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Easter trip to Wales (April 2017)
For the Easter break, we decided to start exploring our new surroundings, around Wolverhampton. As we were visiting with Julia and Camilo, both already well accustomed to England, we decided to go to Wales, our new neighbour. This is a short account of this expedition.
Chester
Chester is not in Wales, of course, as it is a good kilometer away from its frontier, but was on the way and a must-go destination in any case. So that made our first stop. Weather did not allow us to walk round the full city walls, but going up and down the main road was already something, with these incredible timber houses, maybe the largest we've seen so far (there's a massive one in central London as well, the Staple Inn, but I'm not sure it comes as big as what they could preserve in Chester). The Cathedral has the same colour as our Saint Peter.
Chester.
Julia and her "móvil de botones".
The Cathedral.
The north aisle.
Details of its mosaics. I like the touching.
In the cloister
and its gardens.
back in the streets
and its imposing timber houses
like gigantic zebra houses
bulging their chests.
The most photographed clock in the world (with Camilo photographing it).
It is known as the Eastgate Clock.
Chester's main street.
Succulent dessert at the Chef's table.
Duke of Lancaster ship
That was on the way as well, as was Saint Winefride well, but we couldn't go to both as we had spent so much time at the Chef's table in Chester. The Duke of Lancaster is creepy. It's really worth going if you have the guts to break in. They say it's no end of mysteries in there. There was some plans to turn it into some hotel or nightclub or something else admitting, but it's probably too scary. That was our first contact with the very muddy seafloor, though, where water is more like rainwater left over than the actual sea. We didn't get to see the three monkeys, that are on the other side of the ship, as we were pressed by time as the parking had a closing time which we were not sure was not actually valid.
By the river Dee...
Meeting with the Duke of Lancaster [1].
Failed attempts at turning into a fun ship.
Conwy
Conwy is fantastic, it is to UK what Avila is to Spain, except that it traded the sun for the sea. The medieval walls are impressive, and these ones we could walk at our leisure, getting views of the castle, the hills, the clouds, the sea and the rest of the walls each one nicer than the previous one, with this majestic feeling you're flying over. We encountered what claims to be the smallest house in Great Britain. That wouldn't be a big deal for us but interestingly, Julia turned out to like this a lot and was reluctant to leave. Strange... what was so appealing to her? It wasn't so small as to look like a doll house. I probably wouldn't have noticed it if not for the sign, which for sure did not influence Julia. Then, in our prolonged interaction with this little house, we realised that we were in UK and that after 19.00 it becomes close to impossible to find any place to eat. In Conwy, that means also the Fish and Chips and these sort of places. The restaurants still open were fully booked... we managed to find an Italian place on the central square, very hot and humid from the crowd, but wine and pasta need no more refine accommodation.
The door to Conwy.
View from the walls claimed as the best preserved of Europe (dubious).
Conwy castle.
The medieval walls almost go round the full city.
Which allows you to see it from above.
A privilege not given to many.
Unfortunately, this path was inspiring Julia to run it through...
A glimpse beyond the walls.
And what they used to protect.
Beauty in all the directions.
No time for the picture.
Okay, if you insist...
The sea to see.
The castle and the beach.
Back in the streets.
A more standard way to visit.
Julia liked this little house a lot.
The night falling on the train station, that also has its share of medieval walls.
Penmaenmawr
On our way to Bangor, we stopped at this place, because it was so beautiful. We climbed up the mountain, had a look at the sea and the myriad of paths crossing each others in mountains or hills of indefinite colours, and hurried towards Bangor, our next programmed destination, because this impromptu stop was actually a few minutes away only from Conwy, and there was still some route left to go.
An impromptu stop.
Elena over Capelulo, the village is called Dwygyfylchi.
Welsh mountains.
It's a short stroll from where we left the car.
To bring you to the Welsh colours.
Something could still burn in this place that seems to be constantly below the waters.
A path through the mountains.
The temptation of going off track.
Julia.
