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Hidden Pembrokeshire - Gareth Davies Photography, Pembroke (2026)

09/09/2026

On the north shore of the Cleddau, near Burton Ferry, stands one of Pembrokeshire’s most evocative reminders of Britain’s maritime heritage, the Trinity House Jetty and Depot.

Built in 1860 for the Corporation of Trinity House, this remarkable site once served as a vital maintenance and supply base for the lighthouses and lightships that guided vessels through the treacherous waters of the Bristol Channel and Irish Sea. It formed part of a nationwide network of depots and stations whose work was essential to keeping Britain’s sea lanes open and safe during the height of the nation’s naval and commercial power in the 19th Century.

Founded by Royal Charter in 1514 during the reign of Henry VIII, Trinity House is one of Britain’s oldest maritime organisations. Originally established to regulate pilotage on the River Thames, its responsibilities expanded considerably over the centuries. By the Victorian era, it had become the General Lighthouse Authority for England and Wales, responsible for constructing, maintaining, and provisioning hundreds of lighthouses, buoys, and lightships around the coast.

The location at Burton was no accident. Its sheltered position on the Milford Haven Waterway provided an ideal base for maritime operations. With one of the deepest natural harbours in the world, it was already a strategically important centre for naval and commercial shipping, making Burton Ferry perfectly placed to support the growing network of navigational aids along the Welsh coast.

Construction of the depot and its timber jetty was undertaken by Douglas & Co. at a reported cost of £10,000, a considerable sum at the time.v The resulting structure was an impressive example of Victorian engineering. The jetty was built in the form of a T shaped timber pier, supported by substantial octagonal posts and a sturdy cross braced framework.

The pier led into a limestone walled compound, entered through a pair of finely crafted gate pillars, with beautifully tooled stone dressings. Inside, a sloping yard provided space for the handling and storage of the equipment and supplies needed to keep the coastal navigation system functioning. Beneath parts of the pier were boarded storerooms, complete with windows and steps leading down to the water, allowing materials to be transferred directly to small boats whatever the state of the tide.

From this quiet corner of the Cleddau, Trinity House crews played their part in maintaining the vital chain of aids to navigation along the Welsh coast. Oil for lighthouse lamps, spare lantern lenses, buoy components, tools, and other essential equipment would have been stored, repaired, and dispatched from Burton. The jetty would also have provided a welcome point of arrival for the crews of lightships, who spent long and often lonely periods stationed offshore, tending their vessels and keeping their lights burning through all weathers.

In an age before radar, GPS, and modern electronic navigation, the safety of countless sailors depended upon these physical landmarks, and upon the people whose skill and dedication kept them working. Lighthouse keepers, shipwrights, engineers, and seamen formed an essential but often unseen part of Britain’s maritime infrastructure, and depots such as Burton Ferry were the places where much of that vital work was supported.

By the late 19th and early 20th Centuries, the depot had become part of an increasingly important maritime system serving the growing traffic through Milford Haven. The waterway developed into a major naval anchorage and, in time, a significant centre for the import of oil and fuel.

Eventually, however, changing technology and the development of larger, more centralised depots began to make smaller facilities such as Burton less essential. Automation transformed the operation of lighthouses and navigation systems, and the days when crews routinely relied upon local depots for supplies and maintenance gradually faded into history.

Remarkably, much of the Burton Ferry site has survived. Its timber pier, limestone walls, and distinctive gatepiers remain in remarkably intact condition, preserving a rare glimpse of the infrastructure that once supported Britain’s lighthouse service. In 2004, the site was awarded Grade II listed status, recognised as “a very rare surviving example of a 19th Century timber pier grouping” in Wales.

Today, the jetty is far more than an attractive historic structure beside the tidal waters. It is a tangible link to an era when the safety of ships depended upon human skill, practical engineering, and unwavering dedication.

Standing quietly beside the estuary, the old jetty invites us to imagine a very different Pembrokeshire, a place of sailing ships and steam vessels, working lightships and coastal lighthouses, where the movement of people, goods, and vessels depended upon a network of men and machinery working behind the scenes.

