22 May – Westbury to Cardiff – We caught a taxi to Westbury Station with an hour to wait for the train. Westbury can be quite a busy place, with it being the junction for a number of lines, so the time spent was entertaining, watching the comings and goings. The announcement of our train promised four carriages, but when it pulled in, there was only two. It was even difficult to get in the doors, because people were sitting on the floor with their luggage. There were no seats left. The conductor was apologetic and said that they would add two more carriages at Bristol, which was two thirds of the way to Cardiff so not really much help. However, quite a few got off in Bath, leaving a few spots. There was one woman at a table with face to face seats, except she had her suitcase blocking one seat and the leg room for the one opposite. We sat at another face to face table, and the young woman opposite me had her legs fully extended under my seat, causing me to sit crunched up. She responded by pulling the collar of her jacket up to hide her face. By this stage, I was wishing I was still Covid contagious. A guy about 6’2” tall sat in the other seat and had to spill his legs out into the aisle because the other cow wouldn’t move her suitcase. Finally, nearing Bristol, enough people got up that Christine and I were able to find comfortable seats. In fact, once they had hooked up two extra carriages, there was no need for them at all.
Our accommodation in Cardiff is an apartment in a large high rise, but we are at least on the 1st floor. It was only a short walk from the station and we found the keys in the pub next door, navigated the security system and settled in to the flat with no issues. It was a strange place, with a huge collection of alcohol bottles, mostly empty of with a little bit left, a big display of thankyou cards from other guest extolling the hosts virtues, and two windows, both of which looked out over grotty courtyards. The place was basically clean, but terribly cluttered with the hosts personal stuff. There is no form of ventilation in the bathroom and the collection of crockery can only be described as bizarre. There are rave reviews from other guests, but I suspect they were here for the rugby (the huge stadium is just around the corner) or the nightlife, of which there is a lot, and only needed a bed.
Having dumped our stuff, we headed out to find a supermarket. We soon learnt that the apartment is location, location, location. Step outside and you have all forms of shopping at the doorstep. Food, drinks, markets, clothes, you name it, it’s there. A great many blocks of central Cardiff are walking only, so moving around is easy. At the far end of our closest mall, is the glorious Cardiff Castle, overlooking the city like a sentinel. The bulk of the grounds are open to the public, and is a picturesque walk through the grounds.
We located a Sainsbury’s, but opted for a beer over a shopping trip. A sign offering £3 pints was too tempting and we joined a group sitting alfresco, watching the passing parade. A guy next to us relished the chance to talk cricket, he being English born and his Welsh children having no interest outside rugby. He said that going to the MCG was his big dream. He did tell us that there is no free to air Ashes telecast anymore, you need Sky Channel. That’s crazy. It can’t be good for the game. Unfortunately, having someone to talk to about cricket meant we ended up having two drinks so we rolled a bit going home via the supermarket. Our short time in Cardiff suggests that public drunkenness is an issue, as is street drinking. I don’t think I’d like to be here when there is an England vs Wales Rugby match.
May 23 – Cardiff – We consulted the GPSmyCity App and chose two walks to explore the city. The first was an arcade walk, taking us through the centre’s seven arcades. We later found more, but seven sounded good. They were all the rage at the end of the 19th Century so the various architectures are interesting and some of the shop fronts really pretty. The vacancy rate was quite high, although most empty shops were showing signs of a revamp, suggesting a turn-around in retail fortunes. It was a fun way to move around the retail sector.
The second walk took us through the castle grounds and on to Bute Park. We didn’t do the castle tour, we just have to be selective because each one can cost quite a lot. Besides, if you’ve seen one suit of armour, you’ve seen them all. We wandered past some grand civic buildings and did a big enough tour of the CBD to get a feel for the place, which is very positive. Later, we remarked to a woman in a bakery how beautiful Cardiff is and her reply was, “You’d have to live here!”
Cardiff Castle Keep
Beautiful Edwardian houses in Cardiff
We went to the Central Market, a grand old pavilion dating from 1891. The previous evening, we had purchased two delicious beef pies from a stall selling all kinds of treats. We bought a loaf of tiger bread from the bakery, along with two Welsh cakes and a chunk of bread pudding. I am sold on Welsh cakes. They are a cross between a pikelet and a fruit scone, and are sold everywhere for around 60p each. The bread pudding is interesting, the flavour of nutmeg coming through. I suspect it is about 90% suet, making them good artery clogging gear, but it is good in small doses.
