Day 10:  Betws-y-Coed, Wales & Snowdonia National Park.  We left Betws-y-Coed and drove west toward Mount Snowdon. Taking the A4086 out of Capel Curig, we paused to snap some photos near the National Mountain Center at Plas y Brenin, where mountaineering and other sports are taught.

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As ever, sheep were grazing even high on the rocky cliffs. In Llanberis, we considered visiting the Welsh Slate Museum but decided to hike up to Dolbadarn Castle in the Padarn Park near the museum instead. We hiked to the top of a nearby hill where we saw sheep up close (pictured above).

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Dolbadarn Castle

Finally he asked what we wanted and where we were from. We told him we had wanted to get a cup of tea but that if we were there illegally we’d be glad to leave. He invited us to come in and see the house and tea room.  He was the essence of eccentricity as he showed us around the cottage which he claimed had been in his family for centuries. His hyperactive mind and his conversation flitted madly from one topic to another: 

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•  the sincerity and generosity of the northern Welsh people ("the real Welsh")

•  how foolishly English and Americans throw money at every problem

•  the arrogance of not recognizing the national desires of other people

•  his family's centuries-old history in Wales

•  the castle stolen from his family by the English

•  that you can stay with any northern Welsh family in their home for £2.50 a night but they'd be insulted if you offered to pay

•  the many famous people who have visited his tea room ("They all stop here.")

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In the midst of all his rantings and ramblings, when we arrived in the kitchen, he began frenetically washing dishes, still talking a mile a minute. His conversation was peppered with contradictions. After telling us we might have had our car clamped, then he said the police never come up there. After telling us he had lived there on a nearby mountain for 47 years (and he couldn’t have been much older), he said that he had lived in New York. His entire conversation was characterized by these kinds of inconsistencies.

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Pen-y-Ceunant Isaf Tea House

In giving us a tour of the cottage, he said that one room was furnished with 17th century antiques, the next with 18th century antiques, all of which had been in his family since they had been built. In a room being used for storage, he lifted a cloth on a hutch-type piece of furniture an told us that it had been imported from Connecticut in 1810. Next to it was a large, old book, which he told us was a family bible from the 18th century. When we made the expected exclamations over it, he said, “Oh, we have another that’s much older.”

Before the tour ended, he led us into a room where he displayed brochures of various types. He picked up one for the tea room and one for herbal remedies concocted by his family. As he handed them to us, he urged, “Don’t lose this, and next time you’re coming over get in touch with me. Unfortunately I won’t remember you, but I’ll help you find a good place to stay.” Walking back into the kitchen, he reminded us at least three more times, “Don’t lose that!”

Finally we grabbed an opportunity to take our leave when he took a good breath to move on to yet another topic. “Sorry I can’t offer you some tea,” he said when we told him we were leaving, “but here’s a good local scone for you. Everything is donated. It’s all free.” He reached into a basket and pulled out a couple of scones wrapped together in plastic wrap and handed it to Ken. “Share these with the wife, now,” he said. “And be good to the wife. Always be good to the wife.”

When we both assured him that Ken is always good to the wife, he asked if we had any children. We replied that we had not and asked if he had any. “No!” he exclaimed. “I hate children. Can’t tolerate them.” Ken asked him how his centuries-old family would continue to flourish in the Welsh mountains, and he stated that he was the last of the line.

Even his faithful dog didn’t appear to believe all the tales he was spinning but he was quite entertaining. He never gave us his name—real or make-believe. Needless to say, we found no camera at the gate to photograph our license plate as we left.
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T’yn Llwyn Woods

Returning to the Betws-y-Coed area, we took a hike on a forest trail in the T’yn Llwyn Woods, part of Snowdonia National Park, where we enjoyed a picnic. 

Swallow Falls

Since this was our last day in the Snowdonia area, we also visited a couple of popular waterfalls. Swallow Falls, not far from Betws-y-Coed, is the highest continuous waterfall in Wales and a very popular spot with visitors.  At the turn of the 20th century, local officials harnessed the power of Swallow Falls to generate electricity for Betws-y-Coed.  After the cost of equipment installation was recovered through visitor fees to the falls, the local council retained the fees, and the residents of Betws enjoyed the lowest electricity rates in the country.  Unfortunately that ended after a 1974 reorganization of the local government.

