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Travel StoriesBeddgelert 2011 - By Ren Withnell
Beddgelert 2011 - Going To Beddgelert
Urgh.
40 Years. 40 Years old. 40 Years old this weekend. Urgh. That's like ancient isn't it? I remember when 40 seemed a million miles away and yet here it is, this weekend, in the blink of an eye. The last thing I want is a birthday party. I would hate it with a vengeance, a room full of people all being falsely nice to me, all mocking me, me being the centre of attention and having to be polite and nice to everyone. No thank you, no sir, not at all what I want. All I want is to be somewhere where this is very unlikely to happen.
Luckily the gf loves to take me away. She's not a rich girl but she's somehow mustered together enough money to book a small cottage in the beautiful village of Beddgelert in North Wales for a long weekend. The idea of taking me to Beddgelert was put into her mind several years ago when we passed through the village on a return trip from a similar weekend away. I remember we were passing through and I stopped and suggested we should stop in this pretty town sometime. Well now she's made it happen. That means I'm away from any potential sillyness in my home town AND we're getting to fulfill a desire planted some time ago.
So now I find myself riding the all too familiar motorway between my house and the gf's on a relatively warm and dry afternoon in the middle of October. Normally I'm a real worrier when I travel, is the bike OK, did I turn off the cooker, will the house be OK and any other potential pitfall will cross my mind for me to stress over. This time I'm quite relaxed. I know North Wales is not far to travel and we'll not be far from home if any disaster should happen that requires our attention. I also think I'm starting to become a little more comfortable about travelling and learning that I'll just have to cope and manage should anything go wrong. I'm actually looking forward to my micro adventure.
I'm pleasantly surprised to find that when I get to the gf's she's pretty much ready. Bike pants on, bags packed, kids almost organised and it doesn't take too long to get a brew out of her too. While I load the saddle bags onto the bike she reels off an endless list of do's and don’ts to her 18 year old daughter then she climbs aboard and we head out, yippee! We follow another all too familiar route out onto the M56 and head westbound towards Wales.
The 600 ready to roll, there's just the gf's saddle bags to put on now...
The end of the M56 used to be a collection of odd junctions, roundabouts and dual carriageways before access could be gained onto the A55. For several years this has all been the subject of a lot of delays and roadworks, but this is the first time I've ridden the newly completed road. Now the M56 blends smoothly, quickly and easily onto the A55 with nothing more than ensuring I'm in the correct lane. I say quickly, but we find ourselves in a traffic jam at one point. I carefully navigate slowly between the lines of cars but it's difficult at the bike is loaded and the tryes are tracking badly, they're getting due for replacement. Luckily the lines of traffic only last a few minutes and soon where cruising down the A55 dual carriageway.
I am cruising. 50 to 55mph. I like to ride slowly, to watch the world pass by, to relax and wallow in the ride. I guess now I'm almost 40 the days of showing off must be behind me and now I realise why insurance is cheaper for old farts like me. I'm riding the fastest and most powerful bike I've ever owned, and I'm riding it slower than I used to ride my learner bikes. But I'm enjoying it now. I'm not constantly stressed about whether I went as fast as I could around that bend, I'm not offended by being overtaken any more and I feel like I don't need to prove myself at every moment. With these thoughts in my head I realise I'm getting old, so I speed up and cling to my youth as best I can.
When I was a younger man I took my mother to North Wales on a CB 400 Super Four, a truly great bike. On that trip I'd ridden the A543 from Bylchau to Pentrefoelas, a long twisty mountain road, and I'd scared my poor mother and relished every turn. I'd looked at the maps before I set off and new if I came off the A55 and followed the signs for Denbigh then I could find this road again. Sure enough we pass through Denbigh and have no trouble finding the road. The weather's worsened by now, mist, a spot of rain and damp conditions mean I can't attack the road hard but I'm taking the turns well and the Fazer 600 is behaving as well as can be expected under the load and with the tired tyres.
The road rises into the clouds and corners appear from nowhere, grass verges mix with hard drystone walls and sheep threaten to cross over at any time. I focus harder and peer through the sodden visor looking for apexes and oncoming vehicles. We drop down a little and I can see further and press home the advantage. Twist, turn, rise and fall, accelerate then brake and curve then dodge another sheep. I'm not riding at 100% maximum speed, I'm enjoying riding at 85% which is fast enough to be thrilling but not terrifying. We fall further onto dryer roads and I push a little harder. It comes as a great disappointment when I see the "Give Way" sign at the end of the road.
