I admit, I have never given Wales much thought as a potential holiday destination. Grey skies, cold wind and lots of rain came to mind when Wales was mentioned. But, we are here to see all of Britain and with a week before we started another house-sit in Worcestershire we headed off on a road trip around Wales.
Andrew, who has briefly been to Wales before, shared my preconceived views and thought we’d only need a few days at most to see the place. We were wrong. Wales was wonderful, and a week wasn’t long enough. We were blessed with great weather which helped, but all the same this is a remarkable little country with stunning scenery, unique wildlife, pretty villages, fearsome stone castles, welcoming people and a lovely language. We left singing its praises and will continue to do so, encouraging others to visit this endearing and underrated part of Britain.
Here’s how our week-long road trip panned out:
Monday:
Our first destination was Cardiff, the capital of Wales. This was to be a short stop for a couple of hours sightseeing before heading off along the southern coast.
In the centre of Cardiff is the famous Cardiff Castle. Built in the late 11th century by Norman invaders on top of a 3rd-century Roman fort, it has been around for long time and like all ancient castles has a colourful history. In the 18th century it passed into the hands of the noble Stuart family who secured the skills of famous English landscaper Capability Brown and architect Henry Holland who turned it into a palatial Georgian mansion. The family became super-wealthy thanks to coal and a couple of generations later John Crichton-Stuart lavished a huge amount of money on renovating the castle again, this time in the Gothic revival style that was all the rage. The castle is now a mish-mash of ages and styles – at once a Roman fort, an impressive castle and an extraordinary Victorian Gothic fantasy palace.
Just around the corner from the castle is the Cardiff stadium. Cardiff has hosted games for four separate rugby world cup tournaments, more than any other city and Principality Stadium, once called Millennium Stadium, has been the stage for some historic moments in rugby, including one of New Zealand’s darkest hours. The Welsh love rugby and it’s here in the streets around this iconic stadium where this is more evident than ever. Shops brim with rugby memorabilia, pubs are named after rugby greats, and even the historic St John the Baptist Church proudly boasts that it is a “rugby church”, encouraging visitors to look for the rugby balls carved into the interior woodwork. Andrew took me to find the Angel Hotel where late night events in 1972 lead to one of the more intriguing and sad stories in All Black history. It was at this unassuming hotel, after celebrating a win over Wales, that All Black prop Keith Murdoch got into an altercation with a security guard and ended up on a plane back to New Zealand in disgrace. The twist in the story is that he never arrived home, disappearing for many years before finally turning up in outback Australia. Never fully recovering from how he was treated after that night he led a reclusive life and died earlier this year.
Like most cities in this part of the world Cardiff is a blend of modern and historic. The heart of the city is busy and vibrant with plenty of pedestrian zones making it easy to explore. We enjoyed the couple of hours we spent there, but we weren’t in Wales to see cities. We wanted to get out to the provinces and experience the real Wales. Back in the car we headed west following the coast to Laugharne.
Laugharne is a picturesque coastal village filled with lovely Georgian cottages and set on the Taf Estuary. During Elizabethan times Laugharne was larger than Cardiff and remained an English-speaking village within Wales. The town and coastline are dominated by the imposing dark grey ruins of the 13th century Laugharne Castle.
Welsh Poet and Playwright Dylan Thomas lived here with his family for the last four years of his life. Catering to the interest in the poet there is a Thomas trail around the town. We took the trail along the edge of the estuary to his former home, the Boathouse. The Boathouse looks out across Carmarthen Bay which has a muted beauty that could inspire words in anyone. 100 metres away from the small family home is his modest writing study in a garage on the cliff edge. This was where he wrote major pieces including his famous play Under Milkwood. The trail continued up behind the town to the church where Dylan Thomas is buried – a simple white cross marks the spot, his name inscribed in black calligraphy.
From here we drove around the coast to Pendine, a seaside resort town made up almost entirely of portable holiday homes, or mobile homes as they’re called here. Pendine is best known for the expansive flat beach used for land-speed record attempts. Malcom Campbell in Bluebird reached 235kph in 1924 and then 280kph in 1927. Campbell’s grandson set a UK electric car land-speed record here in 2000.
Around a couple more bays, through narrow country lanes and we arrived in Tenby, the charming 9th century walled town sitting atop a cliff. Tenby is a tourist host-spot and it’s easy to see why: a quaint historic town with narrow cobbled lanes encased by stone walls and rows of colourful townhouses lining the cliff overlooking a golden sandy beach where wooden sailing boats lay on their sides. It was a delightful place with an air of nostalgia.
Tenby marks the start of the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park that we were going to explore next.