Located in a gorge of the River Conwy, nearby Conwy Falls plunges 50 feet into a deep pool below.  Like Swallow Falls, the Conwy cascade was accessible by way of a natural path through the adjacent woodlands.  Several proposals mounted to construct hydroelectric generating plant at the falls have been rejected.

Finally, we couldn’t leave Betws without a visit to the 14th century Church of St. Michael, the oldest building in the village. Located on the banks of the River Conwy, the church provided the origin of the town's name Betws, meaning prayer-house.  As when it was built, the church is accessible only by foot.

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Bridge to St Michael's Church

Sapper’s Bridge, a suspension footbridge, was built in the 1930's to replace a previous wooden bridge that had been swept away in a flood of the River Conwy. On the bridge we met a scrappy little guy who has seen his share of trouble in life but still was friendly enough to welcome us to his neighborhood and spend some time with us.

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Feline welcome committee of one

After a bit of grocery shopping in Betws, it was back to the hotel for dinner in the room and our last night in Wales before heading back to London tomorrow for our flight home to Atlanta.

Day 9:  Betws-y-Coed, Wales.  We discovered upon awakening that the heat here is also on a timer. Since we’re getting up at 6 a.m., we’re aware of it, so some of the places we stayed earlier on this trip were probably the same and we just hadn’t realized it' because we were waking up later.

Having breakfast in our room allows us to get an earlier start and make the most of the shortened daylight in December. We did a bit of laundry last night, and most things dried on the radiators before the heat was cut off.

This morning we drove east on a scenic route through forest and farmland toward Conwy. Came through the town of Ruther just before 9:00 and saw many children being walked to school by their mothers.

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Toured the beautifully situated Conwy Castle, another of Edward I’s defensive fortresses in north Wales. Standing on a massive rock foundation, the castle overlooks both land and sea. (View from castle above)

After Conwy, we drove to Caernafon to visit the castle where Charles was crowned Prince of Wales. 

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Caernafon Castle

Caernafon was the largest castle we have visited and had a large courtyard for official ceremonies. There were many passageways to traverse and towers to climb (circular staircase with rope handrail). It was very windy and only about 5° C. Quite an impressive castle, as Edward intended, of course.

From Caernafon to Beddgaelert, we drove through an area of mid-size mountains covered with scrub and stone. On the lower reaches and sometimes even higher were the ubiquitous sheep grazing. 

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River Glaslyn in Beddgelert

In Beddgaelert, we took a walk by the river and visited the grave of the legendary Gelert, the hound who protected his master’s infant child from a giant wolf. When the baby’s father, Prince Llywelyn, returned from the hunt, saw blood on the dog and no sign of his son, he killed Gelert believing him responsible. As Gelert fell, the prince heard his son cry and found him safe with the slain wolf nearby. 

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The faithful Gelert

Horrified by his actions, the prince, it is said, never smiled again. The village is named in honor of this brave dog. Beddgelert=the grave of Gelert.

Leaving the village, we saw a group of sheep next to the street, over the wall and next to the river. A few jumped up onto the low stone wall and down to the street. Apparently they had shopping to do.

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Seeking the best view

Returned to the grocery store in Llanrwst for a few items for dinner and then back to the Royal Oak Hotel in Betws for dinner in the room and a good night’s sleep.

Day 8:  Aberystwyth to Betws-y-Coed.  We awoke this morning at 6 to discover that the heat was on a timer that cut it off during the night. Brrrr!! We got up and quickly pulled on some clothes. To our surprise and delight, the heat returned around 6:30. We made breakfast and packed up.

Then we used a new trick we learned yesterday playing with the GPS controls. We entered an entire list of places we want to drive through today on the way to Betws-y-Coed rather than entering each one after we reach the previous one

Headed north on the A487 a bit after 8 a.m., we found that the sheep were already busy at work keeping the grass trimmed. We occasionally saw one standing on back feet, front “elbows” on the ground, grazing. 

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Many of the sheep we see here in Wales have what appear to be dye markings in different colors. First we thought they might be in common grazing areas and the colors were ownership marks for different farmers. We learned that yes, that is true. We also discovered why some sheep have two different color markings. It's all about romance. When rams are released into a field with females, the rams are equipped with a dye pouch on their chests. The dye marks all the lady friends that the ram “services.”

Petrol prices have been consistent at £ .869 per liter. In smaller villages we’ve frequently seen new car dealerships with the petrol stations.

In our conversation with the blokes at the pub last night, we were talking about differences in driving times for similar distances in the US and UK. The young guy said he was amazed at how quickly he and his friends drove from Los Angeles to Las Vegas and from Phoenix back to San Diego. The long, straight level stretches of road were a marvel to him. Boswell, the barkeep, laughed and said, “Yes. It takes us five hours to get out of town.”

We’ve been in the UK for a week now, and Ken is still doing all the driving. After the first couple of days, he had adjusted very well, and by today his knuckles are even back to their normal color. Now he has nerves of steel, even when meeting lorries (trucks) on the narrow winding roads.

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Cozy Aberdovey coast

We visited Aberdovey, a handsome little coastal village with abundant public parking and some lovely little art galleries. Unfortunately we were there before opening time so were limited to window-shopping. Outside the village, we saw a links-type golf course between the motorway and the beach. The greenskeepers were hard at work clipping the grass on the fairways to perfection so the flight of the golf balls would be true. We were surprised to see that these hard workers were all sheep.

North of Aberdovey, the landscape became quite hilly with one beautiful vista after another. Looking out one can see a patchwork quilt of pastures separated by hedgerows or rock/stone walls. Within most fields, the grass is green and sheep are grazing, no matter how steep the slope.

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Sheep from the road to the shore

After the road returned to the coast, we passed farms along the sea with sheep grazing within rock walled pastures down to the beach. Ken calls this sight “sheep to shore.”  Birds are abundant here also.  In addition to the many pheasants, we’ve seen a good number of swans as well as lots of magpies.

Roads here in Wales are very serpentine, and off the motorways our average speed is probably 30 to 35 mph.  Despite the season, we occasionally see bicyclists on the narrow roads.

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Walls at the road's edge leave no room for error when meeting other vehicles on A487.

Crossing the Penmaenpool wooden bridge over to Barmouth, we chatted with the tollkeeper about our trip and about his daughter who lives in Miami and works for Royal Caribbean cruise lines. He thought we selected an odd time for our holiday but quickly acknowledged that not everyone shares the same taste.

On the coast we have seen many “holiday parks” or “caravan parks,” where 100 or more mobile homes are parked and are available for lease or sale. 

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Holiday caravan park

We stopped at Harlech Castle, a 13th century fortress built by Edward I as a defense against the Welsh princes, who captured it in the 1400s. Built on the coast high on a bedrock, the castle commanded a view for miles out to sea and inland.

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Invading Harlech Castle

Leaving Harlech, we began to see some mountains of significant size. They are covered with rocks and even here we occasionally see rock walls built up the side of the slope.

Whenever we see road construction where the road is narrowed to one lane, there is usually a portable traffic light, rather than workers holding stop/slow signs.

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No flaggers needed here

Arriving in Betws-y-Coed (pronounced bet'-us-ee-coid') a little after noon, we visited the TI office and asked about W&K’s Royal Oak Farm B&B. We were sad to learn that Mrs. Horton had retired after last season and no longer accepts B&B guests. We were able to walk out to the farm for a visit. It is just behind the TI along a river, a beautiful setting.

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Across the street from the TI, we booked a room in the stables section of the Royal Oak Hotel. It’s a great location in the center of town, allowing an easy walk to the Cotswold Outdoor shop for a visit to the Rock Bottom internet cafe.

Then we drove to Llanrwst, a bit larger town four miles north for a visit to the grocery store. In addition to replenishing our usual picnic supplies, we bought food for dinner—salad fixings, fresh bread and butter, and a roast chicken, as well as a nice bottle of white wine (red is forbidden in our hotel room).

The hotel room is quite nice, heat is on without asking, and we’re booked for three nights.

