Return of the Native 2.1 - Part 3 - Wales

Being in Wales inspired me to rise early and go walking about the countryside where I’d come over all Dylan Thomas like and begin channeling the Reverend Eli Jenkins.  He sang the praises of his beloved Llareggub and all there about each and every morn and those of you who know and love Under Milk Wood as I do will appreciate exactly what I mean.

We stayed in a very comfortable cottage on a farm at Penrhyndeudraeth which we simply referred to as ‘Pen’.  I was reminded of our trip to Iceland where we were unable to pronounce the names of all but three of the towns we visited.  They were Reykjavik, Keflavik and just plain Vik.  The rest we just referred to by the first letter of their name. 

But back to Wales...

Penrhyndeudraeth is quite near the much more pronounceable town of Porthmadog and one of the joys of staying on the farm is the narrow gauge railway to Blaenau Ffestiniog which runs through the bottom of the garden.  We took a ride on our first full day and what a treat that was!  There were once 1’11½” gauge railways all over Wales hauling coal in the south and slate in the north as well as passengers and all manner of goods.  A few remain as heritage lines, the Ffestiniog and Welsh Highlands Railway being two of them, both centred on the seaside town of Porthmadog.  One runs directly inland to the old slate mines of Blaenau Ffestiniog while the other longer line winds its way north to the royal town of Caernarfon.  Both are the most wonderful rides.

The Two-headed Dragon - Ffestiniog Railway

Whilst in Blaenau Ffestiniog we stumbled upon a cafe that served Welsh rarebit so in we went.  That took me back to the foil-wrapped pre-packaged and processed Kraft grilled cheddar cheese on toast of my childhood.  "Jesus-bloody-Christ" I exclaimed, in both the voice and accent of my lovely Clayon's nanna Grandma Liz who first taught me how to swear and blaspheme with a Welsh lilt.

Next day was a longer train ride and more food because our trip up to Caernarfon just happened to coincide with the annual food festival.  This was held in the area between the station and the castle so it really couldn't have been much more convenient.  Having said that I must be honest and tell you that as much as I enjoyed both Wales and the Welsh people, I wouldn’t rush back there for the tucker.  But to be fair, I’ve developed more of an Asian palette these last 40 years or so.

Caernarfon Castle and Food Fair

So what was on offer?  Lots of baked good for starters including a fruit bread called bara brith.  They also had dozens of takes on the classic Welsh cake or picau ar y maen which Grandma Liz and my mother used to make the traditional way with lard.  Purists still do but I found a few where butter had thankfully been substituted.  There was even a vegan version.  Then there were F&Cs with mushy peas (of course); cockles which just didn’t take our fancy; some quite worrying sausages; and a stew-like soup called cawl which is made from root vegetables, leeks and mutton but since I don’t eat mammals that was a look but not taste affair for me.  We eventually bought a couple of beers, found some chips that weren’t cooked in lard and wandered off for a look at the castle and town.

The highlight of the day was definitely the return trip on the train.  I splashed out on two first class seats right at the rear of the observation car on the end of the train.  The seats weren’t fixed so we turned them around and rode the whole way back to Porthmadog taking in the lovely views as we went and pretending to drive the train in reverse.

The Observation Car - Welsh Highlands Railway

Next day was off to Portmeirion which was so close we could have walked but since the site is on a hillside I knew my sciatica would give me grief at some point of time during the day so walking back would be agonising, and I was right.  Just getting to back to the car park was a trial.  Thank goodness for the curtesy cart!

Portmeirion is a little bit of Italy in Wales.  It was designed and built by Sir Clough Williams-Ellis between 1925 and 1975 in the style of a seaside Italian village, a very smart seaside Italian village, one like you might expect to find around Vaucluse or Clifton Gardens.  It’s now owned by a charitable trust and is one of the big tourist attractions of North Wales.

Portmeirion

 It’s all a bit faux really but extremely well executed faux.  You can stay for a great deal of money and eat for just shy of the same which is why we stayed in the farm cottage at Penrhyndeudraeth, bought groceries at Tesco and cooked for ourselves.  Tesco also does a much better price on Australian, South African and Chilean white wines.  You can very nearly buy a case at Tesco for the cost of a single bottle at Portmeirion!  Location, location!

The highlight of a trip to a North Wales in every sense has to be a ride on the Snowdon Mountain Railway which is a narrow gauge rack and pinion or Abt railway that runs from Llanberis just south of Caernarfon to the summit of Mt Snowdon which is the highest peak in Wales and England.  We took the steam service rather than the diesel and what jolly fun that was!

A small fleet of little trains choof up and down the mountain all day.  It’s a single track but three passing loops ensure that nobody gets in anyone else’s way and gripper rails were added after a nasty incident in 1896 which makes the Snowdon Mountain Railway, or Rheilffordd yr Wyddfa as the locals call it, unique amongst the world’s Abt railways.  I have at least one reader who will appreciate that small piece of technical trivia.

Tilted engine and Abt rail - Snowdon Mountain Railway

The summit of Snowdon is hardly above the tree line, in strict alpine terms nowhere in Britain is, but there are no trees.  There are, however, a lot of large rocks and at this time of year still some snow which is mildly frolic-worthy even in shorts and sandals.  On a clear day you are said to be able to see Ireland and a clear day is exactly what we had.  In fact the weather has been so perfect anyone would swear we were back home in Sydney.

We were sorry to say farewell to our hosts Jeston and Shameen at lovely Bronturnor Cottage but Ireland beckoned.  Yes, Jetson.  I had to stop myself from calling him George.  North Wales is really no bigger than the Sydney metropolitan area so the ferry terminal at Anglesea is only an hour’s drive from Penrhyndeudraeth but I’ve always considered the journey to be more important than the destination so there went four hours.  Of course that ended up necessitating a final sprint from the car drop off to the ferry but what would any visit to Wales be without a photo stop at Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch?