CONWY CASTLE

Our first stop this morning (there will be three major excursions today) is Conwy Castle.  If anyone tells you that a castle is a castle is a castle...well, maybe not.  Personally, I was quite taken with Conwy Castle.

We're in North Wales again today, tucked up very close to the sea.  Not much stands between us and the Arctic Circle except the distant Faeroe Islands.  Conwy Castle was built by King Edward I who, in the late 1200's, conquered Wales.  He cleared away the existing Cistercian Monastery, and built this huge castle as a not-so-subtle reminder to the Welsh people that he was a powerful man indeed.  Per Wikipedia, the laborers who built this castle (recruited throughout England) worked on it only in the summer.  Considering the wind-chill in northern Wales in the middle of winter, that was an uncommon kindness.

Edward had only been at the castle a few years before Madog ap Llywelyn rebelled against English rule in Wales. Peter (our leader) described in some detail the months-long assault on the castle in the middle of winter--including Christmas of 1295.  Legend has it that even though times were terrible (obviously), Edward shared his private supply of wine among those living at, and fighting for the castle.  Now, there is an officer and a gentleman.

 

I'm assuming the wine story alone may account for the reverence with which Edward is regarded at this castle.  I was mightily impressed with this sculpture of the head of Edward I.  It's (accurately) described as a "ghostly presence".  Considering I had walked by it and under it without ever noticing it, I'd have to agree.

Even though there appear to be fireplaces galore--one actually lit with a digital image of a fire--I'm sure it was cold and damp and grey and frightful during the rebellion.  And dark.  At that latitude, the sum rises late and sets too  early.  I can't imagine the isolation.

We climbed a relatively short, but narrow and steep circular staircase to visit Edward's chapel which, I would maintain, was an oft-used refuge.  It you consider the powerlessness of an English King, far from home, under seige from Madog ap Llywelyn (the hometown hero) in the dead of winter...prayers are pretty much the only thing you've got going..

I'm always struck, when outside the United States, at the lack of accessibility for those in wheelchairs or using crutches.  At the same time, I'm horrified by the lack of protective barriers, railings, modifications and etc., that just don't exist; even when we old people are climbing around ancient castles. Yes, the Welsh are hardy, but so are the English and the French as evidenced by the sheer terror I often feel while exploring their sites.  I suppose, if one has to go, one might as well be wiped out in a horrific fall from the ramparts of a castle during a magnificent trip to Wales.

It appears that Conwy Castle figured in the history books for some centuries.  It has been saved from time to time, then lost again.  Hard fought battles brought it back into play, but neglect and harsh weather did its damage.  Finally, over the last 200 years, Conwy Castle has been regularly repaired and maintained, and today, as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, hosts 200,000 or so tourists each year.

I don't know if it's my favorite castle, but I highly recommend it.  Bring a jacket, umbrella, and sturdy, but comfortable shoes.  

BLISTS HILL & FARNDON PARISH CHURCH

Before our trip to the UK, I began researching the different places we would visit, and the sights we would see.  On this day, we will be leaving our lovely little Three Ways House Hotel, then stopping by the Iron Bridge Gorge Museum, Blists Hill Victorian Village and Farndon Parish Church.  We will sleep tonight in Chester.

Information was a little scarce on these three sites.  Unless something has changed since, Rick Steves ignored them altogether.  The Iron Bridge Gorge Museum of our itinerary, is actually one of ten related museums located throughout this particular area of England.  I've picked up that the beautiful gorge we will see, was once a great ironworks center, made practical because of the nearby coal deposits.  It is all about the Industrial Revolution.  Unfortunately, I found the Industrial Revolution and all that went with it, to be terribly boring when I was in school and, in my secret heart of hearts, I'm wondering why Road Scholar would see fit to drag us here.

We drove first into the village of Ironbridge, parking in one of England's lovely car and coach parks.  We love car and coach parks, because we know a loo will be close by and, being older, loos are always welcome.  They are generally clean, neat, and nearly always free.

After we regrouped, we began a walk along the River Severn to the first cast-iron bridge ever built.  Ever.  Today, it's cited as one of the symbols of the Industrial Revolution.

