Conwy, part deux

Sorry it's been a while; I've had lots of reading and three big papers since I've been back in Oxford. Now that that's done with, I can sit out in the garden and enjoy the surprisingly nice weather while describing the rest of last weekends trip to Wales.

After visiting the castle, we hiked back to the bed and breakfast for a nap. And what a nap it was. The beds there were infinitely more comfortable that the ones at the house, and the fact that it was chilly outside made getting under the covers even better. The only problems were the occasional fireworks going off outside in celebration of Guy Fawkes weekend (who knew it was celebrated for a whole week?) and a small child somewhere singing Christmas carols. It was tough to get out of bed after only an hour or so, but we had a reservation at Conwy Bistro, a restaurant recommended to us by a housemate and our trusty Rick Steven's travel guidebook.

Dinner was one of the best that I can remember. Conwy Bistro is a fairly small place on Chapel Street. The prices were reasonable (much like most prices in Wales) and the food excellent. I had the pork tenderloin, while the rack of lamb and steaks looked pretty good too. Deserts were just as good. In the unlikely event that you find yourself in Conwy, I highly recommend it. After dinner we sampled some of the local Pubs, watched a little footie, and went to bed at the altogether respectable hour of 10:30.

After a luxuriant sleep under our down comforters, we enjoyed a full Welsh breakfast (which is suspiciously similar to a full English sans the puddings) and set of for the day's main event: scaling the nearby mt. Conwy. The town and castle sit at the mouth of a river at the end of a narrow bay. North of town, between the castle and the ocean proper, there's a fairly decent sized mountain. It's no Everest, but it looked impressive from sea level (you can see it here). We actually had some trouble finding the path to the top. We followed the directions Andrew gave us, and while they did lead to a path, it was only about 200yards long and terminated in someone's backyard. Hardy the day hike we were looking for. After consulting our handy dandy Rick Stevens book and some wandering, we slipped through a gate to a sheep pasture and headed in the mountain's general direction. Let me tell you something about sheep pastures: while all the fields look nice and green from afar, up close they're a tiny verdant film over about 2" of mud. I had the foresight to wear boots, but some of my sneaker clad companions were not happy about what happened to their nice white kicks. After dodging some inquisitive ewes, praying that the farmer didn't come shoot us for walking through his flock, hopping another gate, and climbing an impossibly steep mountain bike path, we finally found the path to the top. The rest was easy!

The thing about the hills in Wales is that they don't have any trees on them. In Appalachia, you academically know you're up high, but the forest pressing around you on all sides limits your vision to 30 feet in any direction. The only vegetation on Mt. Conwy was some low heather, meaning the entire climb included spectacular vistas of extremely fetching countryside. To the east, the bay with its ever present rainbow (seriously, this rainbow was there the entire time we were. By the end of the trip we were beginning to suspect that it was actually a giant cardboard cutout that the locals had erected to boost tourism revenue) . To the south, the town and medieval castle. To the west, green fields and dramatic rainclouds. And to the north, more hilltops. I can't really do it justice; check out the movie.



The climb certainly wasn't too taxing. Once you got up the hill a little way, there was actually a fairly level grassy path from peak to peak. The only concern was the strong wind (as you can hear in the video) and a little rain. But it was totally worth it, as we saw wild ponies. As a kind of special bonus, we found the ruins of a Bronze age hill fort at the top of the highest summit that we didn't even know was there. It was with reluctance that we eventually turned for the long walk back to town.

After retrieving our backpacks from the B&B, we decided to divide and conquer. The girls split off to do some shopping. Eric and I decided to try and hit the remaining pubs in town. What a splendid way to spend an afternoon! We started at the Bridge, where we befriended a Welshman that had apparently once been to Niagara falls. Eric managed to accidentally play "Beat It!" on the Jukebox, after which we decided to move on to less anti-Micheal Jackson pastures. The next place was The Malt Loaf (!) where the Wales-Australia rugby match was on TV. Eric and I know nothing about rugby, but by the end of our stay we were chanting "Go Big Red!" (which apparently isn't a traditional Welsh cheer, but it seemed appropriate at the time). Our enthusiasm was direly needed; there was no one else in the pub. We were contemplating purchasing the giant 19th century sailing ship's wheel we had seen in an antique shop earlier as a souvenir when we realized that it was time to go. We wobbled to the rendezvous point, met the bemused girls, and headed back across the bridge to Llandudno Junction to catch the train back to Oxford. A very good trip indeed.