Thank goodness I finally made it back to Wales!! The scenery is just so beautiful and the people so nice -- truly a "hidden gem"! My lodging for the week is a "picture-book" grey stone cottage on a hillside, overlooking the green valley below and in the middle of an apple orchard with ripe red apples just waiting to be picked. When I arrived, my hosts gave me a bowl of apples they had just picked that morning and told me to help myslef if they ran out -- those were the best apples I've had in a long time (this was in addition to the liter bottle of apple juice they had just crushed a few days earlier -- that went down real quick too!)
Even though the cottage was only fifteen to twenty minutes freom a medium-sized town, it felt like I was in the middle of nowhere -- quiet -- the only noise other than the wind was the honking of some of geese and the occasional dog howling off in the distance at night somewhere across the valley. A couple of times, at night when it wasn't cloudy, I would step outside onto the patio and watch the near full moon traverse across the sky and then later, just stare at the thousands (?) of stars twinkling in the pitch black sky above -- not a street light, etc to be seen anywheres. Very nice!
The first day I followed the river down to the partial ruins of Chepstow Castle -- one of the oldest castles in Great Britain dating to 1067 with some of its original Norman architecture still intact. One of its "claims to fame" is that it houses the oldest castle door in Europe -- you can actually knock on it / touch it -- and no one gets upset. This castle was also unique in its shape -- a rectangle (most are square-ish or circular) running three hundred yards on a ridgetop along a cliff, overlooking a river hundreds of feet below. It was essentially divided into three sections. Attackers, if they suceeded in breaching the lower gate would have to fight their way through two full castles (four gatehouses, multiple huge doors, portcullises, walls, courtyards) before reaching the main part of the castle where they'd have to do it all over again -- really intimidating!
Then it was on to Tintern Abbey dating from 1131 -- immortalized in William Wordsworth's poem ("Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey)" and one of JMW Turner's most famous paintings. Today, mostly ruins but still impressive. After wandering thru it for a couple of hours, I ended up having afternoon tea with about six other people at a tea room on the grounds -- sipping tea, eating a fruit scone with clotted cream and jam, while leisurely gazing at the ruins -- a nice end to a sunny, blue-sky afternoon.
Next day it was off to the ruins of Raglan Castle, built in the 15th century. It's amazing, by now I've seen twenty-five to thirty castles and yet I pick-up something new at each one -- here it was how to determine (based on the positions of doors and windows) where everyone sat at the feasts in the Great Hall.
From there it was on to the "Big Pit", a World Heritage Site -- and, surprisingly it had nothing to do with castles. The "Big Pit" is a coal mine that closed in the 1980's and has been reopened for tours. You put on a hard hat, strap-on a headlamp and battery pack, then descend in the original cages over two hundred feet into the mine. Led by miners who actually worked in the mine you get to experience what it was like firsthand. When it was first opened, the miners worked by candlelight -- one small, dim candle needed to last the entire shift -- not sure if it was intentional, but the headlamps put out about as much light as that candle. They later switched to hand held oil lamps and finally to battery-powered and electrified lighting.
Early on, children as young as six worked in the mines -- opening/closing shaft doors (they would tie one end of a rope around the kids waist and the other end to the shaft door to make sure they didn't wander around -- and then untie them at the end of the day), leading the horses pulling the ore carts, cleaning the underground stables, etc.... As they got older, they'd work their way into higher level jobs until around age thirty-five to forty when they'd die of black lung disease from breathing the coal dust.
I got my money's worth out of the hard hat I was wearing -- they didn't enlarge the tunnels any more than they had to in order to get to the coal seam and they were short people -- I was constantly ducking under beams and crouching over in four to five foot high sections of the tunnels (a few times for a thirty to forty yard stretch -- ouch! -- my back and knees felt it the next day). Then back up in the ricketty cage -- it didn't help that the tour before mine got stuck half way up the shaft for a half hour when something electrical malfunctioned with the winch.
The following day, I recouperated and mostly sat outside on the patio listening to music, reading and watching the clouds drift by.
Up early the next day and down to the Wye River -- kayaking. Not much going on this time of the year (tourist season had passed) and, unlike in France, the kayak rental companies wouldn't let me go off on my own -- the owner of the company volunteered to go with me (for a fee of course) and off we went. No wetsuit this time, but they did provide me with rubberized pants and a jacket which came in handy as it rained and was windy the entire time we were on the water.
A wonderfull experience, the owner (Graham, a really nice older guy) and I had the entire river to ourselves, if you don't count the huge number of birds we encountered along the way. It was interesting, for part of the way, the river formed the legal boundry between Wales and England, other times we were actually entirely in Wales or England -- it kind of went back and forth -- now I can say that I've been kayaking in five different countries (France, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, England).
We just took our time, drifting along, paddling a little, exploring the shoreline and overhanging tree branches, occasionally maneuvering some relatively easy rapids -- and dodging the swans. Must have been well over a hundred swans swimming and feeding. The river was probably forty yards wide -- Graham and I would be twenty five to thirty yards apart, a little ways out from the banks -- the swans would form up into groups of a dozen or so and head directly for one of us -- silently splitting into two groups at the last minute and going to either side of the kayak within a couple of feet -- it was like they were playing a game of "chicken"! This would happen time and again -- each time with a different group. There was also a time when a larger group was spread out across the river and we had to carefully paddle through them -- they weren't about to move! It was amazing to see that many swans in one place and interact with them so closely.
We also found an abandoned swan egg in the bushes along the riverbank -- huge -- five to six times the size of a large chicken egg. He said sometimes something goes wrong with the egg and the parents abandon it -- gases build up from decomposition and the egg either softens and "melts" or blows-up. He grabbed it, took it with us and gave it to a friend who was walking by when we hauled the kayaks out of the water -- apparrently, once they're emptied, they're quite collectible.
Next day, got up and went cycling in the Forest of Dean -- the oldest oak forest in England and it's first national park. It used to be part of the King's hunting grounds in the area and was used in the filming of the Harry Potter movies. It was pleasant but Colorado has nothing to "worry" about. The trails were a combination of dirt and rocks -- kind of a cross between a dirt path and a mountain biking trail -- factor in that the rain from the day before had turned much of the trails into mud and ponds with slick rocks and roots covered in wet leaves -- throw in some pretty steep downhill sections and it kept my attention -- not sure what much of the surrounding flora and fauna looked like, too busy trying to stay upright! Once I was done, I had to admit I had fun -- even though I missed a turn and went a few miles further than I should have and had to backtrack.-- once again, signage is not great in Europe!
Last day I was there, it was raining again and I pretty much just hibernated and stayed dry.
Then I had to leave my little cottage and move on to a hamlet named Pontneddfechan and the Brecon Becons National Park -- magnificent moors stretching as far as the eye can see, high mountain plateaus, dense green forests, rushing streams and spectacular waterfalls!
