About a mile and a half from Vechan, we unexpectedly descended by an
excellent road through a wood into a rich romantic valley, watered by
Neath river. In this retired situation we found the Angel inn, of Pont
Neath Vechan. Description can scarcely suggest the full grandeur and
magnificence of this valley: woods, rocks, and waterfalls, all unite to
render it beautiful. Our Cicerone first conducted us to the fall of
Scotenogam, on the river Purthen, about a mile and a half from the house.
This fall we saw to great advantage, the river having gathered in its
course the accumulation of many torrents after the rain, precipitated
itself into one majestic expanse of water, near seventy feet high; whilst
the dark lowering rocks, on each side, contrasted finely with the varied
vegetation around us. The descent is by no means easy; but the grandeur
of the scene amply compensated for all difficulties. Our Cicerone next
conducted us to a very inferior one, called the Lady’s Cascade, on the
river Neath; but of this we caught a very indifferent prospect, the
ascent of the mountain being inaccessible, and the water too high to
admit of our obtaining a due inspection of it. We then returned to our
inn, and set out on a different road, in quest of nature’s
landscapes.—Having walked about three miles, we heard the angry roar of
small cascades; these we considered preludes to scenes of nature’s
grandest cast, where the rushing waterfall swells into a torrent; and
accordingly we soon found ourselves near the fall of Lower Culhepste.
The character of this cataract differs very much from that of Scotenogam;
being broken in its descent from projecting rocks, of an immense size.
About a quarter of a mile from hence we descended a rugged and steep
rock, to examine the fall of Upper Culhepste, about fifty feet high. The
singularity of this fall invites the curiosity of the traveller more than
any other in Wales: the whole river precipitates itself with such
violence, as to leave a space between the rock and the fall sufficiently
wide for a horse-path. Though in less than two minutes we were
completely wet by the spray, yet the effect was awful and sublime; and it
was necessary to remember the fixed foundation of the rocks above our
heads, to soften the awe they inspired. “The effect of sunshine on the
cascade,” says Mr. Malkin, “when behind it on a fine day, is both grand
and beautiful. The particles of water glittering with a silvery
brightness, as they fall; the uncommon brilliancy of every thing without,
seen through such a medium, contrasted with the dark green of the moss,
everlastingly wet with spray; the corroded dinginess of the rock; the
damp and vaporous gloom of the atmosphere within; altogether form a
singularly mingled scene of awe and gaiety.”
Near this fall is Porthogo Cavern, through which the river Vendre runs.
The water was too high to admit our entrance; our conductor, however,
informed us, he had penetrated about half a mile, but found the river
wind so many ways, he judged it safer to return, lest he should share the
fate of a poor man, who lost himself in this cavern for the space of
three days. On our return, a very intelligent gentleman, staying in the
neighbourhood, strenuously recommended us to descend a steep mountain, on
our left, to survey a curious quadrangular strata of marble in the rock
below. With some difficulty we effected our purpose, having waded twice
through the river. This strata in Welsh is called _bwr maen_, which
signifies a stone bow: it is situated close to the river Dynnas, which,
forcing its way through some broken fragments of the rock, forms a
cascade a little above. The price offered for this grey marble, in
London, is fifteen shillings a foot square.
About five miles from Vechan, is the seat of Mrs. Holbrow, on the right.
We were prevented visiting the waterfalls of Melincourt and Aperdulas,
the river, owing to the late floods, being too deep to ford. Our route
still continued through the valley we had so much admired the evening
before. As we drew near