Showing posts with label Wales. Show all posts

Betws-y-Coed, Wales & Snowdonia National Park 
Left Betws-y-Coed and drove west toward Mount Snowdon. Took the A4086 out of Capel Curig and snapped some photos near the National Mountain Center at Plas y Brenin, where mountaineering and other sports are taught.
As ever, sheep were grazing even high on the rocky cliffs. Drove on to Llanberis and considered the Welsh Slate Museum but decided to hike up to Dolbadarn Castle in the Padarn Park near the museum. We hiked to the top of a nearby hill where we saw sheep up close.
Dolbadarn Castle
In Llanberis, we drove up a road toward the top of Mount Snowdon, the tallest in Great Britain. The road dead ended on the lower reaches of a stable where a woman and child were driving out the gate at the end of the road. She kindly allowed us to turn around in the stable area and then closed the gate behind us.  Midway back down the road we stopped at a place with signs indicating it was a tea room. The entrance door was locked, however, and we were about to get back into the car when a man and his dog walked up.
 Wearing a rugby shirt with a woolen scarf around his neck, he had short graying hair and wore wire-rim eyeglasses. “You’re lucky you weren’t clamped!” he yelled. “This is a private road. Only mountain rescue vehicles are allowed up here. The camera nabbed a photo of your plate, and you’ll get a ticket in the post.”

Finally he asked what we wanted and where we were from. We told him we had wanted to get a cup of tea but that if we were there illegally we’d be glad to leave. He invited us to come in and see the house and tea room.  He was the picture of eccentricity as he showed us around the cottage which he claimed had been in his family for centuries. His hyperactive mind and his conversation flitted madly from one topic to another:
  • the sincerity and generosity of the northern Welsh people (“the real Welsh,” he emphasized)
  • how foolishly the English and Americans are to throw money at every problem
  • how arrogant not to recognize the national desires of other peoples 
  • his family’s centuries-old history in Wales (“We have deeds signed by Edward I”)
  • the castle (Dolgellau) that the English stole from his family
  • that you can stay with a northern Welsh family in their home for £2.50 a night but they’d be insulted if you offered them the money
  • the many famous people who have visited his tea room—mentioning Prince Charles, Anthony Hopkins, and a musical group called Status Quo (“They all stop here.”)
In the midst of all his rantings and ramblings, when we arrived in the kitchen, he began frenetically washing dishes, still talking a mile a minute. His conversation was peppered with contradictions. After telling us we might have had our car clamped, then he said the police never come up there. After telling us he had lived there on a nearby mountain for 47 years (and he couldn’t have been much older), he said that he had lived in New York. His entire conversation was characterized by these kinds of inconsistencies.

In giving us a tour of the cottage, he said that one room was furnished with 17th century antiques, the next with 18th century antiques, all of which had been in his family since they had been built. In a room being used for storage, he lifted a cloth on a hutch-type piece of furniture an told us that it had been imported from Connecticut in 1810. Next to it was a large, old book, which he told us was a family bible from the 18th century. When we made the expected exclamations over it, he said, “Oh, we have another that’s much older.”

Before the tour ended, he led us into a room where he displayed brochures of various types. He picked up one for the tea room and one for herbal remedies concocted by his family. As he handed them to us, he urged, “Don’t lose this, and next time you’re coming over get in touch with me. Unfortunately I won’t remember you but I’ll help you find a good place to stay.” Walking back into the kitchen, he reminded us at least three more times, “Don’t lose that!”

Finally we grabbed an opportunity to take our leave when he took a good breath to move on to yet another topic. “Sorry I can’t offer you some tea,” he said when we told him we were leaving, “but here’s a good local scone for you. Everything is donated. It’s all free.” He reached into a basket and pulled out a couple of scones wrapped together in plastic wrap and handed it to Ken. “Share these with the wife, now,” he said. “And be good to the wife. Always be good to the wife.”

When we both assured him that Ken is always good to the wife, he asked if we had any children. We replied that we had not and asked if he had any. “No!” he exclaimed. “I hate children. Can’t tolerate them.” Ken asked him how his centuries-old family would continue to flourish in the Welsh mountains, and he stated that he was the last of the line.

