Llan-fair-pwll-gwyn-gyll-goger-y-chwyrn-drobwll-llan-tysilio-gogo-goch to Caernarfon
Country roads, take me home. . .
Day 93
Llan-fair-pwll-gwyn-gyll-goger-y-chwyrn-drobwll-llan-tysilio-gogo-goch to Caernarfon: 12 miles
Fruitless search of the day: For the local bazaar and/or hookah salesman
Reason: I may have misunderstood Caernarfon's ties to Istanbul (or more correctly, Constantinople)
Today, the trumpets sounded as I made my way back across the Menai Bridge, and found myself once again in Gwynedd. Of course, the trumpets were only in my head, but I was pretty thrilled with being on the last leg of my journey. Also, I got to have superb Italian food in Caernarfon, there's a giant castle there, it's largely Welsh-speaking, and there were Roman ruins, so win-win-win really.
(PS - yes, the formatting of this blog post is off, just like yesterday, because of the length of Llanfair PG's name)
The last bit of Anglesey is quite scenic
So, yesterday's visit to Llanfair PG allowed me to see possibly the most photographed sign in Wales, but today I was looking forward to some lovely Menai Strait views. Specifically, the path crosses under the Britannia Bridge, continues along the space between the Bridges and then comes back up in Menai Straits (the town) and goes back to Gwynedd across the Menai Bridge (which by the way, I've learned since my northern crossing has arches juuuuust big enough to fit a bus through. Barely.)
Anyway, the path crosses down to the water relatively quickly, and I soon found myself once again along a very narrow bridge with an incoming tide very close to high tide. And once again, I decided 'well, it will probably be fine' and scuttling across as quickly as I could. And luckily, once again everything turned out fine. After I'd passed through the danger zone, I even had a chance to enjoy views past a giant Nelson statue, sculpted by Admiral Lord Clarence Paget - son of the Marquis of Anglesey who has a larger column near Llanfair PG dedicated to him and his wooden leg. (The father had been second in command at Waterloo, where is said to have exclaimed to the Duke of Wellington 'By God Sir, I've lost my leg!', when it was blown off by a cannonball, to which the Duke replied 'By God Sir, so you have' calmly turning back to look through his telescope).
Lucky for me, the skies were blue and the weather was fine - as the path wound back a bit inland past a small church, around the Britannia Bridge and then back down toward the water, I thanked my lucky stars I'd caught a good day. And when I got back down to the coast's edge, I thanked them even more - the views from here, including the bridges and a small island with a white compound in it, were framed wonderfully by the Menai Straits itself reflecting the blue sky and the mountains of North Wales. It was a great spot.
Of course, the path had to go back up to the main road at some point, so I followed it along a busy street to Menai Strait town, but then back down to see the views of Church Island right next to the Menai Bridge. All well worth it.
Gwynedd here I come!
Nonetheless, I was still excited to cross the Menai Bridge and get back to Gwynedd. After a quick meal at the inn on the bridge, I was back in Gwynedd and feeling like maybe now I'd be able to make some headway. Also, I'd managed to get my hands on some cushioned insoles at a pharmacy yesterday, and all of a sudden I felt like I was walking on pillows (quite a change from feeling every rock in the road, to be honest). So really, everything was going my way.
The first part of the walk is along the water, but it soon cuts inland and basically follows the highway and is by and large a straight shot all the way to Caernarfon. I was frankly surprised how quickly the whole walk passed - though I might have been going a little faster with my brand-new insoles than I was when I felt like I was walking barefoot.
But I was pleased to get to Caernarfon - I'd actually been here before in April, when we took the Welsh Highland Railway from Porthmadog to Caernarfon (and you might notice that some of my castle pictures are actually from that visit). And frankly, I really liked the feel of the town. I hadn't realized the last time I was here how much Welsh is actually spoken in town - but this time around I was paying more attention, and noticing that many more of the bars and restaurants also had 'helpful Welsh phrases' for people to use.
Also, I was staying here in a nice young couple from Anglesey's second bedroom. At a certain point, when we were first going over house rules, the husband told me that since they were both from Anglesey, their native language was Welsh, and if I heard them talking together in Welsh I shouldn't think I was being talked about, it's just that they spoke Welsh together. My thoughts on that were that it's really unfortunate that someone would have to apologie for speaking Welsh in their own country, in their own home, with their wife. If I were in Italy, I'd feel pretty comfortable with the fact that my hosts would speak Italian together. I'm fairly certain that's what people do when they live in other countries (unless of course you're watching an American movie, in which case people in all other countries simply have British accents), and I actively don't want people to speak English around me simply on my account. But, I guess that his comment came from somewhere - which really just made me feel guilty.
Anyway, regardless of this, I was thrilled to learn that Welsh was actually spoken in Caernarfon, and that it really was still a living language here (I know it is lots of places, but I haven't run across that many of them). I knew that it was more in use in the Llyn Peninsula, for example, and really Caernarfon is the northern gateway to Llyn, so I guess it makes sense.
