O'er moorland and brae: To market, to market

We are following a book that is taking us through some of the most scenic parts of Wales, but the routes are clinging to the coast, in the main, so we get nowhere fast, which is fine with us as we're not in a hurry. The roads are narrow and built for slow driving, but not as in dire need of attention as most of Scotland's roads.

Wales is so tiny that if you come across a spot where walkers or tourists congregate, parking is well nigh an impossibility. In places like Betws-y-coed and New Quay we didn't even attempt to park. Which is just as well, as we used to love Betws-y-coed when we lived here, we came often, but now it looks distinctly unappealing on a quick pass through. Which is the trouble with special places: along come the tourists, quickly followed by the intrepreneurs who invest in cheap, ugly buildings, then fill them with cheap, ugly product, determined to grab the tourist dollar, and set about spoiling the unique thing about that place that visitors once valued. One just has to think of Venice. So sad.

As we drive, coastal Wales continually reminds us of Tasmania: economically, it appears to be living close to the edge. Most villages are heavily decorated with For Sale signs. Sometimes every second or third cottage is For Sale. And sometimes, an investor appears to have bought a large complex, spent time and money developing the outbuildings, and surrounding buildings as Holiday Lets, but now has the entire complex up For Sale. Adding to the proliferation of signage. A worry if you are an investor hoping to make a profit -- much too much competition on the market.

We notice, too, the large number of Holiday Cottages for Let. And though it is still fair-weather September as yet, these cottages are mostly vacant. Sadder to say, some villages seem to consist of only Holiday Cottages, and give the distinct impression that not too many folk live here all year round. So more than likely most of these Holiday Cottages sit for much of the year untenanted. Which can't be good for what village life is left.

One publican told us that his pub business was now virtually finished for the year. In early September. What he made this summer, and luckily for him it has been a gorgeous summer, has to tide him across until next spring. As business from now until then is slow going. What happens, though, in the years he has a bad summer? How much longer can small village pubs like this even stay open? So many close daily.

And where to shop? Even small Convenience stores, as in Scotland, are so few and far between. Not all villages have one, which makes it difficult for any older folk, who are still around in some of these towns, to buy even a loaf of bread, as those who don't drive have to take a bus.

Wales looks to have reached super-saturation point with its Holiday Cottages. There appear to be more available than are warranted. We wonder if investors actually do any kind of needs analysis before they renovate yet another empty cottage to put in the thick Letting Catalogues to then stay empty most of the year. Madness.

It is not just the Cottages For Sale or the Holiday Cottages To Let that are an indication of difficult times; the gorgeous coastal scenery is terribly blighted, these days, by the explosion of static caravan sites. Site after site after site. A seemingly endless array of them. Which, like the cottages, are also likely to be vacant once school holidays are over, so again, a surfeit. Such a worry.

Yet the hills and the valleys are lush and green, and thick with woolly lambs that bleat out over the hillsides, so year-round farmers do live here and appear to be busy. Which is good. But, there are so many lambs dotting these hills that we wonder why the supermarket price for lamb is still so exorbitant. How does that work? Surely the more lamb you supply the cheaper it gets at market; yet some locals we were chatting to claim that New Zealand lamb is cheaper here than Welsh lamb. So these things about Wales we simply do not understand. They make little sense to us.