Even his faithful dog didn’t appear to believe all the tales he was spinning but he was quite entertaining. He never gave us his name—real or make-believe. Needless to say, we found no camera at the gate to photograph our license plate as we left.

Returning to the Betws-y-Coed area, we took a hike on a forest trail in the T’yn Llwyn Woods, part of Snowdonia National Park, where we enjoyed a picnic.
Since this was our last day in the Snowdonia area, we also visited a couple of popular waterfalls. Swallow Falls, not far from Betws-y-Coed, is the highest continuous waterfall in Wales and a very popular spot with visitors.
Conwy Falls was also nearby and was just as impressive in a similar woodland setting.
Finally, we couldn’t leave Betws without a visit to St. Michael’s Church, the oldest building in the village. Located on the banks of the River Conwy, the church was built in 14th Century and is accessible by foot.
Sapper’s Bridge, a suspension footbridge, was built in the 1930's to replace a previous wooden bridge that had been swept away. On the bridge we met a scrappy little guy who has seen his share of trouble in life but still was friendly enough to welcome us to his neighborhood and spend some time with us.
After a bit of grocery shopping in Betws, it was back to the hotel for dinner in the room and our last night in Wales before heading back to London tomorrow for our flight home to Atlanta.
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Betws-y-Coed, Wales
We discovered upon awakening that the heat here is also on a timer. Since we’re getting up at 6 a.m., we’re aware of it, so some of the places we stayed earlier on this trip were probably the same and we just hadn’t realized it' because we were getting up later.

Having breakfast in our room allows us to get an earlier start and make the most of the shortened daylight in December. We did a bit of laundry last night, and most things dried on the radiators before the heat was cut off.

This morning we drove east on a scenic route through forest and farmland toward Conwy. Came through the town of Ruther just before 9:00 and saw many children being walked to school by their mothers.
Toured the beautifully situated Conwy Castle, another of Edward I’s defensive fortresses in north Wales. Standing on a massive rock foundation, the castle overlooks both land and sea.

After Conwy, we drove to Caernafon to visit the castle where Charles was crowned Prince of Wales.
Caernafon was the largest castle we have visited and had a large courtyard for official ceremonies. There were many passageways to traverse and towers to climb (circular staircase with rope handrail). It was very windy and only about 5° C. Quite an impressive castle, as Edward intended, of course.

From Caernafon to Beddgaelert, we drove through an area of mid-size mountains covered with scrub and stone. On the lower reaches and sometimes even higher were the ubiquitous sheep grazing.
In Beddgaelert, we took a walk by the river and visited the grave of the legendary Gelert, the hound who protected his master’s infant child from a giant wolf. When the baby’s father, Prince Llywelyn, returned from the hunt, saw blood on the dog and no sign of his son, he killed Gelert believing him responsible. As Gelert fell, the prince heard his son cry and found him safe with the slain wolf nearby.
Horrified by his actions, the prince, it is said, never smiled again. The village is named in honor of this brave dog. Beddgelert=the grave of Gelert.

Leaving the village, we saw a group of sheep next to the street, over the wall and next to the river. A few jumped up onto the low stone wall and down to the street. Apparently they had shopping to do.
Returned to the grocery store in Llanrwst for a few items for dinner and then back to the Royal Oak Hotel in Betws for dinner in the room and a good night’s sleep.
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Aberystwyth, Wales to Betws-y-Coed, Wales
We awoke this morning at 6 to discover that the heat was on a timer that cut it off during the night. Brrrr!! We got up and quickly pulled on some clothes. To our surprise and delight, the heat returned around 6:30. We made breakfast and packed up.

Then we used a new trick we learned yesterday playing with the GPS controls. We entered an entire list of places we want to drive through today on the way to Betws-y-Coed rather than entering each one after we reach the previous one

Headed north on the A487 a bit after 8 a.m., we find that the sheep are already busy at work keeping the grass trimmed. We occasionally see one standing on back feet, front “elbows” on the ground, grazing.
Many of the sheep we see here in Wales have what appear to be dye markings in different colors. First we thought they might be in common grazing areas and the colors were ownership marks for different farmers. We learned that yes, that is true. We also discovered why some sheep have two different color markings. It's all about romance. When rams are released into a field with females, the rams are equipped with a dye pouch on their chests. The dye marks all the lady friends that the ram “services.”

