In the fields west of Machynlleth, an old path leads across the hillside towards a notch in the skyline. Just where it leaves the valley floor, turning sharply to accommodate the steep slope, a set of steps has been carved into the solid rock to aid those following the route. This modest landmark, showing a degree of skill in its construction, is known as the “Roman Steps” – often in quotation marks to indicate the slightly dubious nature of that claim.
The Romans certainly spent time in the area – the remains of a small Roman auxiliary fort at Cefn Caer, Pennal, lie only a few miles to the west – so it is possible that the feature dates from that time. Alternatively, the name of a nearby field, Cae Gybi, suggests an association with Cybi, a sixth-century saint who was active in north Wales and may well have had influence here.
More likely is that the steps were cut by workers at the long-disused quarry to get to the top of the workings. The hummocks and pits of their endeavours there are still visible, softened by turf and bracken.
Whichever mix of origins is correct, the 27 carved steps – or 29, depending how you count them – stand as a record of rural ingenuity. Although worn, their monumental nature remains, as does the cleverly engineered integral gutter that keeps water from the fields above clear of the path.
Since my last visit, the trees that formed a canopy – almost a tunnel – over the path have been cut back, while uphill of the steps the trail has been graded and surfaced with broken stone. Some of the outcrops that marked the route have been cut away, leaving shards of rock in raw heaps to one side. I picked a lump of quartz from the spoil, rinsing it clean in a pool of rainwater. Newly scoured from the ground, the white crystalline structure was sharp and unweathered, seeing daylight for the first time since it was formed. Change inevitably continues – rock will erode, the trees will regrow – but we need to guard humble aspects of our heritage such as this path.
