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  • Winding my away along narrow rural lanes to get to the beach, the valleys full of icy fog, this elevated farmhouse was silhouetted by the morning sunrise which turned everything from a steely-blue to a warm orange hue. So often we'd walk, cycle or drive by scenes like this without batting an eyelid, but in atmospheric conditions like this, everything was mesmerisingly beautiful.
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  • From above, and in the natural serenity of recent snow, Tŷ Uchaf farmhouse looks beautiful, normal and inhabited, no longer the empty shell for sheep droppings, birds of prey and an occasional dead lamb. At one point in time I can imagine this farm could have been a very striking place to live and work, with stunning views, but the isolation, loneliness and hardship of tending livestock in this difficult valley, and getting them to market, could also have been just seriously hard work!
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  • Not a soul around. The moon rose slowly in the rose-colured sky and the sunset burned in the farmhouse windows. Pheasants screeched to each other as they glid across the farmland. The hedgerows were dripping in lush autumnal berries and flitting amongst the dense twigs, sparrows enjoyed the pick of the crop.
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  • Another interior of Tŷ Uchaf. Every room had its own fireplace.
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  • Alongside the wood, a small river flows down to the sea from the cascading waterfall of Y Graig Ddu. Through the often stunted and twisted trees at its edge, the old farm of Tŷ Uchaf can be seen, no longer inhabited, but still worked by a local farmer. The sudden downpour of light on the fields created a vivid separation between the open higher ground and the cold,dark,tight-packed mass of trees behind me.Ty Uchaf was like a Wuthering Heights to me, dark windows looking out over the valley and a sense of harshness and foreboding about running a farm in this remote isolated valley.
    GD000756.jpg
  • We stumbled across what we thought was a derelict cottage in the middle of woodland down a tiny track. <br />
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Evening sunlight was pouring through a window beyond, and there was a reflection of the sky and trees in the front windows. I went up to the window &  was shocked to discover signs of habitation. There was even a calendar from 2015 on the wall, yet still I suspected that the place had just been deserted. I took this one image because of the beautiful light and sense of time passing, melancholy almost but imbued with such positive afternoon sunshine. <br />
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It was only then that I heard a car pull up behind us. The very jovial driver was the landowner, and he told us that someone does indeed live there. The tenant is a 75 year old man who refuses to connect any power to the house, even though all the faciities are there. He only has a gas bottle to power his ancient stove. <br />
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This old man has a tiny garden plot over a mile away on a steep cliff side, and he walks there regulalrly to tend his vegetagbles. He has an old car, but that is one of his only links wih modern’ish technology. <br />
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The landowner is in no hurry to move the old gentleman on, and it seems he will see the end of his days in this ancient farmyard cottage, almost off the grid, and I hope deeply happy because of it. <br />
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Next time I’m down, I’d love to photograph the old man himself, if he’d be happy for me to do so. What a character he must be.
    GD002129.jpg
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  • Down in the valley, in an isolated farmhouse, paces a shadowy man. Torn between living a depressing reality, trapped by the expectations of ‘normal’ society, or crossing into another existence with his exciting, passionate wild woman, waiting for him high up on the windswept moors. Will he strip himself of his dark clothes and find true happiness, freedom, and peace with her or will he remain weak & shackled like so many others, unable to find their true destiny?
    Weathering Heights
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Glyn Davies, Professional Photographer and Gallery

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