Welsh Tour Blog 2021 part 1

Written by Gar Cole.

​A full 12 months to the day that we originally planned to visit Wales it was now finally here in 2021. This was to be an experimental tour for us. Rather than having one base campsite or hotel that we returned to every night we planned to stay in 3 different hotels over three nights at different destinations;  Barmouth, Cardigan and Llanwrtyd Wells respectively.

We had been very disappointed that the Museum of Internal Fire Power would still not be open,  housing a fantastic selection of large steam and diesel engines it promised to be a 'highlight' of the tour. Despite being closed to the public for 13 months they had somehow fallen behind with maintenance and were not ready to reopen on the 21st as they had been advertising on their website.  Undeterred, the plan was to meet at Telford Services on the Friday morning on the way to Barmouth.
 
We originally had a very healthy 20 cars booked for the tour but life gets in the way and by the Friday of departure we were down to just 8 cars,  however we were being joined by Thomas Griffiths and his wife Gloria for the first time. TG had kept it quiet what he was bringing and as the rest of us gathered for a coffee and chat at the busy services a very tasty looking Morgan Aero 8 rumbled past us with both passengers looking at us. Ian Woodward leaned into me saying, "Is that the Griffiths?".  To which I replied, "I sure hope so with a car like that!". It was them and introductions having been made they very patiently waited while the rest of us had a good drool over the Morgan.
 
Keen to get going I told everyone to enter the postcodes of their respective hotels into the sat navs; I knew they would all have the codes as I had supplied all this information weeks before.  Several sets of blank stares looked at me similar to how sheep do when you honk the horn. Off we set for Barmouth with instructions to stay on my bumper. 

I had pre-programmed the route to avoid the congestion-filled A5 and to take us through the picturesque and hidden small villages on the alternative route.  This worked very well for all of 10 minutes until I crossed an island only to see in my rear view view mirror Phil, Brian and Thomas all turn left and go in a different direction.  "It's going to be a long weekend" I muttered as I carried on my way with just Ian and Anthony & Pat following me. However all was well as we found each other again several miles later at the natural habitat of the V8 classic,  the nearest fuel station.  With tanks refuelled and onboard buffets restocked we headed for Barmouth.

The Intrepid Eight
(click to enlarge images)

Phil Allin with "Big Rov"

Brian Allison in his newly acquired and immaculate 3.6 Sovereign called 'Lizzie'

Nick Arthur & Jo Tait in the Jensen Interceptor

Ian & Jonathon Woodward in 'Granny' - MK2 2.8 Ghia Estate

Anthony & Pat Osborne in the MGB roadster

Andy Perman in his 1500 VDP

Thomas & Gloria Griffiths in the Morgan Aero 8 (4.8 V8 )

My trusty pre-mill MK1 Mondeo LX Auto (Barry) filling in admirably for my 72 Triumph 2000 which is awaiting a diff repair.

 The rest of the journey passed without incident apart from a few sat nav shenanigans finding the hotels in Dollgellau,  a theme that would recur but more of that later. We checked into our hotels having arranged to meet in Barmouth at the Harbour Fish Bar. This place had been recommended to us wholeheartedly by Graham Adams despite not actually being on the tour himself.  Of course Graham had checked that this place had reopened since Covid before sending us all there in the pouring rain - hadnt he?
 
After we found an OPEN restaurant we settled down to some locally-caught fish n chips as we admired the pouring rain and empty fairground rides outside (did I imagine that item on the news that the globe had just had its hottest July on record?). Our later arrivals joined us, introductions were made and all seemed well except ... I had noticed that Gloria Griffiths looked a tad bothered by something.

​It turned out the hotel booked for them had fallen some way short of its 4 star rating, especially the worn out interior of their room.  Not wanting their first tour with us to be spoiled by this I suggested they have my double room at the hotel we were staying at in Dollgellau and I'd bunk in with Ian and his lad Jonathon. It was a triple room with 3 beds so being the gentlemen they are they agreed so we could let the Griffiths stay in a better location.   Now my reputation for loud snoring and other noises precedes me but they said, "Ahh it's only one night".

Needless to say by 3am I was awoken by Ian swearing as he disappeared outside the room.  Feeling awful I turned over and quickly fell asleep again. I awoke again at 6am to see Ian's bed still empty; I thought he may have fallen asleep in the bathroom but it was empty. I peered out of the chalet door to see Ian sitting on the bench under the veranda,  rain pouring down and him with a face like a smacked bottom. Ominously I saw a post on Facebook that read, "Gar Cole: NEVER AGAIN!".

​Moods improved as the customary full English (or Welsh) breakfasts were consumed to the background sound of pouring rain.  Overnight I had posted online the 6 sat nav codes for Saturday's drive from Barmouth to Cardigan. The route included 3 stops, a  pre-booked lunch and a final stop at Cardigan Island. What could possibly go wrong? 

Leaving Barmouth beach in convoy I planned to shorten our journey by crossing the 150 year-old Penmaenpool bridge, saving us 7 miles going the long way around. We had pre-arranged for Jonathon Woodward to run across the bridge first and film us coming across. 6 miles outside Barmouth we made the turn onto the little toll road leading to the bridge.

I sat for a few mins expecting to see Jon and his camera run past and cross the bridge. Then I ventured out and walked the length of the 7 car convoy but there was no sign of the Granada estate. With rain pouring down my face I called Ian to see if they missed the turn.  "Umm errrr sorry mate we won't be at the bridge. Jon has left his boots in the wardrobe at the hotel and we are heading back to Dollgellau.  We will catch up with you at Tywyn beach".
 
I'm not saying I swore badly in both English and Welsh, but even the seagulls gave me a shocked look.

 
To be continued.