O'er moorland and brae: Welsh rare bits

Still we are finding interesting things to do in Wales. We called in at Devil's Bridge, a site we first visited some thirty five years ago, before it became barricaded from visitors. Today, it is barred and gated with ugly turnstiles requiring coins be dropped before you are able to pass to see the bridge. Another of the hazards of tourism. The tale of the bridge draws tourists even today.

Across a very narrow gorge three bridges have been built one on top of the other from three different time periods: a walking bridge from the 11th century, a fragile packhorse bridge from the 17th century, and a lightweight carriageway built in the 19th century.

The 11th century bridge is set low, deep into the gorge, and is said to have been built by the Devil. The tale goes that an old woman had a cow that found its way across the gorge to the other side. In order to get him back she had to make a deal with the devil who promised to build her a bridge overnight in exchange for the first living thing that would cross it on the morrow.

The old woman returned in the morning to discover that the devil had built the bridge as promised, and that her cow might now easily cross once her part of the pact had been fulfilled. Wily, was the woman. She did not cross the bridge herself as the Devil was expecting. From her apron she drew a handful of bones and food scraps. These she tossed to the other side. The dog with her immediately bounded after them, and became the first living thing to cross the bridge. Her pact was complete. The devil must still be gnashing his pitchfork.

We called in at Castell Henllys, an Iron Age Village with a difference. This site has been completely reconstructed, with advice from archeologists and professors, using even the exact post holes and sizes originally used by the Celts of the Iron Age whose housing was being recreate

The entire complex gives an excellent overview of what life must have been like some two thousand years ago in such a village with its large and small roundhouses functioning as living quarters, granaries, smithy, chieftain's house, and a communal kind of meeting house, somewhat like a covered African kraal. It is easy to imagine a small fortress like this filled with people busy at their daily tasks as woodsmoke from the central slate hearth wisps high to perfume the thatched roof above.

The village was built near a stream, surrounded by earthen ramparts and, at one time, strengthened by a protective palisade, fortified further on one side by an intriguing chevaux-de-frise, a cluster of pointed stones lethally imbedded into the earth, designed to slow any oncoming attackers. As they attempted to negotiate these tripping stones intruders were more accurately sighted by the defending archers. A very clever defensive strategy.

After years and years of work the archeological dig at Castell Henllys is now complete and the findings are soon to be published. So, even more interesting detail awaits us when that is ready.

On a narrow back road tight with hedgerows, following a sign for morning coffee, we found a functioning woollen mill in a little hamlet called Solva. We love these surprises. We were so early that we were able to see them start the overshot watermill for the day - which operates their equipment.

The mill is in the process of being thoroughly renovated to full functioning working order by a young couple with a big passion -- and one hopes, a big budget. They have set up a coffee-cum-giftshop that displays their products, woven in a coarse weave: carpets, runners, table mats, and suchlike, tho' their machines are capable of producing fine quality wool weave. They have viewing windows which allow access to various parts of the operation of the tiny mill, making it all the more interesting.

We watched coloured yarns being threaded from cones onto bobbins by a cone winder. Today, the weaver was continuing work already started on a long narrow carpet length for a stair or hall runner, and as the loom throws the shuttle some 90 times a minute he was kept busy refilling the shuttle with fresh bobbins from the cone winder, and repairing thread breakages.

Solva mill have recently received commissions from as far afield as America where they have been called upon to weave replacement runners and rugs for a rather grand building being funded by the government in the States. Lovely to see them doing so well.

Another gorgeous afternoon we spent exploring the ruins of the religious community at St David's on the Peninsula where once a Cathedral, Bishop's Palace, and the remnants of many other 12th century religious buildings still stand in what once have been a massive religious pilgrimage complex.

The local stonework on the Bishop's Palace was particularly beautiful: all pink and lavender and grey then finished off with more formal black contrasting with white arches. The colours really glowed in the sun.

The cathedral, itself, had beautiful nave and side altars. Amazing the money and craftsmanship that could be found in days long past for such detailed and exquisite work. Try building something like this today, and finding not only enough funding, but, also, craftsmen skilled enough to complete the work in such a remote corner of the earth.

We are constantly intrigued by the actual logistics of how all these things might have been commissioned in times long past. And how long they took to be completed. Amazed, we are, about how much money used to be floating around for religious buildings; yet, today, there seems to be so little in any money pot for necessities even, like roads.

Another foggy morning coffee hunt brought us to Saundersfoot in Southern Wales. This looks and feels more like an expensive village in France than Wales, with its small street filled with stylish boutiques, freshly baked chocolate croissants, and decadent rich espressos. We have been missing France this year, so loved this coffee stop which allowed us a little boutique hopping as well.

A little further along and still hugging the bay is the touristy town of Tenby. This, too, feels very French. In fact, it is walled and has cramped medieval streets overlooking a wonderful sandy harbour, with an island tucked just a low-tide walk away, and looks for all the world like an English version of St Malo. Which made us even more homesick for France so we stayed for lunch and dawdled the day away just chatting to folk in town. 'Twas lovely. So, we didn't get far that day.

