Day 13 - Craignant to Llangollen

Beer drunk: 1 pint
Distance walked: 19km, Time taken: 5 1/2 hours
Ascents: 646m, Descents: 779m

The funny flat bit in the elevation plot from about the 6km to 8km mark is because the batteries in my GPS died and I didn't notice. The flat bit after that is real - it was along a canal towpath.

To my best recollection "craignant" is pronounced something like kree - ANN - gnant.

The walking now is through Denbighshire and they are much more proud of their Welsh heritage. I've seen plenty of red welsh dragon symbols (flags, t-shirts, car stickers etc) here. About half the population here speaks Welsh and when passing random strangers on the path it is a toss up which language they use to say good morning. Their views on the English are also different to those I encountered in Monmouthshire as can be seen by the inscription on the plaque commemorating a battle shown below.

In Monmouth they were very proud of their King Henry, Henry V, and his triumphs over the pesky Welsh. Here in Denbighshire they are very proud of their pesky Welsh triumph over King Henry II and their success at fighting off the domination of the English.

I started today's walk near Chirk Castle (shown below). I would have like to have time to go through the castle itself but it didn't open until 10am and I wasn't sure I could afford the time. I settled for ambling around the grounds. It was all very Downtown Abbey-like. Unfortunately, going through the castle grounds was a detour from the trail and I took the wrong exit. It didn't add to my time as the path for the morning was two sides of a diamond with castle at the bottom. I ended up walking the right-hand segments rather than the correct left-hand ones. However, as I left the castle grounds I asked a couple of passing walkers to confirm my route. The husband insisted on showing me, not just how to get back to the waymarked trail, but how to get the entire way to my destination. Kind but more than a little patronising.

The middle section of the path was along the Llangollen canal, over the Pontcysylite Aqueduct, into the town of Trevor (that last place is pronounced "trevor"). The aqueduct is just wide enough for a narrow canal boat to sail (motor ?) down and there is a narrow footpath alongside. There is a railing preventing pedestrians from falling into the valley below but nothing to prevent them falling into the canal. The aqueduct is 38m high - which is bloody high. I tried to take pictures to show this but it was impossible. Google it. It is an amazing structure and fabulous to walk across - provided you have a head for heights.

The last part of the walk culminated at the foot of Castell Dinas Bran, which is a 13th century castle perched up on top of a hill. The ruins can be seen in the photo below, with the winding path up to it just visible. I climbed all the way up to the top before realising "Crap - now I have to climb all the way back down!".

Today was a warm (for Wales), sunny day and a Sunday so the top was crowded with day trippers. It provided an interesting exercise in comparing and contrasting different culture's attitude to risk. Below is a photo I have pinched from someone else of the ruins (clearly as it is an aerial shot).

There was nothing to prevent visitors to the site from walking right up to (and possibly falling off) the precipitous edges of the site. There was also nothing to stop people clambering all over the crumbling ruins (and again potentially falling off). I can't imagine this happening in Australia. OH&S would surely require barriers and railings and such like to prevent people from doing something stupid and hurting themselves. However, in the UK it is illegal to have a powerpoint in the bathroom so idiots can't kill themselves by blow-drying their hair while taking a bath.

I managed to clamber down the hill from the castle to my B&B without falling and hurting myself. After a wash and brush up I went out to a local gastro-pub, the Corn Mill, for dinner. It is housed in an old corn mill and is spread over a variety of different floor levels. The staff are very fit. The place was very busy and I wasn't sure of getting table. In fact, they didn't really have one left but there was a table in their reception area. This was in the middle of the building with stairs down to the main bar, stairs up to the main restaurant and stairs off in three directions to mezzanine floors with more tables. They said I could eat there if I liked, which I did. It was fascinating to sit in the hub of all that frantic effort and kind of them to squeeze me in. 

For a starter I had cured salmon with wasabi cream. This also came with curls of carrot which made it look like there was twice as much salmon as there really was which was a bit of a cheat. It was all very good though. For main I had the steak and ale pie with mustard mash and buttered greens. I was tempted by the roast beef and Yorkshire pudding but we were nowhere near Yorkshire so I didn't. I regretted my choice when I saw that dish go past as their Yorkshire puddings were puffed up like balloons and looked very good. For dessert I had creme brulee which seems to be the trendy dessert in these parts. I washed this all down with a pint of Weetwood Brewery's Old Dog which was a very agreeable dark ale. Again, not a local brewery - this one is in Cheshire.

While I was eating my dinner I noticed a woman come in and give me a friendly, almost conspiratorial, grin. I was rather confused as I was sure she wasn't a walker I'd met on the path so I couldn't understand why she was being so friendly. Then she got to the head of the queue and asked for a table for one, which explained everything. A fellow solo dinner who knows about being tucked into odd corners.

Also while I was there I met up with the brother+sister+spice foursome I've encountered before. They were eating upstairs. I also met the OtherCouple who I also keep running into. They had been dining on one of the mezzanine floors. It turns out the Corn Mill, even when fully booked, always keeps a couple of tables free on the night for walkers since we aren't in a position to go elsewhere if there is nothing available in town. Some of these towns and villages also get a lot of their steady trade from people doing the Offa's Dyke trail so it pays to keep us happy I suppose.