Thanks for clarifying.
Things will get interesting, but since like Canada we have Argentina and Chile as potentially hostile neighbors that trouble will be somewhat restrained.
Is there a capital now?
The Dream of Iolo Morganwg: An alternate history of Welsh Patagonia
- Thread starter RPW@Cy
- Start date
Thanks for clarifying.
Things will get interesting, but since like Canada we have Argentina and Chile as potentially hostile neighbors that trouble will be somewhat restrained.
Is there a capital now?
Relations with the neighbours are something I'm frankly dreading writing - it's *hard* keeping track of all the factions in the wars they're fighting...
There's really only one town at the moment - Trewatcyn - so that's pretty much the capital by default.
Many thanks to Petite123123 for reviewing this for geographical plausibility...
Part 6 - Thalassa! Thalassa!
New Wales
Y Cyfeiryddion (The Guides)
History - By tradition the Guides are the oldest unit of the Patagonian army, claiming descent from those men who in the earliest years of the Welsh colony set out to explore the lands beyond the initial area of settlement. Guides it is said were the first Welshmen to see the Pacific Ocean and penetrate the deep south, and have taken part in all campaigns in which Patagonians have taken part. Also by tradition, from their earliest days the guides have incorporated members of Patagonia’s native tribes….
From "A Dictionary of the World’s Special Forces", Col. Joseph Michaels, US Army (Rtd). 3rd Edition, 1983
---
By the early 1820’s, it was obvious to all that the Colony was running out of land in the lower Camwy basin. Even the most industrious network of irrigation canals could not overcome the fact that just over thirty miles upriver from Trewatcyn the Salt Lands began, where nitrate contamination made the soils useless for agriculture.
Other shortages were biting too - the lack of timber in the lower valley in particular was critical - and demand was growing for additional land. Ever since the colony had first been settled of course men had ridden out into the desert in an attempt to map the country round about and find suitable places to settle. Apart from the - very - occasional oasis they were out of luck, and not all of them came back. Realising a more organised effort was needed, a consortium of some of the wealthier men of the colony came together and approached the Company offices with a proposal to fund an expedition to find an overland route to the Andes Mountains and if possible the Pacific Ocean suitable for colonists to travel. As their representative on the expedition, the company nominated a retired army officer, Captain Peter Edwards, who as a trained military surveyor with Peninsular War experience would be able to map the route. The colonial investors for their part picked Daniel Jones, who as an 18 year old had been one of the young men who departed with the Aoniken at the end of their first visit to the colony and who had learned their language and many of their ways. Jones brought along with him his friend Kilcham, a redoubtable Aoniken hunter and guide.
On Monday the 6th of October 1823, (and a day after attending a local chapel, where the preacher had given a sermon based on Isaiah 58:11) a company of twenty men and sixty horses with surveying equipment and two month’s worth of supplies passed the final outposts of the colony and proceeded to head upriver in search of the mountains.
Six days into their journey, a man was lost when the party camped by the river and the man on watch was suddenly jumped by a puma, killing him before Captain Edwards could shoot the beast - Kilcham, not wishing to see anything go to waste, skinned the carcass and set about curing the hide before the party rode on. A week later, three horses were lost crossing the river as the crudely made raft overturned when the beasts panicked. Over the course of the next three weeks, the river led them first north then west, bringing them their first views of the snow-capped peaks of the Andes on the horizon. As the river started leading them south again, Captain Edwards consulted with Jones and Kilcham (now proudly wearing his puma skin cloak) and proposed to strike out across country for the mountains. After another five days of riding, the party crossed a ridgeline on mid-day on November 14th and stopped in awe as they looked down on a valley more lush and green than anything they’d seen since leaving Wales years before. Jones spoke first - “Rwan’te - hynny yw’n olygfa gartrefol, yntefe?” (“Now then, that's a homely sight, isn't it?”) From which the valley would be marked on maps as Dyffryn Gartrefol, the Homely Valley.
