May 26, 2015: Four-Mile Bridge to Rhosneigr
Bluebells and gorse near Four-Mile Bridge.
Why is it becoming ever harder to begin a walk without encountering unwanted trials and tribulations? Meeting fellow walkers at some distant point in the UK or Ireland has been one of my problems – and here I include rendezvous-struggles with Gavan in Scotland and Ireland and with Naomi and Adrian just last year in Wales. Then there have been transportation complexities to contend with, complicated scheduling issues, or the need to employ a dizzying variety of vehicles, as last year, when, in order to take a single step on the Kerry Way, I had used three cars, a train, a plane and a bus first. Now, as I sped north from Euston Station with my brother- and sister-in-law on our second expedition on the Anglesey Coastal Path we were responding to yet another complication in the process: the threat of a national rail strike on the very first day of our walk!
The likelihood of this interruption in normal services had sent me back to advanced booking at Paddington Station, my closest terminal, where I exchanged tickets on the 26th of May for those on the 24th – before industrial action got underway. I had also been in contact with Nathan at Celtic Trails, our trip organizers, and he had found a b&b for us in Bangor for the two nights we would now need to spend in order to begin our walk on time. In the event the strike was suspended (I wasn’t going to go back to the station a third time) and we had been looking forward to some local sightseeing anyway. I was pleased that the strike was off – we could have make it to Rhosneigr by bus from Bangor but now we could take the train there – and also use an opportunity to visit Conwy Castle. This would mark the fourth time I had been out with my in-laws, who had been inspired to take up the sport after reading my book on walking and who had proved very capable ramblers indeed and outstanding trip companions.
With my new puppy, Otto, already bedded down with friends Linda and Rob, we left home at 9:45 on a quiet Sunday morning, May 24th, and reached Euston in plenty of time for a cup of coffee – while Adrian went off in search of reading matter. We had seat reservations on the 10:41 for Crewe, where we arrived several minutes late – necessitating a bit of scramble (also involving lifts) as we searched for our connection to Bangor. The conductor for our Arriva Wales train apologized as we stepped aboard our carriage – he hadn’t received the materials needed to mark out our reserved seats here and we had to convince those already occupying them that we really belonged here. I soon gave up on my book, my puzzle and my articles and looked out the window – for after we left Chester we had the sea on our right, a sort of North Wales Riviera that was quite lovely. The train made many stops, with announcements on the intercom and flashes on the notice board – though there were problems. Llandudno was announced long after we had passed through this metropolis and there was no mention of Bangor at all, though we were familiar with the site from last year and made it off the train without any difficulties at 15:12. At least the train had been on time.
With out heavy bags in tow we decided to use a taxi to reach our b&b in nearby Upper Bangor but the cabbie had never heard of the place and had to ask his fellows for advice. Up we went and soon located the place, welcomed to two rooms on the garden level by our hostess, Nancy. After some advice on where we might find a meal we left through the back door and made our way down to the local Morrison’s, where we turned left. Some locals advised us on how to continue to the valley bottom and here we moved seaward and then climbed up to the Cathedral, where a wedding party was posing for photos. A stroll along an ancient high street followed, but, truth to tell, with many places boarded up or closed for the holiday weekend, we found Bangor to be a bit down at the heels. A university town, there were lots of young people about, including many Asians.
After an hour or so we located The Skerries pub and had a nice rest and something to drink. Then it was back downhill for a final march to the water level itself and a stroll out to the lovely Bangor Pier. Dramatically situated in the final stretches of the Menai Strait, the pier was a lovely attraction and many photos were taken. I had noticed a likely looking restaurant, the Boatyard, nearby and we paused here for more refreshment, including dinner. It would be forty minutes before the kitchen opened, however, and this was a problem for Adrian, who hates waiting. I had a gin and tonic and some wine with my meal as well and, since I served as group treasurer on this trip, I now produced my credit card for the first time.
