Driving through North Wales

Well, it's 11:30ish here in southern Wales and Concetta and I are sitting in the Ebbw Vale McDonalds and doing our blog over a cup of coffee. Our current B&B does not offer WiFi and this is the first place recommended to us for having the internet. Yesterday we tried valiantly to do some "war-driving" around Merthyr Tydfil hoping to find some sloppy apartment dweller running an unprotected network. But no luck. So, for those of you keeping up with us on our trip, I apologize for the lateness of our update.

Yesterday we bid farewell to the Plas Coch Guest House (red house in Welsh) in Llanberis at the very foot of Mount Snowden, the tallest peak in the UK. Thanks to Frank and Jane for a memorable stay in their well-appointed B&B. Though the weather was a bit rainy at first, we were able to take full advantage of many exiting points of interest in their beautiful area. This morning, almost for the first time since we arrived in the UK, the sun was shining as brightly as if it had never retreated behind the unending mists of Mount Snowden for so long.

After breakfast, we drove south and east into the mountains, Here, in my opinion, we encountered some of the most beautiful mountain roads in the world. And, though many of the winding tracks are quite narrow, I’m becoming more confident driving the left side. We didn’t encounter any problems, even though we spent the latter part of the journey navigating by an old-fashioned map instead of the GPS. (LOL).

About lunch time we stopped in the little town of Llandidloes for a bite and popped into the first café we came across, The Cobblers Tea Room. Though the establishment didn’t look like anything special from the outside, the interior was small and cozy and the owner and waitress greeted us warmly. I picked out something small from the menu, the “chicken and veg pie,” thinking I would get something about the size of my palm that I could have with tea. Not wanting a full meal, Concetta ordered the scone with cream. The first thing they did was ask Concetta if she could wait while they made a scone up from scratch just for her. Soon after they arrived with my “little” pie, which actually took two dinner-sized plates to transport from the kitchen. It turned out to be an entire plate-full of chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy, and an second plate just for the vegetables.

Well, seeing that there was no way I was going to be able to eat that lunch by myself Concetta launched in with me and together we were almost able to eat it all. Just about the time we finally finished, the waitress arrived with the freshly-made scones, piled high with whipped cream, that I graciously offered to help Concetta tackle. The lunch turned out to be close to the best meal we’ve had since we arrived on the island, and I still don’t even know how to pronounce the name of the town.

Our base for the next few days is in the tiny village of Rhymney. I chose it because it lies roughly in the middle of the various towns and villages where many of my Dad’s family lived before emigrating to American in the early 1870s. These folks would include the Browns who were originally from Scotland; the Rhydderchs of Monmouthshire, and, of course, the Davis family of Glamorgan and Monmouthshire. They come from towns like Merthyr Tydfil, Blaenavon, Ebbw Vale, and Tredegar, towns whose history is devoted largely to coal mining and iron refining.

Yesterday evening, after navigating to our B&B and depositing our possessions, we set out to drive the surrounding towns just to get a feeling for the area. Because this particular B&B doesn’t have WiFi (horrors!), we thought maybe we could find a place for dinner that could afford us the internet. Sadly, though we eventually landed at a hotel bar in Abergevenny that advertised WiFi, we were unable to attach to our blog, though I kept trying until I ran the laptop’s battery down.

We visit a couple of Welsh castles

Today we set off in search of a couple of castles near here and, as usual, it was raining. But we really didn't care since we hoped to be "inside" much of the day. Wonder of wonders, by the time we arrived at Caernarfon, the location of the first castle on our list, the sun had begun to pop out of the cloud banks and stay that way for whole minutes at a time. We could definitely get spoiled if this keeps up.

The castle at Caernarfon was built by King Edward the 1st in the early 1200s and his son, the first English Prince of Wales, was born at the castle in 1284. So, we're talking old here. The photo on the left is the Welsh flag with its emblazoned red dragon flying atop the castle gate structure. Most of this castle is taken up with museums devoted to the history of Welshmen in various battles throughout history, including our own war of independence. The displays are wonderfully done and interesting. But when we got bored with military topics, we headed into the town of Caernarfon and did some sightseeing. The town (see photo lower right) is very colorful and contains a multitude of tea shops and cafes arranged along narrow streets and alleys. We finally chose one called Molly's and bipped in for a sandwich and cup of tea.

I decided on the tuna sandwich and asked the waitress if I could have a few pickles on it please.

She said, "you want what?"

"Pickles," I said. "You know, they make them from cucumbers. I always have them on tuna sandwiches."

She shook her head and looked completely mystified.

"You must have seen them," I said, "they have sweet ones and dill ones. I personally like the dill ones on tuna."

When the waitress still looked blank, I told her not to worry, I'd do without this time. Who would have thought that a pickle would mystify the Brits.

