Had another of those holidays where we actually go away and don’t help someone move house, or remove fence posts, or rewire a house.
It all kinda came together a little oddly.
‘ Let’s go visit family in Wales’ said Mr and Mrs C. ‘ Let’s spend a few days in the rest of Wales first as a small holiday.’ ‘Let’s see if a couple of friends what to join us.’ ‘How many have we got joining us’ – ‘over half dozen and we don’t know at least one of them.’ ‘Oh’.
Mr and Mrs C were making their way from Caernarfon in North Wales past Cardigan Bay to Swansea. Mr Ben and Mrs Mr Ben had decided to spend the same week camping in Snowdonia. Sgt Stubbs had agreed to come along with Mr and Mrs C and test the capabilities of his liver. Wife number one and I decided to spend several days in North Wales. Jon-O was to come up for the weekend and young Kevin was to spend the weekend finding out what Mr and Mrs Ben saw in camping.
And all this arrangment took place via the medium of Facebook – modern looking people that we are.
Mrs C mentioned that for the couple of days in Caernerfon they would be staying at the Menai Hotel.So we duly switched on the Internet and hunted down said hotel in the glorious town of Bangor.
Wife number one had been looking after most of the organisational arrangements but on the train up, I did remember something about Mr Ben going to Caernerfon before coming to say hullo to us but didn’t think much of it.
We arrived in Bangor and carried the bags up what would turn out to be a comparatively shallow hill, past a local Morrisons and reached the B&B&B of the Menai Hotel (that’s Bed and Breakfast and Bar to the uninitiated).
As we signed in, we casually asked if Mr and Mrs C had signed in yet.
“No one of that name will be signing in at all.”
Oh.
Headed up to our room, we sat for a moment wondering the absence of Mr and Mrs C. Then we remembered the free Wi-Fi and the mention of Caernarfon and did a little searching.
Who knew that there was Menai Bank Hotel?
Anyways, Mr and Mrs Ben and young Kevin turned up to say hello. Young Kevin was a little nonplussed to be back in Bangor as he’d already spent a couple of days exploring Bangor town – only to find, to be honest, that there wasn’t much to find there.
We meandered down from the Menai Hotel on to the high street and noticed that post 6pm on a Sunday is a very bad time to try to find any kind of something to do.
Even the fish and chip shops were closed.
The choice was between Yates and Weatherspoons.
We choose the former and there was a minute or two of ‘have we made the wrong choice?’. Then the football game finished and the pub emptied, leaving us to enjoy a very good pub meal in relative peace.
It was still early when the others returned to their campsite to set up beds for the week. Wife number one and I wandered down to the third B of our hotel to see what they offered. I noted the chocolate fudge cake for later consumption, there was a single dart board, digital jukebox and two pool tables that even had a selection of different sizes cues.
The next morning, we ate a continental breakfast of toast, Alpen and tea then made sure we had our all weather gear handy. Today the plan was to scale the tallest mountain in Wales names after a lord with the intent of meeting Mr and Mrs C, Sgt Stubb and Jon-O at the top.
Yep, we were planning to brave Snowdon. Though while we were looking at the what we thought would be easy Miners Track, the others were going to take the train to the summit.
It seems a little like cheating to take the train up a mountain but hey …
By the time we had left Bangor, reached Pen-y-Pass, saw the lack of parking spaces, started to drive down Llanberis Pass, parked under a rock, caught a double decker bus back to Pen-y-Pass and posed for the obligatory pre-walk group photo, it had passed midday.
The timer started and we began. It took about five minutes before we doffed the all weather coats and fleeces and put on sun glasses. It was a little surprising, though welcomed, to be out walking in North wales and not be rained on.
We walked past several of the lakes on the mountain and frowned slightly at the presence of grey clouds obscuring the summit itself. Mr Ben was on the track on the way up, and I don’t just mean on the Miner’s Track. As we reached Llyn Gladow, I was the first to spot the subject of his search, half-hidden in ruins.
