The Cyclops Cavern and Nun Cemetery

(Disclaimer: Joking aside, I fully understand the risks/dangers involved in these adventures and do so in the full knowledge of what could happen. I don't encourage or condone and I accept no responsibility for anyone else following in my footsteps. I never break into a place, I never take any items and I never cause any damage, as such no criminal offences have been committed in the making of this blog. I will not disclose a location, or means of entry. I leave the building as I find it and only enter to take photographs for my own pleasure and to document the building.)

Todays blog is an exciting one, because it's the first one released alongside a video by my friend and Youtuber, Jess, who I've been teaming up with over the last few months. Jess and I met through Instagram, where initially we just followed each other because we were fellow adventurers of the abandoned genre, but eventually we got to chatting when I noticed that she had been to a lot of the same places as me, so she either lived near me, or she actually was me with a secret split personality female alter ego. You might think that the second guess sounds absurd but I assure you, my life is just wacky enough for that to be plausible. However, it turned out my first guess was the correct one. The main difference was that she documented her adventures on Youtube rather than in a blog. She also does travel videos too, having been traveling her entire life, right from the start when her parents abandoned her in a hotel in Portugal when she was an infant, or something. After chatting to her, we arranged to meet and travel out to Cloud House together. You see, just in case I'm not as bad a role model as I could be, I now want to meet strangers off the internet and travel out to rural locations with them. You can watch her Cloud House video here!

For someone who now hangs out with me, Jess appears to be remarkably sane, and much to my relief, she's not a cunt. In fact we get along great. On top of that, she's accepted and adapted to my odd sense of humour surprisingly well. My terrible sense of humour is, of course, a manifestation of social anxiety, although that's not to say I don't enjoy it. It makes my life more strange and wonderful. One time I was sat in a pub surrounded by football fans who were watching TV and shouting "Come on, England," which I responded to by loudly announcing "I came on England once!" The entire room went silent, but I digress, nobody wants to read about what I get up to with England, and similarly I don't want to write an entire blog sucking Jess's dick. Needless to say, we exchanged locations first before getting onto the good stuff, and this started with me showing her a place that I'd recently visited with the Instagram duo, Matt and Kelsey.

Check it out! It looks like the sort of place you'd lock up a Disney princess! According to locals it was once a mill on a large estate, complete with water wheel. And as far as adventures go, this is just the tip of the iceberg.

The location is near a number of "private dwellings" that were once all part of a larger abbey. But prior to it becoming an abbey, it was the home of a colossal family of devout Catholic Barons. The main building was built between 1824 and 1829, for a man named Edward, but it seems that the family owned this area long before that. Nine generations earlier, in 1580, Edwards ancestor Pyers died in a house on this property. It was Edwards great-great-grandson, also called Pyers, who sold the land in 1919 to cover funeral costs, of which there must have been many, because this family bred like rabbits. Edward himself had at least thirteen children between two women and his great-grandson, another Pyers, had at least nine aunties and uncles, as well as his parents, and numerous cousins. Honestly, the family is huge, and contains such prominent names that it can be tracked at least as far back as 1020, where notable characters pop up throughout history, each played by Rowan Atkinson, and more than a few called Pyers and Edward.

Seriously, someone has nine months to think of a name for a child, and this is the best they can do? From what I can tell, at least ten men named Pyers have called this area "home" between the 1500s and early 1900s, with one popping up in almost every generation. This might get confusing.

In 1921 the hall and its surrounding land was purchased and transformed into an abbey. They erected walls to keep their abbey segregated from society, and slowly the hall which was once quite prominent in the local community faded into memory. The abbey lasted until 1988 when it was finally sold again, with former servants quarters on the land becoming private homes, and the main hall becoming a very posh castleated hotel which also serves today as a wedding venue.

Much to my delight, a lot of other buildings and pleasure gardens got forgotten along the way, and are lost in the surrounding woods, derelict and waiting for me, the current owners either not having any claim over them, or simply not caring, or possibly not even knowing that they exist. I heard a delicious rumour that there was a very eccentric and bizarre Victorian grotto out there somewhere, and couldn't help but take a look. But first, let's take a look at what else is casually lying around... we'll get the normal stuff out of the way first, right?

However, if you want to just jump down the rabbit hole, here's Jess's video! 

Wasn't that amazing? So what's the story behind this place?

This land was once the seat of one branch of the Family, taking their surname from their village of residence at the time, which still exists. It was a man named Ieuan who first moved the family to that village from his own home near Denbigh, before dying in 1477. In contrast to the families aristocratic history, he was apparently a bard. The family fortune allegedly comes from lead mining, although given their lineage it's fair to say that they've had wealthy connections for centuries. Ieuan's grandson, Richard, ended up fighting for Henry VII in the Battle of Bosworth when he was just fifteen, his loyalty stemming from the fact that some of his ancestors had fallen to Henrys enemies earlier in 1457. As a reward for his service, Richard was given Henrys sword and the belt that he wore that day, and he was also offered a place in the Kings court, which he politely declined, stating "I dwell among my own people." Young Richard was Welsh and proud, even if Henry VII did have a rather fancy belt.

Apparently these connections weren't enough. The family were always keen on expansion. And so, a series of successful medieval marriages took place, which saw the families men matched up to various wealthy heiresses, forging alliances in all the right places, and landing them wealthy powerbases across Wales.