For those of you who are reading this blog just to find out about the food here, I actually tried one of their favorite breakfast dishes this morning -- beans on toast. Yes, you heard right. They serve that dish here at our Clanberis B&B and I decided that if I didn't try it here, I might have to actually pay to try it elsewhere. So, try it I did. Let me just say that it was everything I expected it to be and I don't think it will become a favorite of mine any time soon.

We sought out our second castle of the day because Concetta wanted to visit one that wasn't devoted to military history. I thought that might be a tall order since most castles were constructed for decidedly military reasons. However we found a wonderful example just down the road in the village of Bangor. Though not strictly a castle, it certainly looks like a castle (see photo at left of the "small" end of the building). No, this castle, called Penrhyn, was actually a sort of "retreat" for the wealthy Pennant family who used the huge house mainly in the fall when family members wanted to go hunting. This place was so large, it had 60 bedrooms, hundreds of fireplaces, and it's own train station. It took something over 70 staff to keep things shipshape. I lost track of just how many floors it had because they had us going up and down constantly on our tour.

I heard one of the guides say that originally the house sat on over 4,000 acres of beautiful hills and valleys. I don't know how much of this land is left, but I can tell you that it took us ten minutes just to drive up the driveway.

Concetta and I were so enthralled with the place the staff literally had to kick us out at five o'clock. Each room we entered had a National Trust docent to answer your questions and make you feel at home. These folks were extremely knowledgeable and seemed to actually delight if you asked questions. One chap, an ex-history professor from the university here spent at least twenty minutes just answering questions about the Davis name in Wales. Another docent kept seeking us out whenever he wasn't busy to see if we had dreamed up any more questions. They truly did an outstanding job. Like Concetta, you may not be into the usual castle scene, but do give Penrhyn a try if you are in the area. It's a lovely and wonderous place.

A week on the road

This evening, to mark our first fantastic week on the road in the UK, we decided to celebrate and have dinner in a nice restaurant situated on a tree-covered hillside overlooking the village of LLanberis (prounced Clan-bear-is) where we're staying for a few days. We dressed up in our nice clothes, made a reservation, and were cheerfully afforded the white table cloth and twelve-pieces-of-silverware treatment. Concetta had the fish, I had the chicken, and we shared an apple crisp with our espresso. It was undoubtedly the best food we've had since we arrived in the UK. Last night, at a small cafe down the road, I ended up with some sort of spinach and cheese concoction that didn't taste like either one. When I ordered they asked what I'd like with the Spinach-Cheese surprise and I said salad. Not wanting to disappoint me, they threw on a portion of every salad they could lay their hands on in the kitchen, which sort of made the plate look like several plates full of table leftovers swept onto one dish. Tonight, however, I think we finally found out where the real chefs in Wales are working.

Today we rode the cog railway to the top of Mt. Snowden, the highest peak in the British Isles. Fortunately, though the sun didn't show up for much of the day, we didn't have any rain either. The ride, should you ever make it over here to northern Wales, is absolutely thrilling and breathtaking. In service since 1896, the little narrow gauge trains relentlessly huff and puff their way to the top while affording riders the most magnificent scenery you're likely to see anywhere.

Unfortunately, due to work being performed on the upper terminus of the line, they didn't quite haul us to the summit of Mt. Snowden. However, in the end I was rather happy they didn't. The wind was blowing so hard just down from the summit where they halted that it was difficult to remain on your feet without holding onto something stationary. I definitely kept well clear of the edge of the cliff for fear that I'd be swept over.

Later, back on the valley floor and after our usual tea break, we headed off to ride yet another train which ran from approximately the same part of town but this time out around the lake instead of up the mountain. The ride behind the little steam locomotive was neat but rather tame in comparison to our morning adventure.

The most interesting part of our afternoon involved a visit to a wonderful museum dedicated to those Welshmen who made their living in the Slate industry. They have a complete facility here, much like we Nevadans have with Ely's Nevada Northern Railway, that looks as if the workers just clocked out for the day and left their tools on the workbenches. All the machinery still functions, some was even in operation as we passed through. For those of you who don't know anything about slate, at one time it was a highly sought-after building material for roofing before the days of asphalt shingles.

The slate operations in Clanberis, Wales, were known world-wide for their superior quality. Beyond that, the artistry that it took to hand split single roofing shingles out of large blocks of slate boggles my mind. Our ancestors were truly talented folks, one and all. In the bottom photo, look above the crane to see the big "V" in the hillside where they quarried the slate from the mid 1800s.

