Snowdonia A Year in the Wild

There is a land where extinct volcanoes rise out of the sea.

Where you can stand on top of some of the world's oldest rocks

and see every country in Britain.

It is a land where rare wildlife lives in secret valleys,

beneath the peaks of our island's highest mountain range.

A privileged few hold the key to this land.

Their knowledge has made them guardians

of this extraordinary landscape.

And given them a unique responsibility

in preserving one of Britain's most treasured national parks.

This land is Snowdonia.

HE WHISTLES

500 million years ago,

Snowdonia's mountains erupted from the Irish Sea

and transformed this part of North Wales.

As the ice-age glaciers retreated,

Snowdonia's valleys became an extraordinary wilderness.

An Alpine landscape on Britain's shores.

Home to species that can be found nowhere else on these islands.

For millennia, those who've chosen to live here

have had to be completely in tune with Snowdonia's seasons.

And to this day,

it's still one of Britain's least populated landscapes.

To survive here you need something special.

If you asked any shepherd or any farmer,

very few would say that it's just a job.

You farm from your heart.

People often say how lucky I am

and over the years I'd be thinking, "Me, lucky?

"Running after sheep and wrestling with cattle."

And now, as I'm getting older, I think, "Yes, I am lucky."

I have been very, very fortunate to spend all my life on the mountains.

This is one of the hardest places in Britain to farm sheep.

The unpredictable climate means that

Gwyn has to be constantly aware of the conditions.

HE WHISTLES

Tending sheep here in the Ogwen Valley is done much the same

as it was three centuries ago, when Gwyn's family first started farming.

Winter is coming now, it's end of November.

We're preparing the sheep for the winter holidays,

checking they are fit and healthy on their feet,

and also it's been a very wet season,

so we're giving them a drench against fluke, liver fluke.

That can affect them.

And because I'm organic, I'm limited to the treatments I can give.

We are just preparing the ewes now, ready for them to leave the farm,

go down to lowland pastures for the winter.

Welsh mountain sheep have been bred especially to cope

with the inhospitable mountain conditions,

but Gwyn still has to send his flock to lowland pastures,

just to survive the winter.

Very little grass grows during this time.

Without it, the sheep would soon starve.

When they've gone away, at least you know that

if the weather does turn bad,

at least they've got a better opportunity to stay alive.

The old shepherds used to say, "The best shepherd is the white shepherd."

The snow will bring them off the tops.

If we do get a good covering of snow, then everything stops.

I like a good, hard winter, where things do go to sleep.

It charges up the battery of the Earth, you know?

To kick-start it for spring.

People might think that I'm a bit odd, maybe they're right,

but I really enjoy the quietness of this period.

There are not many farmers left

who can make a living in these mountains.

In the coming months,

Gwyn will have to draw on a lifetime of experience

if he is to keep his flock from succumbing

to Snowdonia's unpredictable environment.

Travel south from the mountains of North Snowdonia,

and within the space of a few miles, the land changes dramatically.

Steep mountainside gives way to rolling wooded hills,

high moorland, and a different way of life.

Winter down here in the southern end of the park

can be very different to the weather north in the high mountains.

Snowdonia is only about 40 miles long or thereabouts,

but my patch can seem like a different world altogether.

Humans have been living in southern Snowdonia for over 6,000 years.

Though it's only in the last 60 that we have sought to preserve it

within a National Park.

Over the space of a year,

Rhys' role as a warden will change as often as the weather.

He will have to balance protecting Snowdonia's wildlife and culture,

with the coming and going of some 9 million people

who visit the park every year.

But in the quieter months, his only distraction comes from those

who have chosen to remain over the winter.

The sound of winter for me is the sound of ravens.

This is the time of year, January,

when the ravens start to establish their territories,

it won't be long before they'll be nest-building.

They are perhaps the spirit of the mountain, cigfrain in Welsh.

It's almost like an open-air concert for free, it's tremendous.

But Snowdonia is more renowned for its unique plant life

than as a musical venue.

And it falls upon Rhys to know the flora in minute detail,

even though they are spread across an area larger than Liverpool.