For those who pause to look, the weathered timber, ancient stonework, and sheltered waters still tell that story of engineering, endurance, and the people who helped guide Britain’s ships safely through some of the busiest and most hazardous waters in the world 📷👍😊🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿

08/09/2026

In the garden of the former Master Shipwright’s House in Pembroke Dock stands a tree with an extraordinary story to tell. Its spreading branches and distinctive shaped leaves give little indication of the remarkable journey that lies behind it. Yet this Ginkgo is far more than an old tree. It is a living link between Pembroke Dock and Japan, between a young naval officer far from home and the country that would eventually celebrate him as one of its greatest heroes.

To understand how this tree came to Wales, we must go back to a very different Japan. In the mid 19th century, Japan was still a feudal society, governed by the Tokugawa shoguns and powerful regional clans. For more than two centuries, a policy known as sakoku had severely restricted contact with the outside world. But beyond Japan’s shores, the balance of power was changing rapidly. Russia was expanding across Asia, China was coming under increasing pressure from Western powers, and steam-powered warships were beginning to revolutionise naval warfare.

Japan could see what was happening. Its traditional wooden sailing vessels and oar powered ships were no match for the increasingly sophisticated fleets appearing in Asian waters. The country faced a stark choice, remain isolated and risk being overwhelmed, or embrace the technology and knowledge of the modern world.

Britain, then the foremost naval power on Earth, became an important model. Japan began looking to British shipbuilders, engineers and naval officers for the expertise it needed to build a modern navy of its own. Young Japanese officers were sent overseas to study the latest developments in shipbuilding, navigation and naval warfare. Among them was a young officer who could scarcely have imagined where his journey would eventually lead him, Lieutenant Heihachiro Togo.

Japan commissioned three of its early modern warships in Britain, Kongo, Fuso and Hiei. The Hiei, an iron hulled warship of around 2,200 tons, was built at Jacob’s Pill, a relatively small private shipyard at Pennar in Pembroke Dock. For this quiet corner of west Wales, it was an extraordinary commission, placing the town unexpectedly at the heart of Japan’s ambitious drive to create a modern navy.

During the construction of the Hiei, Lieutenant Togo came to Pembroke Dock to observe and assist with the work. He lived in the Master Shipwright’s House within the Royal Dockyard, a handsome building dating from around 1815–16. For the young Japanese officer, life in Pembroke Dock must have been a world away from the Japan he had left behind, but during his stay he formed friendships and connections with the local community that would remain important long after he had returned home.

On 9th June 1877, the Hiei was launched. The occasion brought together Japanese and British dignitaries, including Ambassador Jushie Uyeno Kagenori, members of the Japanese diplomatic mission and senior British figures. Crowds gathered to witness the great iron warship take to the water, its launch marking another step in Japan’s remarkable transformation.

The Hiei soon set sail for Japan under the command of a Royal Navy captain, with Lieutenant Togo aboard. For Togo, however, Pembroke Dock was not simply a place he had visited while working on a ship. It had become a place where he had been welcomed, and where he had experienced the warmth of a community thousands of miles from his homeland.

Perhaps it was this that prompted the remarkable gesture that followed. After returning to Japan, Togo sent a Ginkgo sapling back to Pembroke Dock as a token of his gratitude, asking that it be planted in the garden of the house where he had lived. Ambassador Kagenori himself planted the young tree, giving it a permanent place in the landscape of the town that had played such an unexpected part in Japan’s naval story.

And so the little sapling took root.

The choice of a Ginkgo was fitting in more ways than Togo could perhaps have imagined. The species is often described as a “living fossil”, with a lineage stretching back hundreds of millions of years. Ginkgo trees are renowned for their extraordinary resilience. In Hiroshima, several Ginkgos survived the atomic bombing of 1945 and continued to grow, becoming powerful symbols of survival and hope.

The Pembroke Dock Ginkgo has demonstrated its own remarkable resilience. It has witnessed two world wars, the rise and fall of empires, enormous political changes, the eventual closure of the Royal Dockyard and generations of changing relationships between Britain and Japan. Through it all, it continued to grow, quietly carrying a story that was almost forgotten.

Then, more than a century after it was planted, that story began to emerge once again.

In 2017, local maritime historian David James brought Japanese journalists and diplomatic representatives to see the tree while researching Pembroke Dock’s connections with Japan. What they discovered was extraordinary. The young Lieutenant Togo who had once lived in the Master Shipwright’s House had gone on to become Marshal Admiral Heihachiro Togo, one of the most revered figures in Japanese history.

Togo’s career had taken him far beyond the shores of Pembrokeshire. He became a central figure in the development of Japan’s modern navy and achieved legendary status during the Russo-Japanese War of 1904–05. His defining moment came at the Battle of Tsushima in May 1905, when the Japanese fleet under his command confronted Russia’s Baltic Fleet after it had travelled thousands of miles from Europe to reach the Far East.

The resulting Japanese victory was decisive. Much of the Russian fleet was destroyed or captured, and the defeat sent shockwaves through the world. For the first time in the modern era, an Asian power had decisively defeated a major European imperial power in a major war. Japan had announced its arrival as a major international power, and Togo became a national hero. In Britain and elsewhere, he was sometimes compared with Admiral Lord Nelson and described as the “Nelson of the East”.

It is difficult to imagine a more extraordinary journey for the young officer who had once walked the streets of Pembroke Dock.

The rediscovery of the Ginkgo created an opportunity to bring another part of that journey full circle. Japanese representatives were keen to preserve the connection, and carefully selected cuttings were taken from the original tree. The National Botanic Gardens of Wales nurtured them, eventually producing a new generation of saplings descended from Togo’s tree.

In 2019, with the support of Nippon Yusen, one of Japan’s major shipping companies, the young Ginkgos began their journey home. They travelled to Tokyo on Christmas Eve before being transferred to the Hiroshima City Botanic Gardens, where they underwent quarantine and were carefully nurtured before being sent to locations connected with Togo and Japan’s naval history.

Then, on 1st July 2020, something extraordinary happened. One of the descendants of the Pembroke Dock Ginkgo was ceremonially planted at Kure Naval Base in Hiroshima Prefecture, outside a house associated with Admiral Togo himself.

For a moment, history seemed to fold back upon itself.

A tree descended from a sapling sent from Japan to Pembroke Dock by a young naval officer had crossed the world once again, this time travelling from Wales back to Japan. Its journey linked the house where Togo had once lived in Pembroke Dock with another place intimately connected to the man he would become.

The connection between Pembroke Dock and Kure is about far more than a single tree. The knowledge acquired by Japanese naval officers, engineers and shipbuilders in Britain helped lay the foundations of Japan’s modern navy. The Hiei was one part of that much larger story, and its construction in Pembroke Dock became an unlikely Welsh chapter in Japan’s emergence as a modern power.

There is a wonderful symmetry in the relationship. Pembroke Dock helped build a ship that sailed to Japan, the young officer who came to oversee its construction carried memories of Wales back with him, and in return he sent a Ginkgo sapling across the sea. More than a century later, descendants of that same tree travelled back to Japan.

The story also has a much more poignant chapter. During the First World War, the Japanese merchant vessel Hirano Maru was torpedoed off the Pembrokeshire coast in 1918, with the loss of hundreds of lives. David James later played an important role in ensuring that the Japanese sailors who died were remembered, helping to establish a memorial to their sacrifice. His work preserving and promoting these connections between Wales and Japan was formally recognised by the Japanese Ambassador, who presented him with an Ambassador’s Commendation in December 2019.

The Ginkgo project became another expression of that enduring friendship. What began in Victorian Pembroke Dock as a gesture of thanks from a young Japanese naval officer has grown into something far greater, a living story shared by two countries separated by thousands of miles.

Today, the original Ginkgo remains in the private garden of the Master Shipwright’s House. It is not normally open to the public, and for much of the time it stands quietly beyond the view of passers by. Yet its branches carry an extraordinary history, of ships and sailors, of friendship and gratitude, of technological revolution and the transformation of a nation.

