Berriew - A Walk In Great Grandpa John's Footsteps

We said, "Dialch and Hawl Fawr" to Cardiff this morning (thank you & good-bye). It is definitely a city we would consider visiting again. Our 3 days here were most enjoyable, even when it rained. It was a pleasant to start our journey north under clear blue skies with a temp of 14. Below is a photo taken of the view across the street at our hotel entrance. I thought it represents how Cardiff incorporates the new with the old.

We had to take the same route out of town as we did yesterday. That part was not a problem but I was somewhat skeptical knowing we would have to tackle small villages again today. The Terror of Tredegar not far from my mind:).

It was smooth sailing for miles and miles. Just when we thought 'this is going well' we took a wrong exit in a 5 exit roundabout. Needed #4, counted 4 but ended up on #3. Obviously we counted something as an exit which was not an exit. Now we are in another village like Tredegar with only two ways out - either following Bonnie's increasingly annoying voice or turn around on a dollhouse sized street with cars parked on both sides. We followed guess who, thinking the route will backtrack us. As I said yesterday, NEVER ASSUME ANYTHING! We ended up on a B category road. That meant a 15 mile single track winding lane adorned with hedgerows, which climbed a 16 degree grade to the mountain plateau and put us in the middle of a bleep, bleep, baaaa baaaa sheep grazing range.

The road continued off the plateau at a 25 degree downhill grade past stone farmhouses, bucolic pastures, minuscule hamlets, more baas and a few coos. Of course there was oncoming traffic, anything from a cyclist to a tractor twice the size of our car (not exaggerating) and just 2 miles from the end we got to follow this guy. Guess who was soooooo happy.

I am really worried now because I know Berriew, our destination, is a sleepy Welsh Hamlet. However, all is well - no swears and we are still married. What a team! When we finally got back on the A road our ETA, according to Bonnie, was only one minute later than the original ETA. RP thought I was joking and decided we took a shortcut by mistake. Yes, we still have our sense of humour. We were in dreamy Berriew by 12:30 with no further incidents. The village is less than 10 minutes off the main A road and there were even signs. Can you believe that?

Our accomodation is at the Lion Hotel. It has been around since the 17th century, starting out as a coach house. We have parked the car until we leave tomorrow. Downstairs there is a pub, a lounge and a dining room. The room was not yet ready so we followed friendly tips from our hostess and went off to explore my ancestral village on foot. You can do that here.

First stop, right in the hotel's backyard, is St. Beunos church and churchyard. There has been a church on this site since the 7th century. The current church was built about 1875 but some of the windows were retained from church originally on the site in the Evans' era.

Adjacent to the church is The Old School which Great Grandpa John and his siblings attended in the 1850s. He wrote about his experiences in his memoirs. It was a goose bump, tingling kind of experience to visit this building. I struck up a conversation with Jeff, the gardener, and he got me a key to go inside. Unfortunately my access was only to the main hall, now used for the church. I climbed over the gate barricade and walked up the worn wooden steps, as J.N. Evans might have done many times as a boy, to where the classrooms are behind locked doors.


I dont think the photo shows it but the stairs are truly worn.

Little black kitten joined me on the doorstep of the school house.
Meanwhile RP wandered through the village chatting with the friendly folk who live here. They were puzzled as to why an East Indian was in town searching ancestral roots so he took me back to meet some of his new friends. They figured it out. One thing that surprised us on this trip is that most people know where Victoria is, have been there or wish they could go.

The Evans Family lived on a farm called Penthryn. It was part of the vast Vaynor Estate in 19th century. There is still a farm called Penthryn about 3 miles from the village. We opted not to tackle another single track road as things will be different now and the roads are flipping scary. The family farmhouse burned in 1858 and that was the beginning of the exodus. What struck me first as we arrived today was how similar this land is to the Cowichan Valley where John and his 3 brothers settled as pioneers. They all were dairy farmers. Berriew even has a farm in the middle of town. Not only does the land resemble our old family farm in Duncan but the air smells of the same of fresh cut hay and the lingering aroma of cow manure - a first impression that blew me away.

I amused myself taking photos, chatting with the townspeople and going for a 2 mile hike along the Montgomery Canal. R.P. opted for kicking back on the comfy bed reading a British tabloid, right up his alley. In J.N. Evans' day this canal was the main transport route for the goods and people. The farm produce and sheep's wool were sent by canal barge to communities along the route, which goes into the midlands of England, our next destination.

