Exploring Caernarfon and Beaumaris: Castles and Corgis

Wednesday, March 12, 2025

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me…

This is not the first birthday I’ve spent away from home, but it still feels weird, although not in a bad way. Even though he doesn’t need to, Grant tries to make it less so with a birthday card in Welsh (the sales assistant assured him the words did say happy birthday), some Celtic silver and onyx earrings I’d seen and liked in Tenby, and a set of Mason and Cash measuring bowls he sneakily bought at Portmeirion while I was off using the loo. He’s a keeper.

It had snowed overnight and the lovely dusting on the craggy peaks in Eryri (Snowdonia) made the already stunning scenery even more stunning. It really is country where it’s easy to believe that dragons do exist.

As we drove along the valley towards Caernarfon, a couple of low-flying F-number planes roared through, reminding us of that time in a misty Glencoe almost thirty years ago when the same thing happened.

It’s cold in Caernarfon with a “feels like” temperature of zero. Brrrr. We don parkas, scarves and beanies and leave the warmth of the car to go in search of coffee – and to have a peek at the castle.

Edward I of England conquered northern Wales and made it a principality in 1284 (the heir to the English throne has carried the title Prince of Wales pretty much ever since). In order to “pacify” the Welsh, Edward (who we saw in action in Braveheart) began building castles in which he installed his own loyal nobles. Caernarfon Castle was one of these.

Standing proudly on the banks of the River Seiont, Castell Caernarfon is recognised as one of the greatest buildings of the Middle Ages. As the seat of the English government in Wales, it was vitally important to Edward I and needed to be imposing.

At around the same time, the town walls were built – also at great expense. There’s a plaque outside the castle that tells us how, for 200 years, Welsh people were not allowed to live within the town walls or linger after dark.

Once Henry Tudor (who had been born at Pembroke Castle) was on the throne, hostilities with the English ceased somewhat, so the castle was no longer needed and fell into decline. It is, however, where the current King Charles III was invested as Prince of Wales in 1969.

Back in the car we crossed the Menai Bridge to Anglesey in search of the namesake of the final corgi on this tour – Beaumaris.

Before I tell you about Beaumaris, the town, a little about Beaumaris the corgi – number three in the corgi running order and possibly the most iconic of them all.

I clearly remember the day we got him. We were living in Merriwa (so it must have been around 1977) and Mum and Dad piled us all into the car – a maroon Kingswood station wagon – for the 200-odd kms drive over to Dubbo to where we were picking him up from a breeder.

We thought he looked like the cartoon fox, Basil Brush and was the fastest dog that ever lived.

Like many corgis, Beau thought he was taller and tougher than he was. Also, like many corgis, he still had the herding instinct his breed had been originally instilled with and would chase anything and everything. He’d even “round up” schoolbags, shopping bags, whatever, and guard them. Corgis, bred to nip at the heels of whatever it is they’re herding, can also tend to nip people, and Beau certainly had never lost that instinct. Just ask my father and my youngest sister.

Back to the town…where the “feels like” temp is now -2.

Originally a Viking settlement (Beaumaris was known as Porth y Wygyr, Port of the Vikings) the town’s development really began when, late in the 13^th century, Beaumaris Castle was commissioned by Edward I as part of the chain of fortifications he was building around the North Wales coast (Caernarfon was one of these …).

The castle was built on a marsh, and that’s why the Norman-French builders christened it beaux marais, or fair marsh.

Anyways, unlike Caernarfon, Beaumaris Castle was never finished – budget issues and troubles with Scotland got in the way of that. It is, however, beautiful.

We had a good lunch at the George and Dragon – a pub dating back to the 15^th century. I had macaroni cheese with a salad and garlic bread made with wild garlic. Grant had leek and wild garlic soup and a side of chips. If I hadn’t been so happy with my so-bad-for-me-but-so-good macaroni cheese I would have had food envy.

Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch

On the way back we drove through the village with the longest name – Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch. As for what it means? Originally the town had a shorter, easier to pronounce name: Llanfairpwllgwyngyll. In the 1880s, in a joking attempt to attract tourists, a tailor added the rest of the syllables, bringing the total length to 58 letters, including four letter L’s in a row. Roughly translated, it’s a descriptive (as these things often are): St. Mary’s Church in the hollow of white hazel near a rapid whirlpool and the Church of St. Tysilio near the red cave.”

For those interested in this sort of thing, Llanfair PG doesn’t have the longest town name in the world. That title belongs to Krungthepmahanakornamornratanakosinmahintarayutthayamahadilokphopnopparatrajathaniburiromudomrajaniwesmahasatharnamornphimarnavatarnsathitsakkattiyavisanukamprasit, a town in Thailand. This means something like: the city of angels, the great city, the eternal jewel city, the impregnable city of God Indra, the grand capital of the world endowed with nine precious gems, the happy city, abounding in an enormous Royal Palace that resembles the heavenly abode where reigns the reincarnated god, a city given by Indra and built by Vishnukarma. It is also, usually, shortened to “Krung Thep”, or “City of Angels” and the original name of the city of Bangkok. Bet you weren’t expecting that.

There’s another one in New Zealand – more of a hill, really – near Hawkes Bay, which is the longest place name in any English-speaking country. Taumata­whakatangihanga­koauau­o­tamatea­turi­pukaka­piki­maunga­horo­nuku­pokai­whenua­ki­tana­tahu translates roughly as “the summit where Tamatea, the man with the big knees, the slider, climber of mountains, the land-swallower who travelled about, and played his flute to his loved one”.

More views on the way home – this part of the country really is massive and stunning.

Dinner tonight was back at the Waterloo. While Grant had the same thing he had last night (why mess with a good thing), I had a pizza – chilli beef, mozzarella, red onions and jalapenos. It was a good choice.

In other news, a road crew was noisily working outside until around midnight. For someone who can hear a frog fart in a car on the Bruce Highway 5 kms away, this is not good news. I find my earplugs and take a sleeping tablet. Happy birthday to me. This is 58.

Welsh Cakes

I can’t leave Wales without sharing a recipe for Welsh cakes with you. I usually use the one in Paul Hollywood’s British Baking, but have also made this version by Nigella. It’s a bit of a palaver with all the rolling and so forth, but warm and sprinkled with sugar, it’s easy to forget about the faffery and just enjoy them.

The stats…

Temperature: 1-5

Miles travelled: about 63 miles*

*Even though we work in kms in Australia, all signage in the UK is in miles, so that’s what I’m going with.

These posts are taken directly from my travel journal … you can find the series here.