The country of Wales may only be the size of Massachusetts, but just like its counterpart across the pond, every nook and cranny is full of history.  500-plus castles can be found in this part of the United Kingdom, in various degrees of disrepair and/or restoration, often seen on the hillsides as one speeds down the busy motorways.   I explored four unique castles, and came away amazed at the history and atmosphere of each venue.

A sense of déjà vu at Conwy Castle

The coastal city of Conwy, about 45 minutes drive from Manchester’s airport, proudly displays its old medieval walls, many of which can be walked on like that of the Great Wall of China.  And more conspicuous than the walls is the UNESCO World Heritage Site Conwy Castle.

It was built by Edward I from 1283-1289 at great expense (some £15,000 – equivalent to £15 million today) to help serve as one of his “Iron Ring” castles that helped to keep the English safe in Wales while fortifying his new empire there. The exterior and interior walls remain relatively intact, and I found them to be quite an experience walking through the various rooms from the king’s chamber, dining hall, kitchen, and prison.   I felt as if I were back in medieval times, especially when I went inside the castle chapel, where the soundtrack of Gregorian monks was playing in the midst of displays about Christianity’s role in that time.  I also was fascinated by the countless arrow slits carved into the walls, expecting a shooter to be taking aim.

Two fortified gateways and eight towers help make up the grandness of this place.  Four of them contain high towers where I got stunning views of the city, sea, and Conwy Mountain.   And as I walked up the spiralling staircases to get those views with only the help of ropes to keep me from falling, I could feel a sense of “home sweet home” in each part of the structure.

Stand where Prince Charles once stood at Caernarfon Castle

If you want to know just how hard life was for people long ago, just visit a medieval fortress like Caernarfon Castle  (pictured abobe) on a cold and rainy morning like I did.  As I walked through its long passageways and explored the interior rooms whose walls are still intact some 700 years after being built, the chill and drafts went through my layered clothing to my bones.   Much of the castle walls, both interior and exterior, remain intact from the time they were constructed between 1283-1330.

Charles I fashioned the polygonal and colored band walls (some twenty feet thick) after those of Constantinople to serve as the “capital” of North Wales, even creating a new town, destroying the old Welsh settlement.  Locals were conscripted as manpower, and were paid in silver pennies.

Despite all the expense, many of the plans for it never materialized.  Normally, the castle  had 20-40 people defending it in its early days.   What made the castle easier to defend were the ingenious way that three soldiers with bow and arrows could be stationed to shoot through what appeared on the inside of the castle to be three arrow slits, but in effect, those three arrows would come out through just one slit in the outer wall of this UNESCO World Heritage Site, which survived demolition orders in the 17^th century.

Caernarfon was once a motte and bailey castle (castle on a mound surrounded by a courtyard).  This mound still resides within the courtyard as a dais made of Welsh slate, and was the scene of two Princes of Wales getting their official titles, that being Edward VIII in 1911 and then Prince Charles in 1969.  The northeast tower has an extensive exhibit of those two investitures, including Prince Charles’ BBC telecast.   Prince Charles walked through the Queen’s Gate to greet his subjects, something which I got to do, as a special balcony still remains for photo opps.

Those two investitures have roots of the aftermath of the English conquest.  Edward I helped to stymie some of the resentment by Welsh locals by presenting his firstborn son, Edward II, to them as a prince born in Wales who couldn’t speak any English.  Ironically, the little baby wasn’t given his Prince of Wales title there, but at the Parliament of Lincoln.

In the Eagle Tower, the king would reside when he was in Caernarfon, which was protected above by a cluster of high turrets that can be explored.   The King’s room itself was grand, and did contain a personal chapel and fireplace to help fend off the chill.   The Queen’s Tower also has remnants of nicer accommodations, and it’s here where many artefacts and exhibits on the history of Welsh armies are featured.