Bangor
Bangor was not as nice as we expected, although we came primarily for the Pier, which was indeed up to our expectations, as a long dash over the sea almost making it across to the other side (which is not Ireland but Anglesey). The city still has various elements worthy of a stop. The old University, perched onto a hill, the Cathedral, with an important Christ (the Mostyn Christ ) and an interesting modern depiction of a doubting Thomas (whose Thomas, I found, had an uncanny resemblance to myself, especially if you'd seen me over ten years ago when I had a leather jacket, short hairs and a pretension at a piece of beard). Camilo, who has an acute sense of humour, found this street very funny
, because (if you don't get the joke), it's remarkable how they should prohibit to park on any side of it when it obviously doesn't even accommodate a single car to pass through anyway. While he was laughing out loud each time he would return his gaze to these too ridiculously approaching lines, I got to read the bits of News displayed by the shop, Valla's (which is not for sale), that turned out to be some sort of local favourite, with historical roots (and nice pictures from the family in the old times), a secret way to fry and prepare the batter, and even some celebrity (whom I didn't know) who wrote a lengthy piece in the newspaper to explain how this was the best Fish and Chips in the World. All this was enough to have us in and taste, for me who took the most complex composition, a bit of everything (with beans, tea, fish and chips) for some 4£ something. The experience was not incredible from the gastronomic point of view but certainly was a nice Fishy experience for Camilo, in this city whose pavement tells you how the Beatles came for a visit in 1967.
The pier of Bangor.
A broad floating wooden stroll between two islands.
Getting half-way through the sea.
With a tea room at the end.
Whom you meet at the tip.
In the said tea room.
Back to the city.
Not the most picturesque city.
Although a nice example of its kind.
Bangor's cathedral is more noteworthy.
Bangor's Mostyn Christ [2].
Stepping on an interesting skull.
Beaumaris
Then we crossed to the Holy Island (this is a nice feeling to go from one Island to the next, each smaller in side than the earliest, something we're striving to experience with Staffa). We started our exploration of this tiny island with Beaumaris, of Saxon fame. It has a very nice castle, which was by far the highlight. It also has one of the oldest house of UK, but since it failed to impress Julia this time, we suspected this wasn't true.
Beaumaris castle.
Part of Edward I's campaign to conquer the north of Wales.
Guarding the island of Anglesey.
With its impressive walls.
Pensive Julia.
The castle remained incomplete.
Partly due to Edward's conquest of Scotland.
Julia in the main court.
Leaving.
Moated north-west walls.
Another kind of climbing on the other side of the walls.
The sea at Beaumaris.
Little water from there to Anglesey.
Still enough for little boats.
The most notable aspect of this house was this notice.
Holy Island
Then in Holy Island, we went for the coast, which is the most beautiful. There was the option to spot puffins there and if I remember well they even flagged two as sighted "earlier today" at the observatory, but of course we didn't get that chance just there and then. We walked up to the highest spot, which was very windy, although you don't see that in the pictures. We could see how small indeed is the land. We doubted seriously that we had Holyhead in sight, a few kilometers away, while it took us so long through the road to reach the South Stacks. We had to complete the loop under heavy rain, improvising a protection for Julia out of my several layers of jackets. We don't have photos of the ending, which was epic. We then went around with the car, observing once again how tiny is the island... we crossed back and forth to Anglesey, eventually passing through all of its three bridges.
At the end of the Holy Island.
The Welsh coast.
The South Stacks.
The end of Wales.
Walking the coastal path.
The heights of the island.
At the highest point.
Lot of wind and mist.
Walking it anyway.
Back to Holyhead.
Welsh fences.
Being there...
Trearddur Bay.
Having fun.
Back on Anglesey, looking at Holy Island.
The (four miles) bridge that links them.
The sea in between.
Back on the little island.
Llyn Idwal
Now on our way back, we made a stop in the Snowdonia natural park, which is one of our destinations for Hiking the British mountains and hills. There it gets as beautiful as in Scotland, except that it's one hour from home rather than five. Julia did a bit of walking on the last part of the route, pioneering her future hiking adventures. This is so beautiful that we can let the pictures speak for themselves.
The Pont Pen-y-benglog area.
In the Snowdonia national park.
With paysages of outstanding beauty.
The Llyn Idwal lake.
You can walk around following a well delineated path.
Elena and Camilo ready to make the loop.
Each sight is fantastic.
Taking a rest.
Julia stepping down from my back.
Picnic with a view.
Back on the trail.
A more difficult bit to cross.
Julia ready to keep going.
The highest point of our itinerary.
A moment's reflection at our local top.
The lake from above.
Looking for the way down.
Found it!
Back to the easy trail.
Rocks snapped by water like fingersticks.
