killed Emrys told the king that his problems were caused by two dragons fighting under the hill. They dug down and released the two dragons that were trapped in a cave, a red dragon and a white dragon. The red dragon then fought and chased off the white dragon, which was said to represent the red dragon of Wales triumphing over the white dragon of the Saxons. To this day the red dragon is still the symbol of Wales. Emrys grew up to become the famous wizard Merlin. 

Dinas Emrys 

I sat and meditated by the nearby lake known as Llyn Dinas (Lake of the fort) and could see Dinas Emrys reflected in the water. The lake is said to be home to a dragon, while Dinas Emrys is Dinas Affaraon, the sacred city of the pheryllt, the mystical alchemical druids.

Magical woods by Llyn Dinas

Another site where the fairies are said to dance is Llyn Cwellyn, to the southwest of Snowdon. A shepherd was once tending his flock on the slopes of Moel Eilio when he found and captured a fairy woman. She agreed to marry him on condition that he never struck her with iron. One day the inevitable happened and he accidentally tapped her with his horse’s stirrups and she was never seen again. In another version of the story he did get to see her again, but was condemned never to walk beside her, and so could only communicate with her from afar. She appeared on an island on Llyn-y-Dywarchen and he had to communicate with her from the bank of the lake. I found Llyn-y-Dywarchen to be a most magical place and could sense the fairy magic emanating from the tiny island.

Another unfortunate man entered into a fairy dance near Llyn Cwellyn and was transported to fairyland for seven years, though he thought only a few moments had passed. When he returned his friends didn’t recognize him and his sweetheart had married someone else. Unable to adjust he died of a broken heart.

Llyn Cwellyn with Moel Eillio in the background (right)

Moel Eilio 

So be careful when walking through the mystical mountains of Snowdonia, the fairies are not always friendly, there are dragons and monsters in the lakes, and giant might just want to steal your beard!

Cottingley Beck & the Fairies

Cottingley Beck in Yorkshire is where the famous photos of fairies were taken in 1917-18 by two girls, Frances and Elsie. Sherlock Holmes author Arthur Conan Doyle believed in the authenticity of the photos and had them tested by Kodak who confirmed that the negatives had not been tampered with. 

The bridge near the housing estate, where I entered the hidden world of Cottingley Beck

Wading down through the waters of Cottingley Beck

An old ivy-covered bridge over Cottingley Beck

 A magical hidden waterfall in Cottingley Beck

As adults the two women maintained for decades that the photos were real, but under intense pressure and ridicule they finally admitted in 1983 that most of the photos had been faked, although Elsie maintained that the fifth and final photo was real.

The fifth and final photo, perhaps the only 'real' photo?

Both women maintained that they really had seen fairies though. No conclusive evidence of the faking has ever been found. If it was a hoax then it was a particularly ingenious one that fooled many experts, one wonders how two little girls could have achieved this?

Shannon Pot and the hunt for the Salmon of Knowledge

I was becoming intrigued by the Celtic tales of magical fish living in holy wells. My experience at the Pigeon Hole near Cong, on the border between County Galway and County Mayo in Ireland had only served to increase my fascination. There I had meditated and when I opened my eyes had actually seen the magic trout swimming in the water before me (see The Pigeon Hole and the Magic Trout )

My investigations led me deeper and deeper in Celtic mythology until inevitably I came across the most famous of all Celtic fish legends, the tale of the Salmon of Knowledge, said to live in a pool overhung by nine hazel trees who's nuts carried the source of all wisdom and poetry.

The stories start in mythological times when the fairy folk ruled Ireland, the Tuatha De Danann:

"And they had a well below the sea where the nine hazels of wisdom were growing; that is, the hazels of inspiration and of the knowledge of poetry. And their leaves and their blossoms would break out in the same hour, and would fall on the well in a shower that raised a purple wave. And then the five salmon that were waiting there would eat the nuts, and their colour would come out in the red spots of their skin, and any person that would eat one of those salmon would know all wisdom and all poetry. And there were seven streams of wisdom that sprang from that well and turned back to it again; and the people of many arts have all drank from that well."

