Cwmorthin quarry

I just happen to have a friend who is a member of North Wales Cave Rescue.

This accolade, gives the member (and his buddies) access to some of the coolest, lost-in-time, disused mines that are strictly sealed off from the general public.

To avoid incriminating our friend and sticking with the mining theme, we shall call him Doug!
Needless to say, it didn't take us long to convince Doug we needed to take a look inside the old slate workings of Cwmorthin.

The area around the mine and the village of Tanygrisiau is an inhospitable place. It's churned up landscape has been ravaged for years for its sought after Welsh slate. The clouds stick to this place like shit to a blanket and it very rarely sees direct sunlight. Bring your own vitamin D.

Due to its industrial reputation, its excluded from the surrounding National Park of Snowdonia and stands out on the map as a grey island in a sea of green.

Opened in 1810, Cwmorthin quarry produced slate for almost two-hundred years until it wound down to smaller operations, before finally closing in 1997. Its busiest period was when production increased to 12,500 tons of prime slate for the year 1876.

Between 1875 and 1893 there were 21 deaths, earning the mine the nickname 'The slaughterhouse'.

We arrived at the main entrance to the vein after about a mile walk from the car in the driving rain. The entrance was flooded to just below my knees and we waded towards the chunky steel gate that blocked the way.

Doug whipped out his magic set of keys and swung open the gate eerily creaking as it opened.

For the next five hours, everywhere I directed my headlamp, something caught my eye, interested me or provoked a question to Doug.

In a previous job, Doug had led group tours around this part of the mine so he was used to being asked plenty of questions and I sensed he liked showing off his knowledge when I did.

He explained that the dark grey coloured patch on the wall in this picture is a soot mark from where someone had been working by candlelight.

Here we found an old rotten flat cap. Before the days of hard-hats, miners would soak their caps in bitumen allowing it to harden as makeshift head protection.

Nice little find in the form of an old clay pipe

A pair of boots, feet and legs long gone.

There is a story amongst the caving community that a chamber collapsed whilst some men where working, entombing them in the mine with no chance of ever being rescued. Skeletons only feet away from us. No man deserves this as their final resting place. The constant wetness and strong smell of sulphur.

An old mine cart, left as though somebody was going to return someday and collect it.

Graffiti from days gone by

We explored the mine some more until hunger drew us towards the exit. The rain had been coming down hard above ground and the flooded entrance was even deeper now. Doug locked the gate back up and we wandered off into the mist back to the car feeling satisfied with our underground adventure and planning the next one as we drove home...

Thanks for reading