What a trip. In eight days, we took in 7 English castles, 3 Welsh castles, 3 abbeys/priories, 3 holy wells (dating pre-Christian), a medieval house, a Roman fort, a dark age dyke, 5 Neolithic sites, 4 waterfalls, a sea stack and bird watching outpost, a slate mine, a town with 38 bookstores and watched the Champion's League final in a crowed pub. We put 1000 miles on the rental car.
That's the short story. If you want the details, keep reading. Karen will be putting up a site at some point with pictures soon.
The trip started inauspiciously with a 2 hour delay leaving Tampa where they told us our connection would leave on time (and we might miss it). After a sprint through Newark (with no help or info from Continental even when we asked them) we found our flight to Manchester had also been delayed 2 hours. Then at Manchester, we found they had lost a bag, the one with all the maps, books, Karen's clothes and our hiking boots. The rental car company had no maps, so we had to wing it out of Manchester into Wales where we bought a map and figured out where we were. Oh, and it was raining, and windy, and cold. The whole time (not quite, but close). It rained every day we were there but the last Tuesday.
But things got much better. Karen's bag was delivered the next day. Most days, the weather cleared as we came to places we wanted to see if only to pour again when we were finished. Or the direction we chose would have the only clear weather of the day.
The place we stayed was run by the most wonderful woman from London whose work ethic is just completely amazing. She used to be a broker specializing in developing markets. Her level of energy and general cheeriness was unrivaled by anyone I've met. In a couple weeks she is going to shut down for her birthday to do a hike of the Welsh summits that exceed 3000 feet, something like 7 or 8 in a week. Should you ever find yourself in North Wales in need of accommodations, I can't recommend the place we stayed highly enough. It was an 1850's Victorian house very tastefully decorated. She had prime recommendations of where to eat and where to avoid. She knew the area and had great recommendations for what to add to our list of things to see. A perfect host. She offered us all kinds of help with our initial lost bag situation. By the end, we, too, must have made an impression as she said to her friends (who were pitying her for having Americans staying with her) that we weren't typical Americans, we were good ones. She also seemed impressed that we "got out and saw the country" rather than just the tourist spots.
The day we arrive (about 4 hours later than we thought) we walked the town and the rivers before collapsing for a fresh start.
The first full day out, we took in Anglesey starting with Beaumaris castle, then to Penmon Priory with St. Seiriol's well and a 1000 bird dovecote. At lunch, I practiced some Welsh at a bakery (mm, lamb oggies) and made the woman's day, I think. Her face lit up when I said "Diolch" and asked how to pronounce some words. From there we went to Holy Head and the South Stack where we hung with some Royal Society for the Preservation of Birds people chatting and watching the nesting birds (in gale force winds), and saw a flower that only grows there, one of only 200 left. Talked a bit with a Welsh nationalist ("The dream still lives!"). From there, we took in a Neolithic hut circle and 2 burial chambers (Bodewyn and Bryn Celli Ddu), the latter of which had a henge on it before the locals wiped it out and erected a cairn in a stone age religious war. Those were out in BFE Wales. We were soaked and shivering by the time we crawled into the pub to catch a lamb dinner, a pint of Old Speckled Hen and the last half of Arsenal losing to Barcelona in the UEFA Champions League final before an enthusiastic crowd of mostly Arsenal supporters.
The next day we had all our equipment again (yeah!) and opted to stay more local to Betws-y-Coed after some porridge with our continental breakfast (mmm). We started with the Mt. Garmon burial mound just up the hills from where we stayed. On the way up, we got to escorted by the local sheep rancher's dog, who was quite playful before he was called home. The mound was impressive with 3 chambers, though open topped (only one we saw reconstructed and covered). From there we hiked out to Conwy Falls (quite nice) and Fairy Glen (an aptly named waterfall and gorge). From there we took in Dolwyddelan, a Welsh castle, positioned on a hill with quite a commanding view. From there we toured the Llechwedd slate mines (a hard day's pay in Victorian times) and finally Swallow Falls. That night was Welsh beef at a charming bistro in town, finished off with Welsh mead!