It is about 4:30 pm and time to call the cows home. We were lounging in our comfy room when I remembered that Jeff, the churchyard gardener, had told me to look out for the farmer calling the cows home. As I said, there is a farm in the middle of town, right across the street from our hotel. I grabbed the camera thinking 'Darn I missed the cows' because they were no longer in the field. My timing was perfect. There they were walking down the main street right past our hotel, clop clopping into the barn stalls. I swear J.N.E. was smiling down at his great granddaughter snapping bovine photos. Our hotel is at the end of the white buildings.

India revisted - LOL!

To make it an even more of a perfect photo op the traffic was stopped for cows. Photo, is of the car first in line for the 'cowjam'. Now this kind of a vehicle would not have been around in great grandpa's Berriew days but you can be sure it was manufactured during his lifetime, probably in the 1930s around the time he wrote his memoirs. CLASSIC is the only way to describe.

It gets even better! We enjoyed our daily happy hour with the vino in our room and decided to carry on before dinner with a visit to the downstairs lounge. This 17th century coach house, with walls so thick you need to go outside for cell reception, has 3 common areas: the pub, the lounge and the dining room. All 3 were graced with our presence this evening. Berriew is party central. First stop the pub, where we met Mark, the barkeep. Mark has a masters in business marketing, helps out on the family farm and tends bar at the Lion Hotel.

So we are the only folk in the bar but strike up the best conversation with Mark, who lives on the farm adjacent to the original farm of J.N. Evans. He plays to a 5 on the local mountaintop course, which is wind incessant, usually has rain blowing sideways and all other directions, plus electric fencing to keep the sheep off the greens. Here we are posing in the ancient fireplace.

It is not long before the locals arrive. The star of the show is SPUD! He drives lorry for the Potter Recycle company, runs an ale tab at the bar, loves the Canadian show Ice Truckers and quickly became RP's hero. You see, Mark, the barkeep, is developing a business marketing the best sunglasses. RP is in his element - in a pub, single malt scotch in hand, the op to buy yet another pair of shades and Wheeler Dealer Spud. Mark wants 10quid for shades he sells in shops for 35 and Spud claims he only paid 4 pound 50 for Mark's shades. The barter is on but I made the dude pay 10 quid. OMG - we laughed and laughed. Of course, we needed a photo. Spud wanted the whole town in on the photo with his Canuck heroes and he was determined to get in in Elvis mode.


We move from the pub to the lounge for our second round, thinking we will have our meal in this part of the bar. We had already placed our order. Photos are a close-up of the new shades and a Welsh love spoon in the lounge.


Next thing we know we are called to the dining room where we are assigned s quite window alcove to enjoy yet another delicious, top-notch meal. We savour the taste, gaze at the ancient ceiling beams and sip our wine, wondering who sat in this spot over the centuries. Perhaps someone from the Evans' clan.

Both of us are near ready for bed and still marvelling at the fabulous time in Berriew where John Newell Evans was born on May 9, 1846. The sands of time flow on forever.
PS - the Terror of Tredegar is diminished and surpassed by the Blast in Berriew (pronounced bar - ee - ewe).
And even better there is better wi-fi than Cardiff but no 3G. This is Wales and anything goes.
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Coal, Iron and Steam Power

Today's blog is rooted in the Industrial Revolution for it was that era that shaped the destinies of many of my ancestors from Wales (coal, iron and steam power). Today dawned rainy and windy but nothing like what is happening in the north of this country. After a stupendous breakfast we were on the road, sort of. Bonnie was programmed but got a tad confused stored away in the underground car park without the life-blood of satellite. We ended up taking the industrial route north out of Cardiff. Our first stop was Cyfartha Castle Museum in Merthyr Tydfil, 30 miles away.

Photo below is replica of the first steam engine. This invention at the time and many decades later would have a major impact on my family's lives.

I wasn't much interested in the castle as it was the home of the owner of the iron works and not of my family's social stature. The exhibits, however, were informative and enlightening. On our way out I happened to strike up a conversation with the museum historian who was thrilled to hear my story. Turns out there is a project underway to showcase the history of the Georgetown community where the family lived and to follow up on where some of the residents went. Not only that, Alison, the historian, is a Davis with family from Georgetown (kin perhaps). She was a wealth of information and offered to give us a personalized private tour of a cottage similar to where my family may have lived.