In adulthood Richard ended up with five courts, which his son Thomas inherited upon his death in 1549. In order to give himself a more recognisable title than the rather elegant but dull "Thomas, son of Richard" that would have been his title in the era before surnames were in wide use, Thomas instead adopted the village name as his surname, a practice then replicated by his younger siblings, including his brother Pyers, who later moved to this area. This was no doubt a proud display of unity. This was the family saying "We are all of the same blood."

Pyers, meanwhile, is the one whose lineage lived in this area.
He was born in 1495 and he lived until 1580, but even historically he seems to be largely in his brothers shadow, although the two achieved two very distinct lines of descent each existing in the present day.

It's worth elaborating on the surname thing. They worked a little different back then. Richard, for example, was not known by the family name which ended up passing down the generations. Instead of having a family surname, the first name was followed by "ap" being Welsh for "son of" and then the fathers name, and usually elaborated on with some sort of location based indicator. So for example, if I were to play by those old-time Welsh rules, any spawn of mine would be called "Syphlis ap Christopher, of Shrewsbury," assuming I can convince a woman to name my child Syphilis.

What? Syphilis is a great name for a child! It can be shortened to Phil.

The English did it too, albeit they actually said "Son of" rather than "ap." Actual fixed surnames are things that evolved over time and the practice, while not in use anymore, still echoes around modern surnames today. It's the origin of such surnames that can serve as first names, and of course surnames like "Richardson," "Robertson" and "Johnson" which flat out tell you that someone centuries up the line of descent was the son of a Richard, Robert or John. The term "fitz" also originates from "son of," being the origin of surnames like Fitzpatrick and such. It's all really fascinating.

Here's an old walled garden, which back in its day would have been quite beautiful. Now it's surrounded by dense woodland, but still accessible.

Not that there's much to access... Past the initial doors, it's just one massive expanse of brambles, no doubt enjoyed by a wide variety of wildlife.

As one might expect from such a large wealthy family, there's a teeny bit of incest in the lineage. It's not quite Telford level, but it's there. Thomas's Great-Great-Great-Great Grandson, also called Thomas, married a lady called Bridget, who was the Great-Great-Great granddaughter of Pyers.
However, the family has more achievements than it has taboo. Thomas and Pyers sibling, Sioned, spawned a son who worked as Gentleman Usher to Queen Elizabeth for a time, and one of Pyers grandsons fought against the Spanish Armada, giving them verrrry loose connections to my hometown of Shrewsbury. Pyers's desire to spawn thirteen children centuries ago inadvertently helped provide us Shrewsbury folk one of our classic drinking holes. The delightfully ancient Shrewsbury pub, the Dun Cow, is actually constructed with salvaged parts of the wreckage of the Spanish Armada. Thanks for all that fornicating, Pyers!

For the record, Sioneds son was also called Pyers. He must have been a great guy.

 At the far side of the garden, this ruin is crumbling away, seemingly once a dwelling belonging to the family.

The interior is pretty much destroyed, the upper floor having collapsed, leaving a pile of rubble for me to scramble precariously over. Strange to think that this once belonged to a wealthy family who are still very much in existence.

 There's still wallpaper here!

The brothers, Thomas and Pyers, essentially created two lines of descent in the same family, each one obtaining the Baron title. For Thomas this was in 1660 when his Great-Great-Great Grandson Roger became a Baron back in their hometown. His descendants then each held the title "Baron" until the sixth in line, another Thomas, died in 1831 without reproducing, making the direct line of Barons come to an end. The Baron title then passed on to Thomas's Brother-in-law in 1831, and their lineage of Barons still exists to this day.

For Pyers, with his many acres of land that we're currently scurrying around, it was his Great-Great Grandson Edward who became Baron in 1670. Both lines of the family claim descent from a certain 11th Century Welsh Lord called Edwin, who lived from 1020 to 1073. Now that intrigued me. They aren't the only aristocratic family to claim lineage from Edwin, but looking into it, it seems like a claim just about anyone can make if their family origins are in the vicinity of Wales. You see, Edwin's Great-Grandson Owain couldn't keep it in his pants, and had enough illegitimate children to turn Jeremy Kyles hair grey, including two with his cousin Cristen. Welsh law at the time said that a child was only as illegitimate as the father wanted it to be, meaning a man could stick his willy in any woman he wanted, and pick the consequences he wanted to live with.

However, I was still intrigued enough to spend stupid amounts of time trying to map out the family tree and bridge the gap between the brothers Piers and Thomas, and the lineage of Edwin. It was a seemingly impossible task, given the centuries of humans mating, but after many long hours and several headaches, I did it. Seventeen generations exist between Pyers and Edwin, but I managed somehow to join it all together.

Also on the land is this beautifully eerie ornamental fishing lake, artificial and fed water via a stream that goes past the mill tower.

There's also a ruined treehouse overlooking the murky water. How creepy is that?

