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Around Wales in a Day - A Backpackers Trip in a CarGetting into a car with a complete stranger might seem a bizarre way to start a break, but sometimes the internet can throw up interesting spur of the moment travel partners. Caught short after a temp assignment ended I sought online alternatives responding to an intriguing ad; Welsh road trip leaves tomorrow! I'd seen a lot of my adoptive New Zealand but little of my native Wales so I was looking forward to some domestic travel therapy. My companion for the trip was an Aussie Welshman (Tim) whose job was to document possible advertising sites at regional train stations. The plan was to tag along through Wales along the north coast to English Chester, Shrewsbury and back down via border country to Cardiff while Tim carried out his work. Our first mission outside of Cardiff was forging a pathway to Aberystwyth. Now Wales is good for roads along the south and north coasts as they lead to ports, but try getting through the middle. The first part I knew; the industrial Port Talbot and soon after bypassing Swansea we were heading north. It was a beautiful day and we pretty much just chatted and took in the scenery, difficult for Tim doing the driving but for me it was a chance to get up close and personal with a native land it had taken thirty odd years to see. The rolling winding roads turned my stomach but the natural wonderment of the Welsh countryside keep us both in good spirit. 250 Following slow moving tractors was no fun so I suggested we divert in search of the coast. This was a good move providing panoramic views of the Irish sea and the western Welsh coast nearly all the way up to the 'Arm of Wales' in the northwest. After a brief sojourn we set off again and beside Tim's work at Aberystwyth train station cruised through the meandering greenery, twinkling rivers and woodland waterfalls of Powys and Gwynedd. Tim seemed to know every nook and cranny. For him it really was the land of his father, for me it was uncharted territory that strangely didn't look dissimilar to New Zealand . For this reason it was not as memorable as I would have liked, it just felt like a Sunday drive to Palmeston North via Paikakeriki. By late afternoon the spring sunshine had guided us to Port Meirion, a quiant Italian styled village best known as the setting of cult TV show 'The Prisoner.' Tim's bosses rang and said they had plans for him, how eerie I thought, was he to be the new prisoner caged by evil advertising executives? There was however no self destructing tape and we were soon traversing the landscape toward the evening and the mountains of Snowdonia, it's then that Wales came into its own; that light and landscape are like nowhere else. 496 The wind picked up, the sky went violet, the fields replaced by a barren almost lunar landscape – rockfaces as far as you could see, segregated by farmers stone walls, enveloping our miniscule car on a road that carved through the mountains. Our destination was the Pen Y Pass hostel at the summit of Capel Curig. "By the way," the reception hand said as we checked in "we lock the doors at eleven, so if you go out boozing don't forget your key." Go out where! There was nothing but mountains and the howling wind! Having freshened up, both Tim and I decided on a walk heading in opposite directions. Tim took to the snow capped peak on the hostel side and I ventured through the adjacent car park gate round several corners to a bleak yet striking landscape. Eventually I halted under an impending dark sky which threatened a severe downpour and frothed cloud which ominously seeped over the peaks of brooding slate grey cliffs which in turn hemmed in a beautiful inlet of peacock blue water. Nothing but me, a few sheep, the wind and the land. My face must have looked like thunder too - the sheep just ran. I heeded the sky's warning and turned back; it was a good twenty minute walk. Contrary to popular belief not all Welsh Kiwis are into corrupting sheep! To complement the hostel being in the middle of nowhere and the howling wind, the horror flick favourite - the banging window kept me awake most of the night and in the morning Snowdonia's traditional gown of white sky and relentless rain were an escort back down the valley through Llanberis out towards Holyhead where the wind skimmed across the green sea and Tim met an occupational hazzard in a rather unconvinced official who wanted his passport as proof of id. Only on returning across the north coast did the sun come out over Llandudno and Colwyn Bay, the latter perhaps a candidate for Best train station with a view UK; straight out to the choppy but at least blue Irish sea. We made Chester in time for tea and a night promenade west into the dying sunlight along the canal and city wall. The city was a beguiling mix of medieval modern. The Victorian streetlamps were lighting up as night fell across the cottages and churchyard. It was both a paradox and rude awakening to then find the city centre alive with your average urban riff raff, girl racers in fast cars and skateborders. Tim in philosophical mode added he thought the very English conservative feel was a red rag to the youth element. None the less, Chester is a definate jewel in England's crown. From then it really was conservative middle England through Shrewsbury and Ludlow, where we scaled the castle walls and in the barefoot Tim's case dodged pigeon poo! Finally it was back to familiar terrain for the home run from Abergavenny down to Cardiff. It turns out the plan for Tim was more of the same in Scotland. For me it was time to get back to work and neither of us would look at a train station in the same light again.
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