Wales

What began as an idea involving a few students, ended up in a 7-person trip to the greater part of lesser-populated Wales. Lena having gotten plans from her SHO in hospital, we set off in a 8-seater Volkswagen Transporter, with Raymond at the wheel.


Little did we know how grateful we'd be to the car and its GPS in the days to come.

Llandudno

First stop was a sleepy town called Llandudno, where Jack asked a local guy at a fishing tackle shop where good food could be had. "King's Head", he answered.

One of the better food pics

We headed off to Snowdonia in the afternoon, and missed our bunkhouse by miles. It was raining, which made navigating the hilly roads more interesting. What was more interesting was that the only place to buy groceries after 6 in the whole area of Snowdonia was a SPAR a few miles away from our bunkhouse.

Raymond pondering the Yes No questions in the bunkhouse

Having loaded up with pork belly, wine, noodles, cider and beer, we proceeded to dinner at the Twy-n-Coed which apparently meant 'in the forest'. The award-winning pork and chilli sausages and the lamb chops glazed with mint and apple were worthy of note.


After a late night, Snowdon was the next order of the morning...Jack having recommended the train ride up for the views.

Hp's mum, CMing and Lena in the train. CMing looks especially enthusiastic

Usual mountain antics ensued, more incriminating photos exist on my hard drive.The Black Lake in the mountainsCMing throwing Jack's jacket over

The rest of the track3 quarters of the way up
Cleaning my frisbee by the river.

The train ride was pretty long, 45 minutes each way; Raymond entertaining us with showing off his baby-pacifying skills on the way down. I got a frisbee about this time, which provided us much entertainment for the rest of the trip.

You can't see it here, but its a massive mixed grill for GBP 5

Then it was a quick lunch (Pete's Eats, which came recommended to us multiple times) at nearby Llanberis, before a 8-hour trip to our next destination; a posh B&B at the village of Llangennith in Swansea called (incidentally) the King's Head. Lena was at the wheel.

Things went sound as a bell until about 7pm when we realised that the GPS was leading us through country roads. It was dark by now, and the road kept getting narrower until there was barely enough space for one car to travel. Hedges on both sides meant we could only see ahead. And periodic mist and fog billowed around. CMing took the opportunity to indulge in brief Blair Witch-esque monologues on Jack's Sony while the driver, Raymond by this time, tried his best to stop us ending up in a ditch.

Posh B&B; just the thing after a long drive.

King's Head was worth the wait though. As we stumbled into our rooms, complete with ensuite bathrooms, bathtubs, showers, flat-screen tvs and beds with sheets and covers warmed by heating from under the floor, we felt the asking price of 25GBP per night was a steal. Hot choc, coffee, tea and biscuits on the table plus a hot breakfast the next day meant we started off well prepared for the day.

The girls (ladies?) at b'fast

Fact: Catherine Zeta-Jones was born in Swansea, Wales.

Surfing was on the cards but apparently the season was over. So our possible Baywatch antics were limited to a bit of frisbee throwing at the beach of Rhossili Bay.

Surfing shop

Wormhead Bay was next. With tall cliffs and an island that you could walk out to at low tide, it seemed promising. However the path across proved to be rocky and so we contented ourselves with taking photos and gazing wistfully across before leaving.

Wormhead Bay
The walk along the cliffs
The merry men and women
Quite a long way down

I had to climb down to take this one.
Peeping through the clouds
You can walk through at low tide
Piggyback frisbee

Another long drive brought us to Black Mountain Caravans, where we would be spending our last night.

Typical countryside drive

The journey to dinner was another one through country roads, which we were all getting used to by now. The journey reminded me of the legend of spectral hounds prowling the lonely roads of England at night.

King's Head pub

Dinner was at another pub mysteriously also called the King's Head. I think it must be a franchise. Much was made out of the dish called Welsh faggots, which consisted of the innards of a pig cooked in ale and served in two large mounds, very rich indeed.

Huddling up to a heater with a hot drink in the morning

Getting b'fast done. Siew yuk no less..

Sleeping arrangements were made, where all of us crammed into the living room of the caravan to share the electric fire. It was getting cold now, and the t-shirts and scarf that I'd brought were beginning to tell me in no uncertain terms that I was going to end the trip with either a sore throat or a runny nose.

GBP 100 to touch a sheep? Worth a try...

Not as easy as it looks..

On the final day we took stock. Realising that up to now, the most strenous thing we'd done was trying not to fall asleep in the car after a heavy meal, we determined to do at least one ACTIVITY before setting off for home. A choice was made; horse-riding or canoeing. By means of a clever ploy and misgivings on CMing's behalf about horse-riding with an instructor, we called at the canoeing place at Glasbury at lunchtime.


In about half an hour, we were on the river. Our mission: to pull 5 miles downriver to a landing-place just after a bridge where we would be picked up. We were told there would be difficulties:

Briefing includes aerial photos

Gravel on the left and a pile of stones in the middle of the river meant we needed to take a sharp left turn followed by a sharp right to avoid the shallow part of the river that cut into another farmer's land.


Boulders and a cottage on the left meant we were to stick to right of the river as there was a weir to avoid.

Watch out for the shallow bits, stick close to the middle, and if we were about to capsize, lean towards land.

Taking a break

We gamely refused an instructor, reasoning we could all swim. Except for Jack, but he had a PADI diving license anyway.

Skipping stones

The weir

CMing and Raymond crossing in good style

Tired but happy, we packed up and impulsively decided to end our trip with a journey to Cardiff for dinner, where I accidentally caused HP's mum to end up with a burnt hand.


The drive back to Liverpool was a long one, made longer by the fact that the A40 was undergoing roadworks. forcing us to take yet another detour through country roads. This time, and this time only, we relied on yellow 'Road detour' signs to guide our way, instead of the GPS, whom by now we suspected of being programmed to lead us through country roads in the first place.

Arrived back home at 3am, and hit the sack not long after.

A good trip

* Sorry for the dubious quality of the photos here. All were taken with a Samsung E900 2MP camera. I'm still unsure what caused the blue tinge in most of the photos.