Driving from Northumberland to Northern Wales

Today was our transit day from the Hadrian's Wall area in Northumberland to the Mt. Snowden area of Northern Wales. I knew there would not much time for wandering down back roads or stopping to see the sights. We just had to put the pedal down and put some miles on the Mini. As you may remember if you've been perusing this blog for any length of time, most of my ancestors from my Dad's side came (as far as I can tell from the census data) from southeastern Wales and southwestern England. The sole exception was Paul Brown who was born in Scotland and lived in the 1820s in Northumberland. Thus, our motivation for flying to Edinburgh and staying for a number of days near Hexham and Corbridge, the latter being the village where Paul lived for a time. Our explorations in the Corbridge area finished, we now have to head for southern Wales. But I didn't want to marathon drive directly there so, instead, we headed a couple of hundred miles west to northern Wales just to see the sights. In a few days we'll drift southward and stay a few more days in the area where the Davis family lived before they emigrated in 1873. So, save a lunchtime stop at a wonderful transportation museum in village of Leyland in Lancashire (see top photo), we headed straight here. I have to report that in Leyland we finally managed to find someone who could make a decent potato-leek soup this noon. After the first two attempts, I thought we'd have to give soup up for good. An unfortunate decision in this rainy climate. Naturally, I felt compelled to ask our waitress if she had tasted the soup and what she thought of it before I ordered any.

She replied with rather firm conviction, "Oh, I never eat vegetables."

"Never?" I asked, I'm sure sounding somewhat incredulous.

"No, never," she said. "Not in all my life."

I wondered how she could possibly know if the soup she intended to serve was any good if she wouldn't dream of tasting any, but I decided against asking that. Throwing caution to the wind, I went ahead and ordered the potato-leek anyway. It turned out to be great, as did the somewhat unusual sandwich that came with it, a concoction of brie cheese, bacon, and cranberry sauce on a baguette, and our usual beverage, a steaming mug of tea. Not counting the prizewinning order of fish and chips that Concetta ordered in the tiny burg of Earlston in Northumberland, our lunch in Leyland is perhaps the best we've had yet.

At this point you're probably wondering just how we like the Mini Cooper (see picture of same with Concetta) now that we've driven it for a week. My overall opinion of the tiny vehicle is positive. I like the way it hugs the road. If you so much as nudge the steering wheel left or right the car turns immediately. I like the way it accelerates. Of course up to now I haven't had the courage to do much accelerating, especially since most of the roads we've been traveling have been about 1.5 car widths wide. On some of those rural Northumberland roads you'd have trouble getting the car and a bicycle side by side. But today, on the expressway, I did a lot of accelerating. I Got it up to 80mph at one point and it wasn't even straining. If you press down on the accelerator, no matter how fast you're going, the car leaps forward. The visibility is good in the car and I haven't encountered any blind spots. Of course, I have to warn you that half the time I don't know what direction to look in. It's nothing but strange sitting on the right side of the car and even looking in the side mirrors at the proper time takes a lot of thought for me. This causes me to cut some folks off in the roundabouts every once in a while, especially the ones where two lanes of traffic enter the roundabout simultaneously. The car is darn easy to park. You can put it just about anywhere. I love the heater/defroster. It works better than any car I've ever owned. You turn it on and the windshield is clear seconds later.

Now for the negative things. I don't like the seats. In my opinion they're as uncomfortable as the yucky seats in our Fiat van two summers ago in Italy, and those were pretty bad. There's not enough padding and the seat itself is too short. The various release mechanisms and handles are cheap-feeling and sort of "floppy." I should note at this point that Concetta thinks her seat is just fine, but I suspect the shortness of the seat wouldn't trouble her as much. I should also add that the short seats make for tons of leg room which is nice

My other complaint, which in fairness might be related to the fact that I'm learning to shift this 6-speed car with my left hand, is that there isn't enough room between reverse-first-third gears. I'm getting better now, but for most of this week I've been throwing it into reverse when I want 1st gear. Not at all a calming thing when you're trying not to look like a dumb tourist in the first place. Some day I'd like to drive a left-hand version of the Mini to see if my right hand is smarter than my left hand after owning manual shift cars since 1967. It's possible.

The last thing is pretty inherent in tiny cars. The suspension is pretty stiff and you feel just about every object bigger than a jelly bean in the road. But if you're a fan of sports car-like driving, you most likely expect some of that.

So, if you're thinking about buying one, I'd say go ahead and test drive one. At our last B&B they had a group of 20-something boys staying for several nights. When they arrived they, of course, wanted to know who belonged to the Mini Cooper in the parking area, expecting, I'm sure, to be meeting one of their own generation. When Concetta and I were pointed out as the owners, one of them said, "Oh, I expected someone much younger." They would have loved to test drive it, but I just smiled and kept mum. Youth may have it's rewards, but none were to be seen that day!

Ciao, tutti.