Then, deeper into Southern Wales we drove, which really becomes more an endless conurbation of sad looking buildings and dwellings, many of which are For Sale. Certainly not the most beautiful part of the country. How green are my valleys is grimly contradicted by how desperate is much of the housing. It made our spirits shrivel so we didn't stop much.

On to the Folk Museum at St Fagan's which is undergoing renovation over the next few years, and really needs a proper identity focus as its name is different on every piece of literature we have. Sometimes it is called the National History Museum of Wales; sometimes the Welsh Folk Museum; sometimes, just St Fagans; and so on.

It is a collection of authentic buildings and structures that have been moved from various parts of Wales, reconstructed on site and set up not only to preserve history, but to be educational. Really great aims. And a good idea, but overall, the whole 100 acres looks a little underfunded. Some of the exhibits could do with a deal of spit and polish, and the surrounding yards and gardens need a trim and tidy.

Surprising, too, in this electronic age to see so many full-time staff spending their days wandering around some of these major buildings, looking slightly weary and bored, waiting to offer advice to any who seek it, when an iPod loaded with the information they have could offer the same thing. The staff could then be freed up and put to better use around the complex. Still, the place is currently undergoing a revamp in the administration section, so maybe some of that will eventually happen.

We enjoyed the exhibits, and were delighted by the more unusual ones: the historic urinal, for instance. In Victorian times attempts were made to reduce the squalor by building outdoor public loos. At the time it cost a penny to use one, hence the phrase: "to spend a penny" became synonymous with visiting the loo.

Many, like this, were built of cast iron and were open at the back, like pissoires, in Europe, so, most were for men. During the second world war, though, the cast iron used on these loos was needed for the war effort so many had to be dismantled and recycled. This excellent example, relocated here from LLandridod Wells, survived.

This communal oven came from Merthyr Tydfil and was one of three that had been originally built into the ends of rows of terraced houses for baking, before separate ovens in separate dwellings became commonplace.

Tenants of the terraces were allocated a specific day to do their baking, and oftentimes one of them would be in charge of the oven for the community for the day and might receive a penny a loaf for their effort. Some of these folk became expert bakers and were later able to set up their own ovens and became commercial bakers. The door on this oven would have been stone and would have been sealed shut with cow dung used like putty to keep in the heat.

This little row of terraced homes came from another street in industrial Merthyr Tydfil upon demolition. The row was built at the beginning of the industrial revolution, when iron workers, who were quite well off, enjoyed living here. As iron demand depleted and coal demand increased these became the homes of coal workers. The sheer volume of workers needed in Welsh mines meant that housing was short and these tiny terraces came to house large extended families, often in cramped and unsanitary conditions.

After several cholera outbreaks in the 1850s, and many tragic deaths, improvements were made to the water supply and drainage, and fixed windows were opened to let in fresh air. Outdoor loos were provided in front gardens, as well. But still, not sufficient, and the row of terraces was eventually condemned in the 1930s, but it was not until the slump of the 1970s, that they were demolished, and their inhabitants all relocated.

Today each cottage have been dressed in each of its different eras: mirror-image cottages show the changes through the ages: it really is quite fascinating.

Around the grounds we particularly enjoyed how the life stories of the very real folk who actually lived in these dwellings were recreated on interpretive panels. That is a lovely human touch that adds an pleasing element of authenticity and excellent research.

The food hunt in Wales has been a little like searching for food in Scotland: you really do need to go the extra mile to find the good stuff, as the ordinary stuff can be dead ordinary.

Blackberries are ripe on the hedgerows here now. Mind you, as fast as we see them, they are also being pruned. It is that time of the year: September through to March: the only time of the year the hedgerows can be trimmed: which is a small protection for the birds who use them for nesting during spring and summer. So, we are quite chuffed when we find any ripe berries at all at this time of the year, but they are always lovely.

One day we found fresh dressed crab and lobster pulled right from the sea water where we bought them at St Bride's Bay, near Newgate, so had delicious crab on crusty bread for lunch, followed by lobster and lemon butter linguine for dinner. We were disappointed we didn't see more enroute, but it took our fisherman four hours in a morning, then four hours in an afternoon to check his lobster pots on days he went out; and this after a long day in construction, so you really have to be keen to put shellfish on offer.

It has been foggy and cool enough most days to want soup for lunch. One memorable soup on offer at an otherwise unremarkable pub we visited happened to be roasted parsnip, apple and cider. This soup was so supreme we cannot wait to get home and attempt it ourselves.

We have skipped though Wales faster than anticipated, as the weather, while fine temperature-wise most days, is foggy. In the north the early morning fog started lifting around lunch time, but down south it seems set in for the season. Add that to the housing stock and it becomes gloomy. So, with visibility down to a car length, photography in the fog is not so much fun, so we point the motorhome towards to the West Country, hoping for better views.