And its story no longer belongs to Pembroke Dock alone. Its descendants are now growing in Japan, linking places, people and generations that might otherwise have remained separated by distance and time.

Perhaps that is what makes the tree so special. It is not a monument carved from stone or cast in bronze. It is alive . Every spring it produces new leaves, every autumn they fall again. Year after year, it continues the quiet cycle of growth that began with a small sapling planted in gratitude more than a century ago.

From a Welsh shipyard to the Imperial Japanese Navy, from a young lieutenant to a legendary admiral, and from Pembroke Dock back to Japan, the story of the Ginkgo is a remarkable reminder that sometimes the most enduring connections between nations begin with something very simple, a ship, a friendship, and a tree 📷👍😊❤️🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿🇯🇵

08/09/2026

A little taste of the Shire Hall in Haverfordwest, one of Pembrokeshire’s most prominent civic landmarks, a neoclassical building designed by William Owen, the county’s surveyor and four time mayor of the town. Construction began in 1835 and was completed by 1837, replacing a former Quaker meeting house. Its creation reflected the early 19th Century push to modernise Haverfordwest, which at the time served as the administrative and judicial hub of the county. Architecturally, the Shire Hall is an elegant two-storey stucco building with a symmetrical five-bay façade. Giant Ionic pilasters frame the central section, which is crowned with a pediment, while arched openings and sash windows highlight the refined Georgian proportions. Inside, the top lit D shaped courtroom, with its coffered ceiling and neo Grec plasterwork, remains one of the finest interiors of its kind in Wales.

From the very beginning, the building was designed as a courthouse, hosting the county’s assize trials, serious criminal cases that were held twice a year and presided over by judges travelling from London. Some of the most dramatic trials of the 19th Century were heard here, including cases arising from the Rebecca Riots of the 1840s, when local farmers protested against unfair tolls on Welsh roads. After the passing of the Local Government Act in 1888, the newly formed Pembrokeshire County Council used the Shire Hall for its meetings, and in 1900–01 the interior was altered by architect Arthur Thomas to provide a formal council chamber. The building was more than just a seat of law and politics, it was also a cultural venue. In 1896, the Haverfordwest Male Voice Choir gave their first concert here, marking the start of a long tradition of community events within its walls.

The Shire Hall remained the principal courthouse in the county well into the 20th Century. Its last notable assize trial took place in 1950, a murder case that attracted national attention. The county council, meanwhile, continued to meet there until 1974, when the creation of Dyfed County Council shifted administrative power to Carmarthen. Judicial use of the building carried on until 2003, after which the courts were permanently closed. The end of its official role left the Shire Hall without a clear purpose, and proposals to convert it into a pub chain outlet met with strong public opposition, as local people feared the loss of its historic character.

In 2010, a turning point came when Red Dragon Developments secured a 999 year lease of the building and undertook significant restoration works. These included re-roofing, re-rendering in lime plaster, repainting the façade in a Regency red, and even the installation of a new dome. The ground floor courtroom was restored with the intention of hosting community events, auctions, or exhibitions, while the upper floors were earmarked for mixed commercial uses. Civic groups, however, raised concerns that too much of the historic courtroom might be lost to modernisation, and campaigns by the Haverfordwest Civic Society successfully pressed for the preservation of key features such as the judge’s bench, jury box, and prisoner’s dock.

Despite these efforts, the building’s long-term future remains uncertain. The 999 year lease complicates oversight, as Pembrokeshire County Council has only limited inspection rights and little power to enforce conservation standards. Parts of the building remain underused, and in recent years the property has been put up for sale again, raising questions about its fate. Civic groups continue to stress the importance of balancing commercial viability with heritage protection, ensuring that the Shire Hall remains at the heart of Haverfordwest life.

