This is my country, Wales.
Contained within its boundaries in extravagant profusion quite out of proportion to its size, are landscapes of startling beauty and diversity.
Music
My dream of Wales is of mountains, rivers and lakes, and indeed the mountains rise up as soon as the English border is left behind.
From the mighty Snowdonia range in the north to the Black Mountains and Brecon Beacons in the south, there seem always to be mountains touching the sky.
But Wales is also a place of soft hills, forests and valleys, and a most extraordinary and rugged coastline.
This is an ancient land with an ancient tongue. Memories of our past go back 7,000 years or more.
Strange, sculptural shapes, half sunk into the earth, mark the burial place of Stone Age man.
Amazingly, sometimes the past survives and here we see it living on into the present.
Look at these boats, coracles, made of willow twigs and tarred cloth. They are virtually unchanged since the Iron Age.
They still glide quietly across the clear streams of West Wales.
The fishermen net the good Welsh salmon with as much expertise as did our ancestors in Celtic Britain.
Wales is the land of castles. They dominate the surrounding countryside and bear witness to generations of war and turmoil.
The Norman invaders were the first great castle builders.
In the 12th and 13th centuries, they constructed seemingly impregnable fortresses like Kidwelly Castle, which with its massive walls and great rounded stone towers frowned down on a beleaguered land.
But the Welsh were to fight back. Here in Manobir Castle was born the great writer and traveller Giraldus Cumbrensis, Gerald the Welshman.
Of half Welsh and half Norman parentage, he was a great admirer of the Welsh people and their resilience.
He wrote of them, they are light and active, hardy rather than strong and entirely bred up to the use of arms.
During these dark times, chieftains and princes of the small kingdoms of Wales struck back from their own fortresses.
Formidable Carragh-Cannon, a native castle on a towering limestone crag, commanded the wild vale of Cannon and the Black Mountain.
From here the invader could be challenged.
Protected on three sides by the sea, Crickyth Castle was a most impressive stronghold.
From these heights, the Welsh knights could dominate the sweeping coastline.
Christianity came early to Wales. Although the times were wild and fierce, there were oases of peace and learning throughout the land.
In secluded countryside, the great abbeys and prosperous monasteries flourished. The Abbey Church of Tinton, set in quiet meadows in the valley of the Wye River, is one of our most precious relics.
Still impressive in ruin, the massive strength of its soaring pillars and arches and the graceful stone tracery of its windows are apt memorials to its master builders.
Strata, Florida. Valley of the Flowers. An abbey in the quiet of the mid Wales hills.
Here was buried Wales's greatest poet, Davydd Apwelyn.
But I shall be laid in a grave in the shade of the soft leaves and the fresh trees. I shall have a shroud around me, a garment of summer clover.
A saddle of meadow in the granary. A
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Arwyl o vedu ireon, avwory agaf dan vrigon, amdor wenwysc amdanav, llyain hoiw o vaithion haaf.
1400 years ago, in the Dark Ages, Saint David, our patron saint, founded his cathedral here in the extreme southwest of Wales.
This is one of the most ancient of cathedral settlements in Britain.
Saint David's Shrine rests at the heart of the present medieval building, and is still today a solemn place of pilgrimage.
Llywelyn ap Gruffydd was the last of the Welsh princes. When he died, so died the dynasty of the native princes of Wales.
Edward I of England then set about a determined and ambitious programme of castle building to reinforce finally his hold on the rebellious Welsh.
His iron chain of castles were famous throughout Europe for their superb military architecture, and they ensured that no Welsh prince would ever again challenge the king's rule.
The military role of these castles has faded from memory, and now they have become one of our country's greatest glories, like towering Harlech Castle, standing high on its stony crag.
I wonder what Edward I would have thought about this, the 20th and 13th centuries in pleasant harmony. This is mighty Conwy Castle.
Look up at the rugged stonework, and its finely proportioned towers and battlements.
1,500 workmen laboured for five years to accomplish this. Strategically guarding the Conwy estuary, Edward made it his military headquarters and central fortress in his system of governing North Wales.
The river is spanned by the marvellous suspension bridge built by the 19th century engineer, Telford, who built the bridge in the 18th century.
Its battlements neatly match those of the castle.
Even mightier than Conwy is the imposing majesty of Carnarvon Castle. 37 years in its construction, it stood as the symbol of the castle's
power. Almost 700 years later, the investigation of Prince Charles as Prince of Wales took place in this courtyard setting.
I, Charles Prince of Wales, do become your liegeman of life and limb, and of earthly worship, and faith and truth I will bear unto thee to live and die against all manner of folks.
Carnarvon's towers have a commanding view of the approaches to the castle and the Menai Straits.
The waters of the straits separate the Isle of Anglesey from the mainland and are spanned by another of Telford's elegant bridges.
For centuries, Wales remained a quietly rural place.
Dramatic changes came to the land with the Industrial Revolution in the 18th and 19th centuries. Slate was urgently needed throughout the industrial world to roof the millions of workers' houses being hastily constructed.
In North Wales, the quarrying industry boomed and it suddenly seemed as though every mountain in Snowdonia was made of slate.
The grey-blue slate was split into slabs, then loaded into railway trucks. From the slate quarries, this type of engine would trundle its heavy loads to the sea.
These splendid little trains still chug their way along ten different narrow gauge lines.
