Pistyll Rhaeadr

The Welsh wonder waterfall, taller than Niagara Falls, that many haven’t heard of

The ground beneath my feet pulsates, reverberating like a heartbeat. The tremors communicate a rhythm, a steady background vibration, but there’s also an additional accompaniment — a heavier pounding of the surrounding rocks. And — somewhere to my left — a higher-pitched, continuous drip. I’m not surprised that this is known as one of the Seven Wonders of Wales.

I was staying in the beautiful Tanat Valley. The weather forecast for the entire weekend was not good: heavy downpours, gusting winds, with occasional hail. So when the clouds cleared enough to offer a small peephole through to the hydrangea-blue stratosphere, I donned my boots to make the most of the brief respite.

I wandered between narrow, hedge-lined Welsh lanes, and up onto the exposed hillside of Glan-Hafon. Somehow, the sunshine came with me, thanks to the stratospheric peephole growing into a full-sized bay window. But my eyes were drawn around the curvaceous contours of Glan-Hafon into the glacial Rhaeadr Valley.

I stopped, briefly, and marvelled at the sunshine illuminating the rusty bracken on the opposite side of the valley. The coppery fronds wavered in the fresh breeze, like flickering flames licking the air. And that’s when I first heard it. That low, continuous drone. A moan carried on the crisp, early-November air, cool enough to numb my ears.

I scanned the heavens, an eiderdown of gathering clouds, patterned in various shades: ash, lead, slate, and pure white. Was there a plane secreted in them somewhere? Perhaps if I stared long enough, I might glimpse it breaking cover through an azure patch.

My gaze dropped westwards, deep into the Rhaeadr Valley, about two and a half kilometres distant, where I could make out a thick, white ribbon of water thundering its way over a craggy, vertical drop of Silurian rock. Pistyll Rhaeadr, Britain’s tallest single-drop waterfall, was making its presence felt. Aha! My walk now had a destination.

I felt the first drop of rain on the tip of my nose. An iron-coloured cloud, streaked with charcoal, peered down menacingly. Had I not spotted the waterfall, I would have turned around.

It took an hour, clambering over clumps of tough, tussocky grass, hiding deep, water-soaked mud that could swallow entire lower limbs, which it often did. But as I descended into the Rhaeadr valley, the ground became firmer and the fall’s drone crescendoed into a thunderous roar.

My boots trudged through a blanket of composting russet leaves. Thick branches, still laden with moss, obscured my view. But I knew from the noise I was close. Occasionally, a cloud of cool mist seeped through the leafless canopy, washing my face.

A black metal bridge, only wide enough for two people to pass, took me across the stream at the foot of the fall. It wasn’t until I was a third of the way across that this moment, with Pistyll Rhaeadr in all its living, pounding glory, entered my present consciousness.

Looking up, a narrow band of water plummets over a right-angled ledge. I focus on a single drop and its vertical free-fall before it disappears behind a narrow stone arch. Forced through this neckline, the constantly churned water drops again, this time over a wider cascade into a deep whirlpool of vortices and currents, finally catching its breath, before continuing its more sedately inclined journey towards the River Tanat. Ultimately, that single drop will reach the River Severn and continue towards the Bristol Channel.

Across the bridge, I step onto a rocky outcrop. It’s solid ground, but alive. Alive with an effervescence pushed into it by billions of cascading drops of pulverising water. This 240-foot journey is fifty-two feet further than Niagara Falls. Currently, there’s a lot of water making that excursion, thanks to recent heavy rainfall in the Berwyn mountains.

I close my eyes and concentrate on the fall’s tremors palpitating through the ground beneath me. Pistyll Rhaeadr is a living, potent beast. Yet, not all of its forcefulness is so vigorous. A high-pitched drip somewhere off to my left teases my attention. While the main fall booms as it plummets, this mini-fall offers no more than a steady series of plinks. Through a half-open eye, I spot the thin frond of a vibrant fern acting as a halfway break. It catches each droplet falling from a smaller rock face before lowering it gently into a petite pool an inch below. Plink. Plink. Plink.

Suddenly, an enormous flock of precipitation particles envelope me, some clinging to my face, ears, hair, and clothes, while others fly off downstream. Their coolness sends a shudder to my feet, in the opposite direction to the waterfall-induced massaging sensation.

Not every molecule makes the full waterfall plummet. Some break free, carried off on a passing breeze. It’s as if they throw themselves over the top ledge, realise this is their moment to be free, and leap out. Scooped up by the breeze, they collate into a thin cloud and set off on a new airborne adventure.

Energy. That’s what today is about. Pistyll Rhaeadr is a veritable force. I can hear it. Feel it. Taste it. Peaty. Earthy. Mossy.

Its dynamism shakes the ground, shudders the airwaves, and throws clouds of water into the atmosphere. Yet it’s not always like this. In high summer, after prolonged periods of drought, Pistyll Rhaeadr can barely wet the rock face it glides over.

I break free of Mother Nature’s mesmerising stamina. Time for a cup of tea in the cosy Tan-y-Pistyll (Welsh for ‘little house under the waterfall’) cafe before making my way back. A bit of sustenance is my reward for reaching my goal, even though I didn’t know I had one when I set off. But the power of Pistyll Rhaeadr will stay with me for years to come.

It was while reading Jewel Allen’s The Smoke That Thunders that reminded me of my visit to Pistyll Rhaeadr. The clouds of spray looked like smoke from a distance — as if the mountain was on fire.

And Pistyll’s claim to be taller than Niagara Falls made me appreciate Brad Yonaka’s The Pristine Beauty of Angle Falls which, at nearly a kilometre tall, makes Pistyll Rhaeadr look more like a ripple!

For details on how to visit Pistyll Rhaeadr, check out the Visit Mid-Wales Tourist site here.