Today, the Shire Hall stands as both a symbol of the town’s rich legal and political past and a test case for how historic buildings can be adapted for modern use. Its striking façade still dominates the town centre, a reminder of the days when Haverfordwest was the administrative capital of Pembrokeshire. Whether it becomes a hub for community activities, a cultural venue, or a carefully managed mixed use development, the Shire Hall’s story continues to evolve, rooted in nearly two centuries of civic history 📷👍😊

07/09/2026

The medieval Paterchurch Tower is widely regarded as the oldest surviving building in Pembroke Dock. It is the last remnant of a once larger manorial complex, much of which was demolished during the expansion of Pembroke Dockyard in the 19th Century. The tower itself is believed to date back to the late Middle Ages, and its name comes from the de Paterchurch family, who originally owned the surrounding lands. Its survival makes it an important link to the area’s pre-dockyard history, offering a rare glimpse into Pembrokeshire’s manorial and defensive past.

In 1759, long before Pembroke Dockyard was established, the Board of Ordnance purchased the land around the tower. Their aim was to build an artillery battery to help defend the strategically important Milford Haven Waterway, a natural harbour often described as one of the finest in the world. With the construction of the Royal Dockyard beginning in the mid 1810s, Paterchurch Tower initially stood just outside the first perimeter walls. However, when the dockyard expanded in 1844, the tower was incorporated within the new boundaries, placing it firmly inside the naval complex.

Architecturally, Paterchurch Tower is a three-storey embattled structure, possibly built either as a defensive pele tower or a lookout post to monitor the surrounding waters. Inside, fireplaces and a spiral staircase indicate that it also served a residential purpose, blending defence with domestic comfort. By the 17th Century, additional farmsteads and domestic buildings had been built close by, making the area a small but self-contained settlement. Excavations during the construction of the dockyard walls revealed numerous human skeletons, confirming that Paterchurch had its own burial ground. The last recorded interment there was that of Roger Adams in 1731, a poignant reminder of the community that once thrived around the tower.

Historically, the tower formed the centre of an estate that stretched from Pennar Point to Cosheston, an area that would later become crucial for Britain’s naval power during the Napoleonic Wars and beyond. Today, the tower is in private ownership and is not normally accessible to the public. However, prearranged visits such as this provide a rare opportunity to step back into this fascinating chapter of local history 📷👍😊🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿

07/09/2026

The Shire Hall in Haverfordwest is one of Pembrokeshire’s most prominent civic landmarks, a neoclassical building designed by William Owen, the county’s surveyor and four time mayor of the town. Construction began in 1835 and was completed by 1837, replacing a former Quaker meeting house. Its creation reflected the early 19th Century push to modernise Haverfordwest, which at the time served as the administrative and judicial hub of the county. Architecturally, the Shire Hall is an elegant two-storey stucco building with a symmetrical five-bay façade. Giant Ionic pilasters frame the central section, which is crowned with a pediment, while arched openings and sash windows highlight the refined Georgian proportions. Inside, the top lit D shaped courtroom, with its coffered ceiling and neo Grec plasterwork, remains one of the finest interiors of its kind in Wales.

From the very beginning, the building was designed as a courthouse, hosting the county’s assize trials, serious criminal cases that were held twice a year and presided over by judges travelling from London. Some of the most dramatic trials of the 19th Century were heard here, including cases arising from the Rebecca Riots of the 1840s, when local farmers protested against unfair tolls on Welsh roads. After the passing of the Local Government Act in 1888, the newly formed Pembrokeshire County Council used the Shire Hall for its meetings, and in 1900–01 the interior was altered by architect Arthur Thomas to provide a formal council chamber. The building was more than just a seat of law and politics, it was also a cultural venue. In 1896, the Haverfordwest Male Voice Choir gave their first concert here, marking the start of a long tradition of community events within its walls.

The Shire Hall remained the principal courthouse in the county well into the 20th Century. Its last notable assize trial took place in 1950, a murder case that attracted national attention. The county council, meanwhile, continued to meet there until 1974, when the creation of Dyfed County Council shifted administrative power to Carmarthen. Judicial use of the building carried on until 2003, after which the courts were permanently closed. The end of its official role left the Shire Hall without a clear purpose, and proposals to convert it into a pub chain outlet met with strong public opposition, as local people feared the loss of its historic character.

