Day 34: Criccieth to Porthmadog

Day 34: Criccieth to Porthmadog

last day

Today we leave Criccieth. Two beaches flank Criccieth Castle, which stands on a steep hill. Along the beach there is a very familiar boardwalk.

Walk

We walk along the boardwalk. Everyone seems to be in a festive mood, enjoying the sun.

In front is a boy dressed as Spider-Man. I stop, feign surprise, and whisper, «Wait. Are you Spider Man?»

He smiles big and says «Yes!»

I say «I knew it!»

He reconsiders. «Actually, I’m not.»

Mm hmmm… I wink at him. He laughs. He then shoots imaginary webs from his wrists.

Your secret is safe with me. And all of you.

His little sister starts crying. Her father lifts her on his shoulders and she smiles delightedly from the best seat in the house. She points and shouts, «I see a CASTLE!» Wales is magical.

we meet a lame springer spaniel and his people, a couple perhaps ten years older than us. The spaniel has a “new elbow.”

He broke his leg in several places and is now held together with screws and plates, despite being only four years old. How did you break your leg? Jump, of course. The Springers have to spring.

I marvel at the time and attention they give. They barely walk, they simply let her guide the way.

People in Wales love their dogs. Many places serve special «dog ice cream.» I wonder what’s in it…chicken livers? They would like that.

History

We chatted for a while. The couple are native Welsh speakers. We are talking about the Welsh independence movement that became violent in the 1980s.

it’s from the man opinion that concessions to preserve the Welsh language and way of life have really helped to dissipate the anger of the early days.

Recently, the Welsh Party, Plaid Cymru, has removed pro-independence language from its stated objectives. However, he adds that independence could remain an unspoken goal.

Peaceful coexistence is the norm for now. There is no evidence of recent battles. Caravans and second homes that were burned down by arsonists resentful of British tourists in the 1980s have been replaced or restored.

“But,” says the man, “Welsh is no longer compulsory in schools.” He looks sad and then shrugs. «But we are still Welsh.»

He then says: «British visitors really boost our economy.»

Disappeared castle

As we move forward, the beach becomes deserted. From time to time we stop to look at Criccieth Castle. It slowly fades out of sight and finally disappears as we round a bend.

Unlike the restored holiday homes, now immaculate, and the caravans replacing those damaged in the 1980s, a ruin looms over the landscape, bearing witness to the shift in power and the tumultuous, violent struggle. dominates the landscape.

This huge castle was built by Welsh royalty. Construction began around 1230 AD. It is an amazing fortress, majestic, even as a ruin. Many artists have drew or painted it. The most famous interpretation, by JMW Turner, shows the castle under storm clouds. It was painted in 1835.

The castle seems impenetrable to outside forces. But it fell to Edward I, who then expanded it and added a north tower equipped with a giant stone thrower to defend against Welsh attacks. Awful.

Despite its apparent invulnerability, in 1404 the castle was attacked, burned and captured, once again falling under Welsh control. Since then it has stood as a majestic and craggy ruin. And the town it borders is Welsh.

Walk Walk Walk

With a mile to go, we sat on a bench overlooking the sea. Around the bend we heard a man abruptly barking orders: «Come on, walk, walk, walk, no! Walk. NO. WALK, walk, walk.»

I feel sorry for your partner. I imagine a downtrodden person desperately trying to keep up with this demanding man.

The companion is a black puppy on a sturdy leash. I greet him with enthusiasm. The puppy. Because it is illegal not to do so. Everyone knows it.

The puppy struggles to get to me. Now I feel bad.

The man pulls the leash saying «NO» and drags the puppy with him. The puppy looks at me with sad eyes.

Quite a distance behind them is a woman hunched over in an apologetic posture. She shuffles toward us, trying with some effort to hurry up.

She pauses.

«I’m sorry.»

«No problem.» I have no idea why he is apologizing. Well, I have an idea. But I’m wrong. She apologizes for the puppy.