Of the family branch that owned this area, there are ties to my home town of Shrewsbury, more so than my flimsy Spanish Armada reference. The first Baron, Edward, had a sister who died in Shropshire in 1717. The fourth Baron, George, had a daughter who married into the Talbot family and spawned an Earl of Shrewsbury. The Talbot family as the Earls of Shrewsbury have been mentioned in my blog before back in 2016- During the war of the roses, the Talbots owned Frankwell Quay, a key location for river trade. Upon John Talbots death in 1460, King Edward IV took ownership of the quay, and Talbots widow raised an entire army to take it back by force, turning Shrewsburys cute little suburb of Frankwell into a frenzied battleground.

From the lake, one can follow the river upstream to return to the mill tower.

 The stream flows down this massive pipe, which would probably be wide enough to crawl up. After all, it's not as narrow as the last drain I crawled up. However, that one didn't have flowing water, and this led to nowhere that I couldn't get to on foot.

The mills cellar did have this curious archway, that made me wonder if there was once more to this building than what we can currently see.

Having researched the family tree down from the family who lived here, I then researched their ancient descendant, Edwin.  Edwins own lineage can be traced down the centuries in many more directions than just this family. In medieval Wales, there were a lot of teritorial disputes. Various chunks of Wales were constantly being conquered, and relinquished, and alliances were constantly shifting. Edwins son, Owain, attempted to become king of the Welsh county Gwynedd. However, he became known across Wales as "Owain Fradwr" meaning Owain the Traitor, after he allied himself with the Normans. This alliance saw him join forces with numerous English invaders of Wales, including the second Earl of Shrewsbury and the Earl of Chester, in an invasion of North Wales that saw the Prince of Gwynedd, Gruffudd ap Cynan, retreat to Anglesey and later Ireland.

Owain eventually betrayed the Normans too, and reasserted control of Gwynedd before dying of tuberculosis in 1105. His daughter, Angharad, eventually married Gruffudd ap Cynan after he got back from Anglesey. In 1125, all of Owains male children were assassinated by a child of Angharad, ensuring that only their bloodline remained.

Angharad had a load of children, one of which she named Owain after her father, who became king of Gwynedd after his Gruffydds passing. This is the same ridiculously prolific Owain that I've previously mentioned, with a thousand elligimate children, two with his own cousin. It seems that as well as shooting his DNA into the orifices of women, he was also quite skilled as a warrior, ever expanding his teritory. After driving his own brother into exile, Owain ended up ruler of most of North Wales.

The former mills ground floor is very eerie, with the rooms situated around a central fireplace, graffiti covering the walls, scrawled there by kids who likely never knew the true history of this place.

A precarious set of stairs spiraled upwards...

Of Owains kids, there is the notable "Madog" who legend tells, discovered America in 1170 and colonised it, hundreds of years before Columbus sailed there in 1492. The legend claims that Madog fled to sea due to being weary of the drama and family squabbles, which actually sounds quite plausible, and set forth to turn his newfound paradise into a "new kingdom of love and music."
So basically it was a medieval hippy commune. 

No conclusive archaeological proof of Madogs voyage has been found, and many dismiss his colonising of America as just a myth. However, there is an ancient stone fortification on the Indianna and Kentucky border known as The Devils Backbone which is rumoured to have been the original site of Madogs colony.
Those who believe these stories also tend to point to the Native American Mandan tribe, suggesting that they may have bred with the Welsh colony. Allegedly the Mandan bull boats resemble the old Welsh coracle boats, in that they're both quirky circular floating disks requiring a paddle, and some see this as evidence of some connection. However, the Mandan tribe lived in what is now North Dakota, which is over a thousand miles away from Devils Backbone.
But nevertheless, rumours and stories exist from the early 1600s, to as late as the 1860s of people encountering tribes of Native Americans who could speak Welsh, or at least, had incorporated a few Welsh words into their own vocabulary.
But then maybe they just saw a Native American choking on an apple, and mistook the frantic gurgling for the Welsh dialect. That sounds completely plausible too.

But these aren't all just chance encounters with Native Americans whose unknown tongue coincidentally sounds like Welsh when heard fleetingly from afar. In 1669, the Rev Morgan Jones was allegedly captured by a bunch, and they let him out of his cage when they heard him speak Welsh, even allowing him to live among them for several months before letting him return to the British colonies.
But every tale has a lack of evidence backing it up, and only really exists through word of mouth. Nevertheless, even if it is just a false story, it's at least a fun one.

Don't you just love it when a kid tries to be edgy, and ends up writing "Pie" instead of "Die?" Chaos Manor had a similar thing, where written on the stairs were the words "Chaos Manor will never pie." The former occupant, Abi, who showed me Chaos Manor, said that even when she lived there, people would make fun of that particular graffiti.

The graffiti "Rich loves Danni" caught my eye, purely because those are the names of my brother and sister. The incest references in this blog are starting to hit a little close to home!

Here's a weird piece of vandalism. There's a list of names, and next to them all is a random word, followed by either Yes or No. At first I thought it was some kind of odd version of Fuck/Marry/Kill, because third down it reads "Lee, Marry, Yes," and beneath that it says "Charlotte, Kiss, No." But some of these are in relation to body parts. The eighth one says "Eric, Bum, No," and two points above that it says "Sofie, Belly Button, No." And right at the top it says "Kay, Porn, No."

I have no idea what this is about.

Also in the mill tower is this rather dilapidated bathroom, evidence perhaps that the mill became a dwelling at some point. Did a rich aristocrat ever lie naked in this tub, or was this the servants quarters?

Overall, this is still in better condition than the toilets in some pubs and clubs.

Returning to the family history, particularly Owain, one of his grandchildren was known as Llywelyn The Great. And if you know your history then you'll know that this is the very same Llywelyn The Great who plundered Shrewsbury in 1215, kicking the towns ass so brutally that they saw the need to build a wall around the town, with some of the fortifications still standing to this day, and featuring in my blogs, and housing popular fast food restaurants. There's much that could be said about this guy, given that he somehow managed to conquer and control all of Wales for half a century. It was one of Llywelyns cousins that takes us to these ruins, so he's not directly descended, but the relation is worth touching on anyway! One of Llywelyns grandsons was also married to a descendant of the De Quincy bloodline, another relevant tie to Shrewsbury, because that particular family owned Sundorne Castle. Llywelyns other grandson, known as Llywelyn the Last, was also executed in Shrewsbury, at the top of Pride Hill.

The majority of the graffiti here is dated 2006. It seems that after that, the kids stopped coming.

So much of the graffiti is repetitive though, which really baffled me. Look in the corner- It's Rich and Danni again. And "Rach loves Billy" is repeated in several rooms. What did these couples hope to achieve, apart from telling us over and over again that they were couples? Are they bragging about their ability to navigate a building? Congratulations!

I wonder if any of them are still together...

"White Lady died here in 19?" The year is a little damaged. However, the local area does have a ghost story about a frequently spotted apparition called The White Lady who is believed to be the ghost of a nun. She's allegedly often seen walking or reading before vanishing. Some claim to even hear her singing. I wonder if this graffiti refers to the same White Lady, and if they're claiming that she was one of the nuns who lived here in the 20th Century.

That's it for the mill tower, but scattered around are a number of old wells, which can still be seen poking out of the overgrowth.

While some of the family did have parliament backgrounds, some also have had military backgrounds, and most notable of them was a man given the unfortunate name Savage. He was the son of the third Baron on the other branch of this family, so likely never lived here. He became a vice admiral in the Royal Navy, but blighted his career in 1744 when he withdrew from a conflict with some French ships, due to being strategically outmatched and at risk of being overwhelmed. While his superiors approved and forgave his retreat, public opinion fell against him after an article was published shaming him for his negligence, regarding him as a bit of a wuss, especially since his families connections probably had a hand in influencing his superiors. He didn't take these criticisms well, and people apparently roasted him for years after. Nevertheless, his career continued until he entered politics in 1747. During peace time, he still worked with the navy, overseeing the repair of old ships and the construction of new ones, and he's also credited with introducing the concept of uniforms for naval officers, which is pretty historically significant. He returned to active service in 1755, maintaining his naval position, commanding several fleets during the Seven Years War, before dying in 1757. In death he left his nephew Roger £60,000 which today is the equivalent of a bit more than a billion. These guys are seriously loaded.

Lost in the woods, we finally found what we were looking for! A doorway into a rock formation. This was where things started to get bloody mysterious.

Apparently this folly, which they called The Watchtower, predates the actual hall by around two years, being built in 1822 for Edward, although why he wanted it is anyones guess. Grottos of this kind were popular household features in the time, and while this isn't the most well preserved or even the largest of its kind, it's probably one of the more mysterious.

The upper floor of the watchtower has collapsed, showing a rather remarkable shell-covered room below.

It was the descendants of Pyers who came up with this, the bizarre decor in striking contrast to the seemingly ordinary lives of the family. Pyers own nephew William was a sheriff and later member of parliament, later credited by the Queen for hosting the Caerwys Eistedfodd of 1568. For those who don't know, an Eistedfodd is a Welsh festival of music and literature, and performing arts, believed to have been established in 1176 by Rhys Ap Gruffydd who ruled a region in South Wales known as Deheubarth. Rhys himself is also an ancestor of this family, being the Great-Great-Grandson of Edwin, and some seventeen generations up from Baron Edward, Pyers Great-Great Grandson. It seems only fitting that the family would have their fingers in the Eistedfodd, being proudly Welsh and determined to promote Welsh culture.

The shell grotto is gorgeous, its walls all covered in thousands of shells, giving it a rather oceanic look. Built into the walls are many shelves and little seating areas.

This chaise longue is an excellent sculpture, surprisingly detailed for being carved out of stone.

Williams son, Thomas, was also a keeper of the peace during the rule of Queen Elizabeth and instructed to enforce religious changes in the area, overseeing the transformation of Wales from Catholic to Protestant. The biggest thorn in his side was another tie to Shropshire, Winifreds Well. The Well became a Catholic stronghold, and allegedly has healing properties. In fact the tale of St Winifred involves some Deadpool-level regeneration. Allegedly her head was chopped off, and upon placing it back on her body, she returned to life. In 1138, the monks of Shrewsbury Abbey decided that they lacked anything of great religious significance to put Shrewsbury on everyones pilgrimage to-do list, and upon pondering the great number of saints buried over in Wales, one monk suddenly went insane, stricken by a mental impairment, which was only cured after another monk had dreams that St Winifred had told him she could cure his illness, but only if they celebrated mass at her well. They did so, and the monk was cured. The monks of Shrewsbury Abbey decided that St Winifred was their own personal saint now, and essentially stole her remains and had them relocated to Shrewsbury Abbey, to give pilgrims something to come and pay respects to. It sounds ludicrous, but in the era of religious superstition, that actually worked, and the abbey prospered.