The Market in Cardiff
24 May – Caerphilly and Brecon Mountain Railway – We had organised a car for the day with U-Drive. We are big fans of U-Drive, the cars costing about half what the big names want without the horrors of excesses worth thousands of dollars. The only hassle is that they always seem to be in out of the way places so we end up paying extra for a taxi to get the car. The plan for the day was to drive inland to the mountain country to the Bannau Brycheiniog National Park (don’t ask me to pronounce that), to take a steam train ride on the Brecon Mountain Railway. We often watch Great British Rail Journeys on TV and always say, “We must do that one!” So here we are.
The drive was listed for about an hour, depending on traffic. We decided to cut the journey by visiting Caerphilly, a mid sized town about 15 kilometres from Cardiff. Caerphilly’s main claim to fame is its castle, the second largest in Britain after Windsor. It dates from the 13th Century, built to maintain an English hold over the surrounding Glamorgan lands. We had fun getting there. Things were going fine until we found ourselves stuck in a line of traffic approaching a roundabout. Nothing moved for ages. The cars coming down the hill towards us were signalling for people to turn around, so the problem was obviously serious. Fortunately, we were in a position to do so, unlike most others, and we headed back down the hill and relocated to a shopping centre carpark to work out an alternative route.
We chose another route that looked to avoid the trouble area. What we should have done was zoom in to check the road status, usually ensuring we only travel on “A” roads, or “B” at worst. We soon found our route took us over 5 miles of road that would not have any grading. It was a single lane through hedgerow country, with the hedges being about three metres tall. About every three hundred metres there was a slight pull off so someone had to back up when an oncoming car approached. Of course, the locals knew what they were doing and drove fast. We took what seemed like hours to cover the distance. When there was a break in the hedgerow, the scenery was spectacular, with cute cottages, sheep with wool down to the ground, ponies with very short legs and lots of other Welsh type stuff. It was nail biting stuff, except that would mean taking my hands off the wheel.
Finally, Caerphilly arrived and we frightened the locals by driving down a one way street the wrong way. We remarked in Wiltshire how considerate and forgiving the drivers were. Not in Wales. They drive with one hand on the horn and quickly let you know if you are doing the wrong thing.
Once parked, we admired the huge expanse of the castle. We have now seen a lot of castles but this one is a bit different. It was the first to develop the double layer of concentric walls and moats. It is in a bit of a state, having fallen into disuse in the 16th Century and the locals pinching some of the stone for their own buildings. In the 17th Century, one round tower started to lean, and now hangs at a crazy angle, not the place for a picnic.
Caephilly Castle
Once again, we refused the tour inside the keep, said to be quite luxurious by castle standards, and opted for a wander down the main street of town. There was a large Morrison’s Supermarket at the end so we decided to try for Vegemite. To Christine’s great delight, they stocked it. Breakfast is back to normal! We relaxed at a café overlooking the castle and enjoyed a pot of tea (so English) and a Welsh cake (of course).
Before setting off, we consulted a local to avoid driving on a laneway again and drove the A4067 to Pant Station. The road was a steady upward climb, most of the National Park being at an altitude of over 500 metres. We got to Pant Station without too much in the way of navigational errors, although road diversions due to road works that don’t show on Google Maps make life hard. We were an hour early, but the time passed quickly, scoffing down a sandwich we had brought from home, playing with the model train set that is displayed in the station, reading some of the background, and walking up to a lookout to get a good view of the train as it chugged its way into the station.
The railway is made up of restored locos and line gathered from all parts of the globe. Both steam locos were originally built in Philadelphia at the end of the 19th Century, one spending most of its life in South Africa, and the other Brazil. The gauge is narrow, only 2’, to allow for the steep incline and winding track needed to work through the hills. It mostly follows the path of an old line that used to haul limestone and coal for the bustling iron industry in the area. As with so many of these heritage rail services, volunteers are the mainstay, and I must say, watching the guys work the engine and coupling processes, there wouldn’t be any shortage of helpers. It was the stuff little boys dreams are made of (well that and some other stuff of course). The train chuffing its way around the bend was wonderful, the engine and carriages being in superb condition.
