What a day! We set off for North Wales around 9.30am, in Chris’s car. She set her sat-nav and off we went. The first part of the journey was fairly average and then the sat-nav decided to take us on an extremely scenic route – which was great, except that it consisted of one of the narrowest roads you’ve ever seen, and which looked as if hardly anyone else had ever driven along it! We persevered and really did enjoy the scenery. Part way along, we came to several gates across the road so Ron did the gentlemanly thing and hopped out each time to open and close them. Next to one gate was a very cute sign regarding sheep (see photo) and just further along we came across a fantastic tree house, right in the middle of nowhere, and which had a rope bridge, and glass in some of the windows (it didn’t seem to be completely finished). After having taken note of the sheep sign, lo and behold – there were three sheep running in front of us, for about a quarter of a mile, after which they took a sharp right-hand turn into another field.
We eventually reached the top of the Horseshoe Pass and stopped for a cup of coffee at The Ponderosa (which seemed oddly named in the midst of all the Welsh names). The coffee was surprisingly good after some of the awful stuff we’ve had recently. Outside the café, there were several intrepid teenagers, with full camping gear, doing part of their Duke of Edinburgh’s award. The poor things seemed weighed down by their packs as they set off up the hillside. Carrying on, we arrived at Llangollen, a picturesque, medium sized town where we did the usual tourist things like gawking and snapping. A river runs through the town and it was in full flow past the railway station, tinkling over rocks with that lovely, rushing water sound. Up above the town there is a canal, along which narrow boats glide, sometimes towed by shire horses of which we saw one, a great big, gorgeous specimen.
After lunch in one of the local pubs we drove on, through towns (and past signs) with such tongue-twisting names as Ysbty-Ifan, Penrhosgarnedd, Camerauclyfmyder and Dwygyfychll, and learning that Ffordd means road. We stopped at Betws-y-Coed, which had happy memories for both Ron and me and then carried on towards Anglesey where we stopped at, wait for it, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch. Phew – it’s tiring even to type it! This is the longest station name in the British Isles (and, I should imagine in most of the world). It means “St Mary’s Church in the hollow of the white hazel near a rapid whirlpool, and the Church of St Tysilio near the red cave”. So now you know! The name was apparently devised by a 19th century local cobbler and is one of tourism’s most successful publicity stunts.
After having drive around the area a while, taking even more photo and film, we drove home to Chris’s. The Welsh scenery is magnificent, ranging from gently rolling hills dotted with sheep, to rugged mountains, bleak moors and small, very pretty, villages.
