Wales, United Kingdom

Photos © Crown copyright (2010) Visit Wales

Being of Irish descent with family both in Ireland and England, I’ve been to those countries on many occasions, each time seduced by the beauty of areas like Connemara or the Cotswolds.  Over the years, I’ve also visited Scotland and Northern Ireland, which left just one country in the UK left to explore—Wales. At 160 miles long and 60 miles wide (running alongside England’s western border) it often gets overshadowed by its more well-known neighbors so I decided to spend a week there in early summer, traveling south from north Wales through towns close to the English border towards Cardiff, the capital. I realized the timing couldn’t have been better as the soggy and unpredictable Welsh weather would be over and ideal conditions for touring the countryside were in store.

The Borderlands is off the beaten track but it’s definitely not lacking for historic attractions and natural scenery. There are castles built by Edward I all over the region, ruins of abbeys sacked during the reign of King Henry VIII, sheep-dotted hillsides of the Clwydian Range, along with plenty of charming villages reached via itty bitty country lanes. I wasn’t daring enough to tackle them myself but my guide Idwal Jones knew them inside out—not to mention the tongue-twisting Welsh language of which I was rather hopeless. It took me two days to learn how to say cheers. That would be “lechyd da,” in case you were wondering.

Idwal recommended starting the trip with a traditional Welsh breakfast, and so, within an hour of landing I was tucked into a plate loaded with fried eggs, thick bacon, grilled mushrooms and tomatoes, pork sausages, blood pudding, brown bread and marmalade—diet be damned!—at the Harwarden Farm Shop in Flintshire. The 20-acre organic farm sits on the sprawling estate owned by Charlie Gladstone (a descendant of the former English prime minister) and Charlie along with his sister, Vicky, grow all manner of fruit including raspberries, gooseberries, currants and vegetables like rhubarb, leeks and sweet corn that they sell in the shop/cafe. There is a also a butchery which has won awards for its leek and chile sausages, a deli with traditional Welsh cheeses and racks of homemade chutneys.

Of the many places we visited, one of the standouts was Ruthin, an adorable little market town in Denbighshire. It’s home to Nantclwyd, Wales’ oldest timbered townhouse, parts of which date to 1435. Over the centuries it has been occupied by medieval weavers, Elizabethan lawyers, Georgian gentry and also functioned as a school and rectory. There’s also the Ruthin Crafts Centre, one of the most important galleries in Wales showcasing contemporary applied arts. Six artists including jewelry maker Beverley Edwards and weaver Kevin Burgess have on-site studios and the center stages about ten exhibitions a year. You’ll also find modern artwork at the Manorhaus, a chic inn in a restored Georgian mansion in the center of Ruthin owned by Christopher Frost and Gavin Harris. Each of the eight rooms is designed by a different Welsh artist.  Mine, Oriel 5 enlivened with jewel tones of purple and aubergine and decorative ceramic tiled fireplace was warmed up with a groovy shag rug. Paintings and prints from artist Ian Williams beautifully accented the decor.

Another charming spot is Llangollen whose flower filled streets are lined with bistros, pubs and craft shops selling traditional Welsh items like lovespoons, carved wooden spoons dating from the 17^th century given for engagements and weddings. Down by the wharf you can take a leisurely boat ride along the man-made canals built more than 200 years ago to transport slate from nearby quarries to England and now used for pleasure cruises. The highlight is the engineering marvel of the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct, the tallest navigable aqueduct in the world, a cast iron trough mounted on stone pillars 126 feet above the River Dee.

A short drive from Llongollen is the village of Llanarmon. If you blink, you’ll miss it. It consists of just two inns, a white steepled church and graveyard and is surrounded on all sides by the sheep covered Berwyn Mountains. Don’t even think of trying to use cell phone here, there’s no service. I felt like I was in a scene out of Brigadoon. After I checked into the West Arms Inn, a 17^th century coaching inn that once catered to cattle and sheep drovers, I ordered a local Bragdy Conwy beer in the wood-beam ceilinged bar and stepped out to the backyard. No more than 20 yards away, a flock of newly shorn sleep grazed in a meadow. As the sun set beyond the Berwyns, and a blaze of reds and purples streaked across the sky, I couldn’t imagine a more idyllic scene. Did I mention that there’s no cell phone service here?

In the dining room known for its Welsh/French dishes, I ordered the Welsh black beef with wild mushrooms and truffle fricassee and a glass of Chablis. I got to talking with an English couple at the next table celebrating their anniversary (they married at the West Arms five years ago). We talked about everything from Broadway shows to England’s lamentable World Cup play. Afterward, I decided to visit the village’s sole other business, the Hand Inn. In the pub I met a few thirty-something sheep farmers who were probably more than a little surprised to be chatting up a writer from New York. They hadn’t been to the States or even outside Wales for that matter (though one guy had been to Vegas, his girlfriend made him do it, he persisted) but we had a grand time talking about current events and they patiently answered all my questions about their work and everyday lives. They even bought me a round, which I later learned is a pretty big deal ‘round these parts.

Continuing south, we stopped at Powis Castle, an imposing former military hilltop fortress with 26 acres of spectacular formal gardens and drove through Brecon Beacons National Park, spanning 519 square miles. Idwal knew of an old drover’s road not listed on any of the maps that lead through the windswept and dramatic Black Mountain pass with wild, Welsh ponies just inches from the car window. Before I knew it, we were heading into Cardiff and I’d soon be on a plane back home. I realized no matter how small Wales is geographically, I hadn’t even scratched the surface so I know I’ll go back. That will give me some time to learn a few more Welsh words. And Idwal, I apologize ahead of time for the butchering the pronunciations.

The international dialing code for Wales is 44.