It cheered up Mr Ben to see the sleek green lines of a land Rover part way up Snowdon. We continued up and, after a quick asthma attack from Mrs Mr Ben, by Glaslyn Mr Ben was even more pleased to find a white long wheel base Land Rover – which is a nifty trick to manage up a single stony track.
Unfortunately, at Glaslyn we also found the highlight of Miners Track – a steep scramble up to join with Pyg’s Track.
It was about this point that wife number one reached her stride and we began to range ahead of the other three.
For those still curious as to why two land rovers were up the mountain – at least one of them was providing transport for the team who were building steps up the steep near climb where Pyg and Miners meet. not bad for a day job “What did you do today dear?” “Well we put steps onto Snowdon.”
At the point where the track we followed reached the railway up and the path up from Llanberis, we pretty much walked straight into the cloud we’d been viewing earlier.
Back on went the fleeces, coats and hats.
We reached the summit a little over 3 hours after starting up for a view that could be measured in metres.
Then, in true English spirit we had a cup of tea.
However, in, not quite true, English spirit this wasn’t drunk luke-warm from a thermos – rather it was drunk inside the cafe at the top of Snowdon.
I had jokingly asked a fellow mountain walker on his way down if he’d left the kettle on for us – he said yes and that the sausage sarnies were very good. I didn’t go for those – instead wife number one and I shared a Welsh Oggie (it’s a Cornish Pasty) and a cream scone.
Then Mr B blinked nicely at the station master and we managed to buy tickets for the train journey back down the mountain.
Some of you might think that taking the train down is also cheating – bear in mind, firstly that we had made it up the mountain. And secondly, by the time we were down and had reached the bus stop to return to where we’d parked it had gone 6pm. After last nights close down of Bangor we were a little cautious – it turned out to be a good thing we were as the last bus of the evening up Llanberis pass was at 6.17pm.
Back in the car and we went firstly to the campsite in Beddgelert where Mr and Mrs Ben and young Kevin were staying for showers and clothes and tea from a wok then up to our hotel in Bangor via a quick stop at a local shop to purchase a puncture repair kit
Apparently Mr and Mrs Ben’s air mattress wasn’t Welsh sharp stone proof.
We left them in the bar and had our own showers and changes then all headed off to meet the others who had been up and down the mountain and had then gone underground to a slate mine.
Readers concerned that we had chosen Yates over Weatherspoons last night can rest easily that we meet up in Caernarfon Weatherspoons.
The food wasn’t as good though, and the chocolate fudge cake was sorely lacking (I do speak as an expect chocolate fudge cake consumer).
We were dropped back off at our hotel to leave Mr Ben, Mrs Mr ben and young Kevin with the fun task of breaking into their campsite which closed at 10pm (about as we were all ordering dessert) and then attempting to repair the air mattress. In the Dark.
Jon-O returned home the next morning via Bangor. A crafty bit of scheduling last night meant that yet again wife number one and I could enjoy a lie in then get picked up – this time in Morrisons cafe. Morrisons do a good coffee and bacon sandwich.
We travelled this morning with Mr and Mrs C and Sgt Stubb with the intention of meeting the other others (keep up) in the car park for Port Meirion.
Unlike the vague hope of meeting at a tourist exhibition yesterday (I doubt that Weatherspoons counts) we did actually manage this time and all headed off to look at the set of The Prisoner.
It is a very picturesque town but in our usual vein, we were there for ice cream and cake. Wife number one and I stopped for cake and tea while the rest made do with ice cream for now and a stroll past the concrete boat to a sea side tower.
Meeting back together we got distracted again by the cafe – this time for lunch proper (Welsh stew I think I had) then meandered through the acres of ground that lie in the Port Meirion estate, including the Dog graveyard and a tree stump with numerous coins embedded in the top.
Expensive way to stop people sitting down, I thought.
