Llyn Tegid
This Celtic country has a strong storytelling tradition, with legends dating from the eleventh century first collected in the pages of the historic tome, The Mabinogion. Amid the rugged landscape of mountains, forests and valleys, ancient tales are whispered on the breeze and embedded in the geology. The story of Teggie, however, is a relatively modern tale.
Sightings of a dinosaur-like creature were reported from the 1920s onwards. People encountered strange disturbances at Bala Lake and the local rumour mill went into overdrive amid whispers of a prehistoric beast lurking some 44m below the surface.
But Teggie has always been a camera-shy beastie. A Japanese film crew descended upon the rural market town of Bala with diving equipment and a small submarine in the nineties. They flew back to Tokyo with little more than some old welly boots and flimsy footage of the peaty murk under the water.
“Every place name has a story attached to it, and these legends ground us”
In the fire-warmed lounge bar of Bala’s White Lion Hotel I strike up conversation with some of the locals. Over coffee, they regale me with folk tales familiar to all Welsh schoolchildren.
The cast of characters would put Game of Thrones to shame — evil kings, brave knights and mischievous elves. These stories, I learn, are passed down through the generations and integral to preserving the Welsh language and culture.