In 2010, a turning point came when Red Dragon Developments secured a 999 year lease of the building and undertook significant restoration works. These included re-roofing, re-rendering in lime plaster, repainting the façade in a Regency red, and even the installation of a new dome. The ground floor courtroom was restored with the intention of hosting community events, auctions, or exhibitions, while the upper floors were earmarked for mixed commercial uses. Civic groups, however, raised concerns that too much of the historic courtroom might be lost to modernisation, and campaigns by the Haverfordwest Civic Society successfully pressed for the preservation of key features such as the judge’s bench, jury box, and prisoner’s dock.

Despite these efforts, the building’s long-term future remains uncertain. The 999 year lease complicates oversight, as Pembrokeshire County Council has only limited inspection rights and little power to enforce conservation standards. Parts of the building remain underused, and in recent years the property has been put up for sale again, raising questions about its fate. Civic groups continue to stress the importance of balancing commercial viability with heritage protection, ensuring that the Shire Hall remains at the heart of Haverfordwest life.

Today, the Shire Hall stands as both a symbol of the town’s rich legal and political past and a test case for how historic buildings can be adapted for modern use. Its striking façade still dominates the town centre, a reminder of the days when Haverfordwest was the administrative capital of Pembrokeshire. Whether it becomes a hub for community activities, a cultural venue, or a carefully managed mixed use development, the Shire Hall’s story continues to evolve, rooted in nearly two centuries of civic history 📷👍😊🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿

06/09/2026

Walton West Church may be small, but the more you look at it, the more interesting it becomes.

One of the things that struck me was the stonework. It doesn’t look as though the whole building was put up at once, and it wasn’t. The church has been changed, extended and repaired over several centuries, and you can still see some of those changes in the walls.

The nave may date from the 13th or 14th century, the chancel from the 14th, and the west tower from the 15th century. The tower is particularly interesting, with its medieval vaulted ceiling, spiral stair turret and several blocked up openings. There’s even an old doorway and window that have been partly obscured by later changes.

Then came a major Victorian restoration in 1854. The church was apparently in a pretty sorry state by then, described in 1851 as being “dilapidated to an incredible degree”. Much of the building was subsequently rebuilt or refaced, and a north chapel, porch and vestry were added.

That explains some of the slightly odd looking joins and changes in the stonework. It’s not just an untidy collection of walls, you’re actually seeing different chapters of the building’s history.

There are some lovely little details inside too. Medieval carved pieces have been reused in the walls, including a carving of a bell and another of a woman’s head. There’s a probable 12th century font, and a small medieval looking effigy of a woman in the tower which was once claimed to be a statue of St David.

And then there’s the Walton Stone, rounded, and carved with an early Christian cross, probably dating from the 10th or 11th century. It was found in the churchyard while a grave was being dug, suggesting that the story of this site goes back much further than the present church.

I found myself looking at the walls rather differently after learning all this. A blocked window here, a change in the stonework there, an old carving reused somewhere else, little clues that show how the church has been altered and cared for over hundreds of years.

It’s a fascinating little building, and definitely one worth taking your time over 📷👍😊🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿

05/09/2026

After many years of banking at Barclays in Narberth, I finally had the chance to step inside the old vault. It was fascinating to see behind those doors and imagine all the money, documents and valuables that must once have been kept safely inside.

The Grade II listed Edwardian building on James Street has been a prominent part of Narberth’s town centre for generations. With its sash windows, pilasters and decorative stonework, it was designed to convey the solidity and trust that banks once represented, a fitting building for a thriving market town.

For much of the 20th Century, the branch was an important part of everyday life. Generations of local families opened accounts, arranged mortgages, deposited their earnings and carried out their banking here.

Sadly, the branch was closed in 2019, following a decline in face to face banking. Its closure left the town without a bank and reflected the wider changes taking place as banking moved online.

But the story of this lovely building didn’t end there. Today, it has a completely different life as a wonderful antique shop, filled with character and treasures from the past.

There’s something rather special about that, a building that once protected people’s money is now helping to preserve pieces of history. And finally getting to see inside that old vault made it all the more memorable 📷👍☺️🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿

Hidden Pembrokeshire - Gareth Davies Photography

09/09/2026

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