‘Why have you taken me here?!‘ I angrily rounded over at Tom, who was too busy laughing at my extremely rare reaction. ‘Why the hell have you taken me to Holyhead?! It should be known as HolyHell!‘
Guys. I was staring in the mouth of Hell.
Okay, okay, perhaps I was being too melodramatic. But I had good reasons. But let me start you off from sunny Caernarfon.
After spending 2 days in wonderful Caernarfon running amok in its castle, sampling the Welsh food and getting to grips with my tongue over the local Welsh language, I said to Tom of Tomarhawk Travels that we ought to get out of the town and visit the island over the Menai Strait, where we spent many Welsh ale drinking time on the Caernarfon side while staring at the mysterious and shrouded isle. The isle is called Anglesey. Steeped in times of Druid lore, and a battleground between the Celts and Romans, I was pretty excited to be visiting the island that could possibly be my favourite place in Wales. It would take a lot to beat Caernarfon…Snowdonia National Park…Brecon Beacons National Park…oh screw it, everything that is Wales! Surely Anglesey would be the same?
Waking up on our planned date, I was dismayed when I flew the curtains open to see pelting rain. I mean PELTING. Think of Noah deciding to speed up building his ark before the flood came. Ah, my friends, welcome to Welsh Weather. If you hear the English muttering darkly about the rainy weather, then obviously they haven’t seen the Welsh version. However, I lifted my spirits up by claiming this is Wales and I would have to make do with the Welsh weather.
Bundling in the car, Tom drove through Bangor, a university town known for its students. Everyone we met told us to got here so we did. Pressing my nose against the splattered windscreen, there actually….wasn’t anything to see. It was raining and I sure wasn’t going to walk down a high street with a Poundland there. Looking over at Tom, he agreed and so we left. Over the Menai Bridge. This started my dark mood.
Lost in Anglesey
Rain still poured and dark clouds gathering to reflect my mood, we turned right and headed down up the north east corner of Anglesey to where the acclaimed funky town of Beaumaris resided. I could see the colourful houses in stark contrast to the dull grey crashing waves pounding the shores in front of them. We could have stopped here but we were persistently waved to move on by the many road works that littered the place. Hmmm. Pulling up in a car park, we considered our options. It was still lashing with rain and we had a talk where to go. Looking out, I said we should move on, there’s nothing much to see here. So we moved on. It wasn’t until later that one of the castles Edward I built to stamp his authority on Wales was built here and we missed a good chance to explore it…damn. But onwards we went.
So what did we do instead? We drove…we drove…we drove, through all the country lanes. Tom was in his element, enjoying the scenic driving that challenged him at every twist and turn on the waterlogged roads. It reminded him of Ireland he said. Me? I was surprised how hilly it was and all I could see was sheep shivering and bleating in disappointment. I know how they felt. Woolly. (Okay, that was a bad joke.) From one end of Anglesey we drove the north route from east to west and crossed over another bridge into Holy Island, where the main expressway led from Bangor all the way to Holyhead, where many people catch the ferry to Dublin, Ireland.
The rain seemed to let up by the time we got to Holyhead. I needed a coffee, stat! But I was looking forward to Holyhead, this is where Irish dreams come true so I expect there something to do. Pulling up, we paid the car park fee and headed down to the shore where the sea became rain and pelted us to become drowned rats. I wasn’t happy. Looking around, I couldn’t see anything. Just really dirty, downtrodden and exasperatingly boring views. Even a ferry ready to take Irish bound passengers looked ready to get out.
This is where my rant truly started. ‘Why the hell have you taken me here!’ As you can see, I’m not a happy bunny. I mean, I wore my special jumper for the day.
Bemoaning about how this was the worst day of travelling in Wales, my phone beeped from my Facebook Page. I asked earlier in the week where I should go in Anglesey and a response came at that moment.
‘Don’t go to Holyhead, it’s the worst place ever!’
Sure, thanks for the warning…
Tom was just in hysterics over my reaction. I never get like this. Usually, I look at the bright side of things but no, I wanted out. Think of what would happen if you found your supply of Yorkshire Tea has run out…
After checking out a very lame roman ruin there, it was time to get out and grab some lunch. Luckily, our hostel owner from Caernarfon recommended a place on the south end of Holy Island so if it’s good, it surely must be good!
Pulling up at the White Eagle Pub just 15 mins away from Holyhead, we were wet, tired, disgruntled and hungry. And may I add, complaining?
But as Tom suspected, food cheers me up and the White Eagle Pub did! Check this out!
The friendly atmosphere and the classy style of dining at affordable prices definitely did cheer me up with a belly full of food in me. And everything worked for me in the end. As we left the pub, the rain stopped. The sun was shining and I could feel the dark mood dissipate away. Now I’m ready to tackle one last stop in Anglesey and that meant getting my tongue round the most longest place-name in Europe….
What did you think of Anglesey?