"Letting Us Look After The Site For Wildlife"

The River Dee (shortened version of Afon Dwfrdwy, waters of the Goddess) flows through North Wales on its journey to the sea. It forms Llyn Tegid at Bala, and flows out of it as it continues its journey. It has been called one of the most sacred rivers in Britain, in Celtic and pre-celtic times. Its the goddess, this river, Ayrwen who in the story of Taliesin pushes Gwion Bach through his transformations at the hands of Cerridwen to be come initiated as a druid.

Where she meets the sea, the mouth of the estuary is called The Point Of Ayr. There are no other settlements or land points in the area that the 'Ayr' refers to. It is the last place in this land where her name is carried on in a location name. The mouth of her waters.

Last week I took the opportunity to get back to the Point of Ayr for a much needed visit.
Instead of heading straight onto the beach, this time I was drawn to walk along the coastal path to the RSPB hide, where I had never been before.

It hadnt occourred to me that this path goes right alongside the gas processing plant, processing the gas piped in from the Bay of Liverpool and then sending it on to Connahs Quay power station.

Not really what I expect to see at the Point of Ayrwen, the place where she still holds onto the land with her name. Maybe in some sense the fire from the flaring stack fulfills some kind of symbolism, a flaming torch still burns there....in the long run its us that will pay the price, the land and herself, will carry on regardless of our survival.

This is right where the path heads up to the RSPB hide overlooking the estuary, indeed the amount of bird life there is astounding, on the mud flats at the mouth of the estuary. Somehow I still managed to be shocked at the statement that the RSPB were allowed by the gas company to look after the site for wildlife! To me that just sounded completely topsy turvey, this is a sacred site, our culture is so far removed from the natural world - there should be a sign there saying that we have allowed the gas processing plant to be there!

I rejoined the coastal path, which went round the site of the old colliery, which closed in 1996, the actual Point of Ayrwen. At the point where I reckoned the map said was THE point, a single bush grew, bent over by the wind, I investigated, hoping it was an elder, but it turned out to be a Buddleia bush. I walked round for a while, taking it all in, listening to the sounds, seeing the sites, feeling what it was like.

Desolation.

Abandonment.

I tried to use the narrative that we are always given, about nature reclaiming the land after we have moved on, nature taking over, re-wilding. But it fell on deaf ears. A few invasive non native species clinging on to the concrete just didnt convince me.
Desolation, abandonment, not of the coal mine or the industry that had been here, but of an older belief in the sacredness of this piece of land.

As I walked back I now noticed that the edges had been planted with new saplings. A token gesture. I just felt that this should not be allowed to happen in the first place. Bolting the stable door after the horse has bolted is not good enough.

I felt a sudden need to sit down on the grass and listen to the spirits, so I did, and there were several around, but one over riding one, she was caring and gentle, Repeating "Anooshka Anooshka" and I was getting repeated imagery of pathways, tracks lined by trees, that grew and grew over the pathways to make tunnels, repeated imagery of a vegetative figure with branches that were like antlers...

She is still there.

I walked back towards the beach, the flame still burning, and I bumped into a couple of young teenagers who wanted to touch my hair, full of questions.

It was not dusk and I went onto the beach in the failing light, soon it was dark and I felt her presence around me. A few spots of rain fell onto my face from the black clouds overhead. It should be much colder than this, but I felt warm and alive, and held. Though the wind was howling through the sand dunes, it gently caressed my cheek as I danced on the wet sand.

"I am the storm, and yet I hold myself back..."

Lugnasadh at the Point of Ayr

Now we find ourselves in the month of August, I spent the weekend preparing to celebrate Lugnasadh, but when I realized that the barley in my local fields was not yet ripe, I decided to put it off and wait a while longer.