Centuries later, Winifreds well was still a prominent focus of the Catholic resistance, and Thomas was having none of it. In 1587 he allegedly pursued a bunch of rebel Catholics to a cave. Being too afraid to go in, Thomas left a bunch of men situated outside the cave, but no Catholics ever came out. They had mysteriously vanished. Upon closer inspection, the cave turned out to be a secret illegal chapel, but also containing printing tools and scripts. They realised that the cave was being used by rebel Catholics to publish an illegal book called The Christian Mirror, perhaps the first book to be printed on Welsh soil.
But nevertheless, the fact remains that Thomas would make a terrible exploring buddy, too afraid to enter a cave, and thus missing out on a secret chapel. Jess and I would be all over that place like a rash, let me tell you.

Thomas was, from then on, described as "a man not very rigid against Catholics" which is kinda hilarious.

In the middle of the shell room is this half-buried circular metal thing, situated right beneath the hole in the ceiling. I think it may have been a ceiling feature in the shell room, but that centuries of neglect and exposure to nature caused it to come crashing down.

Check out these shelves!

Williams son, Roger, was a little more rigid against his enemies, and he apparently erected a series of coastal watchtowers to watch for invasions from Catholic Ireland, although not many of these remain. Perhaps I'll visit them someday. The idea was that if one tower were to spot an approaching threat, they could alert the surrounding area with smoke or flame. It provided an innovative line of communication along the Welsh coast.

Rogers grandson, another Roger, inherited the estate when he was just eighteen, and unluckily right on the outbreak of the civil war. With a lot to lose, he flung himself to the Royalist cause, raising an army of around 1,500 in just twelve hours, and also sailing on a recruitment mission to Ireland. He led a stubborn defence of Flint Castle against the Parliamentarians, eventually only surrendering it on honourable terms with the enemy. The Parliamentarians won the Civil War, but Roger had done what he set out to do, and protected his assetts. It was this course of action that led to him being made a Baron in 1660.

His son, Thomas, was a bookworm, and allegedly collected the largest private library in Wales at the time, so much so that his families ancestral home was fitted with an extension in the 1840s just to contain it all.

There's a curious cross emblem carved into the wall here, but the top and horizontal arms of the cross are circular, resembling a clover more than a cross. I'm not sure what it means, but I have seen clover symbology before, in Shropshires Knights Templar Caves.

Look at this place! It's gorgeous! It could be fixed up and made into a really nice garden feature instead of just crumbling away in the woods.

Perhaps one of the more interesting achievements of the family was the creation of a Welsh seaside town. Until 1843, there was a lot of "common land" which belonged to nobody. A member of this family in parliament pushed for the Enclosure Act, which meant claiming this common land and putting it into the posession of a few private owners. As such, everywhere now belonged to someone, and the family ended up with some 832 acres of coastal land in Wales. The trouble was, they hadn't thought that far ahead, and hadn't a clue what to do with it. The family were pondering perhaps constructing a giant private harbour, but in 1846 one of their friends had the genius idea of building an entire seaside resort. And so, thanks to this family, an entire Welsh coastal town popped up over the next few years. The Barons were stricken by debt around 1884, of around £720,000 which is the equivalent of around eight billion today. This almost caused the seaside resort project to be abandoned, but they somehow managed to push ahead with it, although they had to sell vast amounts of land to do so. The town project was a success, even attracting Elizabeth the Queen of Romania in 1890. Today, almost all of this towns street names are named after family members, but I guess only they know for sure who is who.

Shell grottos were quite popular in the British country houses of the 17th and 18th Centuries, so on the surface this place isn't wholly unusual. There are many out there better preserved than this which are positively huge. But things were about to get a whole lot weirder.

Situated a short distance away from the watchtower and shell grotto was this cavern, clearly artificial, and incredibly eerie.

Like the Watchtower, the cave itself was also constructed in 1822, although I have no idea why.

Edward, the 9th descendant since Pyers had moved to this area, was 37 when he had this built, and 39 when he had the hall built. Of his family, his father would die the year after the caves construction, but Edwards uncle Charles was around to see it, as were four of Charles five children. Keeping the history of cousin fuckery going on, Charles son, Henry, had a daughter named Caroline who married Edwards son, Llywelyn. Edward himself had fourteen children across two wives, and it's fair to say that all of them had been to these caves, for whatever purpose they served the family.

Oddly enough, even though the cave clearly goes far deeper, there's a seating area right next to the entrance, along with an actual fireplace.

Seriously, if one were to peek in there and look up, they would see that there is indeed a chimney cut into the rock. There above the "fireplace" is a little shelf too, almost like a mantelpiece. But why place this so close to the entrance when the cave clearly goes deeper? The main entrance is far too large for this area to contain the heat.

The cave entrance is also home to this beautiful creature, with dazzling red stripes around its legs, and a cool little bit of redness on its back. If I was a spider, I'd be trying to marry this one, that's for sure!

