Mountains, castles and places with names that are impossible to pronounce - weekend trip to North Wales


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Europe » United Kingdom » Wales
June 29th 2008
Published: July 13th 2008
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At the start of the year we wrote up a list of countries that we wanted to visit in 2008. We’ve ticked off some, but one on the list that we hadn’t visited yet was Wales. So the plan is relatively simple - hire a car, drive west, stay overnight, and then drive back. We only need one navigator, one driver and one researcher to know what to do and see when get there. So with Sally visiting we have the team we need for our first international road trip…

First stop, Shrewsbury, Shropshire. Try saying that three times fast! It is in fact one of the most well preserved Tudor style towns in England and walking around the cobbled streets and past the unmistakable white and black framed 15th century buildings we feel like we’ve stepped back in time (well except for running water, electricity, cars, i-pods, and Aston Villa supporters…).

We keep driving west through quaint English towns and we cross the River Dee. The river itself is not that impressive, but not long after crossing it, the typical red brick houses of the Midlands are no where to be seen and in their place stone houses
Nice spot for lunchNice spot for lunchNice spot for lunch

Snowdonia National Park
become the norm. To add to this, the road signs that we have been following so closely all the way from England are now bilingual in Welsh!

By mid afternoon we are getting hungry and stop off in a small village inside the Snowdonia NP for a cup of tea and a sandwich. We decide to eat outdoors, and set ourselves up at a table overlooking a little stream. Underneath a single lane stone bridge we watch a local fly fisherman plying his trade in the clear waters. The green hills in the background complete the picture but we have to push ourselves to move on. Places to go, things to see!

Another hour and a half along the road we spot Conwy Castle from across the tidal stretch of Conwy River. As we round the headland and approach front on we can clearly see the high stonewalls and corner towers of this massive fortress. It feels like we’re driving right into it. Awesome!

In Conwy, with the castle closed for the day, we follow the city wall on foot looking for a way up on to it. Eventually we find a staircase and once on top
The approach...The approach...The approach...

Conwy Castle
we are rewarded with an excellent view of the castle and surrounding town.

Conwy Castle, along with Beaumaris and Caernarfon castles, was part of Edward I’s strategy to stifle Welsh uprisings. In the late 1200’s he had the three castles built right in the heartland of Welsh nationalism. Looking at the scale of the walled town and the massive fortress in front of us it’s amazing to think that it was all built by hand in just 5 years.

With the day mostly over we leave Cowny heading for our B&B. Located right in the middle of Edward I’s triangle of castles Bangor seemed like the best place to spend Saturday night and luckily it’s not far along the motorway.

On arrival, a sweet Welsh lady welcomes us to her home and recommends a good pub a short walk down the road for dinner. Breakfast is at 8:00am, and on Sunday morning our welcoming host offers us tea, toasts, cereals and a HUGE cooked Welsh breakfast. Taking our seats a fellow guest greets us with a hearty ‘Bore da’. (pronounced Bo-rre dah, good morning). When he realises we’re Aussie and not English he is forgiving of our poor Welsh language skills and proceeds to give us a mini lesson in Welsh greetings - as it turns out he is a retired professor from the local University!

Pulling out of the B&B after breakfast we have grave fears for Sunday. The sky is grey in all directions and it’s raining - well, how Welsh! We head for the island of Anglesey. There are two options for bridges over it, but we choose the old bridge. The blue painted iron structure is quite impressive - as is the sign at the bridge entry that credits the design engineer responsible.

On Anglesey we stop off in the town with the Britain’s longest name, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndroblllantysiliogogogoch to be precise. Just don’t ask us to pronounce it! We’re looking at our road map and it says something about a Neolithic burial site, but we can’t find the right turn off. So in the village with the ridiculously long name we ask the friendly blokes at the servo where it is. Four maps later - one which seemed to be almost 1:1 in scale, we know where we’re going and we’re back in the car.

We turn off a really narrow two lane road into a really narrow one lane road, conveniently lined with stone walls to ensure that any car passing is nigh on impossible, and continue down it until we reach the parking spot. Pulling in, we arm ourselves with raincoats and umbrellas and set off down the mud track that runs between a sheep paddock a gentle little stream.

The original 3500 year old Neolithic burial site was disturbed by farming so they’ve re-created the feel of it by placing some of the original rocks complete with the Neolithic markings around a rebuilt mound with a burial chamber underneath. I wonder if the sheep that have been grazing around its base where impressed? The rain is really starting to set in and when you have to photograph under an umbrella it is probably best to move on.

So we do. Next stop is Beaumaris castle.

Our guidebook describes it as more quaint then imposing compared to the other two of Eddie I’s north Wales castles. We drive into the seaside village of Beaumaris, then around two sides of the castle before pulling up on the uphill side of it. The guidebook description is not too far off. A lot of the European castles that we’ve visited have had moats, but none of them until now, still have a moat. Beaumaris does. We would love to check it out, but it’s raining fairly constantly so the democratic decision is to keep going - after all we’ve got to get back to Notts at some stage today.

We head back to the mainland towards Caernarfon. It impresses us that the Welsh thought to name their town after the west CQ gorge - just replacing the f with a v (I guess the wanted to make it sound more Welsh…). Anyway we pull into the car park in the shadow of Caernarfon Castle and brolly equipped head for the entrance. Once inside, it becomes clear how big the castle really is. What’s more we are actually allowed to climb all over it! Strolling along the walls it is not that hard to imagine what it would’ve been like with the castle under siege from an invading army. One story describes how just twenty-eight men managed to hold the Castle from a full attacking force- which is impressive considering its size.

After climbing around the wall section near the entrance we decide bigger is better and head for the tallest tower. Stepping outside from the windy stone spiral stairs, to our absolute amazement, the rain is clearing and the first rays of Sunday sunshine are breaking through.

The view from the top of the tower is excellent. In front of the castle the small estuary leading into the Meanai Strait is filled with boats. To the left is the town and in the background green mountains stand tall with the clearing rain still hiding their summits.

We spend the next couple of hours exploring every passageway and tower in the west side of the castle. It’s hungry work so we take a Sunday lunch recommendation from the castle staff and duck down a couple of side streets and into a local pub. It is a charming black and white Tudor building with the best seafood menu we’ve seen at a pub yet. Luckily the menu of the day is sporting three types of roast, and we order two lamb, one beef. We also take the opportunity to taste some Brains bitter - the sponsors of the Welsh rugby team (despite their sponsor it didn’t help them win the world cup…did it?).

As we head inland from Caernarfon the road becomes very quaint with large stretches under a canopy of oak trees with streaks of sunlight filtering through. On both sides we are flanked by stone walls.

The mountains are to our East, but with the cloud still hanging over their peaks we’re not too sure which one is Snowdon.

After about two hours we pull into a little town called Beddgelert. Local legend goes that a Welsh Prince (as opposed to an English Prince with a title of Wales) runs to find his baby son mauled by the side of his pet dog. The distraught Prince kills his dog. It eventually unfolds that a wolf was responsible for the baby’s injuries and the dog had chased it off. The dog, Gellert, was in fact a hero. In his honour the place of his burial was named after him - Beddgerlet, the grave of Gelert the dog. By comparison Lizzy II’s corgies just don’t seem to stack up.

Beddgelert itself is truly a beautiful place. There are two streams running with crystal clear water that join in the middle of the village.
In the cloudsIn the cloudsIn the clouds

The view towards Snowdon
The houses are all stone. It’s also so small, such that it doesn’t matter where you are, you can easily see out of the village into the surrounding stone fenced sheep paddocks and mountains. We grab some ice cream and take a pleasant stroll down the side of one of the streams with Sally eagerly eying the water for trout and regretting not packing her fly gear.

As much as we would have liked to have spent the rest of the day and night in Beddgelert we have to hit the road again. Heading north-east we spend almost the entire time climbing the windy road as we see Snowdon standing opposite us. The countryside reminds us a little of Scotland - but it’s more hospitable.

We pull into a rest area high on the opposite valley from the mighty welsh mountain and take it all in. Below us we can see a maze of stone walls separating the sheep paddocks and on the other side of the valley we can see a herd of Angus cattle - they look like little specks of pepper amongst the vivid green hillside. Looking at the sheep on the hillside nearest us we can’t help but think that they are well suited for this countryside - even if they do tumble down the hill, at least they’re padded.

As we turn east, away from Snowdon, the countryside quickly flattens back out again. It seems like one minute we’re looking at a towering stone covered mountain, the next we’re in rolling green hills.

We have one last tourist pit stop in mind before we arrive back in England. The aqua duct near Llangollen is a feat of Victoria engineering that has us curious. Essentially it’s a bridge for canal boats 40 metres above the river below. How does that work? Well it’s a canal and a bridge all at once. Weird hey? Anyway we pull in and check it out. It has to be seen to be believed- very cool.

We eventually arrive home to watch a 9:30pm sunset and reflect on our weekend. In combination with our earlier trips to Lincolnshire we’ve now seen Britain coast to coast across the 53 degree north line of latitude (Caernarfon to Skegness). Surely that’s a tick in the box?


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