Petrol prices have been consistent at £ .869 per liter. In smaller villages we’ve frequently seen new car dealerships with the petrol stations.

In our conversation with the blokes at the pub last night, we were talking about differences in driving times for similar distances in the US and UK. The young guy said he was amazed at how quickly he and his friends drove from Los Angeles to Las Vegas and from Phoenix back to San Diego. The long, straight level stretches of road were a marvel to him. Boswell, the barkeep, laughed and said, “Yes. It takes us five hours to get out of town.”

We’ve been in the UK for a week now, and Ken is still doing all the driving. After the first couple of days, he had adjusted very well, and by today his knuckles are even back to their normal color. Now he has nerves of steel, even when meeting lorries (trucks) on the narrow winding roads.
We visited Aberdovey, a handsome little coastal village with abundant public parking and some lovely little art galleries. Unfortunately we were there before opening time so were limited to window-shopping. Outside the village, we saw a links-type golf course between the motorway and the beach. The greenskeepers were hard at work clipping the grass on the fairways to perfection so the flight of the golf balls would be true. We were surprised to see that these hard workers were all sheep.

North of Aberdovey, the landscape became quite hilly with one beautiful vista after another. Looking out one can see a patchwork quilt of pastures separated by hedgerows or rock/stone walls. Within most fields, the grass is green and sheep are grazing, no matter how steep the slope.
After the road returned to the coast, we passed farms along the sea with sheep grazing within rock walled pastures down to the beach. Ken calls this sight “sheep to shore.”  Birds are abundant here also.  In addition to the many pheasants, we’ve seen a good number of swans as well as lots of magpies.

Roads here in Wales are very serpentine, and off the motorways our average speed is probably 30 to 35 mph.  Despite the season, we occasionally see bicyclists on the narrow roads.
Crossing the Penmaenpool wooden bridge over to Barmouth, we chatted with the tollkeeper about our trip and about his daughter who lives in Miami and works for Royal Caribbean cruise lines. He thought we selected an odd time for our holiday but quickly acknowledged that not everyone shares the same taste.

On the coast we have seen many “holiday parks” or “caravan parks,” where 100 or more mobile homes are parked and are available for lease or sale.
We stopped at Harlech Castle, a 13th century fortress built by Edward I as a defense against the Welsh princes, who captured it in the 1400s. Built on the coast high on a bedrock, the castle commanded a view for miles out to sea and inland.
Leaving Harlech, we began to see some mountains of significant size. They are covered with rocks and even here we occasionally see rock walls built up the side of the slope.

Whenever we see road construction where the road is narrowed to one lane, there is usually a portable traffic light, rather than workers holding stop/slow signs.
Arriving in Betws-y-Coed (pronounced bet-us-ee-coid) a little after noon, we visited the TI office and asked about W&K’s Royal Oak Farm B&B. We were sad to learn that Mrs. Horton had retired after last season and no longer accepts B&B guests. We were able to walk out to the farm for a visit. It is just behind the TI along a river, a beautiful setting.
Across the street from the TI, we booked a room in the stables section of the Royal Oak Hotel. It’s a great location in the center of town, allowing an easy walk to the Cotswold Outdoor shop for a visit to the Rock Bottom internet cafe.

Then we drove to Llanrwst, a bit larger town four miles north for a visit to the grocery store. In addition to replenishing our usual picnic supplies, we bought food for dinner—salad fixings, fresh bread and butter, and a roast chicken, as well as a nice bottle of white wine (red is forbidden in our hotel room).

The hotel room is quite nice, heat is on without asking, and we’re booked for three nights.
 