Through a small opening, one can see down into this large chamber, where the cave apparently comes out before once again heading underground. The chamber has no ceiling.

Again, we have seating areas and decorated walls. It's so easy to imagine summer nights spent chilling here with ones friends and family, and alcohol. Perhaps it was simply the familys party venue.

Of Edwards children, Pyers inherited the caves in 1841. He was 30 at the time, but he would have been eleven when the caves were built. He grew up with this awesome place to hang out in.
Pyers had ten children, one of which moved to Shropshire, and another became a bishop in South Wales. Pyers son and heir, Pyers Jr, inherited the caves in 1882. He had five children, including his heir, Pyers III, who died in 1919, resulting in the land being sold in 1921, by his nephew, Pyers, who we'll refer to as Silly Pyers, because who on Earth would want to part with this extraordinary place?

This still gives us almost a century of these caves being in active use by the family, with a few dozen family members spending time here across the years.

And oddly, unlike other branches of the family, it's the ones who owned the big eccentric cave that have almost no information recorded online. Were they really that boring, or were they really that secretive? A few stories exist. Edwards hall caught fire twice, once in 1827, and once again in 1902 in the time of Pyers III. This story, however, is more to do with the cousins with their seaside resort, who by this point had established their own private fire brigade with which to come to the rescue.
 As a token of gratitude for saving his home from fire, Pyers III gave his cousins the ornamental silver harp that his Great-Grandfather Edward had been given for presiding over the 1828 National Eistedfodd at Denbigh.

One wonders if the cousins knew about these caves, because from here it stops being a friendly Victorian grotto and becomes something a lot weirder.

Carved with supreme skill into the rock is this statue of a headless man, his gender made apparent by the remnants of a beard on his chest. The headlessness is apparently not intentional. Apparently it was broken off by vandals years ago. Sadly, I've not found any photos of this guy before he was decapitated.

Some describe this as a monk. Some describe it as a hermit. Personally I'm more inclined to go with hermit. During the 18th Century, rich families would actually employ scruffy-looking men to basically live in a hut or grotto on their land, as an ornamental hermit. The hermits were fed and looked after, but contractually obligated to not wash or shave, and to never leave the premises. They were usually there for entertainment purposes, or novelties. Initially the hermit was simply hinted at. A grotto would be built, and a table and chair positioned near it, with a half empty drink and a pair of spectacles left on the table, as if someone had been there a moment ago and nipped to the loo. The idea of a suggested hermit later evolved into actually hiring people to live in the hut as a human ornament. A job advert from 1797 read "The hermit is never to leave the place, or hold conversation with someone, for seven years, during which he is neither to wash himself or cleanse himself in any way whatsoever, but is to let his hair and nails on both hands and feet grow as long as nature will permit them."

How bloody bizarre! Imagine having that on your CV!

However, most startling is that this practice still echoes in the world today. This whole bizarre concept of hiring someone to be a garden ornmanent eventually evolved into non-living hermits who didn't need to be paid or fed, better known today as garden gnomes.

I think that the headless guy here is a vintage garden gnome.

Nevertheless, I couldn't help but feel that this room had more to offer. Note the hermits right arm is raised. He's pointing through a window into another chamber, and is in fact facing a window from which he can best be viewed from another chamber.

Curiously one of his feet has been vandalised. Someone has hacked away at one of his sandals. Just one though.

Even so, look at the detail. This is all carved out of stone.

Also in the room is this cross, but it's been smashed.
In spite of these signs of vandalism, there's no graffiti down here.

There is a bone though! This belonged to some poor animal that died down here.

One of the weirdest sculptures in the entire cavern is this cyclops, who we eventually nicknamed the cavern after. A lot of detail has gone into him too, with his pronounced facial features and long beard.

It looks like there may have been glass in his eye at some point.

So why is there a cyclops? Why would a supposedly Catholic family have this sculpture? It's not particularly symbolic of any branch of Christianity, really. The Cyclops was a creature of greek myth, and has no relevance to Christianity at all.

However, some interpret the Cyclops as symbolic of people with limited perspective. I personally have a theory that the singular eye may also represent the eye of providence, best known as the all-seeing eye of God, and best recognised in a triangle, and more modernly associated with the Illuminati. Despite its more modern associations, the all-seeing eye has its origin in Christian iconography, where it represents God, always watching us.

I think God has too much time on his hands. So many humans are reaaally boring.

Here you can see the odd cross emblem repeated.

But perhaps the oddest feature is yet to come. Through the window that the hermit is pointing through is this rather terrifying sculpture.

WHOA!!!

Isn't it beautiful? And to think, this is all carved out of stone! Or is it?

The stone ghost  is posed to embrace, or as some suggest, in the shape of a crucifix. We looked at the outstretched arms, and thought that the skeletal limbs looked a little too real. We tapped on them, and they didn't feel like stone. They felt very different to the surrounding rock, and the skull. That's not to say that they definitely are bones, but wouldn't that be a fun twist?

Overall, it seems like a very peculiar, almost blasphemous thing for a Catholic family to have, and yet it's clearly been drawn attention to by the headless hermit pointing right at it through the window behind him. There's some hidden meaning here. Something we're definitely missing.

