Forty-Eighth Post From Türkiye: The Great British Road Trip, Part Three

Wales
After we got our Celt on in Cornwall, we had to visit the land of some of my forefathers: Wales. Wales is simply beautiful, the people are friendly, and it's a treat to hear them speak (English) in their musical accents. It's also full of the historical remnants of the English-Welsh border wars, and the environmental blight of the Industrial Revolution. But, Wales is a foreign country. Seriously. It's so bizarre to be in Great Britain, and hear all the people around you speaking in a language you don't know.

Tintern Abbey
Ole Henry VIII really did a good job of dissolving and appropriating the assets of the monasteries in his kingdom after he broke with the Catholic Church. Tintern Abbey, a Cistercian outfit formed in the 12th century, is on the Welsh-English border, and, luckily, you can at least get an idea of how it must've looked in it's heyday.

A rare sighting of Merry...in the ruins.

                                              St. Fagan's National History Museum

You all know we love a good, open-air folk museum. St. Fagan's, near the capital Cardiff, had a variety of old houses and churches, as well as an old-tyme carnival.

Trum Trying to Win a Prize at the Coconut Toss

Remember the good old days, when you could spend the evening watching a cockfight?

Every museum needs to come complete with a traditional, working bakery, though Trum went too far with giving my gingerman bunny ears.

                                                                        Aberdare

After spending time in the Cardiff area, we drove up to Aberdare. This was the town where my great-grandma Green's father, Jonah Evans, mined coal at Powell's Coal Pit for three years in the early 1860s, before immigrating to America. The mine was finally closed in the 1970s, the area was cleaned up, and the Dare Valley County Park was established on the grounds.

An Old Mine Car

Unless you look closely at the torn-up hills in the background, it's hard to tell that there used to be a mine here. 

Brecon Beacons National Park

North of Aberdare are the Brecon Beacons mountain range, and associated national park. The south of the park is famous for it's many waterfalls. It took a lot of navigatin', wanderin', and ragin', but we finally found this waterfall, which I believe is Sgwd Clun-gwyn ('Lower Fall of the White Meadow').

So pretty that it looks fake.

                                                                   
                                                                     Offa's Dyke

After Brecon Beacons I decided we need to see Offa's Dyke, which is an old earthwork that marks the boundary between Wales and England. It has traditionally been attributed to Offa, the 8th century king of the Anglo-Saxon Kingdom of Mercia. I mean, the dyke itself is mostly just a pile of dirt, BUT, if you walk along it's edge, you can be like Trum and simultaneously stand in both Wales and England.

                                                                       Machynlleth

We camped that night near a town called Machynlleth. Why there? First of all, it is the southern gateway to Snowdonia National Park, the most beautiful place in a beautiful country. Second, it was where Owain Glyndwr, a Welsh prince who rebelled against the English, held the first Welsh parliament in 1404. Third, just outside Machynlleth is the little cottage of Bron-Yr-Aur...

Rolling Up the Tent

                                                                       Bron-Yr-Aur

Surely you have all heard of Bron-Yr-Aur ('Breast of the Gold'). In 1970, Jimmy Page and Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin rested from their latest world tour by staying in a derelict cottage that Plant's parents had frequently vacationed at in his youth. Here they wrote many songs that ended up on Led Zeppelin III, including "Bron-Y-Aur Stomp"(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zISiQ6PqATI), as well as tunes like "Bron-Yr-Aur" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fCAFq9oSxdk) from Physical Graffiti. Merry and Truman like Zeppelin and all, but they were not stoked enough to join me in a hike up a narrow mountain road to find the cottage. They stayed in the parked car at the bottom of the hill, while I started up the steep little path. After 30 sweaty minutes or so I arrived in front of the cottage. I had heard it was unoccupied, but turns out it is now some sort of organic farm/hippy kids' camp, or some such. Go figure. Any who, I quickly snapped a pic and headed back down the mountain, before they thought I was there to spy on their doobie patch.

This Way to the Breast of the Gold

                                                  Owain Glyndwr Parliament House

Back in Machynlleth we stopped by the Owain Glyndwr Parliament House, which was really just a good excuse for dressing up in medieval garb.

                                               Blaenau Ffestiniog and Llechwedd Slate Mine

In the middle of Snowdonia National Park is a town called Blaenau Ffestiniog, a traditional slate mining center, and a bit of an eye-sore. It's true that all the slate "tips" make it look like a post-industrial wasteland, but it is also home to the Llechwedd Slate Mine, a great place to take a tour and understand how hard the miners' lives were.

The mountain in the background is made of waste from the slate mine. So crazy.

Slate "Tips"

Merry and Trum Preparing to Enter the Bowels of the Earth

After he gave a short demonstration, the guide asked if anyone wanted to try to hang on a chain the way the miners used to when working on a wall. Truman jumped out of the crowd and showed off his skills. Out of the two or three who tried, I think he did the best. It must be the Welsh miner blood in him.