Later in the mythological cycle we get the story of the hero Finn mac Cumhal:

"And then he said farewell to Crimall, and went on to learn poetry from Finegas, a poet that was living at the Boinn, for the poets thought it was always on the brink of water poetry was revealed to them. And he did not give him his own name, but he took the name of Deimne. Seven years, now, Finegas had stopped at the Boinn, watching the salmon, for it was in the prophecy that he would eat the salmon of knowledge that would come there, and that he would have all knowledge after. And when at the last the salmon of knowledge came, he brought it to where Finn was, and bade him to roast it, but he bade him not to eat any of it. And when Finn brought him the salmon after a while he said: "Did you eat any of it at all, boy?" "I did not," said Finn; "but I burned my thumb putting down a blister that rose on the skin, and after that, I put my thumb in my mouth." "What is your name, boy?" said Finegas. "Deimne," said he. "It is not, but it is Finn your name is, and it is to you and not to myself the salmon was given in the prophecy." With that he gave Finn the whole of the salmon, and from that time Finn had the knowledge that came from the nuts of the nine hazels of wisdom that grow beside the well that is below the sea."

And then we get this story which explains how the River Boyne was formed:

"Boand wife of Nechtán son of Labraid, went to the secret well which was in the green of Síd Nechtáin.  Now this was a magical well known only to the Sidhe and protected by Nechtán, Flesc, Lám and Luam the four cup-bearers and only they could withstand the powers of the well and return whole of limb.  For it was the source of all knowledge and inspiration.

Nine hazels grew over the well.  The purple hazels dropped their nuts into the fountain, and five salmon which were in the fountain severed them and sent their husks floating down the five streams.  These are the five streams of the senses through which knowledge is obtained.  And no one will have knowledge who drinks not a draught from out of the fountain itself and out of the streams.  The folk of many arts are those that drink them both.  These are the aois dána the poets who use inspiration.  This was the famous well in which the Salmon of Knowledge was spawned and swallowed the hazel nut of wisdom, and whom the bard Finegas finally caught but whose flesh was eaten by Fionn Mac Cumhaill.

Now Boand ignored all warnings and decided to see if she could test the power of the well because of her pride, declaring that it had no secret source which could shatter her form, and tempting fate she walked three times withershins (anti-clockwise) around the well.

At once a loud surging sound was heard which came from the navel of the earth and three waves rose out of the well, and one carried off her thigh, and one carried off her hand and the last carried off her eye.  Then thus disfigured, and fleeing her shame, she turned seaward, with the water roaring behind her until she reached the mouth of the Boyne ( Béal na Boinne) whereupon she was overcome by the force of the waves and was drowned, and thus was the end of Boand mother of Aengus the Young Son."

Nowadays the source of the River Boyne is said to be Trinity Well in the grounds of Newberry House, near Carbury in Country Kildare. Intrigued by the tales the next time I was in Ireland, in March 2012, I set off with my friend Leaf to go looking for this mysterious well.

Newberry House was not easy to find, and it was only by tracing the river back to its source on a map that eventually we were led to the right place. When we found the gates to the estate they were locked, we didn't fancy entering uninvited and wandering over the endless parkland randomly looking for a holy well so we opted instead to start where the stream crossed the road and simply to follow it upstream until we found its source.

We tramped through woodland past a ruined mill house before eventually coming to a large pond.

Had we found it already? Was this the source of the Boyne where the hazel trees grew? We traced the edge of the pond but found that there was an inlet, clearly we had further to go. As we set out across the open parkland following the stream we were harassed by a large herd of very frisky cattle, who charged back and forth in huge stampedes before lining up threateningly to face us.

We quickly made our way upstream, following the river for a few hundred yards until eventually it left the estate again. If there was a well on the estate then clearly we had missed it, so we instead decided to head into the village of Carbury to ask some of the locals if they knew where the well was.

Down the local pub they were all very helpful, telling us not to worry about entering and walking over the estate and directing us to the location of the well. It seems like we had walked right past it! No doubt distracted by the stampeding cattle!

We returned for a second attempt and this time our perseverance paid off! The well sat just beside the stream on the far side, near to a bridge. How did we miss it!

I climbed inside the small well house and sat there a while to meditate.

The interior was decked with flowers and small, white angelic statues. The air was light and fragrant like a garden and the water was cool and crystal clear, but there didn't seem to be any visible inflow or outflow of water.