The party spent another five days exploring the valley and replenishing their supplies through gathering the wild fruits that grew in abundance and trading with the Aoniken groups that inhabited the valley during the summer - axes and knives for guanaco jerky and dried fish from the many rivers - before heading off south-west along another river, which Captain Edwards judged would lead them to the ocean. At first, progress was swift, but as they descended into temperate rainforest progress slowed as undergrowth thickened around them, so that it took a further ten days to travel the fifty miles down the river to where it emptied into a great lake, surrounded by mountains. Here Captain Edwards called another halt, and proposed to leave half the men behind at the lake with the horses while the other half would sail down the lake on a raft and follow the river that exited it down to the ocean.
Edwards insisted that himself and Jones, to represent the Company and the Colony, had to lead the expedition down to the sea and Jones insisted that Kilcham should come to represent his own people. The remaining seven places were chosen by lot and the chosen men climbed on board two rafts and steered them down river. This final stage of the journey was almost anti-climactic as, after barely a day and a half of sailing, the raft found itself entering into flat lands as the flow of the river slowed to a crawl, then rounded a final bend to see the horizon in front of them suddenly open up as the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean stretched before them. Edwards suddenly shouted something in a language none of his companions understood.
“It means ‘the sea! the sea!’ you uncultured barbarian!” He replied with a broad grin on his face when Jones asked him what he was shouting.
---
Author’s notes:
Isaiah 58:11 “The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame.”
Dyffryn Gartrefol = OTL Cwm Hyfryd/Valle 16 de Octubre. The route followed to the Pacific is pretty much the line Futaleufu river, Lake Yelcho, Yelcho river to OTL Chaiten.
Part 6 - Thalassa! Thalassa!
New Wales
Y Cyfeiryddion (The Guides)
History - By tradition the Guides are the oldest unit of the Patagonian army, claiming descent from those men who in the earliest years of the Welsh colony set out to explore the lands beyond the initial area of settlement. Guides it is said were the first Welshmen to see the Pacific Ocean and penetrate the deep south, and have taken part in all campaigns in which Patagonians have taken part. Also by tradition, from their earliest days the guides have incorporated members of Patagonia’s native tribes….
From "A Dictionary of the World’s Special Forces", Col. Joseph Michaels, US Army (Rtd). 3rd Edition, 1983
---
By the early 1820’s, it was obvious to all that the Colony was running out of land in the lower Camwy basin. Even the most industrious network of irrigation canals could not overcome the fact that just over thirty miles upriver from Trewatcyn the Salt Lands began, where nitrate contamination made the soils useless for agriculture.
Other shortages were biting too - the lack of timber in the lower valley in particular was critical - and demand was growing for additional land. Ever since the colony had first been settled of course men had ridden out into the desert in an attempt to map the country round about and find suitable places to settle. Apart from the - very - occasional oasis they were out of luck, and not all of them came back. Realising a more organised effort was needed, a consortium of some of the wealthier men of the colony came together and approached the Company offices with a proposal to fund an expedition to find an overland route to the Andes Mountains and if possible the Pacific Ocean suitable for colonists to travel. As their representative on the expedition, the company nominated a retired army officer, Captain Peter Edwards, who as a trained military surveyor with Peninsular War experience would be able to map the route. The colonial investors for their part picked Daniel Jones, who as an 18 year old had been one of the young men who departed with the Aoniken at the end of their first visit to the colony and who had learned their language and many of their ways. Jones brought along with him his friend Kilcham, a redoubtable Aoniken hunter and guide.
On Monday the 6th of October 1823, (and a day after attending a local chapel, where the preacher had given a sermon based on Isaiah 58:11) a company of twenty men and sixty horses with surveying equipment and two month’s worth of supplies passed the final outposts of the colony and proceeded to head upriver in search of the mountains.
Six days into their journey, a man was lost when the party camped by the river and the man on watch was suddenly jumped by a puma, killing him before Captain Edwards could shoot the beast - Kilcham, not wishing to see anything go to waste, skinned the carcass and set about curing the hide before the party rode on. A week later, three horses were lost crossing the river as the crudely made raft overturned when the beasts panicked. Over the course of the next three weeks, the river led them first north then west, bringing them their first views of the snow-capped peaks of the Andes on the horizon. As the river started leading them south again, Captain Edwards consulted with Jones and Kilcham (now proudly wearing his puma skin cloak) and proposed to strike out across country for the mountains. After another five days of riding, the party crossed a ridgeline on mid-day on November 14th and stopped in awe as they looked down on a valley more lush and green than anything they’d seen since leaving Wales years before. Jones spoke first - “Rwan’te - hynny yw’n olygfa gartrefol, yntefe?” (“Now then, that's a homely sight, isn't it?”) From which the valley would be marked on maps as Dyffryn Gartrefol, the Homely Valley.