At the end of the tour, we were shuttled into a shop where there was a fella splitting slate, and where you could buy all things slate. The slate-splitter (in the red covies below) was quite a speaker. He basically had everybody in the crowd ready to help the working men of the world shake off their chains after 15 minutes or so of oratory. I mean, he was wearing red.

                                                                      Caernarfon

At the end of the day, we drove to Caernarfon to see Edward I's castle.

The Welsh dragon was everywhere.

A 13th Century Fort Apache

All Edward's castles were built on the water for easy supply and escape.

                                                         
                                                             Snowdonia National Park

This place is breathtaking. It's rugged mountains, rolling hills, forests, lakes, waterfalls, picturesque villages...and sheep...lotsa sheep.

Swallow Falls

Old Stone Bridge at Betws-y-Coed

                                                                          Conwy

Conwy is another little town surrounded by massive walls, and sporting a massive castle, thanks to Eddie the 1st.

Merry was very happy that she climbed the wall.

The Littlest House in Great Britain...I think.

                                                                 
                                                                       Llandudno

Nearby Conwy is the seaside resort of Llandudno. It's heyday was back in Victorian times, but it's still a bit of a hot spot.

Taking a Stroll on the Pier

Farewell to the land of the red dragon!

Forty-Seventh Post From Türkiye: The Great British Road Trip, Part Two

Dartmoor and Cornwall
From Stonehenge we went to Dartmoor. Anybody that's ever read The Hound of the Baskervilles knows all about the lonely, haunted, yet beautiful moorlands in south Devon. As Sherlock Holmes fans, Trum and I wanted to retrace his and Watson's steps over the wild countryside. We also thought it would be a jolly holiday to camp out in the moors. Newsflash: even in June, it rains in the moors. Our first hike was to the Bronze Age settlement of Grimspound (first settled around 1300 BC).

Grimspound

Lots o' Sheep..and Sheep Poop

Trum in the Remnants of a Hut

                                                                    Hameldown Tor

From Grimspound, we climbed through the mist and sprinkling rain to the top of Hameldown Tor ('tors' are hilltops with outcrops of bedrock). It lies on a hiking trail that crosses the entire national park, called the Two Moors Way. Besides a cairn, the Broad Barrow lies up on the ridge. Trum and I thought it was a perfect opportunity to run into a Barrow-Wight (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barrow-wight).

Cairn on the Top of Hameldown Tor

View of Grimspound from Hameldown Tor

A Lonely Celtic Cross

                                                                           Postbridge

After Hameldown Tor we visited the famous bridges over the River Dart at Postbridge. The sprinkles that began at Grimspound had become a pretty significant downpour by the time we arrived.

The 13th Century Clapper Bridge

                                                              Widecombe-in-the-Moor

We decided to make a vittles stop in this little village, and took a stroll around the overgrown churchyard.

                                                                           Hound Tor

Hound Tor was the inspiration for the setting in The Hound of the Baskervilles. It features an enormous pile of jagged-looking stone on a high hill that can be seen from the country all around.

                                                                  Scorhill Stone Circle

At the end of a very soggy day of driving along narrow roads twisting through overgrown hedgerows, we reached the trail-head that leads up to the Scorhill Stone Circle. After a a bit of a climb past some moor ponies, we crested a hill and looked down on this ancient site, smack in the middle of the rolling moor. Trum and I were almost alone...except for some Eastern Europeans, who seemed to be trying to soak up mystical energies from the ley lines, or some such.

Trum Alone in the Vastness of the Moor

                                                                       Cornwall

In order to save bones, and enjoy good ole outdoor adventure, we planned to do a lot of camping on our great British road trip. We ended up camping several nights in the tent and sleeping bags we shoved in our luggage, but our first night in Dartmoor was a damp affair. We ended up packing away the tent in a steady drizzle, and after spending all day trekking through the moor in the rain, we didn't really feel like spending a night in the tent when we reached Tintagel in Cornwall. So, we sprang for a room at the Camelot Castle Hotel. The room came complete with an intricately-carved four-poster bed, and a view of the Atlantic.

The Labyrinth at Sunset

Cornwall is part of Britain's "Celtic Fringe," one of the regions where the Celtic peoples remained prominent after the arrival of the Germanic Anglo-Saxons in the 5th century AD. The "Celtic Nations" are Cornwall, Ireland, Scotland, Brittany, the Isle of Man, and Wales, though not many folks actually speak Cornish anymore.

Trum at Britain's Windy Southwestern Edge

The big draw in Tintagel, beyond the natural beauty, is the area's legendary association with King Arthur. It's all the fault of the 12th century writer Geoffrey of Monmouth and his History of the Kings of Britain, who claimed Arthur was conceived, via Merlin's trickery, at Tintagle castle.

A Beautiful Waterfall Below the Castle

Trum in Merlin's Cave

The Castle Ruins

Arthur Getting Ready to Knight Me

Barras Head Jutting out into the Atlantic

If you're hip with Cornish folklore, or Harry Potter, you know all about Cornish Pixies.

Best thing in Cornwall? Cornish pasties. There are no better meat pies on this earth (steak and stilton is me favorite), and believe you me, I've eaten a lot of meat pies in my day.