The Legend of Cantre'r Gwaelod

 Borth (or Y Borth as you may hear some of the Welsh speaking locals call it)  was a small fishing village until the railway came and transformed into a popular seaside holiday resort.

 The village still straggles along a bank of stones swept up by a fierce storm. Our greatest attraction though is the long golden beach which stretches from the steep cliffs of Graig yr Wylfa to the wild dunes around the estuaries of the Afon Dyfi and the Afon Leri. Behind the storm-beach of grey stones lies the oldest golf course in Wales and behind that the wild and beautiful Cors Fochno. Ancient pines lie buried in peat below the white cotton grass and purple heather.

 Ynys Trachoed was the old name for the present Ynyslas. Ynyslas used to refer just to the island by the former railway station on the Afon Leri. The old name reminds us of the time when a forest grew on Cors Fochno and stretched far across land now drowned under the waves of Cardigan Bay. They say that the name of that land was Cantref yr Gwaelod (the hundred towns of the deep)  and it was ruled by Gwyddno. He was a rich and wise prince who ordered that a wall be built to defend his fertile lands. The flow of water was controlled by a flood gate which was closed when the tide came in. Two of the flood gate keepers were Morfin and Seithenyn

All was well until one night when everyone was celebrating the return of spring and drinking the yellow mead which had been maturing since the previous autumn. Reluctantly Morfin and Seithenyn  left the cheerful Great Hall and the sweet sound of the harp to take their posts. Morfin had hidden a cask of mead under his long cloak and before long the pair of them were fast asleep as was everyone else in the town by now. The tide turned in the early hours of the morning and a south westerly wind blew up. Horses whinnied in fear and dogs barked, but within a short time the salt water was flowing in a cold, dark torrent through the narrow streets destroying the wooden houses in its path. The horses broke their tethers to gallop to higher ground with other beasts of all kinds. But the quiet town was sunk. The only sound to be heard was the doleful sound of the church bells and the only thing to be seen was the old causeway from Wallog to the town. They say you can still hear the sad sound of the church bells if you listen carefully.

After the loss of Gwyddno and his people and the drowning of Cantre'r Gwaelod there was much argument over the ruler-ship of the land that was left. They say that Maelgwyn arranged a test to decide who would be king.  The princes had to compete by sitting in a chair to face the tide. As the tide came up the beach the new king would be the last prince to fall in. 

Some of the princes were big, heavy men and some had hidden weights in their fine clothes.
 Others had made chairs from the heavy bog oak which took three men to lift.
 They walked down to the dunes in a dignified procession and sat in a colourful row along the beach as the noisy gulls wheeled over the excited crowd of local people.
The glinting water came up slowly but ever deeper and the restless waves became higher and ever stronger. One by one the competitors fell in or were swept away.

Their wooden chairs were crushed in the surf. But Maelgwyn (who was a local man) had been more cunning. He had made a chair of wax and feathers. He sat in it like a stone until the water reached his seat. Then, to the amazement of the crowd on the beach and the princes, their fine clothes dripping, and the rest who were still dragging themselves from the sea - there was Maelgwyn riding the waves as the King of Wales.

He gave his name to Traeth Maelgwyn and now every carnival we recreate the sight when local people and visitors compete to face the waves again to win the crown of King or Queen of Cors Fochno.

© S.J. Dalton 2000