Hereford Cathedral, 2009

Hereford's cathedral--the Cathedral of St. Mary the Virgin and St. Ethelbert the King--has the same general history as most of the others we have seen hereabouts...early Christian beginnings, Norman foundations, parts fell down, put back up, pretty much finished by the 13th or 14th centuries, renovated in the 19th and 20th centuries. It was spared the ravages of the reformation (it was never associated with an abbey), though looted, but the most important items, from today's point of view--the Chained Book Library and the Mappa Mundi--were untouched. Oh, and it has a 19th century Willis organ I got to hear when I stayed to listen to the choir practice.


Central tower

West face

Nave

West window

Ribbed vaulting

Altar and choir

Choir practice; note boys choir members in

blue robes

Hereford

First, it's not "Hereford" as in the cattle, as Americans say it. It's "Hair-a-furd." (Travel is so educational.) Hereford is not on the tourist circuit, and, in fact, has not been on any circuit much since the Welsh were tamed. Hereford was one of the "Marches" towns established in the borderlands as a first defense again Welsh incursions. But then the Welsh stopped incurring, and things have since been pretty quiet in Hereford.

My maternal grandmother's surname was Hereford, and, accordingly, Hereford is a place we had to visit. I must say, for the afternoon and evening we spent there, it is a charming mid-sized town, very pleasant on the eyes, and containing some real gems, at least for those into books and knowledge generally. But more of that later.

We parked on the fringe of the CBD and walked into town, and Vicki quickly found the city museum's "Old House," at ground zero, a beautiful half-timbered structure that dates from the middle ages. A little conversation with the staff revealed that there is no one in Hereford named Hereford, never has been, and that--he surmised--when people moved to America, many were not so eager to retain their identities. So, many American surnames that link back to England or Europe are really just the town they were from, or some town they could think of with immigrations people. We have seen this in numerous other cases and were not surprised. I was undeterred, nonetheless, from having my own "Roots" experience, and felt a special closeness and warmth with everything I saw, however remote or irrelevant. ("Wow, so an ancestor of mine might have shopped at this very Marks and Spencer's.") He also informed us that while Hereford is still home to the international registry of all Hereford cattle, there are practically no cattle left in Herefordshire. It is is sheep country. OK, I have never cared for cattle that much anyway, except for steak, cheese, cream, leather....

The rest of our Hereford experience was enlightening and edifying and upbeat, but I'll leave it for the next post.

City square, Hereford

The "Old House," city square, ground zero, Hereford; part

of the city museum, it is crammed with 16th and 17th

century furnishings

Among the furnishings...beautifully carved

A toddler lap-walker...

16th century dog door

"The Lawsuit"--16th century humor

Stokesay Manor House and Parish Church

Stokesay is said to be the best-preserved example of a 14th-15th century manor house/fortified residence. It was scheduled for "slighting" after the Civil War, but somehow was left relatively intact. The parish church adjoining it dates from the 11th century, but had to be rebuilt after Civil War fighting damaged it. The Say family came over with William the Conqueror.

Stokesay castle

Inside the great hall

Beautiful 15th century hearth in the family quarters

The tower

View from the battlements; Stokesay was assailed only once 
in its long history, during the Civil War, and the Royalist 
contingent holding it quickly surrendered to the 500

Parliamentary troops set to attack

Some residual fighting did occur, which damaged the little 11th century church, 
then rebuilt in the 17th

The church is notable, we thought, for its boxed or gated

pews, including the high boxes afforded some members;

