Once again we boarded the train in Beverley, this time for the long trip to Wales by way of Hull, Leeds, Piccadilly Station in Manchester again, and around the Dee Estuary to Prestatyn, Denbighshire, North Wales. We arrived on the windy platform, under the looming Graig Fawr, not knowing exactly where our night's accommodations were located. |
Beer Diary After a wrong turning and the traditional U-turn, we found our way through smallish downtown Prestatyn to the neighboring village of Meliden, walking many more miles than anticipated and happy to see our reserved B&B, Llew Coch, the Red Lion Inn, a 200 year-old Free House. It was more than worth the long walk! Our room was cozy, two single beds and pastel colors. Simple, to our taste. Gordon, the publican, made us welcome and Michael celebrated our first evening in Wales with a Brains.
|
Afterward, we went for a walk along the Abermelyd, more a wee stream than a river, toward the ancient Roman port. Along the way, we met two elderly ladies walking their dogs, where Jean collected a sample of white Blue Bells. We continued to a field, where several mocha-dappled, furry donkeys ambled over to the fence for a scratch and a picture. Michael plucked Welsh wool from the fence wires, as we walked from the rural fields into a tidy housing estate. |
We sampled Welsh TeeVee that evening, in Welsh Gaelic with English subtitles, in our modest room in a new addition at the back of the inn. The next morning we enjoyed the Welsh version of English breakfast (by Gordon, who proudly made his "first porridge," at our request) and walked the three kilometers from the old churchyard on Ffordd Penrhwylfa in Meliden back to the train station at Prestatyn. At the road crossing of the Melyd creek, a man on bicycle took pieces of bread from his pockets and tossed them down into the water below. We smiled and he explained it was for the ducks. Then he added "It's a beautiful day" and we agreed.
|
As we traveled along the north coast of Wales, the air reminded us of Santa Cruz. We sped past rows of holiday caravans, past Rhyl and Llandudno, below the looming walls of Conwy Castle, built by Edward I in the 13th Century to protect the English colony... from the Welsh! On to Bangor, where we decanted from the train and walked on the High Street through town to find a bus to Tre Taliesen, via Portmadog and At Portmadog, we entered the ancient kingdom of Gwynedd, now ruled over by the cloud-shrouded majesty of Yr Wyddfa, known to the English as Mount Snowdon.
At Portmadog, we had thought to take a train, but the timing was wrong, so we went back to the bus stop for the X32 to Aberystwyth. There we sat for almost an hour and a half and had the most remarkable time, for we were on the sidewalk next to three shoppes, and all of the foot traffic on the sidewalk gave us a splendid view of this village life.
At Portmadog, we had thought to take a train, but the timing was wrong, so we went back to the bus stop for the X32 to Aberystwyth. There we sat for almost an hour and a half and had the most remarkable time, for we were on the sidewalk next to three shoppes, and all of the foot traffic on the sidewalk gave us a splendid view of this village life.
When she came out of the china shoppe, she saw an old Welsh woman sitting next to Michael, in conversation. She had three wool hats on, in tiers, thus her name "The Three Hat Lady," according to Fred, also waiting for the bus. He was dressed all in black, with dyed black hair, and sporting various Celtic hardware on fingers and ear lobes. The Three Hat Lady sat with us at the bus stop and talked non-stop in a mixture of Welsh and English. Each story was prefaced by: "A young man came up and told me..." Our long hair prompted a story about two horses, one large and one small, who had long tails just like our hair. Fred helped her onto an earlier bus, and traveled with us on our bus till Pen-y-Bont.
This is the mountainous Welsh Midland with its commercial center at Machynlleth on the Afon Dyfi. Not the rolling slopes of England. Mountains! Trees, rock, rivers, depth. Rolling down from the mountains onto the plains of Cors Fachnon, we entered, at last, the wee village of Tre Taliesin, and we were instantly at home! Our village in Wales!
Tre Taliesin is a small village on the site of a Roman lead mine. We soon found our hosts, Phil and Juliet Regan at the Free Trade Hall, where we enjoyed a cup of tea and biscuits on the back porch overlooking Avon Dyfi and Cors Fochnon.
That evening, we walked on a movie set one lane road between fields of sheep and three paint horses, to Llancynfelyn, where we saw the 13th Century church and burial yard, then on up the road to Tre'r-ddor for supper at the Wildfowler Inn. After our return, we enjoyed the sunset and conversation with Juliet on the deck. Such peace.
We began the next day with another of the luxuriously set breakfasts of UK B&Bs. Orange juice, muesli for Michael, tea, toast porridge, poached egg and cooked tomatoes. Phil, in the kitchen, whistling Eidelweiss, had a bit of a Scottish accent.
It was interesting to learn that museums in Wales have the same problems with storage and curation that we have in the United States. Michael drove us in to Aberystwyth to tour the museum, in a theatre originally built in 1905. With elegant exhibition areas and very small curation and storage facilities, this museum is all business and no frills. They exhibit a good display of local history and natural history, with creative displays of life in the area in the 19th Century.
Michael took us home to meet his son & daughter, who had prepared the most delicious vegan lunch for all of us. These vibrant young people were so different from the zoned out youth we had seen in the big cities of the UK. We accepted a generously offered ride to Carmarthen and talked of museum work, environmental issues, Bush/Blair, anti-nuclear activism, bioregionalism, the energy consequences of food choices (like oranges & bananas in Wales!) and global economics. Goodbyes to the Freemans; then we caught the bus to Llanelli, in search of our next B&B
|
As luck would have it we got off the bus in Pen-y-beren, and, after a 3 mile walk up many hills, we came at last to Bryngwenwyn Farm, an old farmstead being gradually refurbished by its new owners and managed as an organic farm. Tea and shortbread upon arrival; afterward a tour of their organic gardens and watching lambs being hand fed.
Then we walked another 3 miles or so in to Llannon for dinner and drinks in the Red Lion Inn. Nachos this time! And a Greek salad. Wine for Jean and a Felinfoel for Michael.
The next morning (May Day) we walked downhill to Pen-y-beren, where we caught a bus to Carmarthen for the Great Search for the B&B. After following directions from a local with a grand Welsh accent, up a long ridge overlooking the town, we finally found our B&B, exactly in the opposite direction we were told! (Never ask locals for directions!) We arrived exhausted and exhilarated and relaxed in our tidy room on the second floor for 3 hours (showered, hand laundry, read) before walking to Carmarthen for dinner. |
We walked to the almost deserted city center to find a pub for supper, crossing the Tywi Avon under looming 4th Century walls of Carmarthen Castle. This was a Roman town, with an ampitheater. Near a small billboard with the town's history, we listened to and watched through the ancient glass windows the bells being tolled (change ringing). |
Being Sunday, there wasn't much open, so we reluctantly settled for a modern looking pub for food and drink (the Witherspoon). As we began eating our rather plain plastic cafeteria fare, sitting way back in the No Smoking section, singing broke out toward the bar in the front, the most richly harmonized song, a cappella. |
The next morning we walked the Roman Road over the hill above Llety'r Haul Farms. The Roman Roads run straight across the terrain, now sunken deep between old hedgrows standing 4 to 5 feet high on either side.
"Fishguard" turned out to be two towns, the modern English town of Fishguard, and the ancient 10th Century Norse village of Goodwick, or Wdig in Welsh, pronounced "oodigk."
We checked into our B&B for the night, Glanmoy Lodge, just a mile from the train station, the smallest and most expensive of our trip. After stashing our bags in our wee yellow room, we walked into the village in search of a pub. As it turned out, pubs in Wdig don't serve food on Monday evenings, so we bought some onion rings at close by fish & chips shop, ate them on the back porch of the Rose and Crown, then went inside for drinks. |
Refreshed and rested, we set out to find a place for a real meal. The kind folks at the Rose and Crown recommended the Fishguard Bay Hotel, a Victorian Revival, where we arrived at 6:30 PM, just in time for bar food! We ordered two bowls of Potes Cennin a Thatws (leek and potato soup) and a Three Cheese salad, which turned out to include three large wedges of good French cheese! |
After a stuffer of a meal (with our extra cheese tucked away in our kit) we had to go for a walk and admire the scenery of our last night in Wales. Jean gazed across the serenity of Fishguard Bay, and Michael discovered a moss covered walkway that we followed into a delightful Victorian arbor, once frequented by fashionable ladies and gentlemen at their leisure.
Back at Glanmoy House, we were treated to the 9 PM Badger Show - a sweet animal that nosed around the offered breads to snatch up the nutritious peanuts first!