Europe: Caernarfon and Northern Wales

After leaving London, England my next stop by train was a town in northern Wales named Caernarfon. A friend named Iestyn that I knew from online animation school lived here and we had intended to meet up for the first time. About two hours or so on the train from London brought me into a station in a town called Bangor, where Iest was waiting to pick me up.

Even before I arrived in Bangor, just looking out the windows of the train I could already tell that this was going to be an incredibly beautiful place to visit. In mid-December with no leaves on the trees whatsoever, you could look in any direction toward the horizon and stare in awe at the endless rolling hills of green grass and mountainous hills. The land itself is so vibrant and alive. It was refreshing to be reminded of just how pristine and amazing nature can be when left to herself.

Most of the Welsh landscape looked a lot like this.

When Iestyn picked me up at the train station around noon, we exchanged a few words appropriate to a first meeting of online friends, and took off in his car towards the castle town of Caernarfon. I had a reservation at a hostel in the town called "Totters", only a short distance from the train station. In the car on the way there I got another dose of the beauty of Wales. This country is certainly in no short supply of sheep…in fact they seem to be overrun by them! So many in fact, that the farmers have to put colored spots on them to tell who they belong to. It's somewhat comical to see thousands of sheep all spray painted different colors amongst the sprawling, green backdrop.

Sheep are painted different colors so the farmers can tell who they belong to.

There are scores of old stone walls, gates, towers, and homes littering the land. Some of them decrepit and crumbling away into history and others looking like they had been built just years ago. After a short drive, Iestyn told me about how the town of Caernarfon is well known because of it's giant castle. In fact, the town itself is inside the castle walls. Yes, my hostel and the town I stayed in are inside a castle. We arrived a few minutes later, I stared in awe for a good two minutes, and finally walked towards Totters.

It definitely took me a little while to take it all in and really accept the fact that I was, well firstly that I was in Wales. Secondly that I was within the walls of Caernarfon Castle. And lastly, that I was about to spend three days here exploring and seeing who knows what else! The town is right on the ocean so you've got the sea to one side, and you can stand on the wall of the castle and look out over the water. Wow! I'd only been there thirty minutes and could have written a novel about how amazing it was.

Caernarfon Castle. The town is inside.

We found our way to the hostel and I got checked in while Iest waited outside near the water, fighting off seagulls who undoubtedly wanted to pilfer and make quick work of his Mars candy bar. The hostel was quite nice, very homely and laid back. I was actually the only guest which was great, might as well have been a hotel. The only issue I had with it was that there was no internet whatsoever. It was going to be a long three days with no contact to the outside world. But, I couldn't think of a better place to spend time away from the computer than where I was. My hostel was right on the outer brim of the castle wall so when you walk outside there are two turret towers facing the sea. (I just typed that sentence and had to reread it for accuracy because it sounds so awesome.) I ogled for a moment, and we left to get a bite to eat at a local deli. The prices here are decent, not as cheap as Prague but nowhere near as expensive as London or Paris. Indeed it was a healthy medium, proper prices.

We grabbed a sandwich for the road and hopped into the car for the drive to a place called Porth Neigwyl, or in the English name, "Hell's Mouth". One of the reasons I had come to Wales was to hopefully do a bit of surfing. Hell's Mouth is one of the most famous breaks in the United Kingdom and regularly gets double overhead and perfect. I had heard about it from Iestyn and really wanted to see it first thing. It takes about thirty minutes normally to drive to Porth Neigwyl but we took a scenic detour through the country side just to see some sights and spent the next hour or so enjoying the surrounding terrains. When we arrived, we could tell before even walking out to the beach that it was going to be savage as the wind was blowing hard and onshore. We walked out to the break and sure enough, it was huge, blown out chaos in the water. Unrideable and dangerous. In Welsh, "Porth" means "Beach" and "Neigwyl" I believe means "Devil". So… Devil's Beach. Appropriate I'd say looking at the surf! It's impressive to see such a great break though, even when it's not surfable. Iestyn mentioned there was another beach nearby named Porth Oer that we could check out, though it usually isn't as good. We drove about another twenty minutes north-west and found that Porth Oer, or "Whistling Sands" in English was actually looking quite nice. Hell's Mouth faces the south west, and there was a moderate south wind blowing which was wrecking the surf. Whistling Sands though faces the North West so the south wind was blowing offshore and even though the waves were only about waist high at the time they were peeling nicely and looked quite fun. I took a mental note before we left to head back into town. The local surf shop was called Off-Axis where a friend of Iestyn named Johnny worked. We stopped by on the way back to ask Johnny if we'd be able to rent gear the following day to hit the surf. They said it was no problem and to give a call in the morning so they could meet us here whenever we needed it. It seemed like surfing was a go at that point, I couldn't have been more excited…though it was about 33-34 degrees (Fahrenheit) outside. Whistling Sands is called Porth Oer in Welsh which translates to "Cold Beach". Hah!

