Welsh Tour Blog 2021 Part 2

Written by Gar Cole.

One thing I'm still learning about when organising trips is time management and leaving enough time between stops. As we headed off from Barmouth we had 4 hours to cover 78 miles; no problem at all - 18 miles an hour with quick stops to regroup.

So the scheduled 9.30am start went out the window as we headed off around 10am. After crossing the Penmaenpool bridge things started to improve; the rain eased off somewhat and the mists started to lift. As we travelled along the coastal road the scenery became even better. The roads were great; stone-walled twisty lanes revealed fantastic view after view across the estuaries and bays.

The stretch of road between Barmouth and Tywyn beach is highly recommended to everyone. Anthony Osborne seemed to be having a great time in the MGB throwing it around the corners and I'm sure a few of us spotted some understeer/oversteer flicks on some of the bends.

Arriving at Tywyn beach carpark we were greeted by another terrific sea view and the picturesque promenade but before I could even say, "Just 5 mins here chaps" the convoy's occupants had scattered -  some went for fuel,  most for a wee and some for coffee and ice cream. I felt the schedule slipping faster than Prince Andrew's popularity rating.
 
Our lunch was pre-booked at a coastal pub and they had asked for us to arrive promptly at 1.30pm.  It was already 11.30am and I was shocked to see it was another hour to our next stop at the Rheidol hydro dam and Visitor Centre plus another hour's drive back to the lunch venue. Fearing a mutiny and rebellion if the gang wasn't fed every few hours, I made the decision to forego the Dam visit. Brian, Anthony and I aren't the most able-bodied of explorers and with the almost 1 mile walk from the carpark to the dam this seemed a sensible option.

Upon informing the rest of the gang, Phil in Big Rov and Andy in the VDP decided they still wanted to see the dam and would go alone.  Wondering if they had invented a time machine I pointed out the time left to lunch but both decided they would risk losing lunch in favour of the dam. I told the others of their plans including Brian in the Jaguar,  who nodded at me like he'd heard and understood,  so I then watched open-mouthed as he followed Doc Brown and Marti McFly in the Rover and VDP on their jaunt! Brian has agreed to bring his new hearing aids on the next tour.

We headed off minus 3 cars towards Borth beach and our lunch stop further on respectively. It was quite sad to see the state of these small coastal towns - many lovely old granite stone pubs had been boarded up, shops and visitor centres the same. You could really see the devastating effect Covid has had on the tourism industry - none more so than in Borth itself.

Very little was open; it was dead quiet considering this was the holiday period and the only thing happening was an idiot boy racer thrashing his diesel eurobox up and down the promenade.  After getting a few shots of our cars we decided to head for lunch.  Sat nav said 19 miles - 40 minutes getting us there at 1.20pm. The landlord had already phoned me to ensure we were coming and I assured him we were on our way and not to worry.

Shortly after our departure we were passed by 2 police cars at high speed that were going in our direction. 10 mins later my traffic warning popped up to say the route to our pub was now 'Black' and the road was blocked. I quickly pressed it to reroute the convoy. Unfortunately the new route would take another hour, getting us to the pub for 2.15pm. I signalled to turn left not right at the upcoming island so I could pull over to inform the gang and phone the pub. Just as we got to the island the "Dam Busters"  consisting of the Jag and VDP crossed the island directly towards the accident. I pulled over feeling the vein in the side of my forehead bulging.

At this point nearly everyone's satnav and phone signals started to drop in and out,  giving wildly different routes and arrival times to the pub. I made a grovelling phone call to the pub to tell the owner we'd be 45 mins late; he was far polite than I expected but informed us they had wanted us there at 1.30pm as they were closing at 2pm and no they wouldn't stay open waiting for us.

Fearing the no-dinner mutiny could soon turn violent, I had to think fast. Lunch was lost so i told everyone to put the code for our final stop into the navs - Cardigan Island Park Farm. I knew this place had a large car park, full facilities and a big restaurant that served food all day. Only one person had a signal but that was good enough,  at which point Thomas "4.8 V8" Griffiths informed us that he was "Running on fumes".

The nearest fuel station was 8 miles away up some steep mountain roads,  so I told everyone to stay together, make sure Thomas got fuel and we would then all drive together to Cardigan Island. Everyone agreed (yep no problem Gar, you're the man Gar,   following you Gar) etc etc. Having set the fuel station as the next destination on the nav we set off.

A quarter of a mile later, 5 of the 8 cars turned off behind me and took a different route. At that point I started feeling like I was either in the Twilight Zone or Groundhog Day. Despite this we carried on, filled up the Morgan and were rewarded with a fantastic drive across the mountains which took us past the Devils Bridge Waterfalls and ironically the Internal Fire Museum that we had planned to visit if only it had been open.

​Thankfully everyone did eventually arrive at Cardigan Island; I could say it was a relief, but i think the following photo says it all:

By the grace of the Welsh Gods the much needed refreshments were top notch at the Farm Park and slowly smiles started to return (including mine). We headed off on the short drive to our 3 different hotels/B&Bs which I'm pleased to say were all lovely and we took a much needed power nap after check in (well I did!).
 
Being in Welsh Wales we decided to try some local fare. At our hotels restaurant I had a stunning trio of lamb chops and Jon had pork & leek sausages with mash - comfort food that was much needed after the days driving. I phoned the other tourers to enquire if they were also sampling local Welsh fare in the town?  "No, we're in the curry house" came the reply, "actually the curry boat, a floating restaurant in the Cardigan estuary". 

We parked up the cars for the night and went for a few drinks at the lively Black Lion in the town centre,  where we were joined by our group photographer Paul Cheetham,  who had braved an 8-hour journey from London so he could join us on the Sunday tour.

Tales were swapped, pints downed and laughs a-plenty ensued. By around 10pm I noticed Ian could barely keep his eyes open,  so I signalled his lad Jon and we took him back to the hotel.  Apparently some inconsiderate person had kept him awake the previous evening by snoring rather loudly (see Part 1 here if you don't know who it was).
 
To be concluded in part 3