Beaches, Castles and Abbeys

Bob and I had romanticized ideas of Wales, which accounted for our desire to spend a fair amount of time there. Mine came from Arthurian legend, Dylan Thomas and the works of Roald Dahl. Bob’s came from knowing that Wales was famous for her castles and medieval history. As we made our way through the country, we were not disappointed. And for two people who are not known for any sense of organized religious beliefs, we spent more time learning about priests, saints, nuns, holy doctrine and how religion informed and drove the development of Wales than we ever would have imagined. And it was fascinating.

Much of the history of Wales revolves around the struggle with Great Britain, and it doesn’t take much scratch of the surface to find that same struggle today. Wales became an official part of Great Britain as late as 1707, yet they retain their own language and culture in spite of English dominance and efforts to anglicize the country. The Romans played a significant role in the modernization and industrialization of Wales, and the Roman practice of allowing a conquered nation to retain their religion and culture was important in helping Wales maintain their identity. Wales is a rich source of minerals such as gold, copper, lead, zinc and silver, and these resources were greatly desired. Our guides, Rob and Irene, were well versed in one of the heroes of Welsh history, Owain Glyndwr, who instigated a 15-year revolt against King Henry IV, using guerrilla tactics and managing to overtake most of the country by capturing the key castles built by the Romans to secure the nation from intruders. As Glyndwr became more successful, he began to receive naval and troop support from Scotland, Brittany and France, who had their own beef with England. Glyndwr was crowned Prince of Wales and established an independent Welsh church. Eventually, the British army was able to overtake the Welsh forces, although Glyndwr himself was never captured or betrayed by his countrymen. He was twice offered a pardon by the British, refused twice, and eventually died a free man at the age of 56, still trying to take back his country. Owain Glyndwr has mythical status among the Welsh, much like King Arthur, and it is said that he will return to liberate his people in the future.

Wales is often called the land of castles and rightly so. There are 427 castles in Wales and that is more castles per square mile than anywhere in Europe. We would have needed a lot longer than a week to see them all so Rob and Irene had picked their favorites for us. And if castles aren’t enough reason to visit, the place is literally stuffed with cathedrals, monasteries, abbeys, chapels and churches of astonishing beauty. And not ornate, expensive beauty. Truly a quiet, solemn beauty that seems baked in to the stones, wood carvings, stained glass and sarcophagi within the often-crumbling structures. Religious structures were almost always open to the public, rarely had anyone in them when we visited, had small shrines to light candles and make offerings to your deity of choice, and usually had printed information about the history and purpose. Of course, we had our own historians with us, and it struck me that this was the best way to learn history—visually and with teachers who really seemed to live in the period. In fact, I found as the days went by, that my initial observation, that Rob and Irene were stuck in the 19th century, and that that was somewhat annoying, was changing to just the thing I wanted for this type of trip. Almost like a non-comedy version of Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure and getting the details from So-Crates himself!

In South Wales, we visited Tintern Abbey, immortalized by William Wordsworth in poetry. But what you may not know is that Allen Ginsberg also visited there, dropped acid and also wrote a poem about his experience. The stonework is ornate and impressive, especially given the tools available at the time. Tintern Abbey was finally largely destroyed by Henry VIII in his war on Catholicism. We traveled through the Brecon Beacon Mountains, where sheep seem to roam freely everywhere. And I do mean everywhere. How anyone can tell their own sheep from anyone else’s I haven’t a clue, and how those sheep get to the tops of some of those cliffs is another mystery.

Swansea was our first look at the Welsh seaside. Our guide in Britain, Maria, was fond of saying that Wales lacked a competent PR team, as they had some of the most magnificent seaside in the world, but no one was aware of that. This was our first real proof of that. We went to Worm’s Head, and after having been in the car for several hours, were happy to take a hike. Worm’s Head is a three-island grouping made of limestone that juts out into the sea. The tide covers the path to the third island, stranding anyone who ventures onto it. There is only a 2 ½ hour window of opportunity to go out and return to this island and trying to swim back is an almost certain fatal sentence. Many people have been stranded there, including Dylan Thomas, who called it “the very promontory of depression.” Today there is a coast guard station there that clearly posts the safe time to walk out. The place is gorgeous and the day was perfect for the hike down to the Worm’s Head and back, where we had some Welsh ice cream from what we were told were very happy cows.

We took in Laugharne Castle, established in 1116, where, in 1403, Owain Glyndwr was told by a soothsayer that the English were coming and managed to escape. We traveled along the picture-perfect coastline through Tenby Harbor, which, of course, has Tenby Castle, and is currently a quant beach town with narrow streets and loads of interesting shops. Finally, we stopped in St. David’s. It is the smallest city in all of Britain, owing to the fact that it has a cathedral. St. David is the patron Saint of Wales. David is a pretty big deal among Saints. He was born to Saint Non (it is believed that the name ‘Nun’ comes from his mother), and was a teacher and a preacher around 600 AD. Apparently his best-known miracle occurred when he was preaching and a white dove landed on his shoulder while the ground beneath him rose up into a hill, allowing the people to see and hear him. He is always represented standing on a hill with a white dove on his shoulder. He also is associated with corpse candles, which would be lit when a death was to be expected, giving warning that death was near. We went into his cathedral, but we also hiked into the field that held St. Non’s Chapel and Well. This was a simple stone monument in a field. Bob decided to splash a bit of the well water onto his knees, just in case there might be something to that healing thing.