The party spent another five days exploring the valley and replenishing their supplies through gathering the wild fruits that grew in abundance and trading with the Aoniken groups that inhabited the valley during the summer - axes and knives for guanaco jerky and dried fish from the many rivers - before heading off south-west along another river, which Captain Edwards judged would lead them to the ocean. At first, progress was swift, but as they descended into temperate rainforest progress slowed as undergrowth thickened around them, so that it took a further ten days to travel the fifty miles down the river to where it emptied into a great lake, surrounded by mountains. Here Captain Edwards called another halt, and proposed to leave half the men behind at the lake with the horses while the other half would sail down the lake on a raft and follow the river that exited it down to the ocean.
Edwards insisted that himself and Jones, to represent the Company and the Colony, had to lead the expedition down to the sea and Jones insisted that Kilcham should come to represent his own people. The remaining seven places were chosen by lot and the chosen men climbed on board two rafts and steered them down river. This final stage of the journey was almost anti-climactic as, after barely a day and a half of sailing, the raft found itself entering into flat lands as the flow of the river slowed to a crawl, then rounded a final bend to see the horizon in front of them suddenly open up as the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean stretched before them. Edwards suddenly shouted something in a language none of his companions understood.
“It means ‘the sea! the sea!’ you uncultured barbarian!” He replied with a broad grin on his face when Jones asked him what he was shouting.
---
Author’s notes:
Isaiah 58:11 “The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame.”
Dyffryn Gartrefol = OTL Cwm Hyfryd/Valle 16 de Octubre. The route followed to the Pacific is pretty much the line Futaleufu river, Lake Yelcho, Yelcho river to OTL Chaiten.
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Liked the update - but would it be possible, where you refer to a geographic feature/location to put the OTL name in brackets or in a foot note, just so we can, if we desire locate on a map?
Pretty much done for the bit from the mountains to the Pacific (though Cwm Hyfryd/Valle 16 de Octubre may be easier to find if you search on Esquel or Trevelin, the main towns in the valley) - when I've published the second half of this story covering the return journey (probably Part 8 on the current schedule) I'll try to put up a map of the whole thing.
I second this motion! It's very helpful, because I always read those narratives following a map of the story
Ok, so I catched up with the narrative. I must say its one of the most fascinating TLs I've read here. As I descendant of (Portuguese) colonists myself, I'm particularly interested in the story of pioneers and colonial nations.
Here in Brazil there was an historical group of explorers of the hinterland, similar to the "Guides" you presented in the previous chapter, called the Bandeirantes (which means, literally "flag-carriers")
. To this day they remain the regional symbol of the State of São Paulo, which was one of the first non-coastal regions explored by the colonists.Also, RPW@Cy, I'm sorry if I'm antecipating, because I read your last post saying you'll post a map, but I drew a quick-map in MS Paint while I was reading about Edward's expedition (before your last post). If you don't mind, I'll post here. The yellow star is OTL Rawson, the initial settlement, and the orange one is Esquel, which I figured it was a necessary stop from anyone navigating the Chubut/Camwy River. After that, they went overland through the Valle 16 de Octubre and crossed the Andes to the ocean.
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Thanks very much for the kind words, and there's no need to apologise - that map is pretty much spot on for the journey as far as the Valley. Thanks
And the Patagonians get their first national epic. So are they claiming land from sea to sea now?
I am guessing the puma will be a symbol of the Guides?
I am guessing the puma will be a symbol of the Guides?
They haven't got back yet
But yes, they certainly want a Pacific coast. It's why Edwards has been so diligent about mapping everything.I honestly hadn't thought that far ahead, but that's not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all
The Welsh for lion is "llew", it will almost certainly be used to describe pumas in the absence of actual lions.