Two Awesome castles in Denbighshire 

While the Vale of Clwyd is at the bottom of some incredible footpaths with steep angles going up hundreds of feet in the Clwydian Hills that’ll challenge any hiker, the town of Ruthin (an hour’s drive from Manchester) has a castle with the same namesake Ruthin Castle  that’s located just above the base of the valley.  It sits on grounds once allegedly housing a fort where King Arthur kept a little “love nest” for one of his mistresses dating before the Norman conquest.   But its confirmed date for a standing edifice dates back to 1277, when Edward I secured it for his kingdom against the rebellious Welsh.

Though much of the castle walls remain intact despite the 11 weeks of shelling it withstood during the English Civil War in 1646 along with neglect, improvements were made during and since Queen Victoria’s reign, and which I found not only showed outdoors, but with the décor on the inside that tries to imitate the Victorian Era, especially with the as “trompe l’oeil” wallpaper jobs that can be found in the spacious rooms that contain all the modern conveniences medieval kings would deem as sorcery: big screen TVs, free internet access, and electronic heat control.

I explored what was left of the medieval fortifications by walking around the old walls, and was greeted by some of the 16 peacocks who live there and wail away while the sun is up.  I peeked through the old cooking area, one of the places where apparitions have been spotted, including the “grey lady.”  I went to her creepy gravesite, where she was buried after being executed for killing the lover of her husband, one of the commanders of Edward I.   Unfortunately (or not), I didn’t see any ghosts.

About a 20 minute drive to the north of Ruthin in Denbigh is Denbigh Castle  completed in 1295 for one of the commanders of Charles I, Henry de Lacy.  I found it fascinating to walk around and take in stunning countryside views.  Much of the outer exterior walls exist, including the Grate Gate House (main entrance), kitchen and chamber areas.  I was able to walk on top of some battlements.   A five to ten minute walk took me outside the castle to the Goblin Tower, where some of the castle’s water supply existed, and in which de Lacy’s son fell to his death in, and purportedly haunts it.

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Roy A. Barnes attended a press trip sponsored by Visit Wales  but what he wrote were his own impressions without any scrutiny or vetting by the sponsor.  He writes from southeastern Wyoming, and is long time contributor to the Traveler and Traveler Blog.

The city of Luzern is just a 45 minute train ride from Zurich, one that I found more than worth the effort when experiencing much enchantment and stunning views of the waters and mountainous regions surrounding it.

The Entlebuch’s Enchanted Plums

Residing west of Luzern is the Entlebuch, about 35 minutes by train at the stop called Schupfheim.  It’s made up of eight villages and spans some 154 square miles and contains many of the Alps’ rolling foothills:  roughly one per cent of Switzerland’s land area.  One fourth of this area is now protected moors (highland marshlands), which exuded a pleasantly eerie feeling amidst the fog, making me wonder if any monsters were lurking there.

The first settlers here came in the 11th century, but for the last two centuries, one passed-down fairy tale has captivated the locals involving a plum-like fruit called the Zyberli.  It’s featured in a five year old-plus German book Zyberli-Gschicht.  As a big fan of children’s stories, I got to visit this land, where, according to the story, little people known as the Bargmandli used to pan for gold for their valley masters (Talherrens), and in return for making the latter rich, they would receive the Zyberli fruit.  But this would end as the egotistical Talherrans chopped all the fruit trees down so they could build bigger thrones for themselves, making the little people leave, leaving the Talherrans without more gold.

I started out on the three mile circular trail in the town of Romoos at the Hotel Kreuz, and soon came upon a newly planted Zyberli tree on a lawn.   My path then took me outside the town center to the Forest Gate, where I would then embark on long and winding dirt roads that were wet with dead leaves from a steady drizzle, which I navigated with my walking pole, opening and closing many gates.

Little feet symbols were plastered along the trail to make sure I didn’t get lost, leading me to such places as the school for the Bargmandli, where actual kids convene to get lessons on acting responsible in the forest amidst beautiful and peaceful surroundings that include a natural babbling brook soundtrack.