Winter is the time to visit one of his rarest residents.

Juniper is a very rare plant in the southern part of the park.

They seem to be limited to three individual shrubs.

Of course, it is one of the three native conifer species of Britain,

the others being Scot's pine and the yew tree.

So it has a very old history.

The male ones produce cones with the pollen on them,

and the female ones obviously produce the berries,

the juniper berries, that are so famous for flavouring gin.

They are obviously in difficult circumstances

and anything we can do to help should be done, really.

By taking hardwood cuttings at the end of their growing season,

when the plant is at its strongest, Rhys is ensuring

that these rare junipers have the best chance of taking root.

It will be another year

before he can return the sapling to its mountainside home.

But the payoff is worth it.

A healthy juniper plant can live another 250 years.

Snowdonia isn't really very big,

but its geographical scale is beside the point, really,

because its presence is huge.

Twm comes from a long line of Welsh poets

who have written about the mountains of North Wales.

Their language is as much a part of the mountains as the rock.

Snowdonia's changing seasons have always been

a source of inspiration to writers, though one rises above all others.

Well, winter is the time to come to Snowdonia or to Eryri,

to give it its proper name.

There are no pretensions in winter, there's no additives,

there are no colorants, it's pure Eryri.

That rawness of terrain that has inspired so many writers,

has also been a magnet for those in search of adventure.

There is a pub at the foot of Snowdon called Pen y Gwryd.

That is the only pub to escape to if the weather turns cruel.

It has very romantic associations

because the 1953 Everest climbers came here to train.

Because Snowdonia was very varied in its terrain.

A lot of the weather is so fickle and unpredictable,

that it's good training,

especially if you have no experience whatsoever as a climber.

I am the son of one of the members of that expedition.

To wit, Morris of The Times.

The Times correspondence sent on that expedition to report back.

And he had no experience as a climber,

and so he learnt everything climbing around his hotel.

Well, it was necessary for any communications from the mountain

to be in secret because there was great competition

to climb the highest mountain in the world.

And so, all the members had codenames.

Hillary, for instance, was Jerkin or Candlestick.

Tensing was Asparagus or Carpenter.

And Morris of The Times was Carpet or Armchair.

HE CHUCKLES

But Morris of The Times had a more involved code

in order to be able to send back whole messages and sentences.

And the message sent back on May 29th 1953, was,

"Snow conditions bad. Advance base abandoned. Awaiting improvement.

"All well."

And that was sent by a runner down the side of the mountain

to the telegraph office many, many miles away,

and sent back to London.

It didn't sound very encouraging, but the meaning of that sentence,

when deciphered was,

Hillary and Tensing have climbed Everest.

And to think, all this started in a remote corner of Wales.

The Himalayan experience that Hillary sought in these mountains,

lasts for only a few weeks each year.

By the time the melt comes, there is much to do for those who

depend on March's warm sun to begin the natural cycle of things.

Spring is very, very important.

It's when the Earth comes to life again,

and it gives you the life, it gives you that bang,

that spring in your feet again, off you go, you've got work to do.

Another season is here and everybody else comes back as well.

It's not just the animals coming back to the farm, it's the wildlife.

It's nice to see the swallow and the swift coming back.

They are very, very delicate.

To think that they've come all the way from Africa.

It's always nice for me to see birds coming

from such a long, long way away to a small farm in Wales.

Yes. Nice place for a holiday!

I'm not farming here for myself,

I'm farming it for the whole wildlife that's here with me.

I'm trying to be as sensitive as any shepherd can be,

and looking after the wildlife.

We've got some weasels and some stoats maybe coming out, hunting.

We've got a colony of water voles just down in the field

in the bottom there.

I don't grace it, so they are left alone.

The return of wildlife to the farm is a good sign that

conditions are right for Gwyn to bring his sheep

and their newborn lambs back from the lowland grazing.

With new grass court in the mountains, he can be sure

that even if the weather does turn, there'll be plenty to eat.

After they've been away for so long,

it's like having your children back again.

