When A Welsh Village Was Flooded To Supply Water For England

In the mid-20th century, Liverpool was a bustling metropolis, growing rapidly and stretching the limits of its resources. By 1955, the city found itself in desperate need of water. Liverpool’s planners calculated that the city, with its busy port and industrial centres, would require around 65 million gallons of water daily to support its inhabitants and its expansion. This led to the formulation of a controversial and tragic plan: to flood a small Welsh village in order to quench Liverpool’s thirst.

The village in question was Capel Celyn, a rural settlement nestled in the Tryweryn Valley, North Wales. Known as Chapel Holly in Welsh, Capel Celyn was more than just a village; it was a symbol of Welsh heritage. The community of 67 people represented one of the last remaining Welsh-speaking enclaves, with a school, farms, and a chapel at its heart. In this peaceful, tight-knit community, generations of families had lived for centuries, connected by their language, traditions, and a deep bond to the land.

However, the quest for water by Liverpool’s authorities knew no borders. Despite Capel Celyn lying outside Liverpool’s jurisdiction, the city’s council saw the valley as the perfect location to create a new reservoir. This was not an unprecedented move for Liverpool. The city had previously built a reservoir in Llanwddyn, another Welsh village, back in 1888, submerging homes, farms, and chapels. But Capel Celyn’s fate would unfold against a backdrop of growing Welsh nationalism and heightened awareness of the need to preserve Welsh culture.

Resistance and the Battle for Capel Celyn

The people of Capel Celyn did not take the news of their village’s fate lightly. As soon as the plan to flood the valley was announced, the community rallied to defend their homes. The Tryweryn Defence Committee was formed, and its members sought to challenge Liverpool’s plan through legal and political means. They knew that their future depended on gaining attention and sympathy beyond the valley’s borders.

A delegation was sent to Liverpool to appeal directly to the city council, pleading for the preservation of their homes. But the residents’ heartfelt arguments fell on deaf ears. They were met not with understanding, but with hostility. In a public meeting, the Welsh delegation was shouted down and ejected from the chamber. A subsequent protest march through the streets of Liverpool was equally unsuccessful. As the villagers carried banners that read “Your homes are safe – do not drown ours!” they were met with aggression and disdain. Some Liverpool residents even hurled rotten fruit at the protestors, seeing them as nothing more than inconvenient outsiders.

Despite the villagers’ determined efforts, the Liverpool City Council had a more strategic route in mind to ensure the reservoir’s construction. By bypassing local Welsh planning authorities and sponsoring a bill in the UK Parliament, Liverpool could secure permission to proceed. In 1957, despite strong opposition from Wales, where 35 of the 36 Welsh MPs voted against it, the bill was passed. This act of legislative power effectively sealed Capel Celyn’s fate. The residents would have no say in the matter, and the valley was destined to be flooded.

The Last Days of Capel Celyn

The process of eviction began in 1962. The residents of Capel Celyn were forced to leave their homes and land behind, as the area was subject to compulsory purchase. A sign was erected at the site by the construction company, which read, in English only: “Construction of the Tryweryn Reservoir. Employing authority: Liverpool Council.” For the local Welsh speakers, this was not just a sign of displacement, but a symbol of the disregard for their culture. A defiant resident scrawled the words “Why not drown Liverpool instead?” onto the sign, a poignant protest against the destruction of their home.

As the construction of the dam progressed, photographer Geoff Charles captured the final moments of Capel Celyn. He documented the closure of the village’s school, which had educated generations of local children, and the final service held in the chapel before it was deconsecrated. Graves were dug up, and the remains of ancestors were moved elsewhere. It was a sombre farewell, not just to a village, but to a way of life that had endured for centuries.

Yet, the indignation surrounding Capel Celyn’s fate spread far beyond the valley. When the demolition equipment arrived on-site, two young men from Gwent took matters into their own hands, damaging the machinery. Although they were fined £50 for their actions, their fine was paid by supporters who admired their defiance. Even more striking was the case of three men who planted a bomb at the construction site, causing significant damage. They were imprisoned, but their actions reflected the growing unrest in Wales. Plaid Cymru, the Welsh nationalist party, saw its profile rise as a result of the Tryweryn protests, with its president, Gwynfor Evans, becoming a prominent figure in the movement for greater Welsh autonomy.

The Drowning of Capel Celyn

In 1965, the Tryweryn Reservoir was completed, and the water was turned on. Slowly but inexorably, the waters rose, swallowing the village of Capel Celyn. The church, school, and homes that had once echoed with the sound of Welsh voices were submerged beneath the new Llyn Celyn. The ruins of the village, now silent and empty, disappeared from view as the water lapped over the land, creating a new lake that would supply Liverpool with the water it so desperately needed.

For many in Wales, the drowning of Capel Celyn marked a turning point. The loss of the village became a symbol of the broader struggle for Welsh self-determination. It galvanised political action and contributed to the eventual establishment of the Welsh Assembly, now known as the Senedd, in 1999. The destruction of Capel Celyn was not forgotten, and it continued to resonate in the Welsh consciousness for decades to come.

The Legacy of Capel Celyn

In 1989, during a period of drought, the waters of Llyn Celyn receded, revealing the ghostly ruins of Capel Celyn once more. The foundations of the buildings that had once stood proudly in the valley were visible again, as if they had never been gone. Visitors walked among the exposed stones, reading the small plaques that had been placed there by Welsh Water to mark where the school, chapel, and homes had stood. It was a haunting reminder of what had been lost.

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