Ynys Enlli, also known as Bardsey Island, is a small island off the coast of Gwynedd, Wales, with a single road and a rich history encoded in its landscape. The island's 183 fields each carry a name, often more than one, forming a living archive of the people and practices that shaped this remote community.
A linear settlement on a single road
In 1938, Welsh naturalist Ronald Lockley described Ynys Enlli as a mountain 'crudely cemented to a lowland valley, and the whole thing thrown into the middle of a violent tide-race.' Today, that description still holds. The island's linear settlement runs along one road, offering only two directions: north or south. This arrangement makes the lane a movable town square, where travellers inevitably meet, greet, exchange dinner invitations, or share sightings and finds.
Field names as historical records
The field names on Ynys Enlli are more than labels; they are a window into the past. Names like Bet, Cristin, Sionyn, Siôn, and Siani recall islanders long departed. Others, such as pedol (horseshoe), had (seed), weirglodd (meadow), and sofl (stubble), speak of agricultural practices: ponies shod in iron, crops cultivated against the sea breeze, hay meadows, and harvested fields. Cae Calch (lime field) reminds of the lime spread to improve the soil, while cae gwrachod (witch field) ominously refers not to a single witch but many.
Pilgrimage and the 20,000 saints
Ynys Enlli is often claimed to be the burial site of 20,000 saints, due to its significance as a medieval pilgrimage destination. It was believed that three trips to the island were equivalent to one pilgrimage to Rome. While the number may seem improbable, the same economy of space that allowed for such dense burial is reflected in the crowded lattice of fields that crisscross the lowlands.
Changing landscape and rural economy
Today, there is no harvest on Ynys Enlli. Only a few hundred sheep remain, reflected in field names like cae'r ŵyn (lamb field). These sheep are survivors of a transformed landscape and rural economy, grazing among daisies that obscure a rusting plough and old pigsties filled with nettles. According to the article, 'A name can be a fleeting thing, vanishing along with old farmers and agricultural methods. But their worth is clear... more than just a memory or a witness to loss, they help us contextualise a changing world and are a seed of what could yet be again one day.'