And, yeah, it's nice again, doing my shepherding work again.

The sheep's spring health check needs to be thorough.

Once they've been checked over, they are released onto the slopes

and from that point on they're left to fend for themselves.

The sheep here are a hefted flock,

so each ewe returns to the same part of the mountain year on year,

taking with them their lambs, so that their instinctive knowledge

of this landscape is passed on for generations.

You can see the type of area we have.

It's very, very open and it's a large area,

so there's no point having a small flock

in one corner of your farm and the rest of the farm empty.

These sheep really do spread out, you know.

Up there, there will be probably about 300 sheep to 1,000 acres.

As I'm getting older, I appreciate it more.

One moment, there are a group of climbers as we speak now,

looking at the wall in the bottom there.

Foot on the barbed wire, jump over, the post snaps, and that's it,

we have to repair the fence.

HE WHISTLES

Hey!

Hey!

HE WHISTLES

Hey! Get off the bloody wall!

It makes you feel like you ought to go there and say to them,

"Listen to me or you'll be thrown in the river."

My father told me many, many years ago, when I was a young lad

and chasing after the climbers and the walkers,

who were leaving gates open and climbing over the walls,

and I spent hours running after them and getting very stressed,

if that is the word.

My father told me that I couldn't stop them,

they were like the tide, coming and coming,

but I could make use of them, I could take their money.

Now we've diversified and are doing accommodation and educational visits,

and now instead of waving my stick at them, saying, "Get off my land!"

I say, "Come on the land, learn a bit more about farming,

"where your food comes from, make friends

"and leave something behind, like a cheque, you know."

Change from winter to spring is quite a subtle one

in the mountains of Snowdonia.

On a day like this, we just hit the good weather this week,

and it makes such a difference having a bit of sun on your back.

BIRDS CHIRP

You're constantly in the middle of wildlife,

particularly around the lake here.

The Goosanders have certainly arrived

and started their breeding season.

The redstarts and the pied flycatchers are in the woodland,

so it's just everything.

You just feel that spring has arrived all of a sudden.

With so much wildlife activity in early spring,

it's a good time for Rhys to patrol

and take stock of the species in his patch.

This part of south Snowdonia has so many diverse habitats,

that it's always been a haven for wildlife.

Some are here in abundance.

Others, however, need closer attention.

Take otters, for instance.

They're not a species you associate with mountainous areas particularly,

but there are plenty of signs they're on the upland lakes.

They'll often follow the spawning fish going upstream,

even up to the highest lakes on Cader Idris.

Because man and animal have co-existed in the National Park for so long,

the inevitable loss of habitats means

that some species require a bit of a leg-up by now.

Even though there are natural places for the otters to use,

the addition of artificial holts complements that natural choice.

Nocturnal otters need somewhere to rest during the day,

and typically build their holts in the banks of rivers and lakes,

amongst the roots of old trees.

But with industry having removed many of these trees,

Rhys' artificial holt is a mimic of these subterranean

Otters can have up to 30 such sites,

which they use throughout their territory.

And they might only use each one for a couple of days at a time.

But there is a chance that Rhys' holt will be used for rearing young.

And with any luck, in a couple of years,

otters may be a common sight in the mountains again.

On the western edge of Snowdonia,

where the mountains tail off into the sea,

are a series of valleys that face west,

soaking up the warm spring sun and making them

a secret refuge for plants, animals and man.

In the spring I always go to Cwm Pennant, which for me

is the beginning of Snowdonia because it's a long enclosed valley.

It's there where spring shows itself wonderfully.

More than anywhere else in Wales.

I come every year in May to hear the cuckoo

and to see the blue mist of bluebells which is always here in cuckoo time.

The Welsh word for bluebell is clychau'r gog,

which means, the boots of the cuckoo.

CUCKOO CALLS

They say it's becoming very rare for some reason. I don't know why.

But you can always be sure of hearing in Cwm Pennant.

Because it is the very last refuge, as it were,

before the bareness and the ruggedness and the treelessness

of Snowdonia, there's something very special about it.

The presence of people is always evident in Eryri.