At this point we were a long way from our b&b and much climbing would have been required as well so they ordered a taxi for us and we were soon back in Upper Bangor and ready for bed. It was chilly in our rooms but wall heaters soon did a good job of warming us up and we were soon able to get in bed.
After a very nice breakfast on the morning of May 25, a Monday Bank Holiday, we ventured out on a chilly and gray day and walked down the hill to the train station. The 10:02 to Conwy was soon boarded and in seventeen minutes we were on our way to explore this ancient monument – which we had seen so often from the windows of passing trains. I was trying to take pictures with my iPad but there were problems. The device does take excellent photos but, at least with my larger version, it was very hard to line up a shot without having three hands instead of the usual two. We were also surprised at just how difficult it was to clamber up to the walkways of the castle and Naomi was most reluctant to attempt some of the open risers. Still, as a light mist fell, we persevered in our explorations even though the place was also crawling with visitors and their kids and, when we had walked back to town center, they followed us into Plas Mawr, an Elizabethan manor house. The same faces we had been seeing at the castle were here too – including lots of kids, some listening with great concentration to spoken descriptions on their earphones and one little boy in a knight’s outfit (with two swords hanging from his belt) slashing his way from room to room. Here too there was a great deal of climbing, some of it on ladders and our legs were well tired by the time we repaired to a local bistro for some lunch – I had the lasagna.
Before returning to the train station there was time for ice cream cones – Adrian fished one of these out of the trash in order to feed one of the gulls – who often like to help themselves to the cones of passing tourists. We also visited St. Mary’s Church. After returning to Bangor we scouted out some possible evening meal sites nearer the train station, visited the local Morrison’s (where Naomi was looking for a sewing kit; she ended up using mine) and climbed the hill to our b&b and had a little rest. I phoned the ladies whom we had stayed with in Rhosneigr last year and advised them that we would be on an earlier train tomorrow and that we would appreciate three packed lunches. Then it was down the hill one last time for a meal at the Spicy Vujon, an Indian/Bangladeshi restaurant that I suggested should be Indian/Bangorlore.
On Tuesday, the 26th we had a leisurely breakfast, paid-up and (with my case strapped atop that of my in-laws) made our way on foot back to Bangor station, where we bought tickets for the 11:39. This was one of those Holyhead trains were you have to let conductor or driver know that you want to get off at one of the small halts on the way to the famous ferry port – and so we did. Rachel was waiting for us with her blue car, in which we had spent much time last year, and – with our bags in her boot – she drove us to the same bus bench in Four-Mile Bridge that we had used while waiting for her to pick us up last time. She then went off on her errands and we made final adjustments to our daypacks – into which we inserted our lunches. It was 12:25 and after all these strategies needed to get us into position to complete our first day of walking, as scheduled, we were ready to go. We were, of course, backtracking a bit with today’s stage, having decided not to do the stretch from here to Rhosneigr last year because a driving rain on the day in question had mandated but a half-day of walking. This gap would now be filled.
We walked in a northwesterly direction through the village and onto the bridge itself, having a close look at the scene from both sides – with the estuary that separates Holy Island from the rest of Anglesey below us. It was a lovely spring morning, with high clouds and lots of sunshine. After only 300 meters or so we left the highway behind us and turned into the sandy dunes that dominated the scene ahead, heading mostly southeast for some time. At first we used a farm access track and then began a series of field crossings, with cows contentedly munching the grass at their feet and gorse in glorious yellow profusion dotting the small hillocks. As was true of much of the walk Adrian was well out in front of Naomi and myself, taking on the primary tasks of reading the guidebook instructions (we again used the text by Carl Rogers) and trying to figure out where we were on the map. There were a few ambiguities over how best to proceed but, on the whole, routefinding was not difficult.
Footing was not always easy as we passed a quarry and several creeks in more marshy surroundings – fortunately it was fairly dry underfoot though I was bothered a bit by a sore left hip at the outset. There were quite a few kissing gates to squeeze through as we passed a house on our left, Tyddyn-y-cob. Here we used a bridge that spanned a dam and here we found one of those rarities in the footpath scene, a bench. It seemed like the perfect place to sit down and eat our packed lunches though, truth to tell, the swampy waters below were not that inviting.