I sat inside the well house and soaked up the pleasant atmosphere before energising a quartz crystal and dropping it into the well. I could see its translucent form slowly drifting to the bottom before settling there comfortably.

The local people would come here on Trinity Sunday to take water from the well as they did every year in June, taking on the new energy imparted to the water by my crystal.

However, as the source of the Boyne and the home of the Salmon of Wisdom it seemed an unlikely spot. Where were the nine hazelnut trees overhanging it? And where were the underground caves where the salmon was said to lurk? Perhaps the pool we had spotted earlier was a more likely spot after all? The only correlation we could find was nine hawthorns growing next to the well.

The locals celebrated this well as the source of the Boyne but I was unconvinced. Further investigation would be required...

Boand, who's actions, legend says, caused the River Boyne to spring forth, was the wife of Nechtain, one of the Tuatha De Danann, the fairy people. Near to trinity well is a large mound known as Sidhe Nechtain, or Nechtain's Fairy Mound, so we decided to go there next and investigate.

We returned to the village and continued on down a lane up towards an old ruined castle. We asked one of the locals about Nechtain's mound and he directed us towards a low hill which sat near the castle.

It did indeed look like a magical place, and despite the early season it was covered in trees displaying a white blossom. Walking up the far side of the mound we found a magical looking fairy portal.

Stepping through it we entered their realm and continued on up to the top of the knoll. On the way I picked thirteen primroses and left them at the top as an offering before standing there in meditation.

I saw Faery noble dressed in silver silks approaching me. It was Nechtain, a lord of the Tuatha De Danann. He was pale and silvery with light coloured hair and in his hands he carried a circlet that appeared to be made of pure platinum. He placed the circlet on my head and a feeling came over me that somehow this man was my father! Nechtain, father of Aurvandil? He told me to do what I had come here for, so I raised my crystal tipped wand above my head and drew in the white energy from the sky, down through my wand and my body, and down into the knoll, filling it with light and energy. I then connected this energy to other similar places, helping to complete the grid of energy that covered the entire land.

On the way back we met a boy who took us to his father's house. He showed us some old maps of the area but could give us no further information about Nechtain and the Salmon of Knowledge. Was this Nechtain connected with the Celtic water god Nechtan, and through him with saint Nechtan of St. Nechtan's Glen in Cornwall? I felt like I had got some important leads but that this quest was far from over. Unfortunately I now had to return home to England, but I would be back to find out more, I was sure of that.

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Back home in England I did some research. It seemed that Nechtain is also called Nodens or Nudd, both known as Celtic gods of the sea. Nudd was of course the father of the faery king Gwyn ap Nudd, who I had met at Castell Dinas Bran in Wales ( see Castell Dinas Bran - Gwyn ap Nudd ). There was also a connection with Manannan mac Lir, as Lir is another name for the Celtic sea god.

Deeper investigations into the folklore concerning the Salmon of Knowledge revealed that the story is not only related to the River Boyne but also to the River Shannon! Immediately I searched for the source of the River Shannon and what I found amazed me!

The traditional source of the Shannon river has always been regarded as Shannon Pot, an almost perfectly circular hole, 16 metres across, which is filled with water which flows out from deep underground caverns. The hole is overhung by many trees and has an outflow forming a small stream, the source of the Shannon river. Surely this was the perfect place to find the Salmon of Knowledge! The underwater caverns were said to be dangerous and unexplored, the water murky and mysterious...

A similar tale is linked the formation of the Shannon river to the formation of the Boyne river and the goddess Boand. 

"According to legend, the Shannon is named after Sionnan, who was the granddaughter of Manannán mac Lir, the god of the sea. She came to this spot to eat the forbidden fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, which was planted by the Druids. As she began to eat it, the waters of the pool sprang up and overwhelmed her. She was drawn down into the pool and its water began to flow over the land, forming the River Shannon."

I would have to wait a couple of months before I could return to Ireland, but when I did I was determined to go and pay a visit to Shannon pot.