Choosing not to wait for the castle to open for dinner, we returned to our respective cars (myself and wife number one now back with the Bens) and departed. Back to Beddgelert for us and I finally succumbed to the lure of cream tea. It came with a piece of Welsh cake which I left til later as we had the debate of cream or jam first on the scone (it is quite patently jam first BTW).
It now being around 6pm, we decided to head back to our hotel. Via Argos
Why?
Apparently Mr Ben’s brand new puncture repair kit didn’t repair punctures all that well.
It also seems be be nap time … and here’s the proof:
I have comfy shoulders
Argos was open (contrary to Bangor tradition) and we found on the same business park estate an open Tesco. Why the two ladies wanted to go clothes shopping at 7pm on a Tuesday in North Wales, I have no idea but they weren’t going in my holiday bag so …
My credit card yes but I have to draw the line somewhere.
We stopped at the bar again to allow Mr Ben to show off his pool shark tendencies then they left early to avoid a repeat of last night.
Apparently the catering truck driver was a little miffed when he had to drive through a hedge because some idiot had parked his Land Rover on the approach to Beddgelert campsite in an attempt to break in and repair an air mattress.
I say attempt as the air mattress wasn’t repaired, of course.
Slightly less of a lie in the next day and a distinct lack of orange juice and marmalade at breakfast but we made it to Bangor to see young Kevin board the daily train to London (the one that Jon-O boarded the previous day and the one that wife number one and I were scheduled to be on the following day
Mr and Mrs C had kidnapped Sgt Stubb and were even then subjecting him to a day along Cardigan Bay. Brutes.
The four of us left decided that what people don’t do enough of is visit power stations. So with some slightly suspect map reading from the Sat Nav we made our way to Dinorwig – the Electric Mountain.
Actually it’s a slate pile with a lake top and bottom.
When we got there, it turned out we would have to wait over three hours to get on a one hour tour. There was a shop selling cake – the decision wasn’t difficult.
In fact the biggest reason was the horizontal rain that started up as we were at the wrong end of the car park. The slate museum was not very far away at all and we could have gone there and come back.
This was true Welsh rain though and the shop had caramel shortbread and chocolate cake.
Two and a half hours later, the craft fair, gift shop, art exhibition and two science bits (some banners and a machine to demonstrated the power of an empty tube with a hole in the lid) we were wondering if we’d made the right decision.
Three hours and five minutes later when the opening video presentation to the tour was audio less, we were really wondering. Then it was CountryFile explaining about the tour and things were really getting to a point.
Luckily at that point, they decided to drive a bus into the mountain to keep us entertained.
Actually into the tunnels under the mountain so we could see for ourselves what a power station using pumped water looks (and sounds) like. If you have an interest in big machinery and don’t mind being underground, it’s interesting.
Otherwise, Snowdon is just across the road …
Our interest sated, we checked the map to see what no longer rain-swept part of North Wales, we wanted to visit in the late afternoon hours of Wednesday.
“Anglesey” said Mrs Mr Ben randomly.
So we did.
We didn’t go to Holyhead – deciding to stop in Rhosneigr instead.
Nice if you have an interest in kite flying (the kite was back at Mr Bens house) or wind surfing (so was the turtle wax) but nothing else, on the island appealed.
That said, the fish and chip shop in Rhosneigr does a brilliant chips and fish – and even has Vimto in a can!
Bypassing Llanfairpwllgwyngyll on the way back, we stopped for a quick Kodak moment past the Menai bridge then returned to the bar for the final time to try the food at last and have one last game of pool.
Not bad but again the chocolate fudge cake was disappointing.
One final lie in then a brisk walk down to the station to catch the regular train for our return to the Big Smoke. Mr and Mrs Ben staying on to visit the slate museum and drive along the coast scaring sheep.
More photos can be found at Flickr here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/tomhares/sets/72157622211736733/
More photos can be found also on Facebook – if you know where to look …