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Swansea, Wales to Aberystwyth, Wales

From Swansea, we drove to Carmenthen and on to Cardigan. The road to Cardigan is narrow and curvy, through valleys and tiny villages, following a river for a while. Tree trunks along the way have lots of moss, and ferns line the roadside.
We stopped in Cilgarren near Cardigan to visit Cilgarren Castle. The reception for the castle is located in the basement of Castle House, a house next to the castle where the caretaker lives. We were the only visitors this morning, so the caretaker gave us a key to the padlock on the gate up the steps and 200 yards from the reception.

High above the river, the castle was sited to control the river crossing and to be accessible to sea-going ships. The fortress had evidence of four floor levels in the towers. We climbed the wet and slippery circular stairs up one tower and down another. Returning to reception, we talked with the caretaker and learned that her daughter attended college in Texas, where she got married and remained.

We reached the Welsh coast at Aberaeron and took a few photos. The village is very colorful with row houses each painted in different hues.
Following the road north along the shore, we saw many farms on the coast. It remains surprising to see green fields dotted with sheep going down to the beach. As the road climbs up the hills between villages, the vistas are striking. As Woodie described it, you feel as if you are driving through a storybook.
We arrived in Aberystwyth a little after noon. With only the sketchiest of directions and really no help from Rosie (because we had been unable to obtain a street address for the self-catering cottage when we called and booked last night), we somehow stumbled upon the cottages. We were helped greatly by a photo of the cottages in the brochure we had picked up from the TI office, which was great because there was no sign on the property.

We parked next to the cottages which turned out to also be beside a horse barn emitting quite a ripe smell. We found a couple of women and asked where reception was. One was Mrs. Evans, the manager, to whom Ken had spoken last night, and the other was her daughter-in-law who helps with the cleaning of the cottages. She was just finishing the one we had booked and left saying she would return with towels later.

We carried in our things, eager to get some laundry done. We located a single machine in a closet in the bathroom. It sort of looked like a cross between a washer and a dryer, and we assumed it did both. We asked Mrs. Evans, Jr., who lives in cottage #4 to show us how to operate the machine. She came in and patiently showed us which knobs to use in which order and which setting was best for most clothes. I asked, “How does the dryer part work?” “Oh no,” she said, “it only washes. The washing line is in back.” Hmmmm… That would be right next to the smelly horse stables. OK. Maybe we don’t really need to do laundry today after all.
After preparing and eating lunch, we tried in vain to get the radiators to put out some heat. Finally, Ken went and asked Mrs. Evans, Jr. “Oh,” she said. “Are you in for the day? Then we’ll turn it on.” At last, the cottage was beginning to get warm, and we went off to visit a nearby sight called Devil’s Bridge in a town of the same name so Rosie was able to guide us. She is very clever and seems to know all the back roads and short cuts, so we were soon there.
Two rivers, the Mynach and Rheidol, come together to create a waterfall over 300 feet high. Three bridges have been built across the chasm, one above the other, and Devil’s Bridge is the earliest one, believed to be the 12th century work of the monks from nearby Strata Florida Abbey. The next higher bridge dates from 1753, and the topmost structure from the early 20th century. We deposited our £1 coins to enter the turnstile and climbed down the steep, wet, slippery steps to the bottom of the falls where the force of the water has worn circles into the rock, known locally as the “punch bowl.”

Later we visited the Aberystwyth city center and went to the TI center, museums, and the public library for internet access. After we were unsuccessful in locating a grocery store for dinner purchases, we ate at a pub near the cottage, the Tgnllidiart Arms. There we met Boswell Evans, the barkeep, and had a very pleasant chat with him and a local twenty-something who reminded us of one of our godsons. A bit later, a guy who is working on a General Electric wind turbine farm construction came in and visited with us also. They offered some pointers for our travels north, which we were happy to receive.

Finally returning to the cottage, which we learned was in the tiny town of Capel Bangor, we discovered that 1) we had no towels, and 2) the odd-looking box-shaped refrigerator which looked like a freezer actually is a freezer. Fortunately all we had put in it were some Diet Coke(sicles) and some cheese(sicles).

We had an email from Woodie with the name of the B&B where he and Kathy had stayed in Betws-y-Coed. We’ll try to locate it tomorrow.
 