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A couple of months later I returned to Ireland, for the third time this year! I went with Leaf and a couple of other friends to visit Shannon Pot and soon found its mysterious waters, overhung with lush summer greenery. Closer investigation revealed that the trees around the pool were willow and hawthorn, not hazel, but who knows what the passage of time has done to this place or to the tales that are linked to it? Some tales say the trees were rowan trees, and not hazel, and that it is the red berries of the rowan which give the salmon its spots, but why not the red berries of hawthorn instead?

As we sat by the pool we saw the occasional splash of a fish on the dark surface of the water, so there was certainly something in there! I climbed down into the small stream that flows out of the pot and put on my snorkel, determined to have a swim to see what was in there.

The water was icy cold and biting my skin! But I eased myself in and took a swim over its mysterious and murky depths. Looking down all I could see were rays of sunlight piercing the dark depths of the water stained dark with tannin. It was absolutely freezing, so after passing over a couple of times without seeing anything more I decided to get out and dry off in the sun.

Having passed over the emerging flow of water I now felt like I had experienced its energy and so now would better be able to tune in to it. I sat on a bench nearby and using a shamanic drumbeat on my iPod to cut out all interfering sound I drifted off into a meditation.

I saw myself sinking down and down into the watery depths of the pot, a female guide by my side, some kind of water spirit. At the very bottom of the pot was a small cave where a large salmon swam suspended in the current, the Salmon of Knowledge! Beside the salmon lay a silver coloured ring which was set with a light blue translucent gemstone. I peered at the gemstone and it grew larger and larger, until it was bigger than I was. I entered the stone and inside was another water spirit, some kind of mermaid. I didn't understand what it meant but I realised then that if I was to get any answers to the mystery of the Salmon of Knowledge then I must ask the salmon himself. I spoke to him and asked him:

"What is the Salmon of Knowledge?"

He replied to me like a was an innocent and foolish child, asking something that was clear and obvious to all and which I must surely already know the answer to. He explained to me that the Salmon of Knowledge sat at the entrance to the Otherworld, the spirit world of forms from which all of creation grows. All knowledge comes from the spirit world, and must therefore pass through him to reach us.

Suddenly the answer was clear and obvious! In the spirit world was the source of all knowledge, the place from which all wisdom and inspiration comes. The salmon simply represented this. The connection between our material world and the Celtic underworld of spirit, which in folklore is always seen as being in a submerged subterranean realm. This is the reason why in Celtic culture springs and holy wells are so revered, they are the places where the underworld emerges into our world, and so form a connection between the two. A manifestation of the divine.

My quest for Salmon of Knowledge had reached its end. I had met the salmon and he had imparted to me his wisdom. All knowledge comes from the Otherworld, if it is wisdom you seek, then you will find it there.

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A few days earlier I had been to visit the burial place of Amergin the Bard, the first of the Milesian Celts to set foot on Ireland. His burial place consisted of a low mound in a farmer's field, with a curious alignment of four standing stones at one end of it.

The words of the famous "Song of Amergin" came back to me and suddenly I understood their true meaning:

"I am a wind across the sea
I am a flood across the plain
I am the roar of the tides
I am a stag of seven tines
I am a dewdrop let fall by the sun
I am the fierceness of boars
I am a hawk, my nest on a cliff
I am a height of magical poetry
I am the most beautiful among flowers
I am the salmon of wisdom
Who but I is both the tree and the lightning that strikes it
Who but I is the dark secret of the dolmen not yet hewn
I am the queen of every hive
I am the fire on every hill
I am the shield over every head
I am the spear of battle
I am the ninth wave of eternal return
I am the grave of every vain hope
Who but I knows the path of the sun or the periods of the moon"

The song is a riddle about the very force of creation, that mysterious force from the Otherworld that permeates every single aspect of our world and brings it into manifestation, the great mystery itself.

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Rob Wildwood (Aurvandil) has now released a book containing hundreds of his own stunning full colour photos of many of the magical places he has visited in his travels. The images capture the magic and mystery of each place and are enhanced by extracts of local folklore that reveal the magical lore of each place and tempt deeper investigation. Every site listed has full directions and map grid references that can be checked online, so join Rob Wildwood as you discover Britain's magical places at www.themagicalplaces.com

Castell Dinas Bran - Gwyn ap Nudd

Castell Dinas Bran near Llangollen in Wales is where St. Collen was invited to the court of the fairy king Gwyn ap Nudd. Legend says that he climbed the hill and entered a magnificent kingdom of richly attired courtiers where he was offered all the food, drink and entertainment his heart could desire by the fairy king who was seated upon a golden throne; but St. Collen refused to believe the illusion and threw holy water over them all to make them disappear.


I arrived in Llangollen on a dank, cold, misty afternoon in November. It was already getting late so it didn't seem like the right time to head up to the summit. I contented myself instead with wandering around the fairy-haunted woods below. Local folklore tells of an ancient walnut tree near Llandyn hall where the fairies used to hold their weddings at night.

I found a likely looking spot that fit the description, but the tree was no longer there. It was chopped down in the 19th century, but not before the fairies had their revenge, as a man was killed by a falling branch during the process!


I reached the base of Dinas Bran but the summit was barely visible through the mist, just a hint of ruined walls visible now and then. A sheep coughing sounded eerily human, the atmosphere was sombre. I could sense the presence of the fairy king up there but now was not the time to pay him a visit, I would return the next day.

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I was greeted in the morning by bright sunshine, what a relief! I set off early to Dinas Bran and parked in a lane behind the hill to save on climbing time. The valley below me was still filled with the early morning mist, so I wandered down through the fairy woods to soak up the atmosphere.

I recalled another tale told of Dinas Bran where a shepherd had an encounter with the fairy folk in a wooded glade called Nant Yr Ellyllon. He met a small man playing the most magical music on a fiddle while the fairies danced all around. Unable to resist he joined in the dance and was unable to stop until his master arrived in the morning and broke the spell.


I sat in the woods above Llandyn Hall and meditated, hoping to make some connection with the Fae there, but all I could sense was Gwyn ap Nudd up on the hilltop, waiting for me! Clearly that was where I was meant to be!

I couldn't put it off any longer so up I climbed. The walk was a lot less difficult than I thought it was going to be, so I soon found myself near the top. I came first to the shallow remains of a ditch, that probably once surrounded the ancient hillfort that crowned this hill. I felt like I should say some words before I stepped inside, so I circled the ditch chanting:


"Gwyn ap Nudd,
Lord of Annwn,
I ask your permission to enter!"


I could feel the energy building, something big is about to happen! I stepped forward: "I am Aurvandil, the luminous wanderer. I come here bringing the light. The light of the evening star. The light from above."


I approached an archway in the ruined walls of the ancient castle.

Gwyn ap Nudd is standing there in his shining black armour and greets me: "You are most welcome here Aurvandil!"


I walk through the archway and feel myself stepping into another world.

A large banquet hall is filled with much revelry and music. I sit at the high table besides Gwyn ap Nudd and he offers me food and wine. I feel like I am a powerful and respected lord like him, my white silks contrasting with his magnificent black armour.


I stand up and my crystal-tipped wand glows brilliantly in my hand as I hold it aloft.


"I come here to bring the light and the energy you need!"


"No longer must you live underground. It is time to return to the world above!"


The hall erupts into a loud cheer as they hold their drinks aloft and celebrate.


I open my eyes and find that I am not alone in Castell Dinas Bran. A German photographer is there, taking photos for an article about Arthurian sites in Wales. The castle is linked to the grail legends through its association with King Bran. I'm hoping that he's going to leave soon so that I can perform my ritual in peace, but he lingers, taking photos of the fort from every possible angle.

I can feel the Fae growing restless: "What is he waiting for?" they say.


Eventually I can wait no longer and with the photographer still hanging around the periphery I step into the centre of the fort and start to tune in to the energies. I can feel the energy building like a lightning storm about to explode. I start to feel light-headed and cast a circle around me. I raise my wand above my head and as I do so the lightning strikes! The energy courses through me directly into the hill, a massive amount of energy!


I plant my wand into the ground to anchor the energies there. All the while the energy is still flowing down from the sky into the ground, filling the whole hill with a matrix of white light. I can feel the Fae being transformed into beings of light, and see them flowing out of the hillside in great streaming, serpentlike torrents, up into the sky.