We spent the night in St. David’s Cross hotel, and had an excellent fresh lobster dinner. In most hotels on our journey, the process was for us to go up to the bar, wait in line, and then order our drinks and meals there. This actually increased the communication with the other people and the bartender and we enjoyed this. Our accents marked us as Americans and we found people to be very friendly and interested in our travels and our experiences.

Next morning, we went to the Pentre Ifan Burial Chamber in Pembrokeshire, which dates back to 3500 BC. One of the things we did not do in England was to go to Stonehenge. There were several reasons for that. One was simply the amount of time we had to explore London. Another was the cost to truly get to spend time there, which required a private tour to get anywhere near the stones. And finally, we learned that there are standing stones in numerous places all over Britain, with Stonehenge simply being the most well-known. Pentre Ifan (or Evan’s Village) is one of three Welsh monuments with legal protection under the Ancient Monuments Protection Act of 1882. It is comprised of seven large stones, the largest being the huge capstone estimated to weigh 3 tons and resting on the tips of three other stones. It is famous as an image of ancient Wales. Irene seemed to ascribe to the theory that the stones were laid by extraterrestrials and believed they possessed healing powers if touched. She touched them frequently. There were a small number of adults and children who had set up a tent nearby and were basking in the sun on this clear and comfortable day. The stones were set in a large field in which several horses grazed, and sheep could be seen in the distance. The vibe was certainly one of peace and was somewhat mystical.

Staying with the mystical theme, our next stop was Nevern Church and the bleeding Yews. Nevern Church dates back to the 6th century and is a small Christian church in a quiet country hamlet straddling the river Nevern. Like many places of worship in Wales, it has a graveyard with numerous headstones, ranging from very ornate to large, flat and almost sunken into the ground. The graveyard is spaced with numerous Yew trees, many believed to be more than 700 years old. Yew trees were thought by the Druids to be associated with reincarnation, and considered to be one of the five sacred trees brought from the otherworld at the beginning of life, and sacred as one of the most ancient beings on earth. The Yew trees at Nevern have one special trait. They bleed. It is not unusual for Yew trees to produce sap where damaged, but this is generally clear in color and dries up quickly. The Yews of Nevern bleed a viscous red fluid that remains liquid and slowly runs down the trees. No one can explain the phenomenon, and no one living can recall a time when it did not occur. It is said that it began when Jesus was crucified.

One of the other remarkable things in the churches along the south Wales seascape was Ogham Script in many of the religious abbeys and churches along the way. Ogham is an early medieval alphabet, probably Irish, that reads from right to left. A few places had translators that could be used to help decipher the writing. As we continued to make our way along the coast, Irene mentioned that the National Library of Wales would look up our last name and determine if we had Welsh ancestors, something that Bob was very excited about doing. So, in Aberystwyth, we stopped in and sure enough, Bob was able to get a print of the Bray family crest and the history of the Bray family name. The Bray’s came to England in the 11th century, and continued to flourish in England, Scotland and Ireland. Some of the more questionable Bray’s were convicts who settled in Australia in the 1700’s. And then, of course, there is the American faction of Bray’s who emigrated to Virginia, Maine and Maryland in the mid-to-late 1600’s. A few Bray’s can be found in the history of the wagon trains moving westward, and a few moved north into Canada. I continue to maintain that the severed avian legs on the Bray coat of arms come from the ostrich, and Bob insists they come from the eagle, but in any case, the noble Bray’s have been a part of history for a long, long time.

At this point, we were heading through the Snowdonia National Park in North Wales. Mt. Snowdon is the highest mountain in Wales, at 3,460 square feet, and is often shrouded in clouds. Shrouded or not, it looks pretty majestic. After driving through the northern National Parks of the US, I expected to think Snowdonia would be pretty ho-hum, but it was actually quite otherworldly. The landscape is rocky, consisting of many colors of slate. Sheep seem to be in the most outrageous places. Rivers and waterfalls appear out of nowhere, and only 26,000 people live within the park’s 823 square miles, so it is desolate and beautiful. Rob and Irene told us they lived in the park until just before Covid, when they sold their home, put most of their belongings in storage, and have lived on the road since then. Pretty hardy people. We stayed in the Hafan Arto Hotel that evening, and during dinner, watched our first game of rugby on the telly. Now those are some truly crazy people. I’m finding I greatly enjoy spending the dinner hour in the hotel bars. Everyone is very friendly, always ready to strike up a conversation.