Back on the main roads I return to cruise mode, much to the gf's relief as I feel her relax on the back of the bike. We stop briefly in the tourist trap of Betws-Y-Coed to view my map and stretch our legs. The car park has parking for motorcycles only and on this Friday afternoon there's a handful of bikers there. One older chap decides he's going to tell us about his farm, his collection of bikes and a resume of his life story. He's fine and polite, but I'm thankful when the gf suggests we'd better press on rather than stop for a brew and a bite to eat.
The car park at Betws-Y-Coed, busy as ever.
It's not far at all from Betws-Y-Coed to Beddgelert, just a few miles of open road. What does change is the scenery. We move from steep hills and valleys to dramatic hills and valleys. By dramatic I mean they are much more angular, sharper and jagged. They make me think of teeth, dragon's teeth, Welsh dragon's teeth. Beddgelert comes into view and so does our abode for the weekend, a small end terrace cottage on the Eastern side of town. We pause a moment to make sure we're at the right place then check the gf's printout to locate the shop where our keys will be.
The shop is less than 500 yards from the cottage and we pull in and park the bike. The shop is a proper local shop that has a handful of everything on dated and worn out shelves. old fridges and freezers squeak quietly filled with foodstuffs of unknown origins and a large man sits behind a tiny till and counter talking loudly in a very non-welsh accent to anyone who'll listen. We wait patiently while he finishes regaling another customer with tails of a caravan he's inherited before we ask for our keys. From beneath the counter he produces an old margarine tub filled with keys and fishes out the right one. With a smile and another story he hands us our key.
The gf, trying to open the door to the cottage. It's not a big door, the gf is just very small...
The cottage is lovely. A sitting / dining room leads into a large modern kitchen out back and upstairs there's a twin room at the front, bathroom with a large bath and a double rooms with a shower and toilet. There's a stove in the living room, storage radiators elsewhere and electric radiators in the bedroom. We offload the bike and check out a few things then walk back to the shop for supplies. We need food for the weekend and coal for the stove. The shop has bags of coal, bread, jam and a few other items that will do for now so we take these to the counter. Again the large man is finishing another conversation with another customer so we wait again. This time we learn he's selling the place to retire and that he's from elsewhere, has grown up kids living in far flung places and that he also owns the BnB attached to the shop. I'm not sure we need to know, but still he's friendly.
On the way back we notice a pizza parlour across the road from the shop and decide to eat there later. Back at the cottage we settle in and wind down for the day. We watch a little TV and discuss the finer points of how picture perfect Beddgelert is then chill a while. Later I decide to light the fire. I used to do this regularly as a kid, but I'm out of practice. To be honest I'm just playing too, burning the kindling sticks we'd purchased then gradually adding coal until after an hour and a half I get it going and I think even the gf's bored with my antics. We head out to the pizza parlour for tea.
It's shut. It shut at 1700 and it's 1830 and starting to get dark. We look at a couple of the local pubs and settle on one with affordable and sensible prices, the other options were either a strange Bistro come antiques shop or a Haute Cuisine upper class pub with a menu we didn't even understand, I mean what is "Pig In Blanket"? The Saracens Head provides basic yet perfectly acceptable and tasty pub grub and a relaxed atmosphere. We enjoy our meal but don't stay long, I offer the gf another drink but she suggest she'd rather have a nice brew back at the cottage. I happily agree so we make the short walk across the village back to the now warm cottage.
I feed the fire some more coal and we watch TV for a while then go to bed. This is the last chance the gf has to be romantically involved with a 30-something bloke so we make the best of the rest of the evening. Later I look at my phone, no service, there's a part of me that feels cut off from my life, there's a bigger part of me that's glad to be cut off from the rest of the world. I like it here.
Beddgelert 2011 - Going To Beddgelert
Beddgelert 2011 - Caernarfon Castle By Bus
Beddgelert 2011 - A Walk Around Beddgelert Forest
Beddgelert 2011 - Going Home
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Travel StoriesBeddgelert 2011 - By Ren Withnell