In Search of Wales' Highest Waterfall

There’s an amazing (actually quite an extraordinary) little island called Skellig Michael (next two pics below), hidden away off the far southwest tip of Ireland. I was enthralled by it as a kid after I first read about it in a book of the world’s wonders given me by my Granddad. The only illustration of the place was a small black-and-white photo, depicting a winding line of ancient stone steps climbing steeply up a rugged cliff to a romantically ruined stone arch, through which the steps passed en route to the remains of an ancient retreat inhabited by incredibly hardy monks a thousand years ago.

It’s one of the most fabulously mysterious places in the British Isles, not least because to this day it remains a tricky place to reach. There’s no dedicated harbour or landing place (and long may that last!), so boats from mainland Ireland can only dock when the sea is calm, which on average is just a couple of times each week during the summer.

Over forty years after first discovering Skellig Michael, I finally had a chance to visit Ireland in 2015, during a rare trip home to England for the summer, and Skellig Michael was the very first destination I booked into my summer itinerary. Then, as fate would have it, earlier that very year Star Wars: The Force Awakens opened in cinemas around the world. The spectacular pyramid of rock rising out of an ocean on the planet Ahch-To that figures in the film’s final scene isn’t (as many assumed) one of the film’s countless examples of CGI, but was Skellig Michael, and that summer the island became one of the biggest tourist hotspots in the British Isles as Star Wars fans flocked there to see the spot where Rey handed Darth Vader’s lightsaber to his son.

With nearly two months still to go before my intended visit, I phoned round all the local travel agencies for a place on a boat to the island. Every single place on every single boat docking on Skellig Michael was fully booked for the whole month of July and early August. After much perseverance I found one agency who had two spots left on a boat one day in July, but it was one that only encircles the island and doesn’t land. I reserved it on the spot anyway.

The day of the tour was dark and rainy, with heavy clouds and rough seas, and the sea trip was one of the roughest and most uncomfortable I’ve had in many years of travel. It wasn’t a happy experience, but I at least had the dubious pleasure of knowing no one else would be landing on Skellig Michael over that couple of days.

That disappointment was ringing in my head again recently when, moving forward five years to 2020 and the (first?) year of Covid-19, I start thinking about visiting another place that’s fascinated me since I was a kid. This was Pistyll Rhaeadr, known as the highest waterfall in Wales. I’m an avid waterfall lover, and if 25 years living and working on the other side of the world in Taiwan hadn’t got in my way, I would have got to this fabulous place a couple of decades ago.

Anyway, after a planned visit to the waterfall in March was postponed because of the emerging pandemic, I finally got round to organizing a weekend in the area at the end of August. Once again though my timing was abysmal, as Pistyll Rhaeadr was making the national newspapers because of huge numbers of weekend visitors, eager to get out into the great outdoors, post-lockdown, were making a beeline for the waterfall, causing huge jams on the one-track roads leading to the waterfall, and giving local villagers a major headache. Things had got so bad that local villagers had called a meeting and were calling for restrictions on people visiting the waterfall, and possibly even closing the roads there at weekends.

Happily, Pistyll Rhaeadr is a far easier place to reach than Skellig Michael, and armed with this info, I avoided the weekend chaos and sneaked in on a Friday evening about 6 pm. This time I was completely successful. I had the place almost to myself, the waterfall was in full, spectacular cry, and my only company was a pair of young European tourists, clad in those brightly coloured cagouls which lend such a useful spot of colour to photos when hiking in the mountains.

Too many times before, I’ve been disappointed by the reality after reading all the hype and seeing the photos of the world’s beautiful places. But this time for once the waterfall really exceeded my expectations.

For a waterfall that plunges 240 feet sheer, Pistyll Rhaeadr hides itself remarkably well until the very last minute. The top quarter of the waterfall can already be seen in front a mile or so before arriving on the narrow road that leads to the waterfall from Llanrhaeadr ym Mochnant, the sizable village you must go through on the way. Soon even the head of the waterfall disappears behind the trees that cluster around the base of the waterfall, and the first time you see the entire waterfall is when you get right to its foot, a couple of minutes’ walk along a path from the small car park at the end of the road.

Back at the little car park, a second path strikes north up a side valley, then zigzags back to rejoin the stream at the very top of the waterfall (above). The brink is lined with bare rock, and you can peer cautiously over the edge if you lie on your chest and edge (very carefully!!) forward. Above the waterfall the stream plunges over a series of shapely small cascades and paths strike up onto the high tops of the Berwyn Mountains and some spectacular mountain scenery. It’s hardly surprising the waterfall has become a tourist magnet, post-lockdown.

So as everyone now knows, Pistyll Rhaeadr is Wales’ highest waterfall.

Or is it?

Technically it’s actually not. That title actually goes to the 305-foot-tall Devil’s Appendix, above Lake Ogwen in Snowdonia, which is on my imminent to-do list, alongside nearby Snowdon, which I’ve somehow never got round to climbing yet!

Coming in around the same height (or a few feet less) are two places I have been to: Pistyll y Llyn (300 feet; which I last visited over 30 years ago) and Pistyll Maesglase (280 feet, pic above), although neither holds a candle to Pistyll Rhaeadr. Both are visible from miles away, and very impressive at first glance, especially after heavy rain, when they really roar, but getting close to either of them takes ages, and by the time you get there you’re so accustomed to the view that they just don't seem quite seem so amazing anymore.

Close to the second of them, 245-foot-high Pistyll Hengwen (above) on the River Pumrhyd, fourth highest in Wales according to this marvellous website (which covers virtually every waterfall of note in Wales). In my view, it's more impressive than either. After rain the waterfall fans out over the cliff at the head of a spectacular amphitheatre. There’s a path to the foot of the fall, high above the little village of Llanymawddwy, but after the first steep but easy mile, it’s rough going, and includes fording a stream that would be tricky when the stream is in flood. By the way, Llanymawddwy village lies at the southern end of Bwylch y Groes ('Hellfire Pass'), the second highest pass in Wales and the most rugged and exciting of all to drive. Now that’s a stunning place that’s I hope will never be discovered by the weekend holidaying masses! It would be carnage...