Broken Bones and Ancient Oaks
Tucked above the Vale of Ffestiniog, in the heart of Coed Felenrhyd & Llennyrch National Nature Reserve, lies one of Wales’ most enchanting woodlands. This rare Atlantic oak woodland—often described as part of Britain’s “Celtic rainforest”—clings to the steep sides of the gorge carved by the Afon Prysor, its ancient trees twisted by centuries of wind, rain, and time. Waterfalls tumble through the ravine, moss coats every surface, and the air carries that unmistakable damp woodland scent that photographers love.
It was the promise of that atmosphere that drew Toby and me there.
Planning for Rain
The forecast was far from ideal: wet, overcast, and grey for most of the day. But for woodland photography, those conditions can be perfect. Flat light softens harsh shadows, rain deepens the colours of moss and bark, and waterfalls gain an extra sense of drama.
With that in mind, I planned a route using the Ordnance Survey Maps app, choosing the well-known Black Rock Waterfall route. It looked like a good loop through the woodland and along the gorge.
Toby and I set off together, the app guiding us immediately up a steep climb that made for a good start to the walk and quickly stretched the lungs.
Before long we were surrounded by the woodland’s most striking residents: the Atlantic oaks. These weren’t neat or straight trees. They twisted, bent, and contorted into fantastical shapes—gnarled, characterful figures cloaked in moss and lichen. It felt as though every tree had its own personality.
Naturally, we stopped often. Some of these ancient characters demanded a photograph—and a quiet moment of appreciation.
The First Waterfall
Further along the path we came across a small waterfall spilling beneath moss-covered stone walls. The constant dampness had transformed the stones into a patchwork of green and emerald tones.
It was a beautiful scene and exactly the sort of subject I had hoped to find that day.
The Fall
Not long after, the path required us to cross a stream using a series of wet stepping stones. I moved carefully from one rock to the next, testing each step.
Toby, full of enthusiasm as always, decided this was the perfect moment to pass me.
In an instant he slipped under my feet.
My right ankle twisted as I fell sideways, and my left foot became trapped between two rocks. Instinctively I threw my left hand forward to break the fall—but my hand slipped on the slick stone. A moment later my forehead struck a rock.
I had fallen badly.
Pain shot through both feet. Water rushed around me as I realised I had landed partly in the stream. Soaked and stunned, I managed to pull myself upright and stagger a few steps to a nearby tree where I leaned against the trunk to gather myself.
I knew straight away something wasn’t right with my feet.
Once my breathing steadied, I checked my phone.
No signal.
A Difficult Decision
Looking again at the route on the app, I realised we were already about two-thirds of the way around the planned walk. Continuing forward appeared to offer a gradual descent, whereas turning back meant climbing the steep ground we had already covered.
Pressing on seemed the better option.
Toby looked slightly forlorn. He didn’t understand what had happened—only that his dad was hurt.
Leaning heavily on my hiking poles, I began to hobble onward.
Half a mile later—though it felt closer to three—we ran into another problem. Storm damage had brought down several large trees across the path, blocking the route entirely.
Climbing back up the steep path behind us felt impossible with my injured feet. So I tried to work around the fallen trees by stepping into the torrent of the gorge itself.
When we finally scrambled back onto the path, I realised the problem was worse than expected: several more trees lay tangled across the trail.
We were stuck.
Crossing the Gorge
Studying the map again, I noticed another path running along the opposite side of the gorge that appeared to lead to a B-road—and ultimately back toward the car.
To reach it, we’d need to cross the river.
At this point I was already soaked and my feet were in agony. Instead of carefully stepping across slippery rocks, I decided it was safer simply to wade through the water.
Toby attempted the more adventurous option, leaping from rock to rock. Halfway across he looked genuinely frightened, but he kept going.
When he finally reached the far bank we made a huge fuss of each other. I was incredibly proud of the little fella’s bravery.
If I’d been able to carry him, I would have. But in my condition it simply wasn’t safe.
A Sobering Moment
We climbed the steep embankment and followed the gorge upstream until we reached the top of the high falls.
Looking down at the powerful current below made my stomach turn. The thought of what might have happened if Toby had slipped and been carried away by that water was deeply unsettling.
Sometimes the realisation of danger only arrives after the moment has passed.
Another Obstacle
Eventually the path veered away from the gorge and began a gentler descent.
Then came the next challenge.
A bridge spanning a deep ravine had been closed and blocked off. Storm damage had taken its toll—many of the planks were rotten or missing entirely.
It was also the first sign we had seen stating the path was closed.
Turning back still wasn’t realistic. So, carefully balancing along the remaining central beam, we edged our way across the damaged bridge and climbed over the barrier on the far side.
The Long Walk Out
From there it was a slow hobble toward the B-road. We passed more beautiful waterfalls along the way, though by that point photography was the last thing on my mind.
Once on the road, the hard concrete proved unforgiving. Each step sent jolts of pain through my feet and up my body.
Eventually, though, the road curved back to the car.
Relief doesn’t quite describe the feeling.
Safe at Last
The first priority was Toby. I dried him off and clipped him into his hammock on the back seat, where he was rewarded with cuddles and a few gravy bones for his bravery.
As darkness settled in, I began peeling off layers of soaked clothing and unloading camera gear.
Just then a police van pulled up behind the car. They must have taken one look at me—muddy, soaked, and clearly exhausted—and decided I’d probably had enough excitement for one day. They quietly drove on.
The Aftermath
By the time I reached home it was late. When I finally removed my hiking boots, both feet were badly swollen and clearly heading toward impressive bruising.
A hot shower was the first order of business.
Too exhausted to face a hospital visit that night, I waited until the morning. My partner Bev drove me to A&E, where the next nine hours involved an ECG, X-rays, and plenty of waiting.
The verdict:
A broken bone in my right foot
Tendonitis in both feet
Thankfully, just bruising to my head and hand
So now I’m hobbling around in a support boot and using crutches.
Would I Go Back?
Absolutely.
Despite the mishap, Coed Felenrhyd & Llennyrch National Nature Reserve remains one of the most beautiful woodland landscapes I’ve visited. Ancient oaks, moss-covered stones, and tumbling waterfalls create an atmosphere unlike anywhere else in Britain.
Next time, though, I’ll be watching my footing a little more carefully.
And Toby might have to wait his turn on the stepping stones.