I am guessing colonists hungry for land will make plans to settle the Dyffryn Gartrefol once the expedition returns. And thus the Welsh start to settle the interior.
A slight change of pace for this one, showing a snapshot of life in the colony on the ground. I'll finish the story of the explorers in Post 8, and Post 9 will probably be the one I've been putting off for as long possible, namely starting to show the colony impacting on the wider South American scene. Apologies for the solid wall of Welsh at the start, but there's an explanation and translation in the footnote.
Part 7 - The Immigrant’s Tale (Part 1)
Tyddyn y Gaseg 1825
Fy annwyl fab hynaf, Sion Glyn,
Mr. Jones, y gweinidog yn garedig gynddeiriog sy’n sgwennu y geiria’ fan hyn.
Erbyn hyn mae dy frodyr i gyd wedi gadael am Loegr i chwilio am waith,
A’r Tyddyn yn unig a’th fam yn hiraethu, nosweithiau yn dawel a maith.
Ond mae Buddug dy chwaer di a Jac Tyddyn Isa’ yn sôn a briodi’n yr haf,
Tybed a fedri di ddod draw i’r briodas? Mi fydda dy weld ti mor braf.
---
Siôn Glyn Roberts was born in July 1802 as the eldest of five children to Siôn Edward and Mair Roberts of Tyddyn Y Gaseg farm, Cardiganshire. A smallholding of less than 30 acres, in a good year it produced enough to feed the family with a bit left over to sell at market. In a bad year people went hungry, and the years from 1816 onwards were very bad years. By the time he’d turned 18 Siôn had had enough and, packing such few belongings as he’d managed to gather together, he kissed his mother and sister goodbye, embraced his father and brothers and walked down the mountain to Cardigan town where an emigrant ship was waiting to take him and 127 others to South America.
Siôn, like many others, had been taken in by promises of endless free land for anyone with the determination to claim it. The reality was somewhat different – on landing, he was assigned to a work team and given a shovel and spent the next six months digging irrigation ditches and sleeping in tents with other recent immigrants. At the end of this period however he was handed title to a hundred acres of land about 12 miles upriver from Trewatcyn that had been opened up for cultivation by the canals he had helped dig.
Siôn promptly rented half his land to a neighbour who was looking for extra land to pasture his cattle on, and this provided him just enough income (and milk) to live on while he planted a small field with beans and potatoes and attempted to save up enough money to buy a mule to plough the rest of his grant.
As the frontier moved upriver small signs of prosperity began to spread – Siôn bought his mule and a plough and began to grow wheat. He built a small cottage that sufficed for a single man to keep warm in winter and claimed back the half of his land he had rented out and put his own cattle to pasture on it. The trading post that had opened to supply the farmers shortly after he settled down was joined by a chapel (Capel Hebron, which doubled as a schoolhouse), a blacksmith’s and a scattering of cottages occupied by otherwise landless craftsmen and neighbours. After a while – no one knew when – the collection of buildings coalesced into a village which came to be known as Hebron, after the chapel at its heart.
A couple of more years went by, and in January of 1825 Siôn harnessed his mule to a small trap and drove down to Trewatcyn to negotiate a price for his forthcoming harvest with the Company agent. While there, he bought his dinner from a young woman working in the Company store. Something about her picked away at him however, so he found an excuse to stay in Trewatcyn for another day and visit the company store again, this time he hung around to ask her for her story.
Eluned Jenkins was a widow with a two year old son who had lost everything when her husband, riding in a patrol over the borders of the colony, had been killed in a Mapuche raid. She had returned to Trewatcyn and found a job in the hope of raising enough money to pay her passage back to Wales where her parents still lived. Siôn thanked her for her time and wished her well in her endeavours, then harnessed up his mule again for the day long journey back to his farm. After a week, he still couldn’t get thoughts of the pretty widow with the sad smile out of his head, so he fetched the mule again and headed back to Trewatcyn. She smiled at him as he approached.
“Are you back for some more stew?”
“No.” He replied, to some surprise.