I must admit it is a beautiful bridge, and I can't imagine the complexities of building this in the late 1700s.  And, the guidebooks were right...this is a gorgeous area.  As we walked across the bridge (motor traffic is forbidden--or strictly limited now) the gorge, both to our right and left were remarkably lush and green..

At one point in time, I stopped listening to many of the facts and figures and simply began finding Quintessential British scenes along the way.  Sometimes I still wonder:  Why not England, Lord? Why Dodge City?  But, I'm lucky to be here at all, so I shouldn't get picky.  But England would have been nice. 

The little village of Ironbridge wasn't nearly as deserted as it looks here.  I need to remember that it was an industrial town and they weren't built for beauty and comfort.   Here, it becomes easy to imagine this beautiful gorge buried under the dense, black, greasy smoke of the coal-fired furnaces, as they burned hot enough to produce the pig iron of the times.  I thought especially of the children who grew up in this environment.  Their life spans would have to have been shortened as their little lungs processed the residue of all that pollution.  It's not windy here.  The smoke would have laid heavy on this gorge and all who lived in it.

As we went through the museum, we noticed a small exhibit showing the delicate and elaborate china that was produced here.  Young girls were brought in and taught to paint the china, and it was exquisite.  What a contrast to the roar and flame and crash of iron production.  The idea of girls in their tween years leaving home to work here, amidst the roar of blast furnaces was too much. 

The English always seem prepared for all eventualities.  This little couple, settled near the river, were protected from sun and rain.  They carried newspapers and fishing poles, and seemed quite comfortable with their place in life.  Lots to be learned here... 

Our next stop was Blists Hill Victorian Village, an elaborate re-creation of  a 17th and 18th century "typical" village of the area.   Many of the buildings used in the production of coal and iron continue to stand in their original settings.  Other buildings have been brought in (in pieces) and reconstructed, or newly built from plans and pictures of commercial buildings and private homes of the era.  It's a lively little village, and would be quite easy to enjoy for a full day. You'll see how the townspeople lived, where they worked, the pubs they enjoyed, the doctor they visited and the gardens they grew.  And more.  It was fun. 

Sometimes I think I'm a little jaded because I grew up with the Dodge City Front Street replica within easy walking distance.  My son, in his high school years, was a gunfighter there; and, one of my daughters acted in the melodramas and sewed in the general store.  My daughter-in-law was a Can-Can girl and dished out ice-cream in the...Ice Cream Shop.  All this is to say, I'm never too excited about re-created villages, but Blists Hill was a good one.  Don't avoid it.

After walking a mile or two through and around the village, we gathered at the coach and drove to nearby (relatively speaking) Farndon Parish Church.  Remember, we are viewing Quintessential Britain, and there is a reason for each stop we make.  Each time we visit a site, that site is representative of many sites nearby or at the other end of this little country.  Each is unique and each has a story to tell. Farndon Parish Church found itself in the crosshairs of enemy forces during England's Civil War in the mid-1600s, and very nearly didn't survive.  The very base of the churchtower and the plan of the church date from the 1300s, but the rest of the building was rebuilt after the war ended.  

I would suggest this tree-wrapped-tree might still hide a few bullet holes from that Civil War battle mentioned above.  Maybe a actual bullets, also.   Farndon Parish Church is actually St. Chad's Church and open to the public with appointment.  A delightful little lady met us there and showed us through the church, pointing out  treasures here and there.  She, as so many of our local guides, was a friend of Peter's, and their interaction was always fun to watch.

The early English didn't sugar-coat death.  I've seen more skulls, with or without crossbones, in the many cemeteries we have wandered through, than in any recent pirate movie.  Death is death to the English.  It will happen and we need to be reminded of that every now and then.  Even their epitaphs can be brutally honest. This is a chest tomb which seemed quite common at Farndon Parish Church.  The little churchyards are charming, despite the death issue, but beginning to fall on hard times as the cost to maintain them is prohibitive for a small parish.  Sad.

Eventually, we ended our day in Chester...as usual, in the small hotel bar discussing our day over a half-pint or two.  Road Scholars are my kind of people!  And, despite my earlier doubts, Road Scholar did another wonderful job  planning this day.  Sneak Preview:  Tomorrow is a perfect culmination of this Industrial Revolution theme.