A number of small bridges assisted our progress through yet more fields after we finished our meal and we also had the benefit of some wooden walkways. At one point we reached the safer footing of a country lane, turning left on it and right on a successor immediately thereafter. There was some ambiguity over how to navigate the next set of fields and the presence of telegraph poles everywhere didn’t help in trying to figure our how to walk between them. Adrian succeeded at last and emerged onto a road near the estuary shore – where some workmen were restoring a cottage.
A caravan encampment was the next target as we made our way close to the tidal sands. An old stone causeway spanned a tidal creek and Adrian, hoping to save a good deal of walking back inland, led us onto its rocky surface. But the guidebook warning that the causeway is in a “poor state of repair” was soon born out for when we had almost reached the other side even Adrian began to struggle among the broken rocks and the muddy surfaces and Naomi was having great difficulty with her footing. Her husband did make it to the other side but I insisted that she and I needed to make a retreat and walk to the head of the creek before finding an easier way across. Adrian, on the other side, walked back to meet us. Soon we were able to reach a lane and even some tarmac – but I needed a pause here in order to refold my map and change the pages on which I had typed the guidebook instructions in 18 point.
A white horse near the Valley Airfield.
More cross country encounters with stiles and gates followed as we continued in our progress among these uneven surfaces. Ponies and larger horses welcomed us at Carnau and we now had a new factor in the equation – for we were nearing the Royal Air Force base at Valley and soon we had the presence of screaming jets as we worked our way among the landing lights at the end of a runway. The exhilarating sight of take-off and landing, often in formation, had drawn quite a crowd to a spot that provided a good view and we rested here for a while as well.
A sandy road now led us at last to the coast at Cymyran and to the beach that now separated us from Rhosneigr, already visible off in the distance. The guidebook suggests that a journey of a mile and a half along the sand must come next – it seemed much longer – but at least it was possible to find fairly solid footing and make a useful progress. We had heard a rumor that the Sea King helicopter operation at RAF Valley was to be moved elsewhere and we did see that someone had scrawled a salute to the Sea King on the sand. (Prince William had once been one of the helicopter pilots here.) Nearer the end of this sandy stretch we met two women with an eight-year old Schnauzer named Linda.
As we walk along Traeth Cymyran we encounter distant views of Rhosneigr.
Unfortunately the Afon Crigyll, a tidal river, prevents the walker from reaching Rhosneigr directly – if only there were a bridge here – and we had to turn inland to find a way across. First there was soft sand, then grassy hillocks, and finally a somewhat muddy progress along the side of the river – and all this was very frustrating. I was getting rather weary now and I was certainly glad when we at last found our upstream bridge and could take to tarmac at the northern end of our village. I called Adrian back to remind him that Driftwood b&b was at this end of the town and that he needed to be certain not to march right past it. He said he remembered it had a purple door and led us up to the high street for our final assault. In the event he did walk right by the place (which was gratifyingly nearby) for by the time Naomi and I had reached the famous door Rachel was out in front calling him back.
It was 5:35 and, according to Naomi’s pedometer, a Fit-bit, we had walked 8.5 miles – not the 7.0 promised in the guidebook. Rachel had made a reservation for us at Sullivan’s, where we had eaten the year before, and we were able to relax a bit before heading down there shortly before 7:00. I had the same room as last year and here I took a shower and worked on my puzzle. Of course we had taken off our muddy boots at the door but this proved to be a problem for Adrian, who had brought only this one pair of footwear – for some unexplained reason.
We had a nice meal and walked back to the b&b – the light was only now fading from the skies. I could be well-satisfied with this first day on the trail but I knew that our longest day would have to be faced tomorrow.
In fact, we had now closed one gap in our Anglesey itinerary by reaching Rhosneigr.
For progress from Rhosneigr you need:
To continue with our 2105 expedition and close another gap you need: