Friday, September 29, 2006

Wales Trip Day 8: Out of Wales

Before leaving the UK we intend to do a fair amount of sightseeing. This is an account of a week we recently spent travelling in Wales. Its not a live-blog, but I noted a few observations each day so that the posts read a little as if I had had a computer with me. (And its not as if anyone reading this cares where I actually am sitting when I post this!)

Harlech Castle

This was to be our final day in Wales and we had a few events planned so having done most of the packing the night before we got away promptly and slipped through Porthmadog before the traffic got too bad. Our first port of call was the beach of Llandanwg, just below Harlech, where we released the (amended) message in a bottle. Sadly, we got an email the following week from the people who found it: the next day on the same beach! They said they re-released it and would let us know when it was found again but we haven't heard anything since. When we move to the USA we are travelling by cruise ship, so we will have another go somewhere in the mid-Atlantic.

After that we headed back up to Harlech to visit the castle. Harlech is one of the best preserved castles in the UK, which is to say it has been a ruin for centuries. Built by Edward I as part of his ring of steel around Prince Llewellyn's heartland, it has a notable history. Llewellyn's forces beseiged it, but the English kept it supplied by sea. A century later it was used by the Welsh rebel Owain Glyndwr as a base, and it has the distinction of being the last castle to surrender to the victors of both the Wars of the Roses and the English Civil War. Somewhere in all that (sources differ as to which incident is the origin) lies the inspiration for the words of the rousing hymn, 'Men of Harlech'. During the Commonwealth (1649-1660), most castles were blown up on orders of Parliament, leaving limited or badly damaged remains, but sleepy Harlech was left to rot, and thus most of its outer defences are intact, and it is possible to walk around the ramparts or to climb its keep.

After Harlech we went to have a picnic at a place I remember from childhood - Cwm Bychan, which is a valley behind Harlech. At the head of the valley is a lake, but below the lake are a series of waterfalls and islets carved by the stream that flows from it. The waterfalls are what I remember the most - they are not very tall (perhaps 6 feet or so) but above and below each one is a deep enough pool that can be swum in (at least by a child). They are also picturesque, so we planned to stop beside them for our picnic. Unfortunately, whoever owns the land has erected a wall closing them off, as well as putting up a fence across the area near them where people used to be able to park. Other parking spots have boulders across them. This is presumably to entice people up to the car park by the lake. Looking around on foot, I confirmed that this was the spot I remembered because there is a hole in the wall that someone has knocked through and it is possible to get in and look. I think this is an area that could be visited still if you parked lower down the valley and hiked in, but not by a family with younger children by car. Sad really.

Cwm Bychan

We found a nice spot lower down the valley by an old stone bridge. The stream was low and the boy had fun throwing stones into the pools. We had a barbecue and used our Volcano Kettle to boil water to make up some soup. So despite being defeated at our original objective we were able to have a nice time.

Volcano Kettle

From Cwm Bychan we headed over the top of the hills, through a blasted heathland, bare and empty apart from the sheep and then down onto the road that leads from Harlech to Trawsfynydd. This was a steep and narrow road - enclosed in sections by gates, which we had to back around on a couple of times when we encountered other vehicles, but one which afforded fantastic views over to Portmeirion and Porthmadog.

View over Porthmadog and Portmeirion

From Trawsfynydd we headed out of Wales via Bala. This was a very pretty drive and we made good time - as everywhere else in Wales the roads were excellent. The Principality may be a Labour heartland, but its rulers have clearly eschewed Labour's war on the motorist. We headed across Shropshire in search of a place to spend the night and eat. We had an abortive stop on the outskirts of Oswestry, where we attempted to go to a Little Chef (we went in, we were seated, we were ignored, we left), and passed through the middle of Shrewsbury in a vain search for a hotel (there was somw flower festival on). Flagging from the long day, and with daylight fast fading we were extremely grateful to find a Days Inn outside of Telford.

Wales Trip Day 7: Portmeirion, Merioneth

Before leaving the UK we intend to do a fair amount of sightseeing. This is an account of a week we recently spent travelling in Wales. Its not a live-blog, but I noted a few observations each day so that the posts read a little as if I had had a computer with me. (And its not as if anyone reading this cares where I actually am sitting when I post this!)

A week of travelling was beginning to take its toll by now and we didn't do that much on Day 7. One thing we did do was that we visited the village of Portmeirion, which lies back across in Merioneth, whence it takes its name. It is an interesting little place - small delicate architecture and odd pieces of classical style statuary dotted through some ornate gardens. It was put together by an architect by the name of Clough Williams Ellis throughout the mid-20th Century, from purpose built structures and items he collected for their aesthetic value.

His purpose was to show how building could fit naturally with the landscape, and make a beauty spot more beautiful. To an extent he succeeded, though I think we would tire of a world entirely like Portmeirion (which point is made by its being chosen as the location for filming The Prisoner in the 1960s), but in my opinion he failed in one respect: access by car to the village is extremely restricted and of limited utility. Which makes his case for it as a building philosophy for the future rather weaker. Still, it is a striking place, and worth a visit if you are in the area.

In the evening we went out for dinner in Criccieth. Uneventful really, except that we had always wanted to put a message in a bottle and launch it for someone to find. So we took a bottle and message along with us. Unfortunately, the tidal conditions weren't right so we had to leave the bottle for the next day.

To be continued...

Wales Trip Day 6: Porthmadog, Caernarfonshire

Before leaving the UK we intend to do a fair amount of sightseeing. This is an account of a week we recently spent travelling in Wales. Its not a live-blog, but I noted a few observations each day so that the posts read a little as if I had had a computer with me. (And its not as if anyone reading this cares where I actually am sitting when I post this!)

The remainder of our time in Wales, we stayed at Tyddyn Iolyn farmhouse which is a bed and breakfast with the farm outbuildings converted into ensuite bedrooms. The farm lies well up from the main road along a gravel path, that our car was not too keen on. The setting was magnificent - with views across to Harlech, up into Snowdonia and down to the sea. It was also quiet: apart from the occasional car of another guest or some farm equipment all you could hear were sheep. [Apart from the occasional buzzing by the RAF who like to train their pilots on low altitude flying all over North Wales]. Our room was nice, the cast iron bath lovely and the owners were friendly: again a recommendation. It is a testament to my wife's internet skills that everywhere we stayed on the trip was nice and memorable, because she organised it all in an afternoon.

After breakfast, we went into Porthmadog. Our original intention was to just stop there for some supplies and then head on to Portmeirion. The weather forecast predicted that it would rain and that the next day would be sunny so we changed plans and explored Porthmadog.

The town was founded in the early 19th Century by the local MP who acquired the necessary permission to build a dock and redirect the course of the estuary. The town was sited here to exploit the slate and copper mines in the mountains - indeed it hosts two of Wales' old steam railways which now carry tourists where once they carried the mines' products: the Blaenau Ffestiniog Railway and the Welsh Highland Railway.

During the 19th Century Porthmadog hosted a small but thriving shipbuilding industry which specialised in turning out two or three masted barques and brigs. These vessels would spend 9 months at sea, with an 8 or 10 man crew - plying a number of well trodden routes back and forth across Northern Europe and the Atlantic.

Most of the ships were locally owned, divided up into shares which members of the community subscribed to in varying numbers according to how much they had to invest. The locals also ran their own insurance firm to keep the cost of premiums down, which at its peak held the equivalent of several billion pounds of shipping on its books. I know that some lefties would see this as a sign of the Welsh people's natural affinity for socialism, but I prefer to look at it as proof that communities can take care of themselves without government doing it for them.

The town sports a small maritime museum, which is well worth a visit.
We left Porthmadog by a backroad because of congestion - in the afternoon the combination of badly timed traffic lights and a single main road through town leads to gridlock. We were searching for a supermarket (at this point we didn't realise that there was one in Porthmadog, but on the other side of town to the direction we went!).

After a seemingly endless jaunt through roads that gradually became narrower and narrower (I lost count of the number of times we expected to round a bend and find a gate marked 'Private') we made it back to the main road near the farmhouse we were staying at. We headed off from there to Criccieth, but found no large shops so kept on going. The next town was Pwllheli, and here we found a Co-op and were able to get provisions and turn round. I like to be positive about the places we visit and the people there but I am afraid that Pwllheli was the one of the most miserable and run-down places I have ever seen. I think we saw more examples of trashy behaviour by the ill-bred in the hour or so we were there than in the rest of our trip to Wales. Perhaps it is a class thing, and perhaps it was amplified by the contrast with decorous middle class Criccieth next door, but if I never have to go back to Pwllheli it will be too soon.

To be continued...

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

We get results

Incidentally, it should be noted that Powys County Council came back to us about the parking ticket, and have dropped it in this instance. Which goes to show that it is always worth complaining or appealing about such things.

Wales Trip Day 5: Dyffryn Ardudwy, Merioneth

Before leaving the UK we intend to do a fair amount of sightseeing. This is an account of a week we recently spent travelling in Wales. Its not a live-blog, but I noted a few observations each day so that the posts read a little as if I had had a computer with me. (And its not as if anyone reading this cares where I actually am sitting when I post this!)

Morfa Dyffryn

Before dinner the previous night we had set out on a reconnaisance to locate the best way onto the beach. It took us a couple of tries because many of the tracks down to the sea end in private land (usually devoted to camp sites) between the end of the road and the beach. Eventually we found the right road (by Tal-y-bont) and went out through the dunes onto the beach. The council has built a walk way through the dunes to protect them, which was pretty good as it speeded us up a lot: I remember as a child the treck through the dunes while fun, was laborious. What is good is that those who want to can still get into the dunes and play there - a few people will not erode a dune, but the regular stream of people would. That is how conservation ought to be carried out - without dogma and without inconveniencing those who want to use the outdoors for recreation.

Dunes at the beach

As suggested by the presence of the dunes the beach here - Morfa Dyffryn - could not be more different to Aberystwyth. Instead of dark gritty sand there are simply miles of fine, white sand on a gently sloping beach which at low tide extends well out into the sea. It is one of the UK's finest beaches, and runs from just below Harlech, the entire length of the coast down to Barmouth. The boy enjoyed his first real play on the beach (Aberystwyth had not really counted as he didn't much care for the grit) and enjoyed picking up shells and jumping into the remains of holes the day's previous beachgoers had left.

We returned to the hotel wet and a little cold. Thankfully, we saw no sign that day or the next of the nudists who have colonised a section of the beach north of where we were. Apparently the council got fed up with constant complaints about flashers and formally designated a section for them, since when they have kept to their area. Each to his own I suppose - though I can't think of naturists without being reminded of the film Eurotrip (link) (skip to next paragraph to avoid spoiler), where having finally made it to the nudist beach in Germany the backpackers find it entirely populated by scary naked men, who have all gone there vainly in the hope of some women doing the same. Eurotrip made little impression beyond the usual takings for gross-out comedies of its ilk, which is a shame because like Mark Steyn (who actually favourably reviewed it) I think it is one of the best and most accurate symbols of the transatlantic disconnect - and its hilarious to boot.

Beware: Naked people!

The next day we returned to the beach, but before we did so, we paid a visit to the village cemetary at Dyffryn. I mentioned childhood memories of the beach. These are because my paternal grandparents (Nain and Taid as I knew them) lived in Dyffryn and we would often visit. I have many memories of exploring around the village and being told old stories about the area by Taid. They died in the late 80s/early 90s, and for a variety of reasons this was the first time I had made it back to the area since then, so we visited their grave and left some flowers. The graveyard is wonderfully situated, on a hill above the village it overlooks the span of the coast.

Overlooking the coast

The entire stretch of the coast of Merioneth is a striking landscape. The Rhinog mountains roll right up to the sea, such that the last valley carries on rolling down to the coast. Along the coast is the tidal coastline of beach and a few fields. The mountains and littoral have very few trees, especially the higher up you go, so all you see are ancient drystone walls dividing up the grassy fields on the hillsides. Now, no mountains in the UK are very tall - these are perhaps 600 feet at their high points - but despite this they feel a lot more desolate than you would suppose from their altitude. Endless sea wind, rain, salt and grazing sheep keep them clear. For centuries the sea and the lone road along the coast were the only communications networks here. No matter who ruled the area, their rule would have been felt very lightly up in the valleys above the shore - where approaching ships could be spotted well in advance. Even today, it would be a good place to get off the grid should the need arise.

We spent the rest of the morning/early afternoon on the beach, where the boy after some hesitation played with shells and a little toy truck we'd brought for him. The wind was strong that day and his truck would shoot along the flat sands with him chasing after it happily. We didn't make it into the water - though it was quite warm and would have been pleasant - as he was not so interested in that. Afterwards we had a barbecue in the car park and then set out for our next port of call: another converted farmhouse just past Porthmadog. This drive, along the littoral for the most part, took us past Harlech with its famous castle (we did that a few days later) and over a small toll bridge across the Dwyryd estuary - on the approach to which you could see Portmeirion village.

Getting into Porthmadog took a long time. The toll bridge there is now council owned and no longer in operation. I don't know if that is why the traffic was so bad (unintended consequences) or if it was simply a combination of summer traffic and badly timed lights.

We arrived at our accommodation for the night, Tyddyn Iolyn farmhouse, which was again a great choice - full review in the next post. After cleaning off the sand and unpacking (we were to spend three nights here) we headed into the next town along the coast for dinner. That was Criccieth, a pretty Victorian resort, beneath its own castle - built by Prince Llewellyn to oppose Edward I's Harlech, which lies across the bay. We ate at a pub called the Bryn Hir Arms - the food was good pub grub, and then visited the local ice cream emporium - Cadwalladers. That is heartily recommended. Criccieth itself is a very nice little town - less brashly touristy than some others and exuding an air of calm, it is a good place to end the day.

To be continued...

Patchy posting

Apologies for the hiatus. We hit that point in selling a house where you just have to do a whirlwind of cleaning and packing. That is all done now - the stuff is in a container waiting in a warehouse somewhere and the house is sold. It is my last week at work this week, and next week we are off to Edinburgh for a short break - so I had best get the Wales stuff posted!

Another thing which held up posting is that I just read a fantastic book - The Prodigal Spy, by Joseph Kanon, which I'll post a review of if I get the chance.