King Edward I – Caernarfon Castle

Not being able to fit Caernarfon Castle into yesterday’s adventure, today we detour from our planned route to touch a sliver of history inside the stalwart, massive walls. Like most of our adventures it takes three times in, around, and through the city to figure out how to get where we want to go.  If only Jeeves could take us to points of interest—not just service stations.

We walk up the hill from the car park searching for a way in. Caernarfon is a necklace of gems in the shape of high windowed-towers, bejeweled with taller turrets, laced together with an oval of ramparts; all displayed on a field of lush green velvet. The castle is built to impress. Subjugate. Intimidate.  It is doing a good job of all three.

It is said Edward I threw his weight around in stone—this castle is the embodiment of his power and might rising from the edge of the sea.  Sadly we must pick and choose what we wish to visit—a day’s exploration is lost to us. We allow ourselves a mere sixty minutes. I learn more about Edward and much more about his beautiful, educated, intelligent wife, Eleanor of Castile, and a little about the castle’s history. Reading takes time and we are scarcely able to tour two of the towers and none of the turrets (thank goodness). We swiftly make our way across the length of the shortest rampart before we look at each other saying, “We need to go.”

On the Road

We work our way through the breathtakingly beautiful Snowdonia National Park continuing south on the A roads. Unsuccessfully we search for a place to stop and rest. The roads are narrow, the traffic swift, and the small villages clumped at the edge of the highway have no visible parking. At 3 p.m.

I think Jeeves has lost his mind as he leads us off the beaten track down no-name-roads. Thirty minutes later I look up and see a McDonalds on the side of a roundabout with ample parking—just like home. Never have the little golden arches been such a welcome sight.

We find a large supermarket in Haversfordwest where Michael runs in to buy breakfast essentials for tomorrow. He believes he can shop faster alone; he thinks I will be mesmerized by the offerings and dawdle.

Saint Brides Castle

The narrow ribbon of road into Saint Brides Castle is reminiscent of the tight paths on the west side of Lake Windermere—luckily we meet no other cars. We are late for check-in—it is after 5 p.m.—but find an envelope with our name on it and instructions on how to get into our apartment.

Walking into our two story, one bedroom cottage in the former stables, we are quickly ensconced, unpacked and settled. Our new home is cozy and livable with French style doors opening onto a back garden. We take a short walk to the on-site restaurant, (Thomas) Dylan’s Bistro and have a simple dinner and a glass of wine.

Reading through our packet of literature, we notice an informative walk tomorrow along the coastal path. There is also a lecture and reading on Friday night.  We want to sign up for both, so after dinner we explore the castle interior looking for the signup sheet. The green god of jealousy comes to visit. The elegant luxury in every public room has me wishing I was lady of the manor, not a stable hand. But I am happy to just be here, no matter where I lay my head.