Fluhi’s Surrounding Natural Magic

Fluhi is on the other side of the Entlebuch, and provided me a great opportunity to see more breathtaking autumn scenery in the Pre-Alps (foothills), ending at Cheesiloch, a canyon with a 130-plus foot drop.   Prior to the path leading directly to the canyon, a 45 minute hike from town begins that has winding roads, cows who love being  photographed (kept apart by a “fence” made of just one rope), and rolling meadows.   The last 30 minutes to the canyon would be one of my most challenging hikes I’ve ever taken.  My walking pole saved the day, for the narrow pathway was sharp and rocky, and drenched with wet maple leaves.  Nature’s soundtrack included hearing the pleasant babbling of the Rotbach stream as I proceeded deeper into the dense evergreen forest with deep drops to the canyon below.

To see the Entlebuch via Romoos, it takes about 40 minutes from Luzern via public transportation.  From Luzern, take a train en route to Wolhusen (first stop towards Bern about 15-20 minutes away), and then the yellow “Post” bus will take you to Romoos in less than 20 minutes.  Fluhi is reachable a little further down the same above-mentioned line at Schupfheim’s train station (about 35 minutes), and then by taking a Post bus to the town, which takes ten minutes.

Dragons Take On the Ghost of Pontius Pilate

I planned to go to the top of Mt. Pilatus via The Golden Round Trip.  I expected to do a good amount of hiking, but steady rainfall in the lower elevations of Luzern and reports of snow up the mountain before I even left town appeared to hamper my day.

I started my Golden Round Trip from Luzern with a free (thanks to my Swiss Pass) 100 minute boat ride on Lake Luzern to Alpnachstad, the base of the 6,995 foot high Mt. Pilatus.  I wasn’t feeling ideal, as my stomach was a bit queasy and my sinuses were clogging up, but nonetheless, I told myself I’d tough it out.   Even though the fog gave way somewhat, the steady drizzle continued amidst the deep valleys that were cut by glaciers in times past.  The boat bounced around from one town to another along multi-finger-like Lake Luzern, which has the look of a dragon’s outline.

Dragons and the Luzern area have had a long mythical love affair, going back to medieval times.  One story from long ago featured a cooper reportedly falling off Mt. Pilatus in wintertime, but he awoke all snug and warm in a dragon’s cave, and was cared for by the dragons until springtime, when the weather warmed up.  It’s said that one can still hear the flapping of a dragons’ wings and see their shadows at fateful times when on the mountain.

The dragons have allegedly survived even as the ghost of Pontius Pilate hasn’t.  Some seven centuries ago, locals were banned from scaling the mountain because of the fierce weather around Lake Oberalp, blamed on Pontius Pilate’s ghost haunting the place.   That is, until the town rose up in 1685 to take on the poltergeist (appearing with gray hair and dressed in purple annually on Good Friday) by “stoning” the lake.  Nonetheless, the weather I was experiencing made me wonder if Pilate’s ghost was doing an encore.

Healing by the Dragons’s “Touch”

My second leg of the “Golden Round Trip” proceeded on the world’s steepest cogwheel railway from Alpnachstad, where us passengers experienced gradients as high as 48 per cent at speeds of about 6-7 mph. Going up, we were surrounded by thick evergreen forests being hammered by rain, then light snow, and then heavier snow as the visibility decreased. But I began to notice something on my ascent:  I wasn’t feeling queasy anymore and my sinuses were clearing up as the 33 minute ride (that’s half price with a Swiss Pass) ascended through several tunnels barely wide enough for the cogway carriages.  The driver masterfully had to navigate the heavier snow amidst sudden jerks and stops.   He laughed even though I was anxious (because there are three braking systems to prevent disaster).

At the top, it was snowing hard and very cold.  Despite the many paths and other activities being closed down, I was able to take on the below freezing temperature and wind chill and walk through a series of tunnels in the mountain called the Drachenwag.  The tunnels kept me from getting wetter, but not colder.  But alas, I felt such a high even though the openings in the tunnels showed little as the snow-covered mountains became whiter.  Still, my venture upwards to the dragon’s mythical homeland made me feel better, along with some delicious hot vegetable soup and some green tea-flavored Swiss cola called Rivella in one of the area’s diners.

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Pictures credit to Roy A. Barnes and may not be used without permission.

Disclosure: Roy A. Barnes attended a press trip sponsored by Switzerland Tourism  but what he wrote were his own impressions without any scrutiny of the press trip sponsor.   He’s a frequent contributor to the Traveler Blog, writing from southeastern Wyoming.  