today's equivalent of "sky-boxes," I suppose

Powys, 2009

From Llanberis we drove back east through gorgeous valleys, mountains and hills, through Betws-Y-Coed (Betsey Coed), the principal mountaineering center (why Llanberis is not, I have no idea), and a beautiful town itself, and then on to the edge of Wales and Powys Castle. Powys was a Welsh stronghold but acquired, in the 15th century or so, by the Ludlow family. The castle is a large fortified residence. By the time the Ludlows began changing it, the Welsh were happy campers, and there was no need for all the defensive/military stuff. The site is notable for two other reasons. The first is that it is the home of the relics of Clive of India, whose son married into the title and estate. Clive was an 18th century India Co. military official and was a principal in putting down a couple of major rebellions. The relics are the booty and lootings of these military victories. The various articles are impressive--far better than anything we saw in India. Similar things have been said, I suppose, about Egypt and Greece and everywhere else the sun has not set on British soil. [Today (October 20) I came across the very first reference to the E-word (Empire) I have seen in two months in the UK. Appropriately, it was at a Blenheim shrine to Churchill who "did not become His Majesty's First Minister in order ot preside over the dissolution of the British Empire." (I know these words by heart.)] But I rant, I mean, digress. Anyhow, the other very notable thing about Powys is the terraced gardens, never updated from the 17th century and a singular example of what gardens were supposed to have been like before Calamity Brown got into landscaping. Powys' gardens, even in mid-October, were stunningly beautiful.

Powys, like so many others, was something we might have easily skipped, but are really glad we did not. We have learned that each and every one of these properties is special in some way(s) or other, unique, and especially interesting and informative.

We spent the night in another lay-by, out in the boonies.

Entrance to Powys Castle

Virginia Creeper

Castle from the 17th century garden

Countryside from the garden

Flowers, Alstroemeria Psittacine, specifically

Hedges in the garden

So here you are, looking down a couple hundred feet of 
perfectly trimmed 8 or 10 foot high hedge, pictured above; 
obviously they use laser-guided trimmers

And the mountain-size topiary is not bad either

'r 'n aflawen Cymraeg (The Awffll Welsh Language)

Cawn iawn lawer feddedig 'n gofwya at Cymru. We have very much enjoyed our visit to Wales.

Namyn 'r Cymraeg ydy iawn 'n afrwydd atom at ddeall. But the Welsh language is very difficult to understand.

Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiligogogoch. The church of St. Mary by the white hazel pool, near to the fierce whirlpool by the red cave near St. Tysilio's church.

This is an actual place name, Llanfair for short, one of several the Welsh have been accused of concocting just to vex English tourists.

But language preservation is taken seriously here. Walk into any store and the conversation you'll hear among the locals is Welsh. Despite what the guidebooks said, we never heard any Gaelic, no matter how far to the north or west we went--and we went about as far as you can go--in Scotland or Ireland. Evereything here is bilingual--it's the law--and the people seem to like it. It's tough on visitors, but you have to love it. We have adapted so far as to attempt our own pronunciations: Caernarfon = car phone; Betws-y-coed = Betsy coed; etc.

Sheep

There's always one; and he's generally the one, in the middle

there, I identify with...

"We're going for a ride!" ... "What's an abbatoir?"

Snowdon: A Walk in the Clouds

The literature of mountaineering is predominantly English, and much of it is about this mountain and especially its north face, the Black Cliff, Clogwyn dur Arduu, which has long been a training ground for British rock climbing. At 3,560 feet, it is just a day hike, but it is one of those classics one has to do. Besides, on a fine day, from Snowdon's summit you can see the Wicklow Mountains south of Dublin, the Isle of Man and the Isle of Wight. So they say.

The day, Thursday, started hopefully for me but then quickly deteriorated. Bigger mountains make their own weather, and, as soon as I climbed up onto the ridge from the valley, everything went gray. Fellow walkers at fifty paces were vague dark figures. It was cold and clammy for six hours, but it was still fun and a thrill. Snowdon!

Vicki stayed back at the carpark, slaving over a hot laptop. After I got back down, we camped at a lay-by down the road from Llanberis, overlooking a lake and the huge strip-mined former-mountain of slate beyond it. Wales, for many years, roofed the world.

The Victorian cog railway still plies the route; here it is in

the valley, the weather, hopeful...

A couple hours later, near the summit, in the clouds; BTW,

I, obviously, eschewed the train; that is to say, I

eschewed-schewed.

Just below Snowdon summit

Snowdon summit compass

The Irish Sea, and beyond, the Wicklow Mountains, and far

to the right, the Isle of Man...

Summit self-Portrait

Staircase into the Abyss...one of the alternative trails

Clogwyn dur Arduu...as I would like to have seen it

Caernarfon

We've spent two days in Caernarfon, one viewing the great castle and the old walled town, and the other just relaxing, working on the net, reading, planning next steps, enjoying the view across the Straits on Anglesey, watching the tide roll in, roll out, etc. All this at a public carpark with no fees and no restrictions.