It's worth considering that the family were notably dismissive of witchcraft claims at the time. A coal works exploded in 1676, which a great deal of the workers put down to having supernatural causes, but it was Roger who went about finding a rational explanation, and while he couldn't find one, he still insisted that there was no occult practice at work. This doesn't sound at all unusual today, where science and rationality govern situations like this, but back then, people still believed heavily in Witchcraft and religion.

Similarly, many witchcraft claims were made when a load of the local cattle were struck dead by poisoned grass, but these were dismissed by Richard of the family, who announced that it was not witchcraft at all, but the work of a passing meteorite.

See, this is all very interesting to me. On one hand they're choosing science over the occult at a time when the world was still very much superstituous about the occult. This might look progressive on the surface, but when one considers their rational explanations, they seem so far fetched to almost be as silly an excuse as witchcraft. And when one considers that a chunk of the family had this rather amazing cave, with some rather occult-themed sculptures, one has to wonder, were they practicting witchcraft here? Because if they were in fact dabbling in the occult while keeping a very high profile public face, it explains why they would so stubbornly dismiss claims of witchcraft, even if they had to make the most implausible rational explanation ever, purely to distract the locals away from any suspicions.

It's not easy to see, but here is a sculpture of an eagle with its wings spread. Its feet are the most well preserved feature, its head having long since snapped off.

But in another wall was this beastly sculpture. It's some kind of boar or dragon, its eye appearing to have once been made of the same gemstone as the cyclops.

And here, in the wall, another head, partially damaged but seeming oddly human, but with animal ears.

More oddly, the family actively defended those who were accused of witchcraft. Most notably was Dorothy, a woman accused of witchcraft in 1655. Allegedly a mariner had claimed that Dorothy had materialised before him, surrounded with floating lights, before vanishing. It clearly shook him, and most were convinced that something had genuinely happened to him. However, it was a claim that Dorothy denied. Nevertheless, in the times of superstition, she was arrested. However, a shocking number of people from the area testified on her behalf, most notably was the family Baron at the time, Edward, Great-Great-Great Grandfather of the Edward who would later have these caves built. In contrast to this defence of an accused witch, Edward was known for sticking firmly to the old faith, his own son being a priest and everything. He was such a well known Catholic that during an anti-catholic conspiracy theory to frame the Catholics for the assassination of King Charles II, Edward had to flee the country out of fear of backlash. However, regarding the witch trial, Edward was a well-respected member of the community, so his word had weight. Dorothy went free.

But in contrast to this, for all their active dismissal of witchcraft claims, they were still a superstitious bunch. In 1680, Roger was sixty and suffering with gout. He saw a comet in the sky, and wrote to his son that God had shown him a bad omen.  It contrasts further when one considers that Edwards Great-Great Grandfathers brother, Thomas, had a witch hung in Denbigh town square for allegedly cursing his home in 1585. It seems that the family was pretty influential, enough to keep the peace when it suited them, but also not afraid to show their claws.

 What is clear to me is that there's some kind of religious or occultic symbolism in these caves, and one wonders if maybe at least some members of the family were into that sort of thing, while maintaining an outward Catholic public face. It certainly wouldn't be the first time people in high society were suspected of something like this. Just look at Bohemian Grove.

But on the other hand, it may all be secret Catholic practices, and nothing occultic. After all, with popular opinion turning against Catholics, and secret underground chapels popping up, this could have been the families way of maintaining the old faith, and as such, has nothing to do with the occult at all.

Nevertheless, one has to wonder, what was the purpose of all this? How did this benefit the family?

 Theres a heavily eroded animal face here.

And here's another smashed human face.

And also prominent around these caves is lion symbolism, although a lot of these are also heavily eroded.

Apparently the lion was the official symbol of the family, although on that front it's awfully unimaginative. The lion has featured on the coat of arms of many of the families ancestors, right up to Gruffydd ap Cynan in the 1080s. Llywelyn The Greats father also used the lion coat of arms, as did Llywelyn himself, and Rhys Ap Gruffydd. But then it's also quite a common coat of arms in unrelated uses too. It's a lion, after all. Lions are powerful and brave, and sometimes voiced by Darth Vader.

There's more seating.

There's also a weird shell-shaped shelf. So much of the sculptures have fallen away over the years, but a lot of it seems to be natural weathering. Even so, I cant help but feel that this place had more to offer, and that a lot of it is now unnoticable. One could make multiple visits here and notice different things each time.

There's a table with three clawed reptile legs, situated beneath an opening. Some have regarded this as an altar but I don't see anything conclusive on that. I guess it's possible.
The square opening in the rock was designed to light a fire inside, allowing the smoke or flames to come out through this giant lion mouth on the other side.

The lion faces the main hall, and so any flames and smoke coming from its mouth would have been visible from anyone down below. Was it a warning, or a welcoming? If there was any form of covert worship happening in here, why are there facilities in place to tell everyone when the caves are in use? Sadly, facing the outside world has left the lion far more decayed than the other sculptures, but its features can still be made out. Some say it was actually a griffin, but to me, it looks more like a lion. Given that the lion was the family symbol, we'll go with that.

So what was this all for? What innocent garden feature has lion breathing fire, a sculpture of a skeletal ghost, a cyclops and a headless hermit?