The road was only a dirt lane leading up to the house.  We huffed and puffed our way past cows lowing in the fields at the dairy farm nearby.  The calves lying close to the fence started and darted away as we approached. Then, we ran past more fields with horses swatting flies with their thick brown tails.    On occasion we would hear a car or tractor off in the distance.  For the most part, we were alone with the steady pounding of our feet.

We were in Moyen, Belgium,  which is in the French speaking region of Eastern Wallonia in the Semois Valley near the French border.

A good, long run, followed by a hearty breakfast feeds the soul like nothing else, which is one of the reasons we came here. We wanted to “rest” on this vacation—mentally as well as physically. We did not want to fill our days rushing around crowded tourist sites trying to squeeze in everything in a few days. We were looking for a “local” experience.

We found Le Charmois, a lovingly restored nineteenth century farmhouse resting on several acres of pastoral land in the Belgian Lorraine. According to DK’s Eyewitness Travel Book on Belgium—a most unlikely place to find such a quaint bed and breakfast.  Normally the best B&B’s are found by stumbling upon them, not scouring guidebooks. Luck was on our side when we booked the reservation by calling directly to the farmhouse.“No, problem,” said Frans in his heavily accented English. The caretaker of Le Charmois went on to tell me the week was very light indeed, and we would be the only guests on the premises.  Prices were 80 Euros per night for two people including breakfast.

When we arrived, Le Charmois far exceeded our expectations. We were greeted warmly by the caretakers and shown to a lovely guestroom on the second floor. Although simply decorated, the room was charming and very comfortable with fluffy down comforters and pillows on the bed. A rocking chair was placed casually by the window with an exceptionally pleasing view. Our room overlooked the front of the farmhouse and gave us a picturesque view of rolling hills and green pasturelands dotted with cattle.

The stillness was almost overwhelming. We heard a lonely train whistle off in the distance with the clickety-clack of the wheels rolling along the rails.  An open door beckoned us across the hall to another room. The view of the valley below was even more spectacular than the one from our room. Rooftops brushed across the landscape in small clusters where quaint hamlets were positioned along the Semois.  Small farms peaked from behind trees clumped together. The sky seemed endless. We had found the perfect place for our relaxation vacation.

What a pleasant surprise to find our bathroom was not the size of a closet, which is common in European guesthouses. All the utilities were perfectly and conveniently installed inside a comfortable sized bathroom.  Everything necessary for our comfort was provided.

Though the farmhouse had a rustic feel, the public rooms, guestrooms, and bathrooms, and furnishings had a comfortable flair. The focal point of the large common room was the big stone fireplace with wood and kindling stacked conveniently nearby. The room shared a living area and a farmhouse table, which seated 30 people. While no cable was provided in the guest rooms or the common room, a large flat screen television was nestled near the sofa for movie watching along with a selection of DVDs. The farmhouse also boasted an excellent WiFi connection, which made it very easy to check emails and call our family on Skype.

One evening, on a particularly rainy day, the caretaker came in and built a big fire for us. The temperatures had dropped due to the weather even though it was August. Imagine that!  A roaring fire in the middle of the summer!

Each morning a European style breakfast greeted us at the end of the long dining table. Frans drove daily to neighboring Chiny, a little hamlet down the road, to pick up fresh bread and meats for breakfast. Croissants, jambon, yogurt, Nutella, and cheeses were served along with an array of jams and coffee or tea. We especially enjoyed the fresh apple juice from the apple orchard on the farm. We ate each morning gazing out of the paned windows which overlooked a lovely brick patio area with lounge chairs and tables.

The nearby town of Florenville, just minutes away by car, provided a place for dining and light grocery shopping. We wandered through the grocery aisles searching for breads, meats, wines, and, of course, Belgium beer. We found multiple cafes in the quaint town square where we lingered over coffee along with the townspeople. We indulged on Belgian pastries at the local patisserie and chocolates at the chocolaterie.