Beamish, Northumberland, museum

Today Concetta and I had our best day in the UK yet. Not a drop of rain greeted us when we set out today and we even had blue skies and sunshine off and on. Our hostess at the Dene Guest House suggested that we motor over to the vicinity of Newcastle-on-Tyne and visit a sort of open-air museum (Concetta and I love historic things as you probably know) that comes complete with working teens-era trolleys to transport you about the grounds. If you've ever been to Greenfield Village in Dearborn, Michigan, you'll have some idea of what this museum is like. Imagine a sort of Disneyland for history-lovers without all the Disney-like crowds. Located throughout the grounds was a steam railroad operation, a wealthy landowner's hilltop mansion, a working farm, a

coal-mining operation, a railroad yard complete with station and engine house, a schoolhouse, workers cottages complete with greenhouses and gardens, and a complete 1913-vintage main street complete with workers in costume to explain the workings of each and every shop. I especially loved the working print shop as it contained many of the pieces of equipment I used in Nevada in the 1970s, equipment which the shop had inherited from the Nevada Appeal and dated back to the 1800s. Other shops included a motorcar garage, a candy store, a masons hall, a hats and linens store, a grocery and dry goods store, and a saloon.

Perhaps the most unusual part of our day was meeting a lovely Norwegian student on Holiday in England who took an interest in Concetta and me and decided to spend her day with us as we strolled around the grounds. Caroline (pictured here in the photograph with Concetta) turned out to have been born the very same year as our son Robert. We liked her right away, especially since she shared our avid interest in history. We toured all the attractions together, even stopping for tea and scones in the tea shop. Later, we dropped her at the bus station in Durham where she expected a ride from her sister that afternoon. Concetta and I certainly wish her the best on her solitary travels (her boyfriend doesn't like airplanes, she says, and won't travel with her). Still, Caroline says she intends to visit Vietnam, Singapore, and Australia this coming year, as well as a few other places that I've forgotten now.

In search of Roman Britain -- Hadrian's Wall

Yesterday was the day that we had planned to explore Hadrian’s Wall come hell or high water (we sort of knew which it was to be). So, even though it was still raining (surprised?), we set off after breakfast to do just that. We were a little discouraged when we first fired up the Mini Cooper because the downpour appeared to have abated not an iota. Water coursed down the street in great rivers and filled up the low spots in the roads to a depth of ten inches or more. Everywhere the countryside looking soggy and half-drowned. Still, we motored off toward the main highway hoping that we’d be able to find a wall site with an indoor museum if nothing else. However, we’d only driven perhaps a couple of miles when we broke out into the long missing sunshine. Immediately it got very warm in the car and I had to stop so we could discard our jackets and I could dig around for my sun glasses. Wonder of wonders, the sun was shining! Tell Noah it was a false alarm.

Well, long story short, the sun didn’t stay out ALL day as you probably already guessed. Still, it didn’t rain too much – just a light drizzle once in a while. We had an absolutely marvelous day learning about the Roman occupation of Britain which lasted from around 47 A.D. to around 400 A.D. We visited a couple of lovely museums containing some truly wonderful finds. The soil here around Hadrian’s Wall is so damp that things that get buried tend to be preserved darn near forever. When the Romans wanted to build a new building in a fort enclosure somewhere, they tended to knock the old structure down, bring in dirt and clay and cover the remains to a depth of a foot or so, then start the new building. This demolishing and filling technique insured that all the artifacts connected with the first structure were preserved in an anaerobic atmosphere that virtually insured their survival. They’ve found everything from 1000 leather shoes and a host of other leather items, to actual letters written by the soldiers on tree bark. Keep in mind that these letters date back to the year 100 A.D. or so. Imagine finding anything 1900 years old, let alone something as fragile as ink on slender shavings of bark!!!!

The wall itself is pretty darn impressive. I had wanted to see if for years. Imagine building a stone structure 10 feet wide and up to 36 feet high for 73 MILES across the hilly/rocky/boggy terrain! There were three Roman legions stationed in Britain. Incredibly, it only took them eight years or so to complete the wall. Nowadays it would take engineers that long to do the environmental impact study. Of course, the wall wasn’t all they built. Every mile or so they constructed a small fort large enough to house 25 or 30 men. These structures would be approximately 100 feet square (see photo of the wall and adjacent enclosure) and would most often have guard towers in addition to the crenelated walls. But even this wasn’t all the Roman legions accomplished. In addition to the wall they dug deep ditches on the Scottish side of the wall to further discourage potential attackers.

Of course, once the Romans left near the end of the 4th century, the wall began to deteriorate. Subsequent residents mined the wall for building materials for their houses, barns, and stone fences. After all, why quarry your own stone (the pictured lake is an old Roman quarry) when the Romans had done such a good job of it already. For that reason the wall in most places, if not gone completely, has been reduced to wall sections only a few feet high. Still, we found it very, very impressive.