Day three we branched out to the Llyn where we heard the most Welsh (though Anglesey and the North were both full of Welsh speakers). We had been warned that the Llyn was full of Welsh National Front (think IRA without violence). They regularly pained out English signs and left only Welsh, as well as stole a few signs altogether. Though it was on Anglesey that we saw the large, painted wall with "English Colonists Out". We started with Harlech Castle (quite impressive, especially when considering it would have been lime-washed and a bright white on it's stone perch). Then to Cricieth, a Welsh castle. Then into the start of the maze of stolen signs to Pennarth Fawr, a medieval house and finally lost almost completely before a navigation roll got us to St. Cybi's Well (worth the hour in the near sign-less maze). On to St. Bueno's well (not much to see) and another adventure with the locals to find the Clynnog Dolmen and it's hundred cup circles. Always ask the old Welsh guy, he knows these things, checks your shoes and sends you across the right ranchers field. That night was venison and a rather good beer called Reverend James down the road from where we were staying.
As an aside, we were warned about the Welsh by nearly every English person we met, starting at British Immigration, where were told they wouldn't help us with much, especially pronunciation of the town names. One person summed it up by saying they were "bloody minded" (in the British sense of the term). What we saw was that if we made a small effort, they were more than friendly and helpful, including with pronunciation, especially if we mentioned we had actually read some Welsh history. Though when we saw them interacting with the English, they seemed to have a bit of a beaten down look, as though they were quite used to all the things said about them (as when one English girl said to her Welsh compatriot as we were discussing town names, "I'm going back to where they talk proper). The English on the other hand were also quite helpful, but wouldn't acknowledge you on the street with eye contact or a polite hello (because they have no G-D manners was what our half English, half German innkeeper said). Quite interesting their views of one another. They really only just seem to get along, at least in the north. I think many of the Welsh would rather be free of Britain (same as we found with many Scots in Scotland), though I'm not sure where that would lead. But they do have their own unique culture.
After a full English breakfast of sausage, bacon (Canadian style), eggs, grilled mushrooms and tomatoes, Saturday was the big castles, Caernarfon and Conwy, . Both quite impressive. Caernarfon was better restored (and quite a treacherous, slick stair maze inside the walls that nearly broke my elbow), but Conwy showed more of the interior buildings and living conditions. The towns were no comparison: Caernarfon was more of a tourist town, Conwy more genuine. The medieval city walls in Conwy were still complete. The shops seemed quite nice, not selling the tourist tat of Caernarfon center. Then it was off the Caerhun, a Roman outpost you really must have ticked someone off to be stationed at in the day. While in general the country and sites were well marked and easy to find, this was one of the few that wasn't. I think we made the young ranchers day when we asked him if he knew where it was and he said, "you're standing on it." You could make out the land had been flattened (2000 years ago) and one side of the trench and dyke. He was kind enough to lead us to the church (the only thing there) where they had some information about the site, before tucking his puppy back under his arm and climbing back on his ATV to continue to his fields. The church itself (also called Caerhun, the only way we found it) dated back to the 1100's. Neat site. Commanding view of the river. Then we took in Aber Falls, an impressive 100 foot drop that was flowing quite nicely from all the rain. Then fish and chips and a pint in the pub in the town near the falls. Just what we needed.