The 12^th century monastery Abbaye d’Orvale, with its Romanesque-Gothic ruins offered picturesque scenery, a brewery, and a restaurant. Only a few kilometers away, the Abbey is famous in Belgium for its Trappist beers and cheeses. We stopped in the local brassiere at the entrance and enjoyed a hearty lunch of salads and meats. Various other historic sites, such as the Chateau-Fort de Bouillon which overlooks the River Semois, and Bastogne, the focal point of the Battle of the Bulge, are also within driving distance.

We managed a day trip into elegant  Luxembourg City, the capital of the grand Duchy of Luxembourg.  We walked around the city exploring the cafes and watching city life.  We shopped among 18^th and 19^th century buildings in a pedestrianized shopping district with modern retail stores, outdoor cafes, and restaurants. The Place d’Armes, a grand plaza in the cross section of the shopping district, was filled with diners and shoppers under big market umbrellas. We parked at a nearby parking plaza that offered reasonable prices.  Although we chose to shop and enjoy the city, Luxembourg offers many things for historians— the Palais Grand Ducal, the Notre Dame Cathedral (looking very similar to the one in Paris), a history museum, and an art museum.

Our DK book outlined two different driving tours along the Semois through the Belgian provinces of Luxembourg and Namur into France. Each offered dramatic landscapes and rolling hills.  We did not take the time out to follow these tours, but vow to do so upon our next trip to the area. The Semois Valley area offered biking, camping, canoeing, and other adventure sports.

Our trip was exactly like we dreamed—-relaxing, restful, and not too expensive. Le Charmois was a perfect place to move at a slower pace. The farmhouse offered excellent accommodations along with good service at a fair price in beautiful surroundings. We felt at home away from home.

Resources:
DK Eyewitness Travel Belgium & Luxembourg, 2009 Edition, Eastern Wallonia, pgs. 213-245.

We arrived in Paris at the Gare de Lyon in the hustle and bustle of a Friday afternoon in a train station.  So many people coming and going!

We looked at the metro to get to our hotel and when we realized it was two different changes, we said, all right, one taxi coming up!  It was only our second taxi in the whole trip, so we thought we’d earned it.

Across the Seine and up into the Latin Quarter, past so many buildings I recognized and streets I knew.  That is my part of Paris, where I feel at home.

I hadn’t been to the hotel in 3 ½ years, but we found it just fine.  I’ve been going to this hotel for at least twelve years and it is exactly the same each time, clean, very simple and the best deal in Paris.  But certainly not fancy.

But we did have a TV in our room, so were able to watch the end of that day’s stage of the Tour de France, which has been getting more exciting each day, as it is closer and closer to the end.  We were pulling for the Australian and it turns out he won!  Now that I’m an Aussie, I felt proud.

We walked down the street and found a restaurant that I’d been to before, right near the Pantheon.  Chicken, frites, salad and a glass of wine with a very polite waiter—not always the case in Paris!We strolled down Boulevard St. Michel to the Seine and stood watching the Bateaux Mouches glide by underneath.  The Notre Dame Cathedral, always majestic, was just down the street and the Seine glistened with the sunset light.

I’ve been to Paris many many times and only two other times in the summer.  I remembered why it’s better to go off-season–we were surrounded by tourists!  All the Parisians were ‘en vacances’, places like the Cote d’Azur, or Alsace—or Annecy!  Paris is always beautiful, but in fall, winter or spring, you are a part of the real city, with Parisians going about their lives.  That feels different.

I got my one scoop of real “vanille” ice cream and we headed back to the hotel.  I never liked vanilla ice cream until I discovered real French vanilla ice cream.  Very rich and creamy and those tiny bits of vanilla beans give it a distinctive flavor.

The next morning we took the RER train to Charles De Gaulle airport and got checked in for our flight to Miami and then on to San Francisco.  Almost twenty hours later, we arrived at our friends’ house in Marin for a much needed rest before the drive home.

Such a magical trip, even if summer, we discovered that we could have experiences where we could blend into the culture and feel it from the inside out.  I’m so going to miss that “pain au chocolate”each morning.  But there’s always next year!

