Sliding down waterfalls, wading through gorges, zip-lining into pools, and leaping off cliffs into the dark unseen depths of the rock-walled, water-filled abyss. Sound like fun? Then, as Ben Weeks explains, you need to try canyoning.
Our group—which contains a mix of hardy climber types, hikers out to try something different, and a couple celebrating a landmark birthday who are looking like this might be the most adventurous thing they’ve ever done—is led down the wooded slopes of the Ceunant Llennyrch gorge towards the stone jaws of the canyon through which the Afon Prysor flows.
We gather on the bank of the river near a set of natural rock steps. These look like a nice, gradual way to enter the water. There might be a bit of ‘ooh-ing’ and ‘aah-ing’ as the cold water seeps through the wetsuits to meet skin, but at least we’ll be in control of our speed of submersion. Gently does it. Except that’s not the plan at all.
“Stand there with your heels on the edge and your back to the water,” Rachel instructs. “And then…?” “And then let yourself fall backwards into the water.” “Let myself fall…”
As my centre of gravity passes the point of no return and I begin my topple, there’s a fraction of a second where my mind goes into ‘what if’ overdrive. What if the river’s too shallow? What if I crack my head on a rock? What if I get swept away by the current? What if it’s so cold that I go into shock? But in this moment of frozen time, I remember that these are the reasons we’re doing this with professionals.
Canyons ARE potentially dangerous places to be. You need a guide or two who know where the water’s deep enough to jump, where it’s shallow enough to walk, and if the rock slide you’re about to speed down will end in a splash or a splat.
That’s what Rachel and George from Snowdonia Adventure Activities are here for. And in addition to their unrivalled familiarity with this river-carved corner of north Wales, they’ve also provided the wetsuits, helmets, harnesses and buoyancy aids that any canyon quest requires.
As I splash through the surface of the water and the canopy of craning trees above is blurred, then obscured by the river, I relax. This is going to be fun. And then the water reaches my skin.
The shock of cold doesn’t last long. As we begin moving down the canyon my body heat warms the water trapped between my skin and the wetsuit and any discomfort is soon forgotten. Besides, there’s so much more to occupy my mind.
A throwback to childhood memories of rockpool hopping, splashing through puddles and stomping through streams
At various stages along the canyon, assistance has been set up in the form of expertly constructed rope aids. Sometimes these are little more than a knotted handrail, something to slow our descent down a particularly fast-paced slide or to make the transition of a precipitous edge feel more comfortable.
Elsewhere, the rope forms a more integral part of the process, stretching out over a waterfall to permit a zipline entry into the pool below. It’s a fun-filled adventure playground of a journey, a throwback to childhood memories of rockpool hopping, splashing through puddles and stomping through streams.
A time when, like now, getting wet didn’t matter. It was all part of the fun. In fact, it was the very point of it.
But there’s a subtler enjoyment to be absorbed in this otherwise high-adrenaline splash-fest. The Ceunant Llennyrch is a nature reserve, the woodland dates back to the last Ice Age. Wood mice and bank voles live by the river, while badgers and foxes roam the woodland.
Despite a lack of fish, otters also make their homes along the Afon Prysor. Ravens nest on the gorge’s cliffs and dippers frequent the river’s fast-flowing water. Woodland species such as jays and woodpeckers are joined in summer by migrant birds including pied flycatchers and restarts.
Unsurprisingly, our less-than-silent stalk through the canyon meant that we saw little in the way of fauna. The flora was a different matter. The moistness of the Ceunant Llennyrch woodland creates the ideal habitat for a range of plant life; it’s estimated that there are over 200 species of liverwort along with many forms of moss and lichen too, some of which are more usually found in rainforest environments.
Grand sessile oaks, as well as beech, rowan and silver birch tower over the banks, their elevated stature and sun-dappled canopy giving them an even greater grandeur when viewed from the shadowy depths of the gorge. And it’s this unusual viewpoint which is the surprise pleasure in this canyoning journey.
We’re so used to being outside and above the rivers we're looking in, that the reverse view is unexpectedly mesmerising, bringing moments of quiet peace into the atmosphere of the gorge. But back to the white-knuckle stuff.
After the warm-up of a few high-speed bum slides, a couple of full-depth submersions, the zipline, and more than one opportunity to leap off rocks into the water for the sheer fun of it, it’s time for the big finale.
We’re bobbing about, treading water in a sheer-sided pool. We’ve entered it the same way the river does – via a waterfall. Steep cliffs almost completely surround the water, save for a narrow V-shaped notch through which the water flows out opposite the fall.
Our next challenge is to climb the left side of this V… and then leap off it. And, for those brave or daft enough to want more, a second platform even higher above the water provides the ultimate test of courage.
One by one, we scramble up to the first platform and contemplate the leap. It feels a long way up, but it’s a few metres short of terrifying, and everybody makes the plunge without too much trouble, egged on by the rest of the group looking up from below. Now comes the higher jump.
From the pool, the next point from where we’re encouraged to hurl ourselves looks a substantial height above us. This perspective is a nonsense, as from the jump spot itself the height is no longer substantial – it’s simply ridiculous.
I’m suddenly breaking the surface of the water, expelling the old air in a joyful whoop
As I look down at the dark shimmering water some inconceivable distance below, I can’t imagine why anybody would even consider throwing themselves into it from such a height.
Any man, woman or child in their right mind would simply turn their back on such a phenomenally ill-conceived idea with a laughing shrug and return to safer ground and more sane-minded pastimes like learning to play the flute or watching Pointless.
But there’s a problem: I’m not the first to go. Several of the group have already made this leap of faith, streaking through the air in a flash of wetsuit to plunge in a foamy fountain below the surface of the pool, disappearing momentarily before erupting back into light and air with shrieks of thrilled excitement.
Call it vanity, call it peer pressure, call it whatever you want, but the truth is I don’t want to be the one who doesn’t do it. So, I take a deep breath, squeeze my nose, and jump…
You know a fall is long when you’ve got time to notice it. Thoughts of the whale’s monologue from The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy pop into my mind, but then I remember how that ended and shove it aside. I’m recalling being told that hitting the water from a certain height is like hitting concrete when I hit the water.
It is pleasingly un-concrete like. The light disappears and I’m enveloped by a world in which I’ve no idea what direction is up.
I figure if I wait long enough the lungsful of air I’m holding will float me in the right direction and, sure enough, I’m suddenly breaking the surface of the water, expelling the old air in a joyful whoop and inhaling as much of the new as I can.
As we climb back out of the gorge, trickles of the Afon Prysor draining from our wetsuits and beginning their journey back from whence they came, it’s smiles all round. The climbers are glowing, the walkers are chatting excitedly, and the landmark birthday couple look like they’ve had the best day EVER!
And that’s in part due to the invigorating effects of fast flowing water, the restorative benefits of spending time outside, and the spiritual salve that immersing oneself in nature produces.
But above all that it’s down to one simple thing, a thing that’s often in perilously short supply and should be hunted out with all the passion and enthusiasm as a mountain summit: fun.
Now book your own canyoning trip
We journeyed the Ceunant Llennyrch gorge with Rachel, George, and Mr Sparks the dog of Snowdonia Adventure Activities.
Between them, they offer a range of exciting days out, including various canyoning trips suitable for ages 10 and up. They also provide gorge scrambling, rock climbing, and canoeing adventures, plus much more from their base in North Wales.
For more information, visit snowdoniaadventureactivities.co.uk
About the author
Ben Weeks has been with Trail for over 10 years and is our main point of contact for all gear reviews. As well as being a hugely talented writer and photographer, Ben is also a qualified Mountain Leader and Climbing Instructor.