But the other thing hearing Welsh everywhere does, is it really puts into perspective the elephant in the room - in this case the giant, looming castle-shaped elephant.
Caernarfon Castle - Investitures and Istanbul
Once again, I find myself outside of one of the castles of Edward I's 'Iron Ring' - Caernarfon Castle - intended to impress, intimidate and keep the local population under control. But this particular castle is also where since the early 20th century, the investiture of future English sovereigns takes place.
This is probably one of those things every British person knows and most American people don't really put two and two together about even though it sounds (is) obvious - but being the Prince of Wales or Princess of Wales actually, you know, has something to do with Wales. From what I understand - the last Welsh Prince of Wales was Llewelyn ap Gruffyd (previously Prince of Gwynedd), who was defeated by the English in 1282. Ever since that point, the title has been bestowed on heirs to the English throne, who themselves swear loyalty only to the English sovereign during their investiture. It was apparently partly Llewelyn ap Gruffyd's resistance to perform this act of homage to Edward I in 1277 that led Edward I to invade Wales in the first place.
Anyway, for hundreds of years the investiture had taken place in or near London - at Westminster Abbey or Windsor Castle. But in the early 20th century then Member of Parliament Lloyd George brought the investiture of Edward VIII back to Wales, specifically in the town he was MP for - Caernarfon. And so the most recent investiture, of Prince Charles, took place here among huge crowds and tremendous fanfare, all of which you can learn more about in the castle's interactive displays.
His investiture also took place among a piece of news I'd never heard of before I got here - that apparently some extremist members of something called the Free Wales Army tried (unsuccessfully, obviously) to blow up Prince Charles' train on the way to Caernarfon. Nowadays, most of what I've read refers to Wales as having only a peaceful nationalist movement (and I have no idea, but from what I understand at the time of the bombings the vast majority of the movement was similarly peaceful, and that this was more of a fringe action) - but it's still interesting history to the relationship of Wales within the UK. Though frankly I'd need far more pages, waaay more education on the issue to really understand it and describe it fully here (if I'm mischaracterizing anything here - it's unintentional - please don't hesitate to email me!).
Anyway, I seem to have wandered off back into my niche fascination with nationalist movements. Where was I? Oh, Caernarfon Castle. Right.
Besides its generally imposing placement, by which I mean you can really see it hovering wherever you are in town - the castle was also built with some interesting gestures toward the local Welsh populace. For example, the local population believed Caernarfon had strong associations with the eastern Roman Empire (which I'll go into a little more in a bit), and so those imposing sandstone and limestone walls and the multi-side towers were intended to evoke the walls of Constantinople - former capital of the eastern Roman Empire.
If you're reading this and you have no idea why Caernarfon would have associations with the eastern Roman Empire, and in fact aren't entirely sure what Constantinople has to do with anything - join the club. I'm just going to admit that while I may actually have a Masters degree in European Studies, living in Wales has taught me there's at least 1000 years of European history I really need to look into a little bit more, because I haven't quite been able to connect all the dots.
Luckily in this case, I was able to clarify all the background of this with P and so now I'm better able to understand why I was headed off to see a Roman fort called Segontium in North Wales, and why said fort would have anything to do with Istanbul (which was Constantinople). Now, while I understand it a little more, I feel like I've already gone into more of a history lesson in today's blog than was strictly necessary, and thus I'm not going to make it worse by broadening the scope to the fall of the western Roman Empire and ultimate rise of Byzantium. I have limits. And I still don't truly know whether it's remotely possible that Emperor Constantine was born here.
Anyway, I'm in Wales, not Istanbul, and so after passing the castle I left the path and walked to what was effectively the western edge of Rome's domination, and really, that's pretty much enough for us to go into. I was visiting Segontium, a Roman Fort on a hilltop that Romans lived in for three centuries. It was established around 80AD, intended by the Roman ruler of Britain as a means to control North Wales (I'm sensing a historic theme here), which had previously fallen to the local Ordovices tribe. According to today's signposts, I learned that by the time of Rome's fall, the local Britons were Roman citizens and stories abound of their defending their collapsing civilization together - the Welsh, of course, being the descendants of those Britons.
What's left of Segontium appears to be a lot of low level foundations for soldiers' barracks. But it's still interesting to see Roman history in a place like this, thinking about how large the Roman Empire was two millennia ago is really incredible. Interesting, but as a former Latin student who clearly focused more on the early Roman empire, extremely confusing. So in order to comfort myself, I went to the town's best Italian restaurant - Osteria on Hole in the Wall St (yes, that's what it's called) - and spoke Italian to the owners and staff, just to remind myself I knew anything at all about civilizations on the Italian Peninsula. Ok, I might actually have done that regardless of my confusion. But it made me feel like I still understand something about Rome. Even if they were from Florence. More importantly the carpaccio and meat and cheese selection were amazing.