Today the train loads are not slate anymore, but thousands of visitors.
Besides slate, metal mining became a vital industry.
In mid and north Wales, lead and iron, and somewhat surprisingly, precious ores of silver and gold, were worked extensively in small individual mines and foundries, such as this one preserved at Llywernod.
Coal was vital for keeping the machinery of industry running, and in South Wales in the last century, many a fortune was founded on coal.
But the miner himself saw little of this wealth. He worked long hours in dangerous and desperately hard conditions, deep under the ground, for little pay.
Now the slag heaps of coal dust have vanished and sheep graze on the hillsides.
The terraces of miners' painted houses are bright in the clear air, and today they're on the valleys, like the Avon Valley where I was born, are green again.
The great spirit of comradeship born in the hard times in these close-knit communities survives. The old hymns and the haunting traditional songs of Wales are still sung.
The lusty voices of the male-voiced choirs rehearse together in fine choral unison.
Right boys, can we keep the song in the right and right here, and we'll keep the notes. Right and right. OK, rhythmically. And the lyrics together.
Ready?
Ready, be-le-do-bow-wee, be-le-do-bow-wee, Lord, who's come a-thunning-ow-wee, be-le-do-bow-wee,
Father, all thy kingdom and all thy kingdom, Father, let all thy things sing, Christ, our Healer, here we come, and we'll bow.
Cardiff, the capital of Wales, was built on the wealth of the early industries, and its civic centre was designed in the grand style of architecture.
This is a cultural as well as an administrative capital, and a focal point for people from all over Wales.
Here is a bustling modern city, but one which is still very conscious of its past.
The castle sits plum in the centre of this green city.
The Normans left this fine stone, circular keep, on a high mound.
The Victorians rebuilt and reconstructed the living apartments, and the present-day castle walls are built on stonework foundations of the Roman fort.
Stone by stone, old farms, working buildings and cottages have been transported from all over Wales and rebuilt here, at St. Fagans.
It's a living monument to our ancestors and their way of life.
For instance, look inside this farmhouse from the Gaw Peninsula. Living seemed comfortable enough in the firelit kitchen.
The typical Welsh dresser displays the best Sunday china.
This early farmhouse is without any form of chimney. The smoke escapes through the windows. The near end of the house was the cattle shed.
This little moorland cottage was built with huge, heavy glacial boulders, not elegant, but decidedly sturdy.
There is also in the museum an early Welsh woolen factory from Llanurtyd Wells.
Farming is still an important part of the Welsh economy.
In Wales, there are said to be three sheep to every one person.
Shepherds are justly proud of their sharp-witted dogs and bring them regularly to the sheepdog trials.
It's a place to come and see a tense game of skill and control.
At the moment of truth, it's a battle of wills between sheep and sheepdog.
The dramatic grandeur of the scenery makes pony trekking idyllic.
It's an effortless way to wander through the countryside and discover the freedom of the hills.
It's our first sport and soon we'll be able to see the world in a different light.
It's our first sport and second religion, rugby football.
It's tough and exciting and its legendary heroes are immortalised.
Follow the long coastline from the south, westwards and to the north, 750 miles of seascape.
The Pembrokeshire National Park alone has almost 200 miles of footpath which loops around the coves and looks down on bays and rocky inlets.
These are poet shores, the Gower Peninsula, an area of outstanding natural beauty where the sky is reflected in the smooth sand and the cockle gatherers still go out in the pale gold light of the early morning.
The Georgian boathouse Svetlana, where the poet Dylan Thomas lived, is perched high over the estuary of the river Tav as it flows out to Carmarthen Bay.
Throughout Dylan's writings, the image of the sea is a constantly recurring theme.
One of the number of small compact fishing ports on the Pembrokeshire coast not far from Laarne is Tenby.
It's unspoiled and full of character and there's great enjoyment in wandering around its ancient streets.
For those who seek excitement, the power of the sea is always a challenge.
Move further along this ever-changing Pembrokeshire coast to Porth Gain, still a working fisherman's harbour.
The strange old quarry workings are a reminder of the industrial revolution.
The quiet little port of Lower Fishguard was the setting for Dylan Thomas' imaginary town, Lleregib, in the film of Under Milk Wood.
The sunny, slow, lulling afternoon yawns and moans through the dozy town.
The sea lolls, laps and idles in, and the sea is filled with the
The sunny, slow, lulling afternoon yawns and moans through the dozy town.
The sea lolls, laps and idles in, with fishes sleeping in its lap.
The meadows, still as Sunday.
The shut-eye, tasseled bull, the goat and daisy dingles nap happy and lazy.
Llandudno in North Wales, with its magnificent bay and elegant Victorian pier, has kept its air of dignity intact.
From the giant limestone headland of the Great Orme, hang gliders sweep and saw bird-like over the sea with a dramatic backdrop of Snowdonia behind them.
Errari in Welsh means the abode of eagles.
It is an appropriate name for the wild grandeur of the mountains and lakes of Snowdonia.
The mountaineers, themselves like eagles, perch on ledges or cling fearlessly to the vertical rock faces.
Across blue Llyn Padarn, Snowdon itself rises proudly the highest mountain in all England and Wales.
Here is the heart of Wales, with more than enough beauty to share it out generously amongst her friends.
But the whole of Wales is my heritage. I carry it with me wherever I go.
It is the sum of all experiences, both in the days past and here, in the present time.