Jeremiah Watt

The Farmhouse as it stands after we leave.............not sure after that

We make our way back to the Farm House the previous night with some degree of trepidation since the Pack Horse bridge is said to be as deep/flooded as any citizens under 100 can remember……….we are most worried about getting out of this little Welsh valley on the only road left open to us……………….

We ask our host, Connor to rouse us just a little earlier hoping that we can have some time to make our way out of the rain drop dilemma. The breakfast greets us with yet more rain, and two guests that we had as of yet not met. Apparently this young just married couple arrived while we were at the pub eating. They told us of their own struggles with making it this far up into Wales coming from the south. About how many roads had been washed out, and how many river banks had run their confines only to spill out over the road ways and leave motorists stranded and looking for lodging rather unexpectedly. The news they brought to our tympanic membranes was not a welcome one I can assure you. I guess thie was also the first day in which an Ulster Fry had lost its charm, and without saying it many of us felt it………..we are ready for something different.

This will give you a good view of how swollen the river had become.

Wew found the going from this small farm town to be rather shall we say, drenched. As we can see the Pack Horse bridge has been overrun with the swollen waters of this tiny river. The houses that lines its banks are busy pumping some 2-3 feet of water out of the lowest floors. Like every one else, we stood around like tourists, and watched the river flow swiftly by us, as Land Rover after Land Rover made its way across the bridge and up the street……………….causing further flooding and angering the house owners, till somebody put up a road block.

The situation is rather dim for all the houses that flank the fast rising creek/river.

Finally we are off in a spray of rain drops and muck from under the rear tires, and from here we are headed to a mythical place known as Penrose Farm. It was 1895 when an English Farm boy packed his meager belongings into a swag which he mounted over his shoulder and made his way from England to the “Promised Land” and the homesteads that were being handed out in Canada, to be more precise, the Province of Saskatchewan. This 17 year old boy would in time become the Great -Great Grandfather of my wife Colleen. The brother to this same young man, at the age of 16 would later cross the Atlantic on the Lusitania before it would be sunk by the Germans. He would farm in southern Saskatchewan for his life time along side his older brother, and would live to see 106 years of age. This is a testimony that speaks of the strength not of these two men, but rather a testimony to the strength of character instilled in many young men at this time………..and today our same young men whine about having to work in the summer and not having the newest latest wildest video game……………WOW, have we ever blown it.

For this poor fellow its a day or more of water pumping ...........too bad.

Penrose Farm, the original house, and the original farm still exists today, a testimony I guess in some ways to the saving ways of an English culture, one in which old is cherished and saved and new is introduced into that which is old. The house today is occupied by a young couple with “chillen”, and certainly it takes on a new demeanor from the days that GGGF left it, yet, it stands as a testimony none the less. Sitting high on a row of barren grass covered hills does this small farm, with rock fence edifices that stand even today stating its willingness to contain and protect all that are placed in its walls. Clouds skip and skim like Frisbee’s over the hills, rain rivulets run wild, replenishing the life which sustains the life stories of who knows how many generations going forward from here, each with a story to tell, each as compelling as the other. My wife would loved to have taken a look around the inside of the house for “posterities sake” but she simply wouldn’t fit through the bathroom window!

Free and clear at last to unleash the Swedish Road Rocket on the English countryside.............rev er'up boys and crank the ZZ Top

Poochy Maggie, if there was a way to make a living, JW would be here

On our way from Llandrindod Wells, to Trent-Tower Castle Home. This stop proved to be rather a fun one since it was a living history presentation and not just a walk and look stop. The rain pelted us from Parking lot to Belfry, we covered the items we wished not to get wet and made the dash for the front gates and the warmth of a hearth fire. As we made the dash from our 1 car parking lot, room for 200 or so more, but just us today, we are greeted by the sounds of a Mariachi………………oops, scratch that, just some English in Sombreros playing the typical music of the day. You know some Queen, and the Who, with a little Beetles thrown in for fun. The multi-stringed Lute, and a Flute backed by a Bodram made up the majority of the instruments today, the dancers are doing a Quadrille on 4 pairs……………..if this music was played in Arkansas we would al be doing a Hen&Rooster Scratch, or maybe a Shotiss. Those folks in the south really butcher a fine French word.

Some farmers moving thiere little band of sheep.

I walked to the kitchen area, where four cooks are working to prepare a meal that would be the type served to a Lord from this kitchen. We had a couple of salads, and a serving of meats like Rabbit, and Duck done on a spit in the fire place. Along with this was new potatoes done in gravy, and some fresh bread with sprigs of thyme in it. The kitchen was huge, and the fire place some 10-12 feet in width , having a central fire and from that a cook would remove coals as needed to heat the bread oven, and bank coals to roast meats on the hand turned rotisserie. Chickens and what not dot the lawns about, even venturing into the kitchen area at times, only to be chased out by the cook till some later date when there services would be needed.

Angus and Hamish, farmers amongst the Yorkshire Dales

I will tell you now that I had one real goal for myself, while I traveled in the UK. I wanted to see that typical scene from the travel books, one in which a car is halted on an overly narrow road by a man his faithful dog and a band of sheep. Today would be my closest encounter of that type. A band of sheep was being moved down an excessively narrow road, by two men in a Tractor, along with 2 dogs sitting in the tractor with them. Just had to stop and talk to them as they ran the Ewes into a new field through a Stone wall gate. I got out of the car and introduced myself too Hamish and Angus, my God what great names. Can you imagine if you had twins over here…………..why you could have Hamish & Haggis…………..or you could have Aberdeen & Angus.