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Monmouth, Wales to Swansea, Wales

We finally arose earlier and had breakfast at the hotel restaurant. Menus were at the table. Decide what you want and go to the bar and order, stating your table number, and pay. Food is delivered to your table. After breakfast, we visited an internet cafe and the local Waitrose (grocery) to replenish our picnic supplies. Back to the hotel to check out and by the tourist office for brochures. By the time we left Monmouth, it was 11:00.
Following a driving tour in the W&K book, we headed toward Symonds Yat, a promontory from which the Wye Valley can be viewed. Unfortunately, we didn’t know the difference between Symonds Yat East and S.Y. West. We went west, driving up a lane that was becoming increasingly steep and narrow. Finally our way was blocked by the mail truck. At about the same time we were making a severe right turn onto a steep hill, we had to stop for the mail truck and then had no traction on the slick, steep hill to continue up. We had to roll back, involving the left rear tire leaving the ground temporarily before we regained footing enabling us to drive further up, only to discover that the mail truck had stopped, blocking our way yet again.

The gentleman of the house where the mail truck was stopped came outside (bringing a strong smell of boiling cabbage with him), and we asked him whether the view was at the top of the hill. “No,” he replied, “you’re at Symonds Yat West, and you need East.” He very kindly helped us get turned around on this ¾-lane road and head off in the correct direction.
The efforts it took to eventually reach the correct Symonds Yat were well worth it. The views from the top at 500 feet were magnificent. We continue to marvel at how green the fields are in the midst of winter.

Leaving Symonds Yat, we drove to Goodrich Castle, an impressive red sandstone ruin near the River Wye. An interesting tour of the castle included a torturous climb up a narrow circular stairway to the roof.
Leaving the after more than an hour, we realized that we needed to “make tracks” and put down some miles before settling in for the evening.

With Rosie’s help, we drove to the coastal town of Swansea, where we found a room at a Ramada Inn. We made plans to drive to the west coast tomorrow and spend a couple of nights in a self-catering place in Aberystwyth.
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Asthall, England to Monmouth, Wales

After a miserable night in the Maytime Inn spent in a cold room with some of the most uncomfortable beds ever, we checked out before breakfast, which was not to be served until 9:00. When we went to check out, innkeeper Tim made snide remarks about our rising before breakfast and stated that if he went to America, he certainly wouldn’t get up at such an uncivilized hour.
Ken told Tim about the dog bite and showed Tim his thumb. Like May, Tim shrugged off the incident saying that Ken must have done something to annoy the poor blind pup.

Having arrived after dark, we were quite impressed to see what the picturesque little village of Asthall actually looked like by day. On the way back to Burford, we saw the first of many pheasants, usually seen in pairs.
Back in Burford, we walked along the main street and enjoyed coffee and tea before moving on, following a Cotswalds driving tour in the Fodor’s book. The drive took us on some very narrow country lanes through more tiny villages, each of which seemed to have a 16th or 17th century church (or older) and groups of stone cottages that appeared to be about the same age.

We drove through Great Barrington, Great Rissington, Bourton-on-the-Water, and Moreton-in-Marsh, to Bourton-on-the-Hill. There we tried to locate Sezincote House, where our guidebook promised a nice three-mile walk. Unfortunately, we never located the trailhead, so we moved on through Broadway and on to Cheltenam.
In Cheltenham, we parked in a shopping center car park and tried in vain to locate an internet cafe. First we tried with Rosie, but the address we had from the internet was a street she couldn’t find. So we parked and asked around and obtained the addresses for three other places. All three were closed on Sunday. In the shopping center we visited the Thorntons candy store for some souvenirs. We considered staying in Cheltenham, but decided to move on and landed in Monmouth, just across the Welsh border.

The kind people at the TI office in Monmouth helped us book at room across the street at the King’s Head, a JD Weatherspoon hotel. We had dinner at the hotel restaurant, a veggie burger and chicken burger with chips (fries). After dinner, we were in the room when Erika surprised us with a phone call. Our attempt to call our pet sitter neighbors to check on the cats got no answer.
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