Harlech Castle was the first stop next day. This one is set on a sheer rocky crag with the Snowdonia mountains in the background. It was a rainy day and that only added to the mystical qualities of this castle built in 1282. It’s a World Heritage Site and considered one of the finest examples of late 13th and early 14th military architecture in Europe. Owain Glyndwr called it home in the early 1400’s. Harlech, like most of the northern Welsh castles was designed by James of St George, considered the Master Builder of his time. Even when under siege, the back way into the castle from the sea allowed supplies to be brought in to the defending army. While we were there, the castle was preparing for a demonstration, and a white horse near the battlements gave us a magical visual.

Caernarfon Castle was next and I have a place in my heart for this one, as it figures importantly in one of my favorite Arthurian series by Mary Stewart, The Merlin Trilogy. A Roman fort, it is now used for the investiture ceremonies for the Prince of Wales, most recently in 1969 with Prince Charles. It is one of the Ring of Iron Castles that Edgar I used to crush and subdue the rebellious Welsh. Another example of the work of master architect James of St. George, Caernarfon, was built at lightning speed in 5 years by hand, unheard of at the time. The towers give a terrific view of the countryside, but are not for the faint of heart. The staircases are circular and treacherous and one must hang on to a thick rope while climbing to avoid a fall. I made it to the top and was quite proud of myself—I’m not the most surefooted person I know!

We made a stop at the National Slate Museum, dedicated to brave slate miners whose work once ‘roofed the world.’ The slate is beautiful, so many colors, and it took a very skilled artisan to split the slate sheets into the thin slabs used for rooves, floors and fireplaces. The mines required climbing and burrowing into the mountain while carrying tools. Then on to the Snowdonia town of Betws-y-Coed where we stopped at a rushing waterfall. A few more castles were there, Harlech and Criccieth, again transporting our imaginations to a time long gone. We stopped at Beddgelert, a small Welsh town of about 500 souls. Here, we heard what might be the most depressing dog story in the world. The story goes that in the thirteenth century, Prince Llywelyn the Great had a place in Beddgelert. The Prince loved hunting and spent most of his days in the countryside. One day, when the Prince called for his dogs for the hunt, his favorite dog, Gelert didn’t appear so he went hunting without him. When he returned from his hunt, Gelert greeted him, his jaws dripping with blood. The Prince was horrified. He thought the blood was from his one-year-old son, who wasn’t in the nursery, where the cradle was overturned and blood spattered the walls. Mad with grief, the Prince drove his sword into Gelert. Then he heard his son crying, and found him under the cradle, and an enormous wolf, killed by the brave Gelert, lying dead nearby. The Prince was overwhelmed with grief (as he should have been) and called the townspeople to hear the story of his brave companion. Today a cairn of stones and a plaque commemorate the brave Gelert, and thousands of people visit his grave every year.

Our final castle was Castle Conwy. Conwy is nothing short of spectacular. It is well preserved, built in 1283 and is protected by a wall 1400 yards around, enclosing the city for protection. We climbed to the tower tops and looked out over the city to the ocean, dreaming of medieval times. It was truly the best castle to end our time in Wales. Our last full day was spent driving the climb to the summit of the Great Orme. The drive is a long ascending switchback and rises over 600 feet from the sea. It is an incredible drive, with the ocean on one side and the mountain face on the other. We did see some very hardy visitors climbing on foot. About two-thirds of the way up, we stopped at a small church called St. Tudno’s. Tudno was a Celtic missionary during the realm of Maelgwyn Gwynedd, the King of Gwynedd from 490-549. This was easily the most beautiful church I have ever seen. Perched on a rise with a spectacular view of the ocean, it is a stone building, surrounded by an ancient graveyard. The feeling here is one of quiet solitude and ancient beauty. It doesn’t take much imagination to see angels here. We shared this church with mom, so say hi to her if you go. On the Great Orme, Bob met a man who had numerous pictures and history of Randy Turpin, a British boxer in the 1940’s and 1950’s with a sad history, who died by his own hand after being exploited by his handlers. The Great Orme was a copper mine at one time, and Bob went on the cave tour, while I used my computer to finalize our plans to return to the US and get our required COVID testing done.

As we headed to the train station, we stopped near the ocean at a car show! Yep, Bob even got his car show in Wales. And we stopped at the statues of Alice In Wonderland characters. Since our hosts definitely put us in mind of the Lewis Carroll characters, it was a fitting end. Our train ride back to London was uneventful, our COVID tests were negative and we boarded the plane back to Norfolk.

Our month in Britain was better than we could have hoped. The weather was mild, we were steeped in history, we met lots of wonderful people, and ticked off our bucket list trip to Wales. We will now take a deep breath, unpack and enjoy the Virginia summer. Our next trip will be in November, and we will be visiting New Zealand and Australia. We can’t wait!