We may never know for sure. All this was lost following the death of Pyers III in 1917. He was only 22, and hadn't had a child yet, and as such the Baron title passed on to Pyers 24-year-old cousin, Silly Pyers. Silly Pyers sold the hall to a religious order in 1920 and moved to Kenya. He later died tragically in an aircraft crash. His nephew, another Pyers, was a bit of a prick, a boxing champion who knocked out an entire restaurant staff in Paris just to avoid paying the bill, before getting killed by an angry horse. That's some brutal karma. He had just been in his twenties at the time.
Their families other hall in North Wales was bombed in 1941, by Nazis who no doubt had meant to hit Liverpool but miscalculated.

Curiously, after the second world war, one of the family members named Basil met a girl at a party who mysteriously referred to the family as "Unlucky." She elaborated to the puzzled Basil that a witch in the local area had allegedly cursed the family as punishment for selling the hall and the caves to the order of nuns, and that the curse would only be lifted once they returned.

It seems odd that a local witch would care so much about the departure of a wealthy religious family of politicians, to be honest. And yet, some of the surviving family members do take the curse seriously, even today. Basil himself was taken out by cancer in his fifties, as was his son. Today its worth noting that the family is still around, albeit spread widely across the world now, with many branches not knowing their full origins. Of note, one was father-in-law to a mayor of London, so they are still well connected.

Whatever the cause of the families bad luck, the religious orders fate wasn't any less sad. The nuns graves can be found scattered around the woods, forgotten about and completely off the public radar.

There's something really sad about forgotten graves. I have covered lost cemeterys before, but that one was still slightly visible in a town. These are lost and forgotten in woodland, with some of the names and dates completely unreadable. And yet, the bodies are still down there somewhere...

The story of this place as an abbey is pretty interesting too. The monks and nuns buried here were initially refugees from an abbey in Belgium that was completely ripped apart by German forces in 1914, at the start of the first world war. Along with the abbey, roughly 50% of the cities homes were burned to the ground. Upon hearing gunfire, the monks of the abbey plotted their escape, and within six hours their abbey was on fire. Those who did not flee were slaughtered pretty sadistically, one monk reportedly being covered in petrol and set on fire. It wasn't a battle of equals, but a slaughter of civilians.

Abbot Henri Lebeau fled the abbey with about fifteen of his brethren, and took refuge from the German invaders in Britain, where they found their way to Wales and were accepted as guests by the family here.

It needs to be stressed that in abbeys like this, monks, nuns and the like spent their entire lives in their abbey. When the Germans burned it down, they lost all that they had. To take them all in speaks volumes about the kindness of the family.

Francis, the uncle of the Pyers who died in 1917, had grown up in the hall and at the time was a bishop in South Wales. He returned home to visit in 1915 at the time that the Belgian refugees were staying. There he met with the abbot Lebeau, who was slowly dying of tuberculosis. For Francis this was quite nostalgic given that this was his childhood home. At this point he was 55, so it had been a while since he had been there. But being quite high ranking in religious heirachy, he helped get the refugee monks back on their feet and involved in the religious life of the local community. Francis Sister-in-law Anna Maria announced that the refugees would be her guest until 1916 and encouraged the local community to offer donations of clothing.

In October 1915, Abbot Lebeau died of his tuberculosis, his condition apparently further aggravated by all that he had lived through and the stress of fleeing his country
He wasnt buried here though. At the time they were just guests after all. His body was taken back to Belgium. His host, Anna Maria, also passed away in 1916, aged 51, leaving her son, Pyers, the man of the house. He died a year later, aged 22, resulting in the sale of the hall. 

It seems pretty fitting that the same religious order who had fled here as refugees later acquired the hall and turned it into their abbey, gradually decorating the surrounding area with their fallen. For them, this hall was a big part of their lives.

 

 The most recent grave is dated 1988, when the abbey closed and the religious moved out. It seems obvious to me that there must be some nuns out there who remember this abbey and knew some of these women. It would be interesting to hear what they think of the current condition of the grave site of the people they once knew. It all sadly contrasts with a letter that Anna Maria wrote in 1915, ending with the curious line "Anyway, the dead are not ever forgotten here."

That's all I have of this particularly eerie blog post. Share it where you will. Share Jess's video too, because she's criminally under subbed.

In conclusion, I have no idea what the family set out to accomplish with that cavern. They clearly weren't bad people. If there was some form of covert worship taking part in those caves, then it shouldn't distract from the good that members of this family have done over the years, from taking in a bunch of Belgian refugees, to defending suspected witches against silly accusations in spite of holding strict Christian values. And let's not forget building an entire seaside town for people to enjoy, despite being in crippling debt at the time.

Perhaps there was no reason for those weird sculptures beyond some quirky decor. If I owned some land and had the means to make a cavern, I'd make it awesome and eccentric too!  Sometimes people read between lines that aren't there... especially on the internet.The biggest crime is that all this has been left to deteriorate.

Personally I think that they mystery makes it more fun.

Anyway, that's all I got. Next blog is a snack, where I go to investigate some cold war ruins, and then after that I'm checking out a derelict police station. In the meantime, subscribe to my Youtube just in case I ever update it, subscribe to Jess's because she definitely will, follow my Instagram, follow my Twitter, and like my Facebook. If you do this, you'll never miss an update.

Thanks for reading!