“I’m back for a wife, if you’ll have me.” She looked him up and down good and hard, then asked a series of questions and then asked him if he could give her a day to think on it. The following day he returned, to see her standing by the side of the road with a two year old boy next to her and a small bag containing all her worldly goods. They climbed into the trap and rode back to Siôn’s farm, and were married in Capel Hebron two days later (“you wouldn’t make a sinner out of a good Christian woman now, would you Pastor?” Siôn had said when that worthy had protested the unseemly haste). Siôn would spend much of the next few weeks - and call in many favours from friends and neighbours - to enlarge his small cottage into something more suitable for a family.
----
Author’s Note:
This part, and any future parts of The Immigrant’s Tale, are based on one of my favorite Welsh language songs, “Llythyrau Tyddyn Y Gaseg” by Bryn Fôn, which tells of the pain emigration causes to those left behind. I’ve had to change little more than the dates to make it fit this TL, the original can be found here for those interested. A loose translation of the words in the opening reads as follows:
Tyddyn y Gaseg 1825
My beloved eldest son, Siôn Glyn,
Mr. Jones, the kindly minister is writing these words.
By now your brothers have all left for England in search of work,
the farmstead and your mother are in sorrow, and the long nights are quiet.
But your sister Buddug and Jack Tyddyn Isa are talking of marriage this summer,
I wonder can you come to the wedding? It’ll be so nice to see you.
Part 7 - The Immigrant’s Tale (Part 1)
Tyddyn y Gaseg 1825
Fy annwyl fab hynaf, Sion Glyn,
Mr. Jones, y gweinidog yn garedig gynddeiriog sy’n sgwennu y geiria’ fan hyn.
Erbyn hyn mae dy frodyr i gyd wedi gadael am Loegr i chwilio am waith,
A’r Tyddyn yn unig a’th fam yn hiraethu, nosweithiau yn dawel a maith.
Ond mae Buddug dy chwaer di a Jac Tyddyn Isa’ yn sôn a briodi’n yr haf,
Tybed a fedri di ddod draw i’r briodas? Mi fydda dy weld ti mor braf.
---
Siôn Glyn Roberts was born in July 1802 as the eldest of five children to Siôn Edward and Mair Roberts of Tyddyn Y Gaseg farm, Cardiganshire. A smallholding of less than 30 acres, in a good year it produced enough to feed the family with a bit left over to sell at market. In a bad year people went hungry, and the years from 1816 onwards were very bad years. By the time he’d turned 18 Siôn had had enough and, packing such few belongings as he’d managed to gather together, he kissed his mother and sister goodbye, embraced his father and brothers and walked down the mountain to Cardigan town where an emigrant ship was waiting to take him and 127 others to South America.
Siôn, like many others, had been taken in by promises of endless free land for anyone with the determination to claim it. The reality was somewhat different – on landing, he was assigned to a work team and given a shovel and spent the next six months digging irrigation ditches and sleeping in tents with other recent immigrants. At the end of this period however he was handed title to a hundred acres of land about 12 miles upriver from Trewatcyn that had been opened up for cultivation by the canals he had helped dig.
Siôn promptly rented half his land to a neighbour who was looking for extra land to pasture his cattle on, and this provided him just enough income (and milk) to live on while he planted a small field with beans and potatoes and attempted to save up enough money to buy a mule to plough the rest of his grant.
As the frontier moved upriver small signs of prosperity began to spread – Siôn bought his mule and a plough and began to grow wheat. He built a small cottage that sufficed for a single man to keep warm in winter and claimed back the half of his land he had rented out and put his own cattle to pasture on it. The trading post that had opened to supply the farmers shortly after he settled down was joined by a chapel (Capel Hebron, which doubled as a schoolhouse), a blacksmith’s and a scattering of cottages occupied by otherwise landless craftsmen and neighbours. After a while – no one knew when – the collection of buildings coalesced into a village which came to be known as Hebron, after the chapel at its heart.
A couple of more years went by, and in January of 1825 Siôn harnessed his mule to a small trap and drove down to Trewatcyn to negotiate a price for his forthcoming harvest with the Company agent. While there, he bought his dinner from a young woman working in the Company store. Something about her picked away at him however, so he found an excuse to stay in Trewatcyn for another day and visit the company store again, this time he hung around to ask her for her story.