We left Tenby and drove the short distance to Pembroke for the night. It had been a long day. We had been advised to make sure we tell people we’re New Zealanders, so they don’t assume we’re English. It certainly worked at our B&B in Pembroke. Our host was very welcoming and loved that we were visiting from down under, his son had spent time surfing in NZ and loved it. We took his advice on a good pub to try and walked off along Mill Pond towards Pembroke Castle find it.
Tuesday:
We started the day by heading to the little village of Bosherton to find St Govan’s Chapel, an historic stone church built into a steep cliff on the southernmost tip of Pembrokeshire. The area around these cliffs is a defence training zone and unfortunately, they were training that day and access to the chapel was prohibited. Instead, we walked along the cliffs in the opposite direction. It was empty and windswept.
Next it was on to Solva, a cute little village of brightly coloured buildings tucked at the head of an inlet. It was once a smuggling port and you can see why; the inlet is narrow and long and very discreet. It was the perfect place for our picnic lunch. The town only has a few shops but they’re all beautiful galleries and artisan boutiques selling the works of local artists. I was captivated by a stunning wooden carving of a diving gannet. It was hard to resist but Mr Love was quick to remind me of the logistics and cost of getting it home.
Our final stop for the day was St David’s, Britain’s smallest city. More of a village than a city it gets its status from having a cathedral. It is a lovely spot and as the weather was good we decided to camp here for a couple of nights. We found a great campsite on a farm not far from the village, right on the cliff top with breath-taking views across the sea. Another reason we wanted to stay two nights was that I had my heart set on seeing puffins and off the coast of Pembrokeshire is Skomer Island, where thousands of puffins were nesting. The next boat trip to Skomer Island was on Thursday morning and we booked our spots.
It gets a bit tiresome eating out all the time so cooking our own food on the BBQ was a welcome change. Maybe its the fresh air but camping tucker always tastes great.
Wednesday:
We woke to more blue sky and sunshine on Wednesday, perfect for a walk along part of the Pembrokeshire Coast National Trail. This popular walkway is part of the trail that runs along the entire coastline of Wales and conveniently the track ran along the cliffs in front of the campsite.
The path winds along the top of the craggy grey rock face with only a thin strip of wildflowers and moss between you and the crystal-clear waters below. Some parts of the cliffs had eroded, and the path became all the more precarious. Along the way we passed St Non’s chapel, a tiny stone chapel dedicated to St David’s mother. In the adjacent paddock is Capel Non, remains of a 7th– 9th century stone house built on the spot where St David is said to have been born. The well beside it sprung to life when the saint was born in 500AD and is said to have restorative powers. We weren’t going to let that pass and gulped the icy water from cupped hands.
We continued around the cliffs to Porth Clais inlet, a tiny harbour where a few small boats were moored. From there we cut back inland through paddocks of waist high grass ready to be cut for hay, along paths lined with overgrown hedgerows and dotted with magenta foxgloves as tall as us, to St David’s Cathedral. Built from local purple-red stone on the site of a 6th century monastery the cathedral has been a major pilgrimage site hundreds of years. Two trips to St David’s equalled one to Rome. This 12th century cathedral is of grand scale with a magnificent interior. It would not be out of place in any European city. But here it is, sitting in rural Wales on the edge of a small rustic village with cows grazing next to it.
We walked back up through the town past ice-cream vendors making a mint from tourists, through Cross Square where knitted poppies hung from the war memorial, and along the lane back to the campsite.
Later that afternoon we drove to small coastal hamlet of Porthgain. This was once a commercial port used for exporting stone from the nearby quarry and the stone wharf and seawall remain. The small cluster of houses here are mostly holiday lets, and there’s a smart restaurant, art gallery and pub. The day was waning, but the sun was still warm and the deck on the pub too enticing – perfect for a well-deserved ale.
Thursday:
We packed up the tent, put on our warm clothes for the boat trip and were just about to go when my phone rang, and I was told our tour had been cancelled. A group had pulled out and they didn’t have enough people to make it viable. The next one was in two days’ time. I was bitterly disappointed. It was another stunning day and it would have been perfect for puffin spotting. We couldn’t wait around for the next trip. We only had a week before our next house-sit back in England and there was a lot more of Wales to see. Would have to find puffins somewhere else.
Feeling a bit glum we started out, driving off around the coast through the picturesque towns of Fishguard and Newport and then north over beautiful green countryside, rolling hills dotted with sheep and very much like New Zealand.
We were heading to the Snowdonia National Park in the north of Wales. At the edge of Snowdonia is Machynlleth, the historic market town where Owain Glyndwr first assembled his parliament and was crowned Prince of Wales in 1404. It was also here where he went into hiding and subsequently disappeared after failing in his revolt against the English during the reign of Henry IV. Once through Machynlleth we were in in the National Park and driving through forests to the pretty town of Dolgellau filled with the charming rough-cut grey stone buildings that are prevalent in this part of Wales.
