This morning, I woke up to the news that Great Britain had voted (or at least a majority had voted) to leave the European Union, which is very big news here indeed. I've eavesdropped on conversations around me, asked people directly, and watched it discussed in the news for the past week, and I've heard some very ugly reasons (anti-immigrant/xenophobic anger) as well as some funny ones ("They regulate our light bulb wattage and the Hoovers don't work as well anymore!")for why people wanted to leave. I, in turn, have been asked by a number of people what I think of Donald Trump (I rather resent I've had to spend even a second of my vacation discussing that man, but I understand people's curiosity). Anyway, enough about politics. There are people far more knowledgeable and intelligent than I am on the internet to discuss those things.
After considering a number of options for what to do today and soliciting the input of two Australian women and the B&B owner at breakfast, I looked at the weather report and tried my best to plan a day that would work with the predicted weather. Which, of course, was just silly. Some of my nervousness about navigating sans GPS crept back when I had trouble translating what I was seeing on the map of the town and getting to this little church, which, as it turns out, was really close by. It's St. Michael's, the oldest still-standing structure in this area, and some say the oldest church in the area. In the yard was a yew tree, which I recognized after a lovely random conversation with an English couple I met a couple days ago when I pulled over to take pictures. They struck up a conversation with me and (we were near another church at the time) the husband pointed out the yew trees and said they are common at churches and can live over 1,000 years. So I went over and gave this one a pat, because honestly, how often do you get the chance to touch something living that could have been around for a millennium? If only trees could talk...
It was then time to get in my car and attempt driving further afield--Llanberis, to be exact. This involved driving on a few different highways, one of which took me twisting and turning up and over a mountain. As if this wasn't challenging enough, it began to pour rain. But, amazingly, I made it. Llanberis is where you catch a really really slow train (it goes only 5 miles an hour) that takes you up Snowden mountain. Here's the station:
I gamely paid the 29 pound ticket price and eyed the clouds. It seemed, at least here at the base, that it might be clearing a little, which in retrospect I recognize as wishful thinking.
They really cram you in on these trains. There were five of us seated on a hard bench built for four people, and the man next to me happened to be huge--at least 6'5" and just...big. Scrunched up and trying to stay in my space, this was my view:
Things were all right in the first leg of the train's climb
But the higher we climbed, the more mist intensified, and by the time we reached the halfway point, it was pouring rain. This, by the way, is the very top of the mountain. I climbed up even though one wrong move on those slippery steps (with the strong wind blowing) would have sent me plummeting.
Because, you now, I wanted to make sure I captured the amazing view:
Of course, after the hour-long trip back down the mountain, during which time I spoke with a lovely retired counselor from Minnesota, the downpour spent itself, and the day cleared up.
So, I decided to drive another twenty minutes or so to Penrhyn Castle, which, again, I found! It was genuinely amazing to me that I would actually arrive at these places and drove the right way. This was a property built in the early 1800s by a noble family who made their wealth from slate mining and, in later generations, hosted members of the royal family.
The interior was gorgeous and very Downton Abbey:
A glimpse of below stairs, where a large staff worked hard to keep up all that upstairs grandeur:
A gorgeous home in a gorgeous location, especially when the weather is nice:
And a smiling sheep to boot:
Overall, a successful and mostly enjoyable day out, but I was extremely happy to see my little guesthouse come into view (another successful drive!). While I am getting slightly more comfortable with these narrow little roads and their twists and turns and am even learning a little Welsh ("Araf" means "slow"), I must admit I'm looking forward to not having to navigate once I'm in London. I just have to get there first.
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