There are ruins of farms, there are tumbledown walls, and for me,

in my writing, this is all important, the presence of people.

Pam, Arglwydd, y gwnaethost Gwm Pennant mor dlws?

A bywyd hen fugail mor fyr?

Why, Lord, did you make Cwm Pennant so beautiful

And the life of a shepherd so short?

The impact of a simple farming way of life on this landscape

was nothing compared to the industry that was to follow.

The slate quarries of north Wales

were at one time the biggest on Earth.

Tens of thousands of men toiled with picks and dynamite

to supply the four corners of the world with roofing material.

It was an industry with a global scale

that spawned entire communities.

That made a few men rich and took many to an early grave.

At its height, 5 million tonnes of rock

were being removed from the mountainsides each year.

Which is impressive,

were it not for the fact that in the process,

the industry was claiming on average the life of a quarryman a day.

The Second World War deprived many of the quarries of their workers

and the industry collapsed

when soon after clay roofing tiles became cheaper than slate.

But by exposing the rock,

the quarrymen have attracted a new breed of mountain life.

It's taken 33 years for climber Johnny Dawes

to build an in-depth knowledge of the rock in Snowdonia,

and in that time he's pioneered

some of the most difficult and dangerous climbs in Britain,

and etched his way into mountain folklore.

To climb successfully here you need to know not only where

but also when to pit yourself against the mountains.

And spring is the perfect time to visit the slate.

The quarries throughout Snowdonia

are places where you see plants come alive a little bit earlier.

You've got warmed areas, passive solar collectors.

That slate absorbs so much heat,

on some amazingly hot days, you could probably cook some bacon on it.

And where plants grow is just amazing.

They seem to know where to place themselves to greatest effect,

like some interior decorator has got to work

specifically for us, you know.

When you walk on it, it actually clatters musically,

so you end up with this beautiful cacophany of sounds,

clattering out from underneath you as you walk.

And you've got the sound of peregrines.

And the whole combination sort of wakes you up and makes you listen.

Stops you listening to the garbage in your head.

I love climbing on slate cos it looks so blank.

It's like a fine-bone-china, slate. It's cooked mudstone.

It's like nature's porcelain in a way.

If you know how to go from one shape to the next,

you can actually use momentum from a long way down a chain of moves.

But to do that you've got to be relaxed

and listening to what's going on,

and that comes with affinity for the rock.

As you get into the flow of a climb, you get to the point where

instead of having to focus directly on what you're doing,

your senses are so much wider and you sort of come alive.

The only thing to do is to absolutely go for it,

and the excitement kind of rises as you're doing it

and the fall rises as well.

SHOUT ECHOES

DOGS BARK

By summer, it's time for Gwyn

to gather his sheep down from the mountains in time for shearing.

HE WHISTLES

The warmer weather will have spread them

across the highest peaks on the farm, in search of good grass.

In the past, gathering the sheep

would have been a huge community event,

with whole villages ascending the mountain.

HE WHISTLES

But now it's left to Gwyn and a handful of neighbours

to gather 3,000 acres of sheer mountainside.

One thing hasn't changed, though,

the shepherd's reliance on his oldest companion.

The basic commands for dogs, away, come back and lie down,

the whistles are very similar.

HE WHISTLES

Lie down! Lie down!

If you have one in English and one in Welsh,

you don't get confused to the commands,

and as I get older I get very confused.

And when I had three working dogs,

I don't know what the third dog's language was,

it was more swear words and all kinds of stuff.

Back here now. Back here now.

We get a few awkward ones that either don't know the way home

or they just want to stay on the mountain,

so it's a little bit more difficult with the weather being so hot

to shift them.

The dogs get tired very quickly, the shepherds get very tired.

HE WHISTLES

SHEEP BLEAT

As it becomes harder to make a living here,

fewer local people are farming Snowdonia,

and there's been a huge loss of knowledge

about living in these mountains.

SHEEP BLEAT

You can't just bring a person in to gather such a large area and say,

"You stand over there with your dog and gather that part of the mountain."

They don't know which part to gather.