It doesn’t take long to notice the language in these parts. Most obviously, all the signs across the country are in Welsh, but here in the north, Welsh is spoken in the streets and shops and even announcements in the supermarket are in Welsh before English. It’s refreshing and something New Zealand could learn from.
After a picnic lunch in a park in Dolgellau we continued, coming across the historic Penmaenpool toll bridge not far down the road. This lovely old wooden bridge was built in 1879 to replace the ferry and is privately owned. The man at the toll booth proudly told us the history before charging us 70p and reminding us that it is one lane and made of wood, so you need to drive slowly.
Our destination for the night was Barmouth on the coast. Barmouth lies on the estuary of the River Mawddach and Cardigan Bay and is a popular holiday spot. The beaches are beautiful, sandy and golden and nothing like we expected. Once again, we were reminded of New Zealand. It was a warm, still evening and we walked along the seafront, watching dogs chase balls, and through the sleepy village to the estuary where kids were catching fish off the wharf. It was peaceful and unhurried.
Friday:
Our first stop of the day was Harlech Castle, an impressive grey rock castle built on a bluff strategically overlooking Tyremadog Bay. This castle was built in the late 1200’s by Edward I’s master mason James of St George, who was a prolific castle builder in this part of Wales and most of the famous Welsh fortifications can be attributed to him. Owain Glyndwr was also here – he used this as his parliament building in 1404 but was cast out during a siege in 1408. There were not many people about when we visited, and it was an overcast day with a faint mist, for a moment I could almost hear the clanking of armour and the heavy breath of horses, or was that the flapping of dragon wings in the clouds above?
Our drive continued back inland through to Beddgelert, a very pretty village on the river Glaslyn surrounded by forest. A rustic bridge is the centrepiece of the town and hanging baskets burst with colour against the dark grey stone buildings. It is an immaculately kept village. A short walk south of the village is Beddgelert’s most famous historical feature; ‘Gelert’s Grave’. According to legend, the stone monument in the field marks the resting place of ‘Gelert’, the faithful hound of the medieval Welsh Prince Llewelyn the Great. The prince returned from hunting to be greeted by his dog with a mouth covered in blood and his sons cradle empty. He immediately assumed the dog had killed the child and plunged a sword into his heart. At that moment he heard the child’s cry and found him safely lying beside the body of a slain wolf. Gelert had killed the wolf to save the child. There is a lesson in this story.
Not far past Beddgelert the forest gave way to tussock and the mountains rose up. This part of Snowdonia is astonishingly beautiful, and I must say it again, very much like New Zealand. We drove through the mountains, over the pass and down to Llanberis. This is where The Snowdon Mountain Railway leaves to go to the summit of Wales’ highest mountain, Mount Snowdon. There were crowds of people outside the station and tour buses were coming and going one after another. I ran in to ask about tickets and was told all the tickets were sold out for the day, but some were available for the next afternoon. Great, with a bit of a reshuffle of our plans that would suit nicely. I bought two one-way tickets.
With our plans changed slightly we left Snowdonia and drove through to Caernarfon to see another famous castle. Caernarfon castle is another built by James of St George and is a very fine example of a medieval fortification. It proudly sits on the water’s edge next to the historic walled town. Mr Love rolled his eyes at my excitement about ABC (another bloody castle) but I can’t get enough of them. These Welsh castles are straight from the pages of a book or movie screen. Marvellous!
The northwest corner of Wales is made up of islands. The first and largest is Anglesey which is connected to the mainland by a bridge. Further on is Holy Island where we were heading next. On the far west point of Holy Island is South Stack Cliffs, a nature reserve where thousands of seabirds nest and among them are puffins. The reserve is run by the non-profit Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB). We arrived at the visitor centre and like most people there asked to see the puffins. The volunteers did their best to extol the virtues of the handsome razorbills and elegant guillemots who nest here in their thousands, but we weren’t convinced. We were here to see their comical cousins, the puffins. At the viewing area we had to admit the sight of the swarms of razorbills and guillemots clinging to the cliffs where their nests were precariously perched was quite overwhelming and the noise incredible. Further around the cliffs and down path to the lighthouse was the place to see the puffins. There are only six pairs nesting here and unlike their cousins they nest in holes, not on the cliff face, so the chances of seeing one was remote. Some avid birdwatchers were at the puffin-viewing spot when we arrived, enthusiastically counting different bird types. We asked them if the puffins were about and they tried to point out a burrow on a ledge. We couldn’t see anything. Then a volunteer came to the rescue and handed us his binoculars. Andrew was first to spot a puffin popping his head out of his hole. I wasn’t happy. I used the zoom on my camera to get a closer view and finally there he was. He came out of his hole, waddled across the ledge, looked around (probably wondering why all the other birds look nothing like him) and then clumsily jumped off the cliff. They are not the most graceful in flight; with their stubby wings flapping wildly it’s surprising they stay up. Our volunteer friend, who happened to have spent four years living in Dunedin, told us they are much more graceful underwater and have a lot of similarities to the Little Blue Penguin. We were lucky enough to see another two puffins before we finally pulled ourselves away. I was happy, I’d seen my puffins. But I still may persuade Mr Love to go on another puffin hunt in Scotland.
That night we stayed near Holyhead in a self-contained apartment attached to a couple’s home. They were excellent hosts and as always, it’s great to chat with locals.
Saturday:
With our tickets booked on the 2.30 train to the summit of Mount Snowden, we headed back into the national park and through towards Betws-y-Coed, the main village in Snowdonia National Park. On the way we stopped at Swallow Falls where the river Llugwy flows through a narrow chasm creating spectacular multiple waterfalls. It’s a very pretty spot amongst the beech trees but were surprised to be charged a pound to walk down to the falls. At first, we thought it was cheeky but then decided maybe it was a good idea. As long as the locals are free is there anything wrong with charging a nominal fee for tourists to visit an area? It pays for the upkeep.
Betws-y-Coed is pretty, but very touristy and being a Saturday most of Wales and some of England had come for a drive into the mountains. We found a cafe that had recently won an award for their traditional Welsh food and thought that would be perfect for lunch. Andrew had Welsh Rarebit and I had Anglesey Eggs with leeks – very nice.
After lunch we headed back to Llanberis for our train trip up Mount Snowdon. The plan was to take the train to the top and then walk back down. The summit is 1,085 metres high and the train took an hour to shunt us up the steep track. The views were lovely from the train, but I did feel a bit lazy seeing as so many people were on the walking track. Oh well, it saved our knees. The station at the top is Britain’s highest building and is designed to blend into the mountain terrain. The building may be discreet, but the summit was crowded with people and litter. We didn’t linger, quickly finding the right path and starting our descent. My thoughts about saving our knees were quickly proved wrong as the first part of the track was extremely steep and very slow going. Andrew was pleased he’d thought to bring his tramping pole. Some of the people we passed were struggling and looked like they’d not done much walking at all, and definitely not on a mountain. If you looked past the string of people extending down mountain path and out to the spectacular views out across the mountains you could almost believe that out there it was wild and desolate and empty.
It took two hours to walk down and it was six when we finally got to the car. We had booked a B&B in Llandudno 45 minutes away and by the time we finally got there it was after seven.
Llandudno is Wales’ largest seaside resort and lies in a wide bay sheltered by two limestone headlands. The town was laid out in 1849 and with its grand buildings, sweeping promenade and ornate pier it was considered one of the most elegant resorts in Europe. Our B&B was in a graceful old dame of a building that appeared to have been left unchanged since the glamour days, as did our hostess. But it was comfortable and clean and close to town.
The sun was still shining giving us time to look around the town and have a drink in the sun before dinner. Thank goodness for these lovely long summer evenings.
Sunday:
We were due at our next house-sit midday on Monday but as we weren’t far from Liverpool we planned to spend Sunday afternoon there. So, with only the morning left in Wales and still a couple of places on the must-see list we hit the road early.
Our first stop was another castle. Conwy Castle sits at the mouth of an estuary and was another built by James of St George. The castle and medieval town walls of Conwy have Word Heritage status and are considered Britain’s finest example of a fortified town with 21 towers, three double gateways and a 1280m long wall. The setting is particularly picturesque, and it may have just topped my list of favourite castles in Wales.
Our final stop, a small detour on the way up to Liverpool, was the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct – a bridge that carries the Llangollen Canal across the River Dee in north east Wales. The 18-arched stone and cast-iron structure, which took ten years to design and build, was completed in 1805 and is considered a pioneering feat in engineering. We first saw the aqueduct from below, looking up at canal boats cruising across from one side of the valley to the other high above us. It’s a surreal sight. We then walked over the aqueduct, there’s a path that runs beside the waterway. At the same time a few boats were going across and Andrew got talking to the skipper of one who invited him on board. I was busy taking photos and I turned around to see Andrew sailing off along the canal. Not to be outdone I asked if I could hitch a ride on another boat. It was an odd feeling to be standing on a boat floating on water and looking over the edge of a bridge to a river flowing far below, and I don’t have a head for heights!
And as quickly as that our road trip around Wales had come to an end. What a week it had been. We were more enchanted by this little country in the west than we ever would have imagined. Welcoming and whimsical, we were wooed by Wales.
Now, we’re off to Liverpool.
