Dinorwic Quarry

Slate, Mist, and Mountains

It was an overcast morning, the mist draped over the peaks of the nearby mountains, their outlines softened in the distance across the Menai Strait from Anglesey. At home, Clair had been ‘pottering’ all week in her studio, Bryn Teg Ceramics, working on her Adornments collection and The Llanddwyn Guardians.

We both felt the pull of the mountains, and decided to visit a hidden gem in the heart of Snowdonia National Park: Dinorwic Quarry, perched high above the town of Llanberis.

Once a titan of the slate industry, Dinorwic was at its peak in the late 19th century, employing more than 3,000 men and producing more slate than almost anywhere else in the world. It was dangerous work—so dangerous, in fact, that the quarry had its own hospital to deal with the constant stream of injuries. For generations, though, it was a lifeline for the region.

Today, the quarry is silent except for the footsteps of hikers and climbers drawn here for the panoramic views over Eryri.

We parked nearby, surrounded by the evidence of an industry long gone. The landscape was raw, littered with grey-purple slate under moody skies. Clouds shifted above us, briefly revealing the jagged ridges and snow-streaked peaks of Yr Wyddfa in the distance.

The main trail wound past the shells of old buildings—roofless now, their stone walls crumbling and scarred. In the gaps, ferns and moss grew thick, nature slowly reclaiming what man had once so fiercely carved.

Walking deeper in, the place began to feel like a set from a post-apocalyptic film, or a fantasy realm—something between a ruined fortress and Tolkien’s Mines of Moria. Chimneys stood like sentinels. Caves yawned open, black and uninviting. Narrow tunnels disappeared into the hillside, their silence heavy and deep.

An uneven track led us to a vast cavern. Water trickled down its jagged walls, forming thin waterfalls that caught what little light broke through the cloud. In the midst of the stone, a single rowan tree clung to life atop a mossy green bank. Its roots gripped the rock, its branches stretched upward like fingers reaching for the faint sunlight.

It was a small miracle of resilience, standing there in one of the harshest landscapes I’ve ever seen.

The Tree of The Fae, Dinorwic

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