Day 27 - Cwnwyd to Llangollen

Before leaving Cwnywd I went to find the former YHA. I walked about the tiny but pretty little village until I saw a man fixing a car who told me the way and I found it easily. I was glad to discover from another neighbour that it is still used as a bunkhouse, though its privately owned so possibly school trips use it. Either way it’s a smart building with a history that involves knitting gloves, making cheese and keeping weary travellers warm and I imagined my dad staying there found it much as it is now.

Time to set off again… today's walk was, strangely, not along the old railway that keeps following this valley (possibly even my dad had got bored of it by now), but right along the main road. Although there were nice views here and there, the hedges were high and I often couldn't see much, plus there was no pavement and lots of sharp bends and drivers weren't used to seeing hikers there so it mostly involved having to crush myself into a hedge every time a car passed, which was often.

Dad got it pretty spot on here. Corwen is not without charm, but its also not somewhere you'd want to live. Here is the town centre with the busy A5 running through it, and then some of the nicer bits including a hotel named after Owain Glyndwr (yes I know there's a circumflex on the W but I can't type it using this software) and a statue of the great man that led the Welsh to their last and sadly short lived independence from England in 1400. (Perhaps if he’d invited the English to see Corwen they'd have decided they weren’t bothered about keeping it anyway).

I didn't hang about there but bought some lunch from the bakery and then got on my way.

I also walked along the A5 here, which, although bestowed with a pavement, was nonetheless a busy road and not that interesting to walk along, though the countryside was pleasant enough.

A few miles down the road was the village of Carrog in which I had 2 objectives… the first was to see the famous hill I’d read about in Wild Wales, that Owain, in front of his band of loyal supporters, first declared himself Prince of Wales. I’m surprised my dad didn't mention this as he must have walked straight past it. It’s a small but distinctive grassy mound atop which a few trees stand. I climbed it and got a great view over the River Dee. From the top I looked around and imagined I was giving a rousing speech to inspire the Welsh to a great victory! Then I settled down and ate my lunch atop the mound.

As I sat there, I heard approaching the unmistakable sound of my second reason for being in Carrog and then sure enough there it was…

Of course it was none other than a steam train puffing along on the Llangollen Steam Railway, the second of the two sections of the old Barmouth to Ruabon railway that have reopened since my dad was here in 1972 (although unlike the train at Bala, this is standard-guage not miniture). Today it will carry me along a short part of his route, a few stops along from Carrog to Berwyn.

True my dad actually walked along the A5 for this part of the way, but a) the A5 isn’t as nice to walk along, b) he’d have caught the steam train if it had existed then, and, more to the point, c) it was only that very morning that I’d reread his journal carefully enough to spot that he’d walked along the road (from the map I assumed he'd have kept to the old railway line again) by which time I’d already bought the tickets. I sat on the platform debating whether or not to sack it in and walk along the road so that I’d be getting more miles in and be keeping precisely to his route but then asked myself what would he do in my position and the answer was obvious!

Carrog Station is the temporary terminus whilst they repair the line all the way to Corwen. There was a tearoom in the station building and a bookshop in a train carriage that my dad would've approved of. When my train arrived I boarded and found myself an empty carriage.

I wasn’t alone for long however as a group of four joined me - two couples named Leslie and Gareth, and Jill and Mark. By the time the train had puffed its way past Glyndyfrdwy and along the valley we’d befriended each other and they kindly invited me along with them for the next few hours!

At this point my dad’s diary entries jump back and forth because he stayed 2 nights in Llangollen and did things in a different order to that in which I am now, so just bare with it.

We got off the train at Berwyn, one stop beside Llangollen, and crossed the famous chain bridge, stopping for a second selfie on the way! The last pic looks back at the railway from the other side.

Hidden in car park behind the hotel is the canal…

It does indeed follow a high ledge (not hedge!) above the town, and made for a lovely walk.

I also didn't linger, but left the others to check into my hotel and drop my bags off. I was staying in The Hand, an old hotel and inn with a view out if my room window to Dinas Bran, the hilltop fort overlooking the town. Same story, the youth hostel has closed down, but I did visit it the next day.

I met my new pals again in The Corn Mill (below), a trendy pub and eaterie with an air of industrial chic due to its preserved mill workings inside. There we had a drink then an early dinner. They were great company and we had a really good laugh, so I was sad to say goodbye as they were heading back home. I hope to see them again sometime.

Back on my tod and I decided to go for a walk back up the canal to see the abbey and cross that my dad visited. I’d have seen them straight after getting off the train but I was enjoying my new friends’ company too much.

On my return towards Berwyn I passed nobody bar a heron the entire way.

On reaching the abbey I discovered that it was now surrounded by a huge campsite, and being Saturday night everyone was partying, drinking, singing and shouting with kids running wild. It was anathema to the solitude I’d expected of an evening walk to an old ruin, but also nice to hear everyone enjoying themselves. I had a brief look at the abbey then moved on. Having seen Llanthony it was only second finest ruined abbey I've seen on the trip!

Elisag’s column is a strange sight - I wonder why these religious fanatics wanted to desecrate an ancient monument but then leave it looking so incredibly phallic! Surely it’s more offensive to church goers now than it was as an ancient war memorial!

I returned via the canal to the town, crossing over the self-same wonder of Wales. It is indeed a very fine town, and was full of bustling activity.

Here is the Prince of Wales which I set out to find, until getting waylaid by a group of people I met on the street who invited me along with them to The Bull Inn, a pub turned club, and one of the busiest places in town on a Saturday night. I was surprised by the age range of people there - everyone from 18-85 seemed to be there and it was absolutely heaving. I don't recall the names of this new group that adopted me for the rest of the evening though it consisted of two sisters from Bristol with their respective boyfriends/husbands, and their parents. They were all lovely and welcoming and it was great to have a laugh on a Saturday night. Here there are with me in the last pic I took at the end. At least me and my dad both enjoyed our evenings out in Llangollen!