I sent a few messages out and found that the wheat up the coast from me in North Wales was ripe, but as yet unharvested due to the wet ground, so having got permission, I secured myself a spot at the edge of a field, accessed through woodland and overlooking the Dee Estuary

I was there before sunset, and performed the ritual through that liminal time of not quite day but not quite night, through the time of the biting insects, but as I had invited the god into my ritual, and blood-letting was a part of it, I accepted whatever form he chose to arrive in ;-)

After the sun had set, and after closing the circle, I sat in the darkness and was joined in the tree above me by a tawny owl, right above my head, who was calling to another owl in the oak tree in the centre of the field, and pretty soon another had joined in from several fields away behind me. Rabbits were thumping an alarm from quite nearby to me, and badgers were in the woods.

The rising sound of a multitude of birds from the estuary signaled the turning tide, so on my way back home Istopped off at the Point of Ayr to watch the tide come in. The amount of birds there in the darkness, and the intensity of their calls as they flew in to the rapidly diminishing beach was amazing! She Herself was ever present at the mouth of the estuary, and blanketed us all in the thickest and blackest of cloud, the only senses remaining were the touch of the sand on my bare feet, the sound of the waves coming in and the call of the wading birds who inhabit these liminal spaces.

Taking advantage of the darkness and the solitude I took off my trousers and paddled thigh deep in the water, noting for future reference the strength of the current.

It was the full moon a couple of nights ago, so this was the highest tide of the month, the blackness was broken by a gap in the clouds, it was as if somebody had switched the light on. I decided it was a good time to come out and find my clothes and look at the beauty of the beach and the dunes revealed by moonlight.

High tide was at 01.30am, and it was time to head home, by now realising that I had fasted all day, so I headed back through the dunes, and made the discovery that the entire area inland behind the dunes also floods with the high tide, so once again I had to strip off and wade through the water to get back to dry land.

(dry land is that way!)

Such an amazing and beautiful area, shared by holiday makers, wildlife, and the unseen people, like myself. So very much worth protecting and saving for all our sakes, its not just the obvious uses and the financial reasons that we need to consider. Any Unconventional Gas Extraction industry will completely change the nature of this landscape, not just on the coast but inland too.

There is a local group PAFF and Frack Free Dee committed to protecting this area from the fracking industries, they have already had some success in time for their first harvest of Lugnasadh, where Cluff Natural Resources have now made an announcement that they are not planning to come here in the foreseeable future the burn the coal beneath the estuary to release the gas from it.

We await the news of the 14th round of PEDL license sell-offs to find out just how much of our beloved land has been sold off to the gas industry. I see no other option, as a pagan, than to resist this destruction.

Summer Solstice on the Coast

Summer solstice 2015, unsure of where to go, some of my friends were going to Stonehenge, some were attending a more local public ritual during the day, I knew I wanted to see the sun rise though, but I didnt want to have to travel to the other end of the country to do this.
I decided to go to the Point of Ayr, in North Wales. 30 minutes drive from me. It was either there, or a hilltop, to get the view to the north-east.
I checked that the high tide was approx 2.30am on that beach, and I arrived an hour later.
Miles and miles of empty beach, nobody else at all present, nobody in robes to do ritual, no crowds, no party, just me, the land, sea and sky.
The tide was receding, the beach washed clean and the sand rippled and wet from the waves. The first rays of light in the sky reflected off the puddled beach, as I walked to the waters edge, the grey sky tinged with pink, the beach itself was like walking out onto a silvered mirror.

As above, so below....
This area, underneath the Dee estuary is under threat from Underground Coal Gasification (UCG) - a company called Cluff Natural Resources, a mis-nomer if ever there was one, has obtained a license to set fire to the coal seams beneath the estuary, to release the gas held within it.
Does this landscape look like it needs burning?

A local group has been set up to oppose this industry, I will help them do all they can to preserve the sanctity of this special place.

Drums of Gwyn

Pulled up in our van up on the moors at the edge of the Berwyn hills, the hills of Gwyn ap Nudd.

Having a small lunch with the sound of grouse in the heather and skylarks singing as they rise up into the sky.

A large grey bird of prey just flew past over the heather, possibly a hen harrier - coming into a new landscape means having to learn the names and habits of new animals and spirits before I can hear their messages properly. The only constant message that I understand is the litter blowing on the breeze and the timber lorry going past on the road fully laden with felled trees.