I should probably apologize for interrupting the puppy’s training. I don’t.

«How old is your puppy?»

«Five months.»

«Oh, it’s adorable.»

«He just wants to say hello to everyone along the way.»

I laugh. «Me too.

Jon laughs.

“I hope he learns,” he says and takes a small jump to catch up with the man and the cub.

I also hope you learn. You know, «Him.» I’m Team Cub. So many people to greet. So little time.

A few minutes later I hear the man, who has disappeared with his dog, say enthusiastically: «Well, well, yes! Good dog!» I modify my opinion. Slightly.

Sometimes a fragment doesn’t tell the whole story. Actually, not two fragments either.

Chat

Reflecting on our interactions today, I ask Jon what he thinks the purpose of small talk is.

He says: «To assess threats.» Hahaha! That’s one way to look at it. We need it on that wall.

I said, «I think maybe it’s to broaden perspectives, discover connections, learn new things, reflect, exchange wisdom, maybe brighten someone’s day, maybe brighten your own.»

Jon says, «And that.»

The man is funny.

quintessential wales

Today was a quintessential day on the Wales Coast Route. We have seen cows, sheep and horses.

(I ask Jon why he doesn’t try to convince the horses to open the gates and escape. He says, «Because they have been bred for military purposes and are too smart and suspicious to accept my freedom speech.») The man knows his farm animals.

We have seen beaches and castles.

We have seen birds and jellyfish (?!)

We have seen caravans and families.

We have seen people and dogs.

We’ve seen forests, weeds, wildflowers and worms (?!)

And finally, we have seen a church.

The last building we see at the end of the trip is a church built in 1880. It may not even be used as a place of worship anymore.

But there is still a word prominently etched above the door and below the tip of the sloping roof. “Ebenezer.”

Ebenezer

Most people recognize Ebenezer as the given name of Scrooge, the curmudgeonly miser from Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. But those of us who have sung Bible-based hymns since our youth know the word from “Come Thou Fount,” a hymn based partially on 1 Samuel 7 of the Bible.

Samuel was a fundamental prophet and judge in the Old Testament. At a time when God’s people were finally turning away from sin, unbelief, and idolatry and returning to God in repentance and faith, they were ambushed.

At the end of the battle, his attackers fled when a god sent a thundering storm that plunged his army into confusion and disorder.

Later, Samuel raised a monument, a stone of remembrance (stone of help – Ebenezer) so that when the people saw it they would stop and remember God’s help. Forever.

Often in my life, hymns have strengthened and sustained me. On this journey I have sung of the lost sheep and my Father’s world and the dangers and the toils and the traps and the grace that brings me home.

I stop to take a photo of this stone monument. I am grateful that it is not a monument to war or human power, but a reminder of God’s power, care, protection, forgiveness and mercy. A reminder of history’s biggest and best.

How fitting that this memorial stone building would greet us at the end of our journey. It reminds me that I must recognize the help and blessing of our great God in this small walk as well as throughout all of our days. Sela. Amen.

Here is an excerpt from the lyrics of

“Come, fountain.”
Come, source of all blessing;
tune my heart to sing your grace;
streams of mercy, which never cease,
They ask for louder songs of praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
sung by flaming tongues above;
Praise the mountain! I am determined to do so,
mountain of God’s unchanging love!

Here I raise my Ebenezer;
here with your help I have arrived;
and I hope, by your good will,
get home safely.

Porthmadog

And boats. We see ships on the way. In the coves and in the port.

Porthmadog is an accidental harbor created when river water was diverted onto grassland. Ocean waves crept inland, washing away a port, which was very beneficial to the slate mining industry. Accidental/providential? Both?

Today it is a thriving tourist center. And paradise for Coast Path walkers.

Finally, we walked towards the village of Porthmadog. We looked at each other and spontaneously bumped fists. Then we laughed.

We did it. Ebenezer.

Return to our other lives, to our family, to our friends, to our pets and to our home. I can’t wait.