Sunday we bit off more than we should have with a long drive (with the first of the two flipped cars) down to Hay-on-Wye, the town with 38 used bookstores. I could have crawled through there all day. Found a couple interesting books with 3 more on medieval warfare I would have bought had they not already been a bit musty. If you have a book you can't find, this is the place. Got a bit of help at the tourist information center with my Welsh pronunciation (in the friendliest way). Then we started the arduous climb up onto the bluffs overlooking the town toward Llanthony priory. On the way up, a guy on his way down with a rack-line of debris halfway up his door warned us about a bit of water on the road ahead. Must have been a flash flood (it was pouring off and on all that day) as we only had water up about a foot. The drive was worth it both for the startling view of the Wye valley from the top, and for the Benedictine priory nestled in the valley on the other side. This was where our most astounding weather break. As we munched a cold lunch in the car, the weather broke and we got the only half hour of sun that day to tour the priory before it came down again. Timing is everything. Quite an impressive ruin. It was compared to Tintern Abbey, only without the commercial tourism surrounding it. Pretty much the area was as it was 800 years earlier. Well worth the drive. From there, we nosed around Offa's Dyke on the way home (with the second flipped car), though you could just barely make out where it had been. Still, an impressive 177 mile feat of brute engineering for the 9th or 10th century. Really shows how much the Saxons and the Welsh didn't get along (still don't seem to much from what I could tell). No real dinner that night as we wanted to get back before dark with all the rain and accidents.
By Monday, we were quite drained (mostly me with the cold I thought was bordering on walking pneumonia), so we opted to stick closer to town. We did some shopping, took in a nice lunch at another place our hostess recommended and just wandered about the town. We did take in a Valle Crucis Abbey that afternoon, which was somewhat nearby. Another beautiful ruin this time Cistercian, the white monks, (state sponsored theft as the keeper called the dissolution of the monasteries). That day it was quite cold, rainy and blowing (temps around 40 when we were there). They had a number of medieval grave markers on display as well as an impressive rosette window carved out of stone still standing in the wall of the nave. Then another pub meal and a new local brew (new that day) from Conwy.
Tuesday, we had to start making our way back toward England after picking up lunch in town (mmm, more lamb oggies), taking in castles at Denbigh (what a commanding view), Rhuddlan (built for shear intimidation), Flint (low, squat and meant to be look impenetrable) and finally Ewloe, a Welsh ambush castle hidden away in a vale nested among the trees. I think of all the castles we saw, it was the most startling as you had no clue The CADW (preservers of Welsh historic monuments) have their act together. Not only could we pick up a 7 day pass that got us entry into all the castles and sites that charged (not all did) for big discount for what we saw. Wish we'd found out about it the first day. They also have quite nice books that were relatively inexpensive for each place (that I invested heavily in, filling my briefcase to my shoulder's carrying capacity on the trip home).
Then it was a slow drive back to Manchester (by then Karen had picked up my cold) where we got quite lost in the airport desperately searching for the rental car return before getting help from a quite friendly cabby who drew us a map (we were in the middle of the airport grounds at the time with it's numerous roundabouts. Laugh if you will). But it did the trick. The hotel was quite nice. That night was Atlantic salmon (from the wrong side) in the hotel restaurant. Very tasty even on the other side.
And an early, mostly eventless flight home (except almost got held by British security because Continental didn't mark our passports as having been screened. Fortunately the man who screened us vouched for us at the gate), to be greeted by our own terse and surly immigration and customs people (as opposed to the quite polite, friendly, and helpful British ones). As the sign at Immigration says: The face of the nation. Quite a contrast. Our bags got X-rayed by Dept. of Ag as we said we'd been on a ranch and in contact with livestock (?!), though they didn't ask anything about that, only whether we had any food (other than the honey we declared). When we got home, we found a slip saying TSA had searched our bags as well. Nothing missing, no damage, no problem. At least they let us know. Must be my swarthy passport photo.
That's it in a (rather wordy) nutshell. A fabulous trip, quite an adventure even for the rough spots. Nothing that stopped us or even slowed us down much. Even for all the running around, we never felt we didn't have enough time at any one place. Of course, we didn't get to see everything we wanted. Just means we have to go back. We had a blast and would do it all again, rough spots and all.
But the cats are glad we're home, even if we didn't bring any of the numerous lambs we saw for them to play with.
© 2006 Edward P. Morgan III
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