The castle, most say, is the best of Edward's Welsh castles, relatively finished, big, an excellent example of concentric design with walled city, etc. In the past century, Caernarfon has been the site of the Royal Investiture, where the crown prince/princess becomes the Prince/Princess of Wales. When Charles was invested, 500 million people watched on TV. There is a nice exhibit on the Princes of Wales, the history of the position (started by Edward, whose son Edward II was born in the castle), the ceremony itself, in addition to the sizable castle exhibit and video.

G2G. The tide's rolling back in.

Caernarfon Castle from the harbor; stolen, yes

View of the fortified harbor; not stolen

Interior view

View from tower

The Triple Eagle Tower, designed to impress

the Welsh; note bands of stone, which Edward

would have seen on his travels to Italy, the

Holy Land, etc.

Charles' Investiture (from exhibit)

Last evening's sunset from our "campsite" on the Strait of

Menai

Vicki adds:

October 13, 2009 Caernarfon, Wales

We have camped the last two nights in a defunct area of an industrial estate as they call them here. Tonight we are actually in a free city lot, which is unusual in two ways. There is not a “no overnight parking” sign and it is free. It is right on the water—the straight that separates mainland Wales from Anglesy Island, the isle of the Druids. The bridge linking the two was built in 1826 by Robert Stephenson, undoubtably a cousin many times removed.

Rebecca and I visited Wales and the castle here in 2001 but this is Mark's first trip. It is also our third castle of Edward I in three days and we have probably now had enough. We have both an English Heritage pass and a National Trust pass. The two together allow us free entry to hundreds of sites. One caveat is that the Heritage pass gives only ½ price for Scotland and Wales unless you are a two year member. We have seen a great many things that we wouldn't have, had we not had the passes. We have also skipped a great many that we probably also would have enjoyed, but to do everything would take 5 months instead of the 3 we have. Mark originally thought 3 months too long but has since changed his mind. Perfect planning would have put us here from late April to late October. Next life.

Bryn Celli Ddu

And only about 2 miles back up the road, out in a sheep pasture, stands Bryn Celli Ddu, a medium-sized kerbed tumulus with an unusual cruciform passage grave; also, an unusual carved menhir outside the site and a standing stone within the passage, also most unusual. It was first excavated in Victorian times, using picks and shovels, more antiquarian hunting than archaeology, but put back together in some semblance of the original. The outside menhir is actually a replica. The original is at the British Museum.

Bryn Celli Ddu, about 20 feet high, 60 feet in diameter

The carved menhir outside

Looking in the passage-way

The interior menhir

Kerbs and entry

Moel-y-don

Research on walks on Anglesey revealed a place none of our other guidebooks mentioned, Moel-y-don. (Not a champagne). It is on the Strait of Menai, island side, probably not a mile west of Plas Newydd. 

When the Romans came, in the first century BC, they soon outlawed Druidism, the religion of the Celts. According to the Romans, the Druids were practicing human sacrifice. (This sounds like a trumped-up charge to me, but that's what happens in victors' histories.) Anyhow, the Druids at length withdrew to their spiritual center, the Sacred Oak Grove at Brynsiencyn, on Anglesey. The Romans tracked them down and then finished them off at Moel-y-don. Tacitus describes it thus: "By the shore the opposing battle line was formed, thick with men and weapons; between the ranks flashed women draped in black like the Furies, with flowing hair and carrying torches. The Druids stood among them, issuing frightful curses, with their hands raised high to the heavens. Our soldiers were so frightened by this unfamiliar sight that their limbs were paralyzed, and they stood motionless, vulnerable to wounding." 

Evidently, the Celtic bark was worse than the bite. The Romans regrouped, crossed the Strait, slaughtered the Druids and then hacked down the Sacred Grove. End of Druidism; at least until Stonehenge became a National Trust site. (English Heritage site?)

Moel-y-don, on the Strait of Menai

Druidess Vicki

Viking ship? Roman? Welsh?