Sipping on a cup of coffee in the van, a car when past on the road, the drum beats from the stereo booming out... The car passed but the drum beats carried on, sitting in silence now, I wasn't sure if the drums were from the car now vanished off into the distance, or from the wind buffeting the van... Or if they came from the moorland itself...

I decided to go and check it out. I had my drum with me and strode off into the moor, without really having a plan. I eventually came to a small hollow where a stream tumbled through, with a fallen birch  and a stubborn holly defying the ever present wind.

Here I laid out offerings of bread, for the sheep if for nobody else, and I began to drum. Moving around I found that the place that responded was the stream itself, so  I crouched down and drummed to the water, the life source of the hills and the valley below.

I had to laugh, drumming to the water I suddenly got caught, with blue sky above, I was in a sudden squall of horizontal rain soaking my face. Then they had had enough and I sensed it was time to finish, the drum no longer singing into the wind.

As I drummed the last few beats I heard my name being called from the direction of the van. OK, definitely time to head back then.

Soaked by the rain I got back. Nobody had called me. I had been called out to the moor, drummed to the water, it had responded and then I was called back, the interaction complete.

On the drive home we got some stunning views of the Tanat Valley from the road on the way down off the moors.

Grounding in the Moonlit Forest

Its been a long, stressful few weeks. Tonight, I had the chance to escape, so I did.

I jumped into the car and drove, away from the city, away from the urban glow, to a country park, to the woods lit up only by the moon and the stars.

Cautiously, I walked in the darkness down the main trackway, not using my torch, letting my eyes and ears adjust to the sounds and moonlight coming through the trees. I knew a spot way off in the trees where I could relax, but first, I had to shed away the journey to get here, and tune in to the forest.

The sounds all came and re assured me that I was alone, save for the unseen animals going about their business, and dogs barking in the distance.

I found my spot, and settled. First sitting against a rock face, but as it was an uncomfortable angle, and there being a pool of moonlight before me, I fastened up my coat and lay down in the moonlight, on the forest floor.

And I just lay there. Thoughts and worries came and went from my mind, and I relaxed more and more. Was I there 30 minutes? Was it an hour? I don't know.... But it came to an end, it came to a point where I became whole again and not scattered about. I became aware of my own being and that I was there, just a person lying on the ground in the woods, and my worries were gone. And it was cold.

After picking myself up, I clambered in the dark to a higher point where I could see the almost full moon reflecting her light down on me, and I stood, open armed, bathing in her her beauty, and whispering my gratitude.

Tuning to head back to the car, the moonlight now picked out a shiny object in the undergrowth. Clearly, others had come here too, but with less respect and less thanks, taking in the fresh air and the beauty, and leaving behind their rubbish.

Maybe on one level that is what I had also done?

But... As an act of thanks, and in recognition of the spirits of the trees and animals who share this place with us, I pulled my torch from my pocket, and a bag, and retrieved the tin can from the brambles.

The moonlight, and my torch, revealed another, and another, and still more after that.

 Walking back to the car, I filled my bag, and She picked out a discarded carrier bag in the fallen pine needles so that I could carry on with my acts of gratitude and service.

I must have walked past all this on my way in, but now, after She had cleared my mind of my own problems, my eyes were open to hers.

The Setting of the First Full Moon of 2015

The moon was at her fullest at about 04.30am but I couldn't get out for then. I left work at 7am and drove straight to the River Dee. She was beginning to set by the time I got close, but I did manage to see her from the drivers seat as I sped along the dual carriageway, in a clear indigo sky she was there, massive and white, glowing through the thin white cloud that hung above the horizon, looking for all the world like the eye of a white dragon, seeing all.

By the time I got to the river, she had gone, and the first hint of sunrise showed on the horizon as I settled on the rivers edge. I stood with the water lapping at my feet, the river in full flow, and jet black, like a huge snake twisting through the landscape. Staring, watching as the eddies created spirals on the surface of the water, spinning and moving around with a life of their own.



A buzzard screamed and settled at the top of a beech tree opposite me on the other bank. Screaming, screaming, until it was answered by its mate further off. The hawk of dawn on the Eastern bank.
I watched the buzzard for a while, and when I looked back down again at the water, the river had taken on the colour or the coming dawn, no longer a black serpent, this was now a river of blood flowing through the field and past my feet. A white mist slowly rising from the surface, contorting into shapes and dancing as it vanished in to the chill air.

I called to her, softly. Gently, whispering my words for her as I stared into her depths, my eyes losing focus, but open to see whatever would happen. I called for her, if she would show herself to me, and stepped into the water, one foot, and then the other, expecting a shape to emerge from the dancing mists. I knew she wouldn't let me down...

Unexpectedly, a dog -a dalmatian – appeared as if from nowhere behind me. Startled slightly by my presence, he stood and barked at me, moving around to get a better view of what I was doing, still barking at me. I laughed and said hello, I had been startled, expecting something, but taken by surprise by the appearance of the dog right at that moment.

Hello, and thank you for your presence.

The dog bounded off to catch up with its owner, the moment was finished, the buzzard too, had left. Both feet in the water now, I dipped my hands into the dark water and washed my face, running damp hands through my hair, thanking her for her unexpected response.

Leaving the waters edge, I stood in the field and watched the mist rising from the frosty grass. Through the mist came another man, walking his black dog, who stopped and sniffed my hand. We exchanged greetings and he asked me where my dog was, I should have a dog, he said.

“Ah, she died” was my reply, thinking of my old dog who had passed away a couple of years ago, as he carried on with his walk.

Walking up through the field, I stopped and turned to watch the sun rise above the trees and decided it was time to go home. It felt as if I had only been there minutes, but two hours had passed.

The Rising of the First Full Moon of 2015

After spending the afternoon working on Upton Community Protection Camp, the light faded and the full moon rose. As things began to fall quiet in the twilight, I wandered over towards her radiant beauty, to spend a few silent moments of reflection with her.

The first tree I stopped at contained a barn owl, who silently swooped off to watch from a tree on the further edge.

At the edge of the field, my ears filled with the roar of traffic on the motorway, the rest of the world speeding on and on, engrossed in the mundane world, oblivious to the peaceful camp, the warm laughter of friends coming from the tea-hut and me sat quietly by the hedge, singing softly to the moon.

As the moon rose above the hedgerow, three wrens chased each other along the tangle of hawthorn branches. The smallest of birds, their song filled the darkening sky, above the din of the traffic. There is no need to be the biggest, or the loudest, if your song is true and pure, those who have ears will listen.

Moorhens chasing each other across the water drew my attention to the pond, so I walked over, and saw her there, glowing gently through the branches of the oak tree, and reflecting back from the still water on the pond.

Quietly I whispered to her, my hopes and my prayers for the camp and the people living here, noting the chill in the air, the ice on the water, and the stiffening grass beneath my feet.

When our shared moments were over, I collected up the few bits of debris that had blown into the hedgerow, and walked back over to the shacks, it was time for me to go, as I waited at the gate, putting on clean boots and whispering farewell to her, a delivery of logs arrived, and I silently said thank you for the care and generosity of the people around us.

The second part of this blog is at http://pagabohemia.blogspot.co.uk/2015/01/the-setting-of-first-full-moon-of-2015.html
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Upton Community Protection Camp is a place where people can learn about fracking in the area and further afield. The camp itself was set up by undisclosed individuals who recognised the opportunity of occupying the drill site prior to works commencing. It was the first fracking site in the UK where this tactic was employed and has since been replicated elsewhere. There is a safe spaces policy which is largely common sense, inclusive guidelines on how people can expect to be treated when participating in activities within the group.  Learn, Share, Enjoy, Be Kind to One Another.

Upton community protection camp,
Duttons lane
Upton
Chester
CH2 2PE

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