It's been passed on from generation to generation, hasn't it.

The low price of lamb and wool is making it increasingly hard

for the shepherds, and more communities are now reliant

on Snowdonia's huge influx of summer visitors in order to survive.

Tourism isn't a new thing here, of course.

People have been visiting for centuries.

It is simply their numbers that have changed.

INDISTINCT CHATTER

The first visitors to these mountains

didn't come for the scenery,

they were geologists and plant collectors.

And they needed guides to shepherd them around the mountains.

The first guides were the local farmers,

and as word spread of Snowdonia's beauty,

the competition amongst guides grew.

And many turned to their second love,

poetry, to advertise their expertise.

Well, a famous guide was a fellow called William Williams.

William Williams' Guide To Snowdon.

"Anxious that all those who bode in England, Scotland or old Ireland

"Should place their feet upon much higher land

"Gives notice that if here they'll ride

"He with much pleasure as their guide

"Will show them quarries, lakes and mines

"Snowdon and the place he finds

"Plants that nowhere else abound

"And which by him alone are found

"Waterfalls with various actions

"Minerals, ores and petrifactions

"Anglers too, who with a boat can be supplied

"And when afloat will find that once by asking him

"The places where the best trout swim

"In fact, to him, no place is new

"Within the range of Snowdon view

"And as a guide midst many millions

"There's none so good as William Williams."

But he fell when he was guiding people up Snowdon in 1861

and died.

The cliffs around Snowdon, Wales' highest peak,

are to this day not places to be taken lightly.

And in the summer when the villages become inundated with tourists,

those in the know

head to one of Snowdonia's most iconic pieces of rock,

Clogwyn, the Black Cliff.

Clogwyn's really special.

I only get that feeling when I come over the top of that hill

and I see that crag, I don't get it anywhere else.

Clogwyn is a volcanic cliff,

where Johnny entered into the annals of climbing history

with an ascent of the Indian Face in 1986.

A feat which has only been repeated four times since.

The names of the climbs here say it all.

Some of the faces around the side, on the pinnacle,

things like Psycho Killer and Margins Of The Mind, things like that,

that don't say, "climb me, climb me."

Shaft Of The Dead Man, that's not very nice, is it?

Clogwyn is rhyolite, it's the same stuff as granite

but it's come out really quickly and cooled really quickly,

so it's like glass.

You've got to use it quite accurately

and it puts your body in very precise positions.

The solving what to do, it needs to be done quickly and decisively,

and you've got to look very carefully,

so you take your eyes out from the rock and scan,

and by moving your head, you can see where things are.

Clogwyn has this weird juxtaposition in the climb world,

there's some of the hardest climbs in Britain on its face,

set against the backdrop of thousands of people chugging up the hill

in a little train towards their summit.

But it's a different mentality, this idea of summiting,

from actually getting into the rock

and enjoying the process of being there.

Nowhere are those two takes on what a mountain means to people

more exposed than on Clogwyn when you're trying to stay alive,

trying to get a tiny wire into a crack,

and you've got Thomas The Tank trundling up behind you.

You can even hear the train whilst you're climbing.

TRAIN TOOTS

Get a climber's view of Snowdonia

and you'll notice ancient trade routes

that have been cut into the landscape.

There are over 1,500 miles of pathways through these mountains.

MOTOR STARTS

And it falls upon the wardens to keep them open for walkers.

Though for Rhys it's clearly more than just a job.

For me, it's a much deeper involvement with the landscape

when working with these track-ways.

The feeling of being in a long line of people responsible

for creating and keeping them open, and keeping that history alive.

A lot of the routes that we maintain are very ancient ones

that would have linked communities.

They might have been paths to the chapel, postman's routes,

and they might have been tracks to take goods from a farm,

perhaps to be sold in the nearest village or the nearest market.

There is one that crosses the Cader Idris range,

the Ffordd Ddu in Welsh, the Black Road,

that was used by the Welsh princes to get to their castle,

Castell y Bere, on the other side of the mountain.

And there is a tradition that stretches back,

of course, 800 years or so.