Julia on her own.
With difficulties kindly adapted to her by the moutain.
But mummy is never very far.
Last look at the lake.
Wrexham & Ruabon
We went round Wrexham in the morning with the raising concern to have been trapped again in the dead-service British society on a Bank holiday or outside the thinly specified hours, and were fearing for our breakfast but, incredibly enough, in the completely deserted city, we found a coffee open. There were more people in the Church (they got slightly disappointed that we didn't stay for the service) but otherwise a real feeling of post-apocalyptic silence in the streets. Wrexham is a big city to be that empty.
Wrexham.
Interesting sculpture in the cathedral.
The Cathedral Church of Our Lady of Sorrows.
Beautiful gargoyles.
In the park.
With fun bits.
And less fun ones.
The "mobil de botones".
The rest of the city.
Interesting remains.
Authentic pubs.
Ruabon
A little village nearby.
Also with its peculiar architecture.
And beautiful cottages.
Llangollen area
We concluded our trip in the beautiful Llangollen area, that is graced by the inputs of Telford, an engineer probably little less genius than Eiffel although far from having gathered as much fame and recognition. Well, to be fair, a city is named after him (and is the fastest growing one in UK). One of the big achievements of Telford is the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct, that carries narrow boats over the valley, although I fail to see the purpose as they stop there anyway. We also paid a visit to the beautiful Llantysilio church (there's another one with this name on an island when crossing to Anglesey). We had tea with some tarts and "pickles", of which we probably took too much, in the scenic Berwin train station, that regulates steam trains used for actual transportation rather than mere tourism. There was a last spot of importance to see, the Crucis Abbey, which was not entirely straightforward to locate although Camilo could narrow it down from a combination of instructions of the Berwin lady and some running. This was a beautiful stay that reminded us of our British heritage days, when we were collecting ruins of this type throughout the country.
Our final stop was Llangollen, where, after a stroll along the river, we got ourselves a table at the proclaimed oldest wine restaurant in Wales... why not? Food was very tasty, a perfect ending. While we were waiting for the bill with Camilo, Elena went to install Julia in the car. Shortly afterwards she came back hardly containing a panic attack... The car had self-locked itself with the baby in the seat! This is a most unwelcome feature of these models—it was a rented car of which we didn't know this specificity that after a little while, if you didn't lock it yourself, it does so by itself—and Elena had left the keys inside. After slamming the door to go round, she realised she had no access anymore. We asked the restaurant to call the police, which, amazingly, told us there was nothing they could do, and that we had to break the window. That is, by ourselves... with a stone or whatever, I don't know. Given that Julia was not worried or bothered, this failure from the police to do anything, not even showing up to arrest us, let us time to realise that, inside with the keys was Julia herself. Granted, she was tied already by the security belt and the chances for her to free herself and understand the instructions to pick they keys and open the doors were slim, so I was already looking for a way to crack the car open. But, even more amazingly than the police advising you to break a window in the street (even if your car) with a child inside, was the fact that Julia could actually understand that we wanted her to get out of her seat, untie the various types of belts, which she did with many efforts and repeated attempts, a bit like these artists loosening their chains under water, and then grab the keys, at which point, it was obvious it was a piece of cake for her to have her press the button. She did all of this, not getting scared a single moment, only sometimes complaining no puedo but still trying, and when she finally released herself, all of us at once opened the doors, incredibly relieved and back together with our little hero, who already freed herself from a nontrivial danger and saved us a lot of hassles.
The Pontcysyllte Aqueduct.
A navigable canal perched in the sky.
For the famous British narrow boats.
View from the aqueduct.
Walking towards Llantysilio church.
Dedicated to Saint Tysilio.
Its gardens.
Inside.
Back to the car.
The Horseshoe Falls [3].
A bridge into a bridge.
On the Chain bridge, towards Berwin train station.
A steam train just passing by.
Stopping on its way to Corwen.
Looking for the Crucis Abbey.
Found it.
The remains of this Cistercian abbey.
Elena exploring.
No inside nor outside.
Llangollen
A beautiful village.
Over the river Dee.
Julia admiring.
Typical British houses.
Including red-brick houses.
The church.
Julia's find.
At the proclaimed oldest wine restaurant in Wales.
Julia locked in the car. The keys are on the floor between the two front seats.
After she freed herself.
