By Josie Barker
My First Impression:
I feel the world around me completely change as soon as I get out of my economy seat and leave the airport. Somehow, the air in Europe smells a thousand times better than the kind we have back home.
Truthfully, my detour through London was fantastic, but it stood no chance against the phenomenal beauty of Wales. It’s a five-hour drive from London to Barmouth, Wales, but somehow along the way we stumbled upon Warwick Castle and our car ride was cut short. I enjoyed walking around the historic landmark, but I enjoyed arriving at the hotel on Barmouth beach the most. We met with family friends and hauled ourselves onto a small ferry holding eight passengers, and sailed across the estuary to the railway. The Fairbourne Railway holds a special place in my mother’s heart as it was previously owned by her father, John Ellerton. Fairbourne is certainly not the heart of Wales, yet it is fascinating to look at the trains there. We cross the currents and trail along the beach arriving back at the hotel’s beachy front yard.
I seriously didn’t think I was living until I witnessed the golden sand lining Barmouth’s Bay surrounded by the most magnificent pink speckled orange sunset coating the horizon. I grab my mom by the arm, pointing to the rugged green coastline, and force her to accompany me on a trek through the mountains of Wales. We Google the nearest viewpoint, and what was supposed to be a ten-minute walk turns into a two-hour voyage. We eventually reach our destination and find ourselves surrounded by sheep and the most spectacular view. Although Google Maps lists this experience as an eleven-minute walk, in reality, we spent around two hours up in those mountains, you’ll never want to leave once you get to the top. My mother practically has to drag me down the steep, mossy mountains. Truthfully, I could not get myself to abandon this fairytale-like scenery, and I expected a unicorn or some magical beast to pop out at any moment. No place in the world has ever made 50 degree windy weather so appealing as this mountainous country, located on the west coast of Great Britain had. Furthermore, the following morning I had the best waffle of my life, accompanied by the most delicious sausage roll along with spectacular gelato from Portmeirion.
Under the Surface:
My family and I take in the last breath of Barmouth and have our farewell inspection, pillaging the stores full of souvenirs and superb food. We stop at a small candy shop and fill two plastic bags to the brim with sour sweets. My mother talks it up with the owner, a kind old man, and they debate the best flavors of rock (confectionery popular in Wales). Both the candyman and my mother are no newbies when it comes to this odd treat and these veterans conclude that Number 8 rock is the best of all flavors, yet I think all rock tastes terrible. We leave the store with our sugary loot and head over to Llechwedd, Blaenau Ffestiniog. I know the name is a tongue twister, but it was quite beautiful there.
We arrived with the Ellerton-Kerr Clan (the names of both my family and of our family friends’ combined), and we went our separate ways. My mother, brother, and I left to go underground cave-zipplining, while the Kerrs set off to underground-golf, which, although not as rigorous, it’s still fun. I was practically hyperventilating in fear, I was terrified of heights, and convinced the rope would break, leading us to plummet to our death and embrace our cruel fate in a cold cave. Nevertheless, I had so much fun, and I think I was the fastest climber in our bunch. We stopped by Betws-y-Coed for some okay pizza, and some pretty good ice cream, then departed back to England to observe Blists Victorian Village in Telford (a mediocre tourist trap), and then onto Cambridge, and eventually, the airport, sadly. Frankly, I’ve never been as happy as I was in Europe. I hope to return sometime soon, because this hole in my heart keeps getting bigger every second I am away from my Kerr family and Wales.