The National Trust is teaming up with Scotland's John Muir Trust to help youngsters explore North Wales. JOHANNA FIRBANK, North Wales Weekly News, joined them for a day. I DROPPED into Hendre Isaf Basecamp for breakfast to meet some young people - whose idea of a great day out is labouring with a scythe to rid a field of bracken higher than themselves. Hendre Isaf, just off the A5 on the approach road to Ysbyty Ifan, is the National Trust's new base camp for volunteers at Ysbyty Ifan. It is one of only two in North Wales - the other is Bryn Poeth Basecamp overlooking Llyn Ogwen. The beautifully converted old barn, with its exposed rafters and internal "horseboxes" for dorms, was home for the week to 16 young people on a National Trust working holiday.
They had paid £77 each for the privilege of doing a week's labour-intensive conservation work on the National Trust's Ysbyty Estate. Flaking out on a hot beach was not these young people's idea of a holiday. Instead they had opted to clear scrub, weed young plantations, dig ditches, and build dry-stone walls. "They did a brilliant job yesterday cutting bracken in a conservation area," said Andrew Roberts, National Trust warden for the Ysbyty Estate. As he munched through a mountain of scrambled eggs, Ian, 19, from Swansea, who is doing a work placement at the Port Talbot steelworks, said: "I like doing hard physical work occasionally. I don't get to do that in the steelworks, and this is worthwhile. It's been really good." Jane, from London, said: "I've got an office job and get quite bored. I want to be in the open air." In a new venture, the National Trust ran the volunteer week in partnership with the John Muir Trust Award scheme which encourages the discovery and conservation of wild places. So on the day I visited, the group laid down their scythes and set off to explore, led by John Muir Trust members Del Davies from Nant-y-Rhiw, Llanrwst, and Ben Brownless from Siloam. "It's a David and Goliath situation," said Del. "The National Trust with over two million members and the John Muir Trust with 8,000. "The National Trust was inspired by a nostalgia for the past whereas the John Muir Trust was set up by a group of people in Scotland who think wild land is important for its own sake and who buy land, like our recent purchase of Ben Nevis, without income on a wing and prayer." On the group's first evening Del took them to the confluence of the Machno and Conwy rivers to show that the wild may be discovered a stone's throw from civilisation. "It's within 75 metres of the A5," he said. "But it's a wonderfully preserved part of the natural vegetation of Wales. It's essentially a primeval landscape." Today we headed for the Crafnant Valley above Trefriw. As we strolled through the peaceful woodland, and scrambled over the springy heather, it was an effort to remember the valley once shook with the commotion of drilling and hammering. Wildness is a matter of degree. However "wild" the valley looks today, it was once a thriving industrial site, honeycombed with lucrative slate, lead and manganese mines. We put on hard hats to stoop below the jagged ceiling of the narrow tunnel to Clogwyn-y-Fuwch (Cliff of the Cow) slate mine above the Forestry Commission car park. Shuffling in single file, we navigated by the gleam of pale skin of the person in front; soon even that faded and we were in total darkness, sensing our way by the tunnel walls. Only the slow, ageless drip of water underground broke the silence. The tunnel abruptly debouched into a deserted cavern as high and still as a cathedral, its roof carved from 400 million-year-old volcanic rock, its floor from slate slabs, iron-stained and the size of wardrobes. Scrambling out of this dim, monochrome world, the green of life - of the ferns and mosses fringing the entrance - appeared almost lurid. A pair of nesting kestrels circled watchfully overhead as we scrambled up a steep cliff to a second mine, following the old pony track. We descended to the Klondyke mill, looking much like a deserted Crusaders' fortress. A plank across a stream led to the brick-arched Klondike mine, scene of a notorious swindle in 1917. John Aspinall declared the played-out mine to be silver and swindled investors out of more than £100,000. He is said to have shipped ore from Cornwall and stuck it to the walls to impress visitors.
Our group of volunteers were more impressed with the mine's eerie acoustics and tested it with cheerful underground singing. Then they opted to "walk the rapids" of Geirionnydd gorge before well-earned tea and cakes. "It was brilliant," said Rachel, 18, from Belfast. "I am scared of heights and would never have done that path along the cliff face alone." Mathew, 18, from Norwich, one of two Duke of Edinburgh Gold Award students in the group, said: "It's very satisfying to have everyone working towards a common goal and then you can look back and see the result."
Information on National Trust Working Holidays is available on 0870 458 4000 or www.nationaltrust.org.uk/volunteers.
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