My wifes ancestral home, at least one one side of it.

I had a good visit with these two heavy handed individuals, you could see the effects of hard work on every part of there substantial frame. There was no pudge attained by Mall walking on these two, these guys walk plenty of hills, and lamb in the open Fells of this area. They restack rock walls that fall from age or the indiscretion of teenage youth, they follow the black& white ruff of a darting Collie dog thru river and Gorse to tend their Sheep and move their cows. Two brothers on one farm, some 435 acres, this they tell me is rather large for these parts. They run 1100 Ewe’s on top of this they run some 150 head of cows and calves. They hold over all of their calves till they turn 2, and fatten them on grass in the high country up in the Heather and Gorse, this helps keep the hills in deeper grass they say. On top of all that, they produce almost all of their own Haylage and grain on this acreage. I am totally amazed at the productivity. They put down no artificial Nitrogen, but spread liquid manure every week. They own no motor cycles, nor quads, nor horses, they preffer to walk and move livestock by way of dogs, which they each keep some 4-5 of at all times. Apparently the Gorse is tough on the dogs paws, and each needs to take a break in the summer months. By the way, the dog that is being held onto would have gladly eaten my leg if not held………….thanks Hamish.

The Hen & Rooster Scratch dance................olf English RAVE party.

The skies break and we roll right into Carephilly Castle, the largest Castle in southern Wales. It has amazing Motes around it, some as large as 100 or so feet in width and 25 feet deep, lined with rock and hand dug. The problem is that on this rain laden day, there is a Wedding taking place, and when the clouds momentarily part, it is beseeched by Wedding Photographers. We are simply out numbered, and out of respect for their day of bliss, we make our way out of the castle and on down the road.

The cooks working up a few salads and a rabbit dish.

Making our way south towards the river Severn……………not sure if I swam in this one while riding across Utah last year on my bike or not? We stop to take in the Cardiff Castle, in Cardiff by the Sea, and what a gorgeous Castle this was. I think the rock wall that surrounded it, with the imposing stone animals that had mounted the wall to GLARE at all passersby, their goal to intimidate and cause fright, was the most impressive feature. Each animal was so lifelike, each having colored glass eyes, each with hackles raised and teeth barred…………very realistic.

Butt up and head down, slaving over a hot hearth.

Cardiff Castle was a guided tour, and a no camera Castle. Well maintained with plenty to see that was impressive. The tour took a total of about an hour, it was fun to be able to listen to the tour for a change, rather than having to keep my camera going. We walk the streets of Cardiff for a few blocks in several directions, but nothing caught our eyes nor our Wallets so off to Bristol we go making our last stop in this harbor town for the night.

Very little of this huge castle has been tore apart by the ravages of war, except for one of the watch towers as you can see here.

We find our Hostel first, not bad and pretty clean as Hostels go. It’s a 6 man room that we have all to our selves tonight. The extra bed proved to be a good place for the kids to lay out their considerable stash of LOOT, with countless key chains, Shot Glasses, Wool Blankets of numerous Tartans, woolen scarves of Footballers colors, Sghian Dubhs and Tams.

Poochy Maggie, am I hungry. So, I ask my young charges if they are the same and if so are they up to a walk towards city center so we can see the night sites of Bristol and get something to eat. We are off with very little complaint, and mostly empty bellies. We walk some 8 – 10 blocks and make our way down to the rivers edge, now at low tide at the oceans edge, so the river looks to be rather empty of water. City center is a bustling place, full of high heels and Clubs, long legs and colored lights…………….makes me glad I don’t have my nephew Walker with me. We check out several Cafes and Restaurants as we walk, we have nothing in mind really as far as what we want to eat tonight, so the walk is a much fun as it the guessing as to where we will finally come to roost and eat.

Rock walls and moats, make this an imposing edifice to conquer

Beasts that protect and threaten the weak hearted who approach

It’s settled, we will sit on a barge so to speak, out on the river Severn. The Spy Glass will be our place of culinary refuge for the eve, now lets see what we can have from this manu. It appears to be a very HIP/CHIC place to eat, we see many young couples show up in Club outfits a little more daring than what my wife wore on her Honeymoon night. Sorry, I was a little distracted I really didn’t intend to sit in my fish when I came back from the bathroom. We had Duck in Saffron Sauce, some Lamb and Tunisian Rice, a Seafood Salad and ,Fish and Chips. Topped of the supper with a cheese cake for Mom and I to split and the kids shared a Chocolate Fondue and fruit plate. Was a good stop, we enjoyed the ambience, had a cup of coffee each and took a leisurely walk back to our Hostel Room at about 11.30. Believe me; sleep came easy for all of us.

Cardiff Castle as it is seen from the rock hold.

Good Night and God Bless

The Bristol Cathedral as it can be seen from the high rock walls of the Cardiff Castle

The busy streets of downtown Bristol, by 10pm the clubs are just starting to pump life into the limp bodies of the clubbers who arrive

The walk along the river was a real pretty one, even though it was raining a tad