WEDNESDAY, 8 DECEMBER 2004  

Day 4:  Salisbury to Asthall.  Despite our ambitious plans to rise early, we woke at 8:45 a.m. Arriving after dark last night, we found the hotel very close to the street and assumed it was an urban setting. What a nice surprise when we looked out our window this morning to discover a lovely sight. (pictured above)

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The hotel’s complimentary breakfast was similar to the fare at U.S. breakfast buffets, leaving us missing the “full English” we had at the Bath B&B.  Leaving the Rose and Crown, we drove to Old Sarum, the dramatic remains of the settlement that preceded the current Salisbury. 

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Old Sarum residents

Inhabited from the Iron Age to the Norman era, Old Sarum still stands as a monument to the castle, palace and magnificent cathedral it once housed. Near the gate we met a herd of sheep, who were all standing in a group staring at us when we entered. When we left, they were lying in a group staring at us.

Since we arrived at the site a little before the official opening time, we followed others around the gate to walk the outer grounds. Quite a few locals were there with their dogs, out for a morning stroll. Shortly after 11:00, we headed toward Stonehenge. 

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Stonehenge

By the time we reached this historic site, it was crawling with tourists, both foreign and domestic. We paid our fare and walked over to the henge. While it was certainly quite impressive, the mystical nature was somewhat obscured by the presence of so many tourists milling about (including us).

Avebury had been recommended to us several times, so we headed in that direction from Stonehenge, stopping along the way in a pull-out area to enjoy a picnic lunch in the car. We found Avebury to be a charming village which has been lovingly restored. In the village one can tour the former farmyard of Avebury Manor Farm, a working farm from at least the 1500s to the 1970s. 

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Avebury's dovecote

The round dovecote dates to the mid-1500s and is the oldest of the surviving farmyard buildings. Once it housed more than 500 nesting pigeons, which would have provided a source of fresh meat to the manor in winter. After touring the stone circles, we hit the road again headed for the Cotswalds.

With Rosie’s guidance, we arrived in the town of Burford, where we went to the tourist information office and asked for help booking a room. One of the women at the TI told Ken she liked to hear him talk because he has such a nice accent.

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The nice people at the TI confirmed what we had heard from our Bath B&B owners.  On the “weekend break,” lots of people come into Burford to do Christmas shopping, so room availability is quite limited. Our hope to stay “in town” was dashed and we ended up with reservations at the Maytime Inn, a very rural inn in the village of Asthall.

The Maytime Inn (operated by May and Tim Morgan) turned out to be the Badtime Inn for us. By the time we arrived, the temperature had fallen well into the 30s but there was no heat on in the room when we arrived. It was turned on upon our arrival and when the room warmed up a bit, we decided to get our baths, even though the window in the bathroom would not completely close and cold air was pouring in.

The faucets were offering only cold water for our baths, so I went to the reception area and asked about the hot water. Tim acted as if we had done something to cause this problem. He mumbled something about an adjustment and walked to the back. My question “Shall I wait?” was ignored. I waited anyway, and when he returned shortly, he dismissively told me that what he had done might help but he just couldn’t understand how we could have room heat and not hot water, implying that I might be lying about it.

Finally 7:00 came when the restaurant at the Maytime opened. Since the inn was so removed from anything else, it was the only feasible place for dinner. Shortly after we walked in and sat down near the bar, a brown and black terrier entered the area where we were sitting. (We had noticed three pet dishes just inside the restaurant door.) As was his habit (before this incident), Ken put out his hand for the dog to sniff as a way of getting acquainted. The dog apparently thought Ken was offering his hand for biting, so he bit it. Fortunately, the skin wasn’t broken, but Ken had a good bruise on his thumbnail.

In addition to the dog, two cats were wandering around the restaurant, jumping on tables and exploring at will. When innkeeper May brought our food to the table, Ken reported to her that the dog had bitten him. She informed him that the dog is blind and stated that Ken must have startled the poor thing. No apology was offered. 

SATURDAY, 4 DECEMBER 2004
 

At Old Sarum

Trees adapt

Ken at Stonehenge

The Red Lion pub in Avebury

Avebury