The Events of Friday, May 6, 2011

                ‘Twas going to be a mighty fine day, I could tell, with the sun peeking around the corners of my curtain, trying to shine its joy into the room. If only the sheep didn’t “baa” so loud so that I could actually sleep! Mom came in and starting telling us about what our morning would look like. My mind was still trying to pull its focus away from the soft sunlight to comprehend what she was actually saying.  Mom exited and I lifted my head groggily from the pillow, still trying to clear my head. What had she said? Oh yeah, I was supposed to shower. I quickly made my bed and skipped over to the shower. I chose a bright blue towel, showered, dressed, and then had my quiet time while everyone else cycled through the shower. Breakfast time soon came, and I clumped down the stairs to our dining room that also served as a living room. Serving up a bowl of British cheerios, called “Loops” (so exciting), we all sat down to a breakfast that totally exhausted our supply of cereal.

                Devotions followed breakfast, along with the packing of a picnic lunch. Jumping in the car, we rumbled along on the left side of the road (one of the weirdest things that we have ever done on our trip) for our tour of North Wales. Our first stop was the Trefriw Woolen Mills. This free tourist attraction gave us a chance to peek into the tradition of wool in Wales. We started our visit just as the wool does, except we first went through the weaver’s garden, displaying plant specimens that are used to dye the wool. Then in the blending shed, we learned that the British take their sheep very seriously – each region has its own special type of sheep. For example, the “British Milksheep” is a type of breed from North Wales. To Americans, it would be the stereotypical sheep – creamy white face, body and legs. But to the Welsh, it is just a breed that breeds well. To their eyes, this type of sheep must look pretty bland, no spots, horns, discoloring or anything. Let’s say that there is a farmer who shears his sheep once every fall. He sends the raw wool, as it is called, to the Trefriw Woolen Mills, which was recommended to him by a friend. He is paid a good sum, but not as much as the wool will sell for, once turned into a traditional Welsh blanket. The wool is now in different hands.

                The wool is taken up to where we are, in the Blending Shed, where oil is added and the wool is put into a machine which begins the process of opening up the fibers of the wool. It is then blown through a pipe that travels underground to storage bins near the carding machines, the next step in the process. Here at the carding engines, we were able to watch as the wool is passed through a series of rollers, where the wool is carded. This means that it is sort of combed, to open the fibers more, straighten the wool and blend it all together. Then they are rubbed into slubbings, threads without twists that are very easily pulled apart. These slubbings are taken up to the spinning mules, our next destination also, to spin the wool into thread. These threads are put on small rolls called cops, which are then wound onto cones to make larger and fewer packages. The packages are taking to the doubler, which twists two or more threads together to make an even stronger yarn. At the hank winder, the next step, the wool is wound from the bobbins to another roll called hanks, which are used for the washing and dyeing. The hanks can be dyed any color by being hung on rods and lowered into a container and then boiled in the dye mixture for at least an hour.

                The wool is then transferred to cones and taken to the warping mill. Here we watched as the colors of the warp, or the threads in the loom that run the vertical length of the cloth, were set up on the warping frame. We might call the warping frame a “weaving frame”. When the loom was running, the shuttle shot between warping threads with the weft threads, the yarn that goes horizontal. Warp, weft, and slubbings – it just goes to show some of the funny words that are used in Welsh woolen mills. Finally, the warp and the weft are woven together more and checked to make sure it is perfect. The farmer that first brought his wool to the farm as raw wool would not recognize the wool of his sheep now, disguised in beautiful Welsh bedspreads, rugs, tweed and multitudes of other wool items. Following the wool through all of this, we ended up in the shop. To some of my family, the shop was more exciting than the museum, especially to Lindsey, who liked it so much she bought a small wool coin purse as her souvenir from Wales.

                Driving on towards our next destination, we were astounded by a stunning view of hazy green mountains. I asked my parents if this is what Ireland was like, and they said yes, but not as rocky. Soon this rock-strewn landscape covered all our view. We had entered quarry land. Upon arrival at the National Slate Museum, we parked our car, bundled on our jackets and had lunch, enjoying our booty from the trip to Costco yesterday. Salami, cheddar cheese, and simple chocolate chip cookies may seem like boring foods to some of you, but here in Europe, these American foods are an unfathomable treat. Rubbing our bellies, we headed into the Slate museum. We were greeted by a cheery elderly man in maroon suspenders that took us to the film. Following this intriguing film, To Steal a Mountain, we were escorted by the cheery old man to the slate-splitting demonstration. It turned out that he was doing that show too. His name was Dafydd, I’m guessing David, but in Welsh. Joking so much that we laughed until our bellies hurt, he was really a character. But in order to continue, you’ll need to know some history.

                Slate, a valuable resource for its durability, was first quarried at Dinorwig (where the museum is now) in 1787. There were 39 terraces up the mountain, and each had its one crew and mill. Say I was a worker in Dinorwig. I would get up in the morning at sunrise, already being at my terrace level. I would use a variety of tools to chip big blocks of slate away from the mountain side. Then carts would take these blocks of slate to the mill, where they are cut and dressed. Skilled workmen would use a hammer and a chisel to cut a piece of slate perfectly in two lengthwise. The slate could be made as thin as a piece of paper, a very impressive feat. The slate was then taken to the cutters, who would cut the slate to the size wanted. It was then transported down the mountain and to the sea by rail, ending up at the special Dinorwig port, where the slate was then taken throughout the world. The workers were paid per 128 pieces of slate that they made. That is because they were told that 28 pieces of slate were lost or broken on the way to its destination, so the workers had to pay for it. The workers also had to pay for their tools and the carts which were required that they have. It is amazing that they survived on two pence an hour. The workers were mostly father-son trained. A son was apprenticed at the age of twelve, and worked in the quarry until he died usually around the age of 40.

                Dafydd, the cheery old man, told us about the process and demonstrated both the splitting and the cutting part of the job. He even invited Ben up to try his hand at splitting a piece of slate. Ben ended up doing pretty well. While showing us the process of cutting the slate, Dafydd showed us the most common accident that happened in the slate quarries. The cutting machines are basically a piece of metal stuck on top of a wooden bench, with some wood sticking out on the end for the cutter to sit. The handle of the tool they used was straight, and then a piece of wood went perpendicular to the handle, with a blade attached to the end of the piece of wood. It’s very hard to explain, but it looks sort of like a “Z” with right angles. To cut the piece of slate, it is laid over the piece of metal, with just how much the cutter wanted to cut off over the piece of metal, and the rest held in the hand of the cutter. Then the knife is slashed down, cutting just by the edge of the metal, making the slate the perfect size. The accident happens when the knife catches, due to its strange shape, and lands on the cutter’s thumb.  Demonstrating the process of cutting the slate himself, Dafydd made it look easy. With a faulty piece of slate, he even cut out a heart for some Italian lady who was celebrating her birthday. His skill amazed us, and he said he had been doing it for 41 years.

                Finally, the demonstration ended, and we spent the next little bit in the exhibition rooms, before taking a guided tour with the quarry’s carpenter to answer the question “What’s wood got to do with it?” Peredur, our guide, took us through the most of the rest of the museum, starting with the sleeper saw shed, where a carpenter worked to make the wooden part of a rail line. Then he took us to the “up & down” room, the room where logs were put through a machine that cut them into planks. The reason for the strange name is simple – the machine for the logs could have up to twelve saws that went up and down, in order to cut the logs into planks of different sizes.

                Then we were taken up a flight of stairs to see the largest waterwheel in the mainland of Great Britain. At a diameter of 51 feet, it was impressive, and turned gears that operated all of the machines throughout the machine shops. This single water wheel generates power for at least a half a mile of shaft. The most impressive thing for me is that it still works today. The most impressive thing to my parents and mathematics-loving brother was that, instead of running the power shaft from the central axis, they ran it from gears inside the rim of the wheel, which produces more rotations per minute.

                Walking through the power-generating hall, and the forge, we arrived in the foundry. Because we had seen foundry work in Pennsylvania with Mr. King, we already knew the basics of foundry procedures.

                Taking us up another flight of stairs, Peredur showed us his favorite part, the pattern workshop. Here, the head carpenter received drawings of what needed to be made for the quarry from the chief engineer. He then had to create it in wood, always increasing the scale of the drawings a bit because iron contracts when it cools, so he had to make up for this loss. These patterns would be sent to the foundry men who would pack soft sand that easily hardens with only a little moisture around the pattern to make a mold. Removing the wood, hot iron would be poured in and the mold reused until it crumbled. The work of three pattern makers – grandfather, father and son – filled several rooms with over 23,000 wooden patterns. Downstairs we had a chance to try our hand at forming the molds for some patterns. It was not as easy as it looked.

                Saying goodbye to Peredur, we headed to the only thing we hadn’t seen yet, Fron Haul, which means ‘Quarrymen’s Houses’ in Welsh. Moved from a slate quarry to the site in 1999, it is now divided into three sections. Each is designed to look like one of the important times in the history of the quarries – 1861, the Golden Age of the slate trade, 1901, the time of strikes in the quarries, and 1969, the end of an era of quarrying. The first house, from 1861, was very plain, with a small fireplace and small, short rooms. The second house, from the times of the strikes, had nice china. It was from a time when 2,800 men left one of the biggest quarries, and a lot of other strikes broke out. The last house, from 1969, looked a lot more modern than 1969, with a fancy TV and refrigerator.

                Heading home, we felt absolutely exhausted, but we loved our dinner – pasta, veggies and a skillet dish of sausage, bacon and potatoes from Costco‼ Extremely excited about tomorrow’s medieval banquet, we all headed off to bed.