TRAVELmAN WALES: Beware The Fit Walkers of Snowdonia! Beware! Bewaaaare....

On the recommendation of a young Englishwoman who was traveling around England planting trees, I traveled up to Snowdonia, Wales. It was a nine hour bus ride from Oxford and well worth it. In the near to eight months I’ve been touring the world, it’s one of my favorite places I’ve had the pleasure of visiting.

The National Express Bus Company dropped me off in Bangor, Wales just after seven in the evening. It was a small town that seemed to close up early. It was 7:30 and the two coffee shops I found were putting up chairs and locking doors.

The wind seemed to blow harder and colder. “Same, same, but different,” the common saying from S.E. Asia, crossed my mind. I needed to charge my phone and get on wifi to figure out my local bus route to my hostel in Llanberis.

It was so much colder than I’d expected. Every gust of wind gave me a stinging reminder of the appropriateness of the “chill” in the term wind chill . Eventually I found a a bar and grill. They charged my phone behind the bar, the bartender found my bus route on his phone and gave me directions to the station. He was astoundingly friendly.

I’d need to double time it if I was to make the next bus in five minutes time, so I decided to try their lasagna and take the following bus an hour later.

I took that bus, missed my stop, had to wait until it turned around to get back to that stop, and was finally dropped on the side of a dark road at ten pm. Google maps told me to walk down a walking path to get to my hostel.

Even with my phone lit, I could barely see the path in front of me, but I arrived at my destination after a five minute walk. I thought of the classic Jon Carpenter movie An American Werewolf in London. I didnt want to die in a werewolf attack or become an American werewolf in Llanberis (Pronounced “Thanberis” like you have a heavy lisp, or most English outside of Wales say “Clanberis”).

I found the hostel without encountering anything but unexpected puddles.

Ted ran the place. He lived in the trailer behind the big blue house. My bunk was in the bunk room a short walk from the house. It was basically a long shed with twelve bunks inside. A table, chairs, another table with a microwave and small fridge atop and underneath it, and eleven other travelers were all inside.

I wasn’t too keen on the set-up, nor the fact that I needed to walk outside and down the drive to use the toilet but I was exhausted, so I climbed into my narrow top bunk, closed my eyes and fell asleep immediately.

I awoke in the morning determined to find a better place. The bunk room had no wifi and I was unsure of the password or reliability of the connection near the big blue house, so I decide to hightail it into town and figure out my future.

I found Ted in his trailer. Ted was about sixty, thin, but in a fit way, and friendly. He showed me walking trails on a large map he spread across his trailer floor. They didn’t call it trekking or hiking in this area. They called it walking. And tourists who came to walk were referred to as walkers. For me, it brought up images of The Walking Dead and Game of Thrones. Beware the walkers!

I wasn’t much interested in walking but Ted was being a good host. I was vague with him about my plans because I didn’t want to insult him by saying I didn’t care for his place. I told him I needed to go into town have some breakfast with wifi and make some plans. He told me it was best to walk along the river path. It was a forty minute walk to town, another reason to move on.

I tried to pay for the previous evening but he didn’t take credit cards. He said that he’d like to go into town for a coffee anyway, so he’d give me a ride to Pete’s Eats. We had to wait fifteen minutes for his car to charge. It was an old hatchback that spent the evenings locking and unlocking itself, thus draining the battery.

On the way into town we got acquainted. He had traveled xtensivley when he was younger, had lived in Zambia for three months, his children were now grown, he was long divorced, and he was thinking of selling his place in the next year, retiring, and moving back to Zambia.

I told him my story, on the road eight months, looking to start staying in one place for an extended period, as he had done in Zambia, and I was in Snowdonia because it was recommended. They didn’t get many Americans up there.

He told me he used to manage Pete’s Eats and that they’d hire me for temp work because they’re always looking for summer help. He said it’s a nice place to rest for a spell, the people are kind, it’s a poor community, “Which is probably why they’re kinder.” He said. “Plenty of good walks around as well.”

I told him I’d keep it in mind.

We parked in front of Pete’s, I found a cash machine directly across from it, and then rejoined Ted in line inside the very busy Pete’s Eats. I paid him. He talked to the cashier, small talk, about her boyfriend and the walks he’d led recently. The entire scene felt like idyllic, smalltown America. I would not have been shocked if Sheriff Andy Taylor and Deputy Barney Fife walked in for a cup of tea- Mayberry in Wales...

I ordered a coffee, Ted ordered his and insisted on buying mine as well. We said goodbye, he wished me well, and I went into the other part of the dining room to plan my day.

I sat and marveled at how nice Ted had been to me. I wondered what it was I’d done and said in our short interaction that made him seem to like me, at least enough to buy me a coffee.

Five minutes later, Ted reappeared and told me that if I need anything to give him a ring, and If I decided to stick around for a few days I was welcome back at the Bunkhouse- “On the House. You’re a fellow traveler, know how it is, and all. Give you some time to get your bearings.”

After walking around Llanberis that morning, I began to consider his offer of a bunk, as well as the lead on a job at Pete’s.

To be continued....

!steemitworldmap 53.1220 lat 4.1273 long Beware the Walkers of Snowdonia, Wales, d3scr