Porth Neigwl - "Hell's Mouth"

Later that evening I met Iestyn and a buddy of his at a pub right next door to my hostel named the Anglessey Arms. We played a bit of pool and it was there that I learned that pool in the UK is quite different than what I'm use to in the United States. The table, balls, and cues are slightly smaller, and instead of having stripes and solid colored balls there are simply reds, yellows, and a single black ball. It's played almost the same way except there are a few minor rule changes. Such as, when you scratch, your opponent gets ball in hand behind the line but also two shots. If you table scratch, he also gets two shot. Small things like this. Overall it was fun but difficult to get use to since everything is sized differently. The pub was a bit dead so after a beer we headed off to the next stop, Alfred's Pub I believe it was called. I met a few more of Iestyn's mates here and we had a few pints and exchanged adventure stories. Iestyn and his friends are mountaineers, meaning they work as guides and lead hikes and treks through the mountains of Wales. Recently, Iestyn and his girlfriend went hiking through Scotland with naught but a backpack of gear and sleeping bags. It was snowing and frigid temperatures in the mountains the entire time and from the sounds of it they almost died, several times. He wouldn't have it any other way though. He's a giant, red-bearded mountain man who would probably spend his entire life living out there in the cold mountains if the world would let him. It's certainly not my cup of tea but it's the type of thing as a man you can't help but just listen in awe to the stories and tales of ultimate bad-assery.

After the pub I got a good nights rest at Totters. It's been awhile since I'd slept real well as the hostel in London was a bit of a bust with a very uncomfortable bed. Also, with no internet to keep me up all night it was quite easy to just fall asleep and recuperate some energy. In the morning I had some breakfast at the hostel and met Iestyn on the corner to head out to do some surfing. We wanted to check the surf again before calling the shop so we went to Hell's Mouth and it was the same as it had been yesterday, blown out and savage looking. There was no way I'd be able to surf it in my current (lack of) shape, and even if I'd been able, it didn't look much fun. We cruised up to Whistling Sands where I was hoping it'd be tame and offshore again, and sure enough it was looking fantastic. Waist to chest high, offshore wind, peeling lefts and rights, nobody out. We called the shop and went and picked up some gear. I ended up with a 7'10" board and a 5.4mm wetsuit with 6mm boots. Even in the frigid water I was sure to be warm with this winter suit combo. Iestyn had something similar, though I believe his suit was a 4.5mm. Apparently mountain men don't need the extra millimeter. :) We cruised down to Whistling Sands again, suited up, and hit the surf.

As we were walking down we met a guy who looked like he'd been there awhile and we chatted with him on the paddle out. It had gotten bigger, it was now pretty consistently shoulder high which looked to be a lot of fun for sure. The guy was from the eastern coast of England and was an avid surfer so it was cool talking with him. I was the first guy he'd ever met from California, which he thought was awesome. He was friendly and showed us where to paddle out and told where the rocks were so we knew a bit of where to be. We surfed for about two hours before my hands were a bit too cold to function and two overhead waves crushed the hell out of me and let me know it was time for me to be done. Not surfing for two months and then jumping into super cold water with a thick winter wet suit and overhead waves was kind of a silly idea, but it was damn fun anyway! The guy we had met before was finishing up so we all walked to the cars, and while we were drying off he goes, "You mates look like Vikings out there, surfing with those giant beards." We both had pretty gnarly beards going at the time, but to say we look like Vikings? That was easily the coolest compliment I'd ever received from anyone, ever. Made my day! We dropped off the boards back at Off-Axis and headed back north towards Caernarfon for some lunch and some rest.

That night we went out to another local pub that had an interesting name and story. It was built in 1522 and even the current owners don't know the real history of the place, and as such there is a mystery behind the actual name of the pub. It's either called, "The Black Boy", or the "The Black Buoy". The latter obviously being the more politically correct title, but the former is what most people call it now. There are two signs, and everywhere it says the title, it says both titles. It's quite interesting really. The food was good and the beer was better. I was able to try a few semi-local Welsh ales named Snowdownian and The Purple Moose. Definitely one to check out if you ever visit Caernarfon. Took it relatively easy that night, went to bed early and got a record two nights sleep in a row.

The Welsh Flag Is A Dragon. Awesome!

The next morning Iestyn drove me to Bangor again where I'd be catching the train to Manchester to visit Mike Rogers and the Image Metrics office. We said our goodbyes, thanks, and promised to meet up again someday whether it be in America or here again in Wales. My time there was fantastic and I feel like I know just a little bit more about the world after visiting.