Not all the paths we clear are used extensively,

but I don't really mind that.

It's the quieter ones very often that turn up the most surprises.

I often try and look out for hen harriers up here,

it's a fantastic spot.

Very often the first thing that you'll see is this

little white speck, some people liken it to a seagull,

but to me it looks almost like a bit of drifting snow,

a little snowflake, and to see that in summer is a curious thing.

Hen Harriers are one of Britain's rarest birds,

and in summer they follow their main prey species,

meadow pipits and skylarks, to the moorlands of remote mountainsides.

The dense heather of these moorlands

also provides good protection for these ground-nesting raptors.

HARRIER CALLS

It only takes a few weeks

for the chicks to grow large enough to fledge.

It happens in such a short period of time

it almost seems like a small miracle.

They're still a rare sight in this part of the world.

Last year there were only 40 to 50 successful breeding pairs

in the whole of Wales.

So to spend any time with them at all is a rare privilege.

SHEEP BLEAT

Shearing is one of the few times

the community does come together nowadays.

These Welsh mountain sheep are bred for their meat

rather than their wool,

but the insulation that has kept them alive

on the mountains for the past six months still needs to be shorn.

It's a highly competitive time as the shearers are paid per sheep.

They usually shear between 250 and 300 sheep a day.

It's still good to have one top gun, lead shearer,

and everybody's trying to knock him off, you know.

The wool doesn't have the same value it used to.

Years ago, it would pay for half the year's rent on the farm.

Now, my wool cheque will probably put me a tank full of diesel.

But still, wool produce is very, very expensive,

so I don't know what's happening.

Maybe we should start knitting or something, you know. HE CHUCKLES

The timing of shearing is crucial.

If it's done too late, the wool won't have enough time

to grow again before winter, which in Snowdonia is never far away.

At the end of summer there is a kind of heathery time

when all the bikers, and the hikers, and the walkers, go back home,

and you no longer hear chattering and yelling among the rocks.

And the great silence falls on the mountains,

but a silence full of the voice of Eryri,

the true voice, which is water, water everywhere.

THUNDER ROLLS

This valley in particular is noted for the volume of rain

because we get over 100 inches of rain here.

But these Welsh mountain sheep,

they are used to finding shelter before the rain comes,

so now with the clouds coming in,

and the sheep looking for somewhere to shelter,

maybe it's time for us to shelter as well or we'll get wet.

Snowdonia is officially the wettest place in Britain.

Over 4.5 metres of rain falls here every year,

and most of it falls now, in the autumn.

It's a wretched time of year for those who have to

make a living from Snowdonia's mountains.

After October, the sun won't reach Gwyn's farm for another four months.

The changing climate signals the time of departure

for the fledgling swallow chicks.

By the time they return next year,

they will have travelled over 12,000 miles in their migration.

It's also a time of increased unpredictability

and danger for the climbers who come here.

ENGINE STARTS

But Snowdonia's unique geography

means that you can escape the tempestuous mountains,

and within a matter of minutes, be on Gogarth,

one of Britain's best sea cliff crags.

The sea cliffs around Snowdonia are older than the mountains themselves.

And old rock needs experienced hands if it's going to be climbed safely.

The rock is very old, it's like 650 million years old, pre-Cambrian,

but because it's been here a long time, some of it's gone to talc

basically, and so, some rocks break off and some snap,

some of them are really solid,

so you've got to have a knack of working out what's what.

You're not quite sure what's going to happen,

that's what makes it fun here.

It does engross you mentally, it's a puzzle,

and it gets your blood racing.

Some people experience the landscape through living in it,

others by working in it, but for me, I mean,

I've climbed on the rock all these years,

in a way, I've learnt it by actually feeling it with my hands.

It takes time to be a good climber, you've got to know a lot about rock.

There is no better place than Snowdonia

to learn about the different varieties of rock.

Such a unique and intimate knowledge of the landscape

through its geology is rare,

and it sets Johnny apart as one of Snowdonia's true insiders.