Read the whole series:

• Part 6: The Most Romantic Village in France
• Part 5: Biking the French Alps
• Part 4: France by Train - Across the French Countryside Aboard the TGV
• Part 3: England to France (subways, trains, and still no automobiles!)
• Part 2: England: Trains, Subways, Bicycles, Feet – and no automobiles
• Part 1: England and France by Trains, Planes, and… No Automobiles!

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Diane Covington
Award Winning Writer and Photographer
American Society of Journalists and Authors
Contributor Best Women’s Travel Writing 2011

We said goodbye to the owners of our little hotel in Veyrier du Lac and caught the bus for the six kilometers around the lake to the village of Valloires, which has been called “the most romantic village in France”. The easy fifteen-minute bus trip, cost only 4.20 Euros for the two of us–so much greener and cheaper than that taxi the first day in Annecy, which cost twenty euros.

Landon’s friend met us at the bus and drove us to his hand built home overlooking the lake and the village. From our perch up on the hillside, we marveled at the breathtaking views, watching the lake change from blue to green to gray as rain clouds danced across the sky.

One of the advantages of staying with “locals” is discovering jewels that you could never find on your own. That was the case when the next day, our friend drove us up into the hills, on rough and windy roads that required four-wheel-drive, up past fat cows wearing giant cow bells, till we ended up at a tiny chalet and farm, for lunch.

The menu of the restaurant centered around the Reblochon and Tomes cheeses, specialties of the region. Normally in the summer, we would have eaten outside, looking out over the spectacular view to the lake below. On this rainy and misty day, we crowded into the tiny wood-beamed bar, cozy and warmed by a woodstove.

The family run farm, which produces the special cheeses, has practiced their farming methods for generations—in this case, since the early twentieth century. The robust cows are milked twice a day, then graze in the hills on all of the rich herbes covering the landscape giving the cheese a ‘terroir’ flavor, similar to the concept of ‘terroir’ in wine.

The cows that produce the rich milk that becomes the delicious cheese, all grazed nearby or mooed from the milking barn, adjacent to the restaurant. Their huge cow bells clanged from around their necks as they mosied along; a collection of cow bells decorated the outside of the barn.

For lunch, we chose between bubbling fondues, tartiflettes (a casserole made with potatoes, onions, cheese and bacon), and omelettes, all enriched by the aromatic cheeses. When our omelette, salad and bread arrived, the omelette was as puffy and high as a soufflé. As a grande finale, we ordered hand made raspberry and blueberry tarts.

Ooh, la la and a good thing we’d been biking all week!

As we drove back down the hill, we spotted people ‘paragliding’ off the cliffs, drifting and circling through the sky down toward the lake. It’s possible to take a week-long course to learn to do the sport “solo” or to do a jump “tandem” with an experienced paraglider. I made a vow to try that next time. Even though I know I’ll have butterflies, it looks peaceful and amazing to sail through the sky like a bird, catching updrafts above the sparkling lake and next to the granite cliffs.

The village of Thalloires centers around the “plage” or beach at the lake. Set up for family summer fun, the large grassy area includes a swimming “pool” area along the edge of the lake, a diving board, slide and even ping-pong tables.

From our friend’s home, I could walk down for an early morning swim in the clear, clean water, and be the only person swimming in the lake. Then stop at the boulangerie for fresh warm bread and pain au chocolate on the way back up the hill.

At the end of our three-night stay, we caught the bus for the fifteen-minute return trip to Annecy to connect with the TGV train to Paris. The bus station is right across the street from the “gare” or train station, making it easy.

Now we’re settled into our comfy seats, gliding across France, watching the green landscape pass by. My computer is plugged in as I write and we’re about to enjoy our picnic at the table between us. It feels like a magic carpet ride. So much better than driving!

• Part 5: Biking the French Alps
• Part 4: France by Train – Across the French Countryside Aboard the TGV
• Part 3: England to France (subways, trains, and still no automobiles!)
• Part 2: England: Trains, Subways, Bicycles, Feet – and no automobiles
• Part 1: England and France by Trains, Planes, and… No Automobiles!
• Coming up next – finé

Diane Covington 2011