Gwyn ap Nudd stood before me, no longer dark he was now composed entirely of white light covered in streams of iridescent colours like some being from another dimension. He thanked me for what I had done. I could now see the web of light connecting this hilltop with countless similar places of power all over the world. The Unity Consciousness Grid! Was this it? I had just been reading about it, and how it was preparing the world for the shift in consciousness and the ascension the next level of being. Was I here in Britain doing my own small bit to contribute, like so many other lightworkers all over the world? I had just been reading about how the ancient Maya had been exiled underground, awaiting the fifth world when they could return to earth as beings of light. Were the Fae our version of the ancient Maya? Weren't they also forced underground long ago, and were they not now returning?


Suddenly everything that I had been doing was starting to make sense. Anchoring energies. The grid. The return of the Fae. Raising the consciousness of the people by energising the water. The ascension. Those that will rise to the next level and those who will be left behind. A new world created. Nature in harmony, vibrant and alive. The Lord of the Wild claiming back is domain. The Fae who will once more walk over the face of the earth, and the enlightened ones who will create a new world!


Looking around the castle I notice a little enclosure that looks like a shrine, it is facing due west. I leave an offering there and give thanks.

I walk down the hillside and watch two jays chasing each other through the trees. The magical wooded glade ahead is surely Nant yr Ellyllon as mentioned in the folk tales. The glade of the shining ones, where if you're not carefull you'll spend all night dancing with the fairies!

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Rob Wildwood (Aurvandil) has now released a book containing hundreds of his own stunning full colour photos of many of the magical places he has visited in his travels. The images capture the magic and mystery of each place and are enhanced by extracts of local folklore that reveal the magical lore of each place and tempt deeper investigation. Every site listed has full directions and map grid references that can be checked online, so join Rob Wildwood as you discover Britain's magical places at www.themagicalplaces.com

St. Anne's Well, Trellech - Fairy frogs?

I'm starting my investigation of the faery lore of Wales at St. Anne's well, Trellech, in the south-east corner of the country near Monmouth.


As well as being associated with the Celtic deity Annis, goddess of waters, wells and wisdom, St. Anne's well is also said to be the haunt of fairies, who come out each midsummer's eve to dance around the well and drink from harebell cups.


I arrived on a dull, wet, overcast Samhain, cursing the foul weather. Having just arrived back from the hot deserts of Arizona I gave thanks for the rain anyway, remembering the life and vitality it brings to our land, but wondering if we really need so much of it!


The well lies just by the road and is easily accessed. I could immediately see the clootie rags tied to the trees and the stone outline of the well.

I stepped inside and saw many more offerings lying in alcoves and around the well.

I approached the alcove containing the well and peered down into the murky water, it looked stagnant and not a trickle could be heard.

I left an offering in a scallop shell and tied a silk clootie rag to the tree. It was not an inspiring day, but the drizzle was easing off so I got my dowsing rods out to try to get some inspiration. The only message I got was that this water carried a vibration I needed and I should drink it!


Putting off the idea of dipping my cup into the murky water I sat down under the trees to meditate instead.

As I did so I noticed a small frog in the grass.


"I bet you like the rain!" I said.


It made me realise that while I was cursing the rain, others were thriving in it and needed it for their very survival. That made me feel a bit more humble.


"Are you the guardian of this place?" I asked.


I picked up Mr. Frog and held him in my hands. He didn't like it and leaped off, but as he did so it felt like he was leaping down my throat!


I could hear my voice speaking with the voice of the frog, I literally had a frog in my throat!


"Drink the water!" he said in his froggy voice.


"Not that again," I thought.


As the frog sat there in front of me I closed my eyes and meditated. I followed him into the otherworld and he showed me the fairies dancing in a circle around the well. They looked like children wearing white shifts with flowers in their hair. I wanted to see more, I wanted to know why I was here, but he had nothing more to show me, so I bade him farewell and returned to the well, drinking cup in hand...


I peered down into the water. It was dark, deep and still, but I could just make out the bottom, which meant that the water couldn't be that murky, could it?

"Oh well, here goes!" I thought.


I scooped up some water and pondweed. It looked surprisingly clear, so I took a sip, and then another and another. It went down nicely, as did the small pieces of pondweed! After the third sip I opened my eyes and was astonished to see a big frog looking back up at me from the depths of the pool! I didn't even question it, it was magic! The guardian of the pool like the salmon that guards magic pools in Irish legends.