Eluned Jenkins was a widow with a two year old son who had lost everything when her husband, riding in a patrol over the borders of the colony, had been killed in a Mapuche raid. She had returned to Trewatcyn and found a job in the hope of raising enough money to pay her passage back to Wales where her parents still lived. Siôn thanked her for her time and wished her well in her endeavours, then harnessed up his mule again for the day long journey back to his farm. After a week, he still couldn’t get thoughts of the pretty widow with the sad smile out of his head, so he fetched the mule again and headed back to Trewatcyn. She smiled at him as he approached.
“Are you back for some more stew?”
“No.” He replied, to some surprise.
“I’m back for a wife, if you’ll have me.” She looked him up and down good and hard, then asked a series of questions and then asked him if he could give her a day to think on it. The following day he returned, to see her standing by the side of the road with a two year old boy next to her and a small bag containing all her worldly goods. They climbed into the trap and rode back to Siôn’s farm, and were married in Capel Hebron two days later (“you wouldn’t make a sinner out of a good Christian woman now, would you Pastor?” Siôn had said when that worthy had protested the unseemly haste). Siôn would spend much of the next few weeks - and call in many favours from friends and neighbours - to enlarge his small cottage into something more suitable for a family.
----
Author’s Note:
This part, and any future parts of The Immigrant’s Tale, are based on one of my favorite Welsh language songs, “Llythyrau Tyddyn Y Gaseg” by Bryn Fôn, which tells of the pain emigration causes to those left behind. I’ve had to change little more than the dates to make it fit this TL, the original can be found here for those interested. A loose translation of the words in the opening reads as follows:
Tyddyn y Gaseg 1825
My beloved eldest son, Siôn Glyn,
Mr. Jones, the kindly minister is writing these words.
By now your brothers have all left for England in search of work,
the farmstead and your mother are in sorrow, and the long nights are quiet.
But your sister Buddug and Jack Tyddyn Isa are talking of marriage this summer,
I wonder can you come to the wedding? It’ll be so nice to see you.
That's a pretty adorable story, RP. And a nice change in pace. It's really good to get an idea of what's going on at the ground level
And a nice change in pace. It's really good to get an idea of what's going on at the ground level
I expected the colonists to exterminate the native population of Patagonia but, since it didn't happen, this is what the flag of New Wales in 2015 could look like: a cool-looking Mapuche/Welsh combo.
Nice but they may have a Welsh Lion (ie Puma
) insteadAnd so new Wales grows inland and the new arrivals multiply on the ground. Seems the immigrants are being treated fairly, all things considered, from this account. Not a land of milk and honey but a land where hard work will let man build himself up over time.
Hebron I expect will be the first of many villages to appear in such a way. Though the expansions are likely the seeds of a souring with the natives by simple fact of formerly undisputed land becoming claimed in fact.
As for the Expedition, look forward to more from them. And in would guess they will try and build a fort on the Pacific to anchor a claim. Roughshod for now no doubt, but with the trail blazed and that valley ripe for settlement Westward expansion should make the presence far more viable in even a few years.
Yeah someone in Buneos Aires will realize this little British venture might actually last. And Britain can claim the Falklands with a justification of securing the waters of her fledgling colony.
Hebron I expect will be the first of many villages to appear in such a way. Though the expansions are likely the seeds of a souring with the natives by simple fact of formerly undisputed land becoming claimed in fact.
As for the Expedition, look forward to more from them. And in would guess they will try and build a fort on the Pacific to anchor a claim. Roughshod for now no doubt, but with the trail blazed and that valley ripe for settlement Westward expansion should make the presence far more viable in even a few years.
Yeah someone in Buneos Aires will realize this little British venture might actually last. And Britain can claim the Falklands with a justification of securing the waters of her fledgling colony.
Nice but they may have a Welsh Lion (ie Puma
A 'Welsh Lion', I like that.
I note that the entry on the Guides refers to a Patagonian Army. So I am guessing down the line the country takes Patagonia as its name, with perhaps New Wales as a province or region. With Welsh-Patagonians etc.
Sir Chaos
Banned
Maybe the country takes a name other than Patagonia, but a Welsh name - yet everyone else can´t pronounce it and instead calls the country Patagonia anyway.