The proximity of the sea to the mountains of Snowdonia

is more than just a bonus for climbers,

it has created a globally important kingdom on a miniature scale.

The constant influx of fresh, moisture-laden air

from the Irish Sea into the valleys of Snowdonia

makes it a perfect location for some of Britain's most sensitive plants.

At this time of year,

it's very easy to appreciate a forest on a grand scale,

you get all the colours coming through.

But there is another world underneath that,

which people often pass.

Lichens are extremely sensitive to air pollution,

and they've become increasingly rare across Britain.

Yet the wet autumnal conditions in Wales are so perfect

that three quarters of all the lichens in Britain

can be found here.

In fact, Wales is the most diverse lichen environment on Earth.

Just a single wall can be such a fascinating treasure trove.

It's almost like entering into a sub-marine environment.

They are almost coral-like in formation.

And they have some beautiful names.

The map lichen, Rhizocarpon geographicum.

The matchstick lichen, the Cladonias,

has bright red tips to them.

There is a long history of fascination

with this bizarre underworld.

It wasn't long ago that people believed

they had medicinal properties.

Lobaria pulmonaria, the tree lungwort.

The idea was that if some aspect of the plan looked similar

to an organ in the body,

that plant was then taken to be a source of medication

for any illness,

and so this tree lungwort was used for respiratory problems.

It had no effect at all.

This combination of diverse micro world

and the many habitats amongst the peaks and valleys of Snowdonia

make it truly one of Britain's unique wildernesses.

But Rhys knows that this wilderness can't be taken for granted.

Snowdonia's always been in a state of change

and probably always will be.

The demands on the land will change

and more people will visit it.

In the middle of all that, I think we need to realise

the value of keeping undisturbed areas for the richness of species.

And to protect this cultural heritage that we have,

which otherwise run the risk of disappearing for all time.

Yet for many it is less HOW the land in Snowdonia will be used

than WHO is responsible for its future.

With winter setting in, Gwyn has again sent his sheep

down to the lowland pastures,

but this year he has kept back a special flock,

which he will feed through the winter.

All the other sheep have left the farm, they've gone to the lowlands.

These are more like pets really, and they're to encourage Jack,

my grandson, Jack is six,

for him to, like I did,

grow up with animals around him, because being up here farming,

it's not pounds, shillings and pence, it's about wanting to be here,

it's that passion you have for wildlife, and for farming,

and for shepherding, really.

HE SHAKES FEED Come on, girls. Come on, girls.

By the time he comes to an age when he can decide for himself

whether he wants to sell them or he wants to start farming,

then he'll have that choice.

The main thing is that there is still be somebody here farming, you know.

For me, that is very, very important,

that there is a family here at Blaen y Nant,

and a lot of other upland farms, before they get amalgamated,

farmhouses taken back as holiday accommodation,

and land then not being farmed properly.

For me it's important that there's somebody here,

that there has been for hundreds of years, tending to the land,

tending to the animals, keeping tradition going, you know.

It takes a lifetime of experience to learn how to farm in harmony

with the landscape and wildlife in the mountains of Snowdonia.

Three quarters of North Wales is devoted to farmland,

but the number of farmers who can make a living from it

falls year on year.

There will come a time when Britain needs farmers like Gwyn

to feed our crowded island,

so we can't afford to lose their knowledge.

Two months and it will be flat out again.

There will be plenty of work to do.

Snowdonia has always been one of Britain's treasured landscapes,

though its resilience to change is not everlasting.

Yet those who know it best know there is a permanence

to its wilderness that will never be replaced.

Mae'n well i ni adael y mynyddoedd

Yma I aros lle mae

Nhw Rhwng eu tynged a'r gwynt.

We had better let these mountains remain where they are

Between their fate and the wind

Were we to shepherd them with our years

That would not make a whit of difference

To their shape and their colour as mountains

For their outline is for us

An assurance of the rock's strength

And the guarantee of a tender blade in that inheritance

Which is faith in the roar of the wind

The faith that has no wish to move mountains.

Next time, the New Forest.

A magical Eden, thick with myth and legend

and one of Britain's most loved wild places.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd