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The photos for the entire trip have been updated and posted, links to hotels and some attractions added, and the corrections made to the blog posts. Look back by choosing the country from the CATEGORIES list ----------------------> or simply click the button below to start back at the beginning. Thanks for reading along. Next trip: ?
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The narrow roads. Adorable.
Wales was a treat. Part of it was the sun: we got lucky for a few days. Part of it was the nice hosts and places we stayed. I think the majority of it was the scenery; the small mountains are dramatic, there are pine forests, narrow roads and sweeping views. I feel lucky that we went through Wales. 27 June 2013 I got up early and walked the town walls. I almost saw the sunrise, or perhaps I should say the sun almost peeked through the clouds on it's way up. The tide is running out now, stranding the boats in the harbour. I have the cathedral bells figured out: two gongs at a quarter past, two times two gongs at half past, six total at three-quarters and then eight plus the hour's tolling at the top of the hour. Did I mention that Conwy is a small walled city? The operative word being "small." So we have decided to cross the bridge to Anglesey Island today, to see some sights. The sun never did peek out, and the rains started before we hit the island. Our first stop is a town whose name gets a whole paragraph of its own: Llanfairpwllgywngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch No foolin. Cut and paste it into Google and see. Yup, told you so... I checked it twice then ran it through spell check, which has no idea. Why did we go there? To say we did, that's about it. I took photos of the town name at the train station, Gail shopped in the store owned by the wool mill (if we had more space or were willing to carry a check-on suitcase, we would have bought the softest blankets in the universe), and we hung out a little and basked in the glory of just being. Llanfairpwllgywngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch. Been there. Done that. You just cannot make this stuff up. We headed through the downpour to Beaumaris. The road was pretty narrow (but not the narrowest) and lucky me, I got behind a bus that did an effective job of clearing the road for us! We saw the castle with moat, walked the town, then settled in for tea at Beau Tea Shop, a welcome treat on a cold, rainy day. My tea was peppermint, spearmint and wild mint, Gail's was cherry cinnamon. We shared our table with a couple from Wales, here for the day, and they talked us into stopping in Chester tomorrow. We learned that the Welsh are not all that thrilled with being part of, and ruled by, the UK (England). The rural people especially have the separatist mentality, hence all the national flags and red-white-green pennants. I asked them about the pension reforms. They are NOT happy, retirement is up to age 65 now (I told them they were lucky, it is 67 in the US now) and ,"They just want to work us till we drop..." No word of raising taxes either. Interesting attitudes because they were both already retired under the old system, at an earlier age, and yet they want the younger workers to have the same benefits they have. I mentioned this is much different than the US where the older generation has theirs, but says screw the youngsters... "they (young generation) shouldn't be so lazy and greedy." They wandered into the immigration issue: not good, immigrants don't know the language, send the money they earn back home, and use services like health care; on the other hand they do the work no British citizen is willing to do. London is unrecognizable any more. Finally, the poor work attitude of people from Liverpool (the Beatles were OK, but you can't even understand what they are saying, those people from Liverpool). "I've hired a few workers from Liverpool, and they show up for work wondering how long it is till they can go home." The wife has been to New York (too cold, snow piled up) and the man, if he could go to the US, would go to... guess where... Boston. He likes Cheers and Ally McBeal on TV, and of course, the travel shows. And so a pleasant warm hour passed and we found out that the UK is a lot like the US. We found our way to Bryn Celli Ddu where 5000 years ago there was a stone circle. A couple thousand years later a burial chamber was built on top of it. It was pretty interesting to go in it, and my inner Pagan was going crazy, urging me to strip naked and start dancing. BUT... we were getting soaked walking around and the cold wind was picking up, so we headed to our room to have a glass of wine and read till dinner. A pig farmers commercial on BBC said, and I quote, "Give A Fork About Your Pork." And you think I make this fowkin' stuff up. The rains kept up, the Italian place from last night was close, so we ran over and had another nice meal. The lasagne was better the second time around, and I got a bowl of the local mussels in a wine sauce, and they were excellent. All in all, a relaxing day. 26 June 2013 I got up at 3:30 and was out the door by 3:45 to climb Moel Hebog, about a six mile round trip hike to the summit. The summit is at elevation 2569 feet (783meters), about 1000 feet lower than Mt. Snowdon. But it is the largest local mountain, and I can walk right out of the village and climb it. So I do. Now let me say up front, I don't really consider a 2600 foot peak a "mountain" but more of a walk up. And sure enough, that's what it was, a pleasant enough walk, a little scrambling in the rocks here and there. The worst part was the grassy areas, as the damp grass was slippery. There was plenty of light, the moon is almost full, and it dodged in and out of the clouds. The summit was totally fogged in, it was very humid and I was sweating and took my shirt off at 4:30. The fog dropped to meet me as I climbed, and so now all hope of a nice view was out, and I was merely climbing for the bragging rights; for the fun of it. I wish I could say it cleared on top, but no. I took a summit photo, tagged the rock cairn on top and turned down. I was three quarters of the way down before I dropped out of the clouds, at times my landmarks were a little sketchy. The only sound was the bleating of the sheep. There are dry stacked, rock walls almost the whole way up, beautiful flowers among the low plants. I was back, showered and we made it to breakfast by 8:30. As we ate the fog drifted lower and lower until the mountain disappeared and the rains started. It felt good to sit and sip coffee, watching it rain outside the old, wood framed, wavy glass windows. You can sure tell the eggs, bacon and especially the sausage are all sourced locally; each morning's sausage is different, and so far each is really good. We had a really nice talk with Colleen, the owner (there was only one other guest) about living here in the village. The stories are almost unreal. The roads are very narrow, and it is hard for cars to make the turn over the bridge right in front of us, let alone the lorries (trucks). This year her house was hit, hard, and it cracked the rock work on the front. The entire front of the B&B will have to be removed and rebuilt this winter, the scaffolding will virtually shut down the road. This is not the first time she has been hit, just the hardest. Her neighbor got it a couple weeks later, so they will redo both houses at the same time. It is really narrow, yesterday sitting on the bench drinking a beer in the sun in front of the bar, the trucks and buses turning almost, like a couple inches, almost clipped my crossed leg. (It was like a test of nerves between me and the driver). I asked her if the trucks stopped and fessed up, or kept going. She smiled. It's a very close village, everybody notices everything, and so if they don't stop someone writes down all the information. One time her neighbor hopped in his car and chased the truck down. How narrow and windy is the road? She herself doesn't drive it, she takes the bus, and when her mom goes with her she clutches the seat in a death grip. "I tell her, mum, relax. They know every inch if this road." How close of a town is it? Everybody has everybody elses' keys. Really. One day she left, went into town and broke her leg. She was in the hospital and didn't return for two weeks. The other villagers came over, fed her guests, cleaned the rooms and her house, and just ran the business for her. For two weeks. Another time her friend was over, and they wanted just a touch more wine, but she couldn't find any more and the stores were closed... so she went next door to Brian's, knocked, then let herself in, climbed up on the cabinet and got down a bottle. The B&Bs aren't even in competition here, they help each other out with food, rooms if they are booked, and so on. In the morning, her dog gets itself up, goes downstairs and waits by the door. One of the neighbors comes by and takes her dog for a walk up to the next village. She says she is not moving any more; even if she shuts her B&B she sill stay here. The only downside: the weather. And indeed, in the time it took to hear the stories and write this, staring out the window, coffee in hand, the fog has cleared and Moel Hebog has appeared, the rain picked up, now it is a drizzle but Moel has disappeared again into the clouds. We finally tore ourselves away from the coffee and packed up Buddy. Our drive took us along the base of Mt. Snowdon, above grey cold lakes, up and up narrow winding roads lined by mile after mile of rock walls, through, then above the pine forest to a black and grey tumbled world of slate, rock walls, rock houses, the sky reflecting the same dirty grey and black. As we came out of the mountains and turned toward the coast, the sky opened up and we were soon in sun. Our first stop was on the north coast, at the road junction. The town of Caernarfon has a huge castle, built in 1090, right down on the waterfront, above the harbour. Just above the castle is the town square, shaped like a triangle, bordered by a row of multi-colored shops. We stopped at Caffi Maes for some fresh Welsh Cakes and coffee. They were really good, small round and a half inch flat, they are sweet but not too much, crumbly but not dry, and taste almost like oat flour. I had a second before we walked on. A man sitting on a bench asked if we needed help. I said no, we were just looking, and he told us the best view is on Twtill. He said "twoot hill" so I said it back, "twoot hill." He laughed at me and said, "No, it's twoot hill!" So I said, "twoot hill." Now it's really funny. "Twoot hill. Twooo twoo, not two!" OK then, "twoooot hill." We just laughed and shrugged. On our way out we walked over the Swing Bridge and watched it in action. A boat was headed into the harbour, the bridge master sounded a siren and we all hustled off the end. He closed the gates behind us, fired up the engine, engaged the gears, weights and chains, and the entire bridge swung sideways to allow the boat in. We zoomed the last 25 miles to Conwy, found our little B&B and were shown onto a charming room on the third floor with a view of the castle and city walls. The room is really well set up with a sunny little drinking and sitting area, perfect for that evening glass of wine and a book. I asked about a laundry in town, and our innkeeper offered to do our laundry for us for only £5 ! It was already past noon, so we found a pub for a half-pint, and talked with some Manchester United fans. Conwy is the typical walled city, compact and pretty, complete with a castle and town square, crowded with tourists like us, but I bet it will be quiet tonight when all the day trippers leave. It is sunny and warm here, which is a relief, and should hold tomorrow. So far Wales has been a treat, unexpectedly delightful. All afternoon we walked the streets, we walked the harbour, we walked the town walls. The castle and walls were done about 1285, the English moved in and the walls protected them from the evil Welsh outside. They are really well preserved and fun to walk on. We had several suggestions for dinner, and settled on an Italian place. They offer the best mix of vegetarian and meat dishes. The lasagne was delicious! A little walk after dinner, and we retired to the room to sip a glass of wine and read. |
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