Day 6 Llandudno to Conwy
Goodbye Mrs. Milverton
Our accommodation in Llandudno was another “out the door and on the trail” location, so that’s exactly what we did. Milverton House was by far our best stay so far. It was typical of the type of places we had stayed in on previous hikes. If you think you might end up in Llandudno one day, check out their website. https://milvertonhousehotel.co.uk/ or your Facebook page.
Hello, great orme.
We turned left at Milverton’s main gate, walked a hundred meters south to the end of the walk, followed Marine Drive, around the majestic Grand Hotel and into the Great Orme National Trust Lands. After one more bend of the narrow road, all of Llandudno disappeared except the pier, leaving us alone on the coast.
If you’re thinking, «Hey, didn’t you just tell me there’s no public land in Wales?» No, I said there wasn’t much, especially compared to what we have in the western United States. And the welcome sign at the entrance said, “No overnight camping or parking,” with little red-lined graphics showing that almost everything related to camping was prohibited. That was my point.
Snakes, dragons, sheep and seals
According to an interpretive sign I stopped to read, «Orme» means «snake head» in Welsh. I mentioned it to Kate but she thought it probably meant ‘dragon’s head’ as there are no snakes in Wales and the Welsh flag has a red dragon. Good reasoning, until Google chimed in to point out that «Orme» is an English word, not Welsh, and means «sea serpent.»
Whatever the etymology of the name, the place is fantastic, even without snakes and dragons. The single lane road we followed was cut into the steep cliffs of the headland. It ascended steadily about 500 feet from sea level to the top of a broad, sloping plateau. The slope of the promontory he crossed was so steep I think he could have thrown a baseball into the ocean from the road.
But not so steep that it prevents sheep and goats from living there. They had cut small trails impossible for hunting in the grassy parts of the slope. But their soft remains of garbage on the sidewalk suggested that they also used the road to get around.
At one point, I leaned over the old limestone wall that served as a railing and saw a colony of gray seals on a pebble beach 300 feet below. This time we didn’t see any puppies.
A vast green sea
The wildlife was a bonus. The main attraction was the view. An animated sea with subtle and changing shades of green and blue, decorated with white caps blown by the wind. Blue skies with white clouds racing to escape the darker, more threatening clouds heading inland from the west. Faint outlines of distant oceangoing ships lined up to dock across the bay, somewhere near the island of Anglesey.
Inland, sunlight bathed the green hills of Wales. In the distance, snow covered the highest peaks on the horizon, so white that they barely stood out against the bright clouds. A few cyclists and a car or two passed us, but mostly we walked alone, selfishly soaking up the views.
It’s worth climbing
Near the top of the climb, we passed the Lighthouse B&B at the top of the cliff (no vacant rooms, of course). If we ever return to North Wales I will schedule our trip around your calendar. What I wouldn’t give to stay there for a month to be able to sit next to one of its windows, look at the sea and write.
A little further from the B&B, we discovered the Rest and Be Thankful Café. Kate was ahead of me and at the door before I had a chance to catch up to her and weigh in on stopping. When I arrived, she had ordered a cup of tea for the two of us and a piece of gluten-free cheesecake to «share.»
riding the storm
The wind really picked up as we “rested and thanked” our hosts and God for hot tea on a cold, windy morning. As the building shook from a particularly strong gust, I looked up and saw rain on the window and dark storm clouds overhead.
There was no rain in the forecast when I checked this morning before leaving. Zero percent chance. From our view from the window, it looked like we had a rainy afternoon ahead of us. But it poured heavily only for a few minutes and then gradually slowed until it was constantly soaking. The owner came and said his forecast said we would have at least another hour of rain and it could get worse.
We decided we’d rather not wait, so we put on our rain gear and headed out. But when we left, the rain had stopped. By the time we reached the end of the driveway, the sun had returned. The wind had never let up, but it was behind us as we rounded the headland and began our descent from the Great Orme.
Llandudno, Part II
At the bottom of the hill, we were back in Llandudno, but on the opposite bank. The town is large enough to encompass the narrow peninsula, like a necklace around the neck of the Great Orme. Locals call this side of Llandudno ‘the west coast’.
West Shore has a cafe along the Coast Path and it was open so we stopped for lunch. Just as we sat down to eat, another burst of rain hit us. We missed it again. And once again, by the time we finished eating, the rain had practically stopped. But the wind continued to whip.
A short walk on the beach
Our feet throbbing for another morning of pavement, we turned off the trail and walked along the hard, packed sand of a long beach that extends to part of the Afon Conwy estuary. The path follows the river upstream to the first bridge crossing the River Conwy.
But the beach turned to tidal mud long before we reached the bridge, so we were back on the pavements through the town of Deganwy for the last few kilometers of our day.
Concrete consequences
My hip didn’t like cement. It had been getting more and more painful all week, but the last few miles today pushed it over a threshold of sorts. I limped across the bridge towards Conwy, grimacing with every step. Any type of descent was particularly problematic. Without my new trekking poles, I might have had to crawl or take a taxi.
Conwy
The small town of Conwy is known for its well-preserved castle and walled town, both built by King Edward I of England in the late 12th century. You can tour the castle for a fee, but you can walk for free along long parts of the city walls that are still standing. In my condition, I was not willing to pay to walk at all.
We limped through the narrow stone gate of the old town, naively trusting Siri to take us to the Castlebank Hotel by the quickest route. Siri, ever the joker, decided that what we really wanted was the Castle Hotel, which is located inside the old stone walls and had no reservation for the Fullers. Silly old Siri.
A little more walking and some strict instructions for my mapping software took us up a steep hill to the real Castlebank Hotel, a B&B built in the 1850s. It was as charming as Milverton House, with a spectacular view of the castle and city walls, and a huge, comfortable bed. It was just what I needed.
After a long rest, during which we missed another rain shower, we walked along the old city walls on the way to dinner. I loved it, even though I moved like an old man on the steeper parts. Kate, who is afraid of heights, thought walking on steep, slippery, ancient cobblestones 40 feet off the ground wasn’t one of my best ideas.
And if?
My hip still bothered me a lot when I slept, which made me think about a series of hypotheses. What if I can’t walk tomorrow? Or for a week? Or for the rest of the trip? And many other even more serious concerns.
Kate and I talk about all of them. Over time, we realized that besides stretching and taking Advil, there wasn’t much I could do at the time. We would deal with whatever came our way in the morning.
I also realized that if I can’t walk, I can still enjoy a B&B holiday on the Welsh coast. First world problems.
