5/17 – 5/19/22
5-17
A friendly cab driver with a completely incomprehensible Liverpool accent brought me to my rental car near the airport. And then, after accidentally crossing a toll bridge I had no idea how to pay for, I was in Wales. My first stop was Conwy, a picturesque seaside town dominated by a thirteenth-century castle.
After exploring the castle, I walked along the town’s medieval walls, enjoying vistas of the castle over slate roofs and against green hills. Descending to street level, I bought a sandwich and sat on a bench to eat it. But as I raised the sandwich to my lips, a seagull dove and grabbed it.
After creaking my way through an Elizabethan mansion (complete with an audio guide featuring some outrageously thick Welsh accents), I continued west to Anglesey – the island just off the northwest corner of Wales – and to spectacular Beaumaris castle, mightiest link in the iron ring of castles built by Edward I to subdue the Welsh.
Thanks to pouring rain, I had the castle virtually to myself. For a few moments, when I was up on the wall walk, the clouds opened, and light splashed the green hills. But by the time I returned to my car, clouds had curled again over the peaks, and rain drummed on the roof all the way to my hotel.
I checked into an old-fashioned B&B in Caernarvon, where I seemed to be the only guest. Too hungry to wait for the rain to stop – a bird, remember, had stolen my lunch – I took my feeble little umbrella and walked the five blocks to the center of town, getting thoroughly soaked in the process. After a very pleasant dinner at an Italian place (where all the other diners were speaking Welsh), I walked to the Caernarvon Castle, another of Edward I’s projects, and contentedly watched the tide drain from the harbor.
5-18
The bus from Caernarvon to the base of Snowdon – the highest peak in Wales, and the tallest in the UK south of the Scottish Highlands – took about a half-hour, during which the mountain loomed larger and larger. The main parking lot was already full by the time the bus arrived (the reason I had left my car back at the B&B), and at least a dozen hikers were in the process of starting up the trails.
Since I like at least a bit of solitude on my hikes, I chose the Pig Track, the rockiest and least popular route to the summit. The sun was shining (a rather rare thing, from what I understand, in this part of Wales), but a stiff wind had risen, making it difficult to find a comfortable blend of clothing. The views, however, were spectacular.
Since all the various paths up the mountain converge at the top, I found myself with much more company in the last half-mile of the hike. I managed, however, to discover a quiet corner of the summit to eat my lunch and survey a sweeping mosaic of mountain and cloud.
Back in Caernarvon, I walked down to the harbor, where fishing boats bobbed picturesquely in front of the castle. After strolling along the stony beach, I entered the castle and walked the ramparts. Caernarvon bustled, breezes ruffled the sea; and on the southern horizon, Snowdon loomed.
5-19
My left knee – always the first thing to hurt – was aching last night, so I had every intention of taking it easy today. The best easy hike in this corner of Wales is the gentle two-mile loop around Cwm Idwal, a spectacular mountain valley centered on a cobalt lake. This, I figured, was the most sensible place to spend the morning.
Cwm Idwal was as impressive as advertised – an awesome circle of cliffs, slashed by the shining ribbon of the tallest waterfall in Wales. I hiked up to the waterfall, taking pictures at every new vista.
A path tempted me higher, and then another path led up me to a long boulder scramble, past the foot of a splashing waterfall, and up to the rim of the cliffs around the lake.
Ignoring my knee, I hiked across a windswept plateau and up a tall green hill. At the top, I lingered for a moment in the sunshine and wind, all of Wales undulating away underfoot. A few sheep watched incuriously as I picked my way back downhill.
I returned the car without incident (fortunately, since my insurance was…not good), and returned to Liverpool, where I ate my peanut butter bagel on the sunny steps of Lime Street Station. Then back to London, where I had booked what turned out to be a windowless closet under the stairs of a budget hotel.