He was swimming around helplessly against the side of the well, but how could he possibly get out? The well was over a foot deep from the rim to the waterline and there was absolutely no way to jump out! A magic frog indeed!


I thought I would give him a hand so I placed my hand under him, fully expecting him to struggle and squirm, but he just lay there contentedly as I picked him up and placed him gently in front of the well opening.

I sat and looked at him, and he sat and looked at me.

"Do you mind if I take your photo?" I said. He didn't object so I went to fetch my camera.


What did he want me to do now? Was he a messenger from the fairies? Did he have a task for me? Did he want me to follow him?


I took some crystals and other items from my bag to try to get a clue, but he showed his disapproval by crawling back inside the well-house and sitting in a crevice in there.

"You take a lot of photos," he said.


"I like to show people what I've been doing," I replied.


"Release that need," he said.


He was right, I worry too much about keeping records and informing people, I was getting distracted. I had been away from my homeland too long and was focusing on the wrong things.


"Switch off your mind," he said.


I knelt down in front of the well and meditated deeply. I pushed my head through the entrance and seemed to pass through a veil into another world. Sounds echoed around and oscillated within the chamber in a strange way. Soon I was in a world of huge gnarled old oaks, black and damp from the rain. The frog was ahead of me leaping through the wet twisted roots as I jumped onto his back. We were in the underworld, the old world of nature and spirits where I came from before I entered this world.


"Use your intuition," he said.


I opened my eyes and then noticed the half-burned joss stick sticking in the earth right in front of him.


"Light it!"


I got a lighter out and lit it, fully expecting him to reel from the flames, but he just sat there impassively, staring.


First I placed the joss stick outside the well, but a tiny frog appeared from nowhere, jumping out of the well and past the joss stick! Now I'd seen three sizes of frogs; medium frog, big frog and now tiny frog!


I placed the burning joss stick back in the well and knelt down to meditate some more. I was immediately carried away on the heady scent, to the spicy land of India with visions of deserts, towering dunes, mystical cities,intricately carved temples and exotic robes. I could feel myself back there and I was loving it! Did I have to return again? The idea had been in the back of my mind for some time now. Is this what it took to bring it to the front of my mind?


I opened my eyes again. Big frog was still sitting there impassively in his crevice, throat oscillating with a regular rhythm.


"Thanks Mr. Frog," I said.


I sat down on the stone bench inside the well and took out my glittering purple stone which I use for releasements.

I called upon archangel Zadkiel and felt the whole chamber fill with a violet light from the heavens. I released the need to record my discoveries, my need to share my findings with others, the need to convince others, and anything else that was holding me back from getting into the flow of my own true path, all the fears and pressures of this physical world.


I could see my path unfolding before me and the freedom was exhilarating! The freedom to pursue my destiny! 'The Virtuous Well' was showing me the virtuous path!


And now that I'd released the 'need' to record all this information I could actually enjoy doing it again! ;)




***********************


As dusk fell I went to visit the nearby standing stones. The waters of the spring are said to run under the stones and be linked with druidic rites. I could just make out the stones in the twilight and could hear the loud screeching and hooting of a pair of owls nearby.

I saw a fluttering near the top of the right hand stone. One of the owls? I walked around them in the darkness and placed my hands around the central one. They seemed to be pointing up towards the stars. Ancient reminders of a long lost technology and civilization. A monument to the vanity of mankind. Maybe this was why I was never too keen on standing stones, mankind's earlier attempts to manipulate the forces of nature. Springs were entirely natural, the creation of the goddess, standing stones were not, they were planted there by mankind, linking earth and sky, as above so below.


It was Samhain, a magical night when the veil between the worlds was thinner, but now it was cold, dark and wet. The frogs had nothing more to show me this evening, it was time to seek shelter and warmth.

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Rob Wildwood (Aurvandil) has now released a book containing hundreds of his own stunning full colour photos of many of the magical places he has visited in his travels. The images capture the magic and mystery of each place and are enhanced by extracts of local folklore that reveal the magical lore of each place and tempt deeper investigation. Every site listed has full directions and map grid references that can be checked online, so join Rob Wildwood as you discover Britain's magical places at www.themagicalplaces.com