We walked back along the trail and took out turn to board. The carriages have very big windows, affording a great view of the scenery. There is one guard’s van, in the American style where they referred to them as a caboose, complete with wood burning stove. The line followed the valley of the Taf Fechan to where the river is dammed up to create the Pontsticill Reservoir. It follows the reservoir up into the mountain range to terminate at Torpantau. Along the way, the views are of rolling farmlands then, once in the National Park, forest and areas of pine. The train had to slow or stop several times once to let us look at a herd of Welsh ponies with two very cute foals, and a couple of times because there were sheep on the tracks. The sheep had very long wool, almost dragging on the ground, and long tails, looking quite unlike anything in Australia. In the distance, the majestic peak of Pen Y Fan could be seen. It is very popular with hikers and campers, although must be a bleak place in anything but late spring or summer.
At Torpantau, the engine was uncoupled and driven to the other end of the train for the trip back along the line. We had a 30 minute stop at Pontsticilli Station for refreshments, and to help the finances of the railway, before finishing up the trip back at Pant. What a delightful rail journey. The smell of the coal smoke, the sound of the wheels on the rail and the steady chuffing of the engine , all evoked memories of my childhood, when a few steam trains still ran on suburban lines and we used to run up onto a pedestrian bridge as one passed underneath to be engulfed in smoke. No one ever suggested that inhaling coal smoke was bad for our health.
Back in the car, we headed down the River Taff Valley, amazed at just how much of a climb we had made getting to the railway. This time, we found the right motorway and drove in comfort, although I did get tooted a couple of times when I did the wrong thing on interchanges, but then the Welsh seemed to like doing that. Our destination was the Penarth Pier, a popular spot in Cardiff Bay. As we approached Cardiff, we made a wrong exit from an interchange and found ourselves in heavy peak hour traffic. Christine studied Google Maps but announced that we either found a way to turn around (not happening) or go with the very slow flow. We calculated that it was now not possible to go to Penarth, so we elected to go back to the U-Drive depot and ditch the car. It was torture in the traffic. I recognised a lot of the route from the taxi drive of the morning, but we finally got there and handed back our beloved little Fiat 500. We enquired about U-Drive in Manchester, and after some discussion between staff, it appears they have opened a branch but it is commercial only. Damn. U-Drive is the best hire company I have ever dealt with and the cheapest.
A taxi took us back to near our apartment. The taxi drivers are really nice here. One even knocked four pounds off the bill because he had chosen a longer path than he should have. I had actually followed the route on Google Maps and I couldn’t see anything wrong with the way we had gone. We got out and decided to drop in to our favourite Irish Pub for a pint before hitting home.
Tomorrow, we train it to Manchester.
The 8 hour crossing of the Adriatic Sea from Bar in Montenegro was comfortable and suitably boring. The seas were dead flat and the boat (Dubrovnik) was only at around 15% capacity so we were pretty much free to wander anywhere. We had booked recliner seats for a few euros more and they proved good to catch up on some sleep, although I suspect we could have used them without paying because there were so few passengers and no one ever checked our tickets. Once out of sight of Montenegro there was little to see other than the occasional fishing boat or yacht and we pulled into Bari on time at 7:20pm. There was a brief moment of panic at immigration after Christine had gone though when the man played around with my passport for a while then referred me on to someone else. I worried that they were going to do a count of the number of days we had been in the EU (we are only permitted 90 days). An accounting would show we were OK but it would come right down to the wire. In the end, I think the first guy just couldn’t find the right stamp and I was sent through without an issue.
A bus took us from Bari south west through Puglia down towards the “heel” of Italy and then across the “instep” to Calabria. There was no train route suitable, the line from Taranto along the coast having ceased passenger services. We decided to break our trip and stay a couple of days on the holiday coast at Villapiana Lido to enjoy the relaxed atmosphere of an Italian beach resort area. No such luck. What we got was a run down semi-deserted coastal backwater that had once been one of the “in places” but now was a forest of for sale signs and boarded up shops. The beach areas were filled with umbrellas and sun lounges with a lot of cafes and restaurants but a great many were closed down or shut. This is July and one would suppose it is high season. August is the really big month but I would have expected more. There was no sign of life at the many fun fairs and amusement parks set up along the beach area. I am glad we don’t have investments here.
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