To be honest I thought we would just have to drive through the town trying to find a spot to snap photos. Alison made the experience fantastic. It was to Merthyr Tydfil those St. Ishmael wedding folk, Thomas & Jane Evans, moved with their family in 1841. Thomas was a carpenter, highly skilled for his time. His daughter, Mary, married Joseph Davis, a collier, in Merthyr about 1849. My great grandma, Mary Jane,was born here in 1853 at the height of the Industrial Revolution. By 1854 the entire family left for North America. After our visit today I have a much more realistic understanding of the lives of these people who toiled in Wales, had dreams of a better life, took that first step to follow the dreams and came to our land to lay the foundation of our lives. Too much to tell. I will save it for my book but share a few photos first. I did not expect this connection. Photos- #1 typical workers' houses, #2 barge canal for transporting coal and iron by horse and barge before the steam engine, #3 typical living room



We were pumped, even RP, with our Alison encounter and hoped the next stop 8 miles away would be as inspiring. We are learning quickly that nothing in this country should be assumed and that 8 miles is often 3 times further. My paternal grandmother, Annie Watkins, and one of my favourite people in my life was born 1895 in Tredegar, the small town 8 miles away. What we did not not know - there is an old and a new Tredegar. None of the streets in these villages have addresses as we know addresses. All have postal codes of 6-9 digits but the GPS only recognizes the first 5-6 digits and then you have several options to choose from. First choice took us to a village that didn't even start with "T", next to new Tredegar and finally to old Tredegar. Once in the village Bonnie GPS had a blond moment, went awol and just crapped out. It was pouring rain; we parked on a zigzag so I could take a picture of the iconic clock on town center (circa 1858); RP stayed in the car on guard for the parking police.

Off we went to the local museum, Bedwelty House, for lunch, a peak at the exhibits and maybe a chat with the locals. Bedwelty House has a grand total of 6 parking spaces, all occupied and it it is pouring rain. The car park turnaround requires Indie style driving skills and it is pouring rain. All the exhibit rooms are occupied with some big wig meeting taking place throughout museum and it is pouring rain. The lunch room is pre-booked with bigwig meeting folk and it is pouring rain.

I ask about the WWI memorial for my great uncle is honoured there. With directions I head off under umbrella to snap a photo. The memorial is undergoing restoration, complete with chain fencing, and it is pouring rain. Back to the car which RP has yet been unable to park as none of the 6 spaces have been vacated (damned bigwigs) and it is pouring rain.

We attempt to escape the perhaps pretty village of Tredegar but Bonnie is still awol. I think she didn't want to get her hair wet as it is still pouring bleeping rain. We go with our own radar and RP drops the first "f" bomb on the trip. I don't blame him. I did not expect this frustration and disappointment on our visit to Tredegar.

At this point I offer to pass on the next planned stop, THE BIG PIT, which pays tribute to the coal miners of Wales, the men of my Dad's family. RP decided we had come this far so what was a few more miles. After all the big pit is part of the Blaenavon World Heritage site, so it should be first class. Keep in mind, it is still pouring rain. We found Blaenavon with reasonable ease; Bonnie was trying to redeem herself. However, this world heritage site, which features no less than 10 historic venues, (e.g. ironworks, pit mine, steam railway, village etc.) has minimal signage. When we finally find the car park the rain is beginning to ease. I am sure we did the quickest big pit visit on record. Dont get me wrong, the entire world heritage site is incredible but we were done in. Back to Cardiff we went, finally reaching our hotel room after minimal wrong turns given the multitude of streets without signs, one ways not mapped and rounders with more exits than Bonnie is aware of.

It is our last night in Cardiff so we decide we will try a trendy, award winning Thai place. It was a lovely end to a long day - one very special but also very nerve wracking. A few photos of the THAI EDGE, in Cardiff - highly recommended. #1 outside, #2 inside, #3 our starter, #4 weary but happy travellers.




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Mushy Peas

Today's blog title is compliments of RP. Mushy Peas is his description of the weather in Cardiff today:). Very appropriate, I would say. I think my post yesterday thanking the weather angels sent them off on a party where they enjoyed too much of the single malt vapours. We awoke to the sun poking through the black rain clouds, notice the droplets on the window from where the sunrise photo was taken.

Before I lament about the weather let me say I have earned mega points with the selection of our Cardiff Hotel. We learned today that the Radisson Blu is the newest hotel in the city. It is located just across the street from the almost new, multi-million dollar shopping area of St. David's. Nearby is the train station, bus terminal, M4 major motorway, Cardiff Bay, Castle, City Hall, Museum, University, Law Courts, Prison, Millennium Stadium, Millenium Concert Hall, major and budget hotels, countless bars, restaurants, shops , department stores and arcades (more about those later). The 15 minute city it is; one can walk or drive to anywhere important in the city in 15 minutes. Even better, this hotel is terrific. We thought our room was fabulous and then we experienced our complimentary breakfast. I have never seen a breakfast buffet so extensive. Yummy, fresh, delicious, varied - I can hardly wait for tomorrow morning. Our hotel is the tower in the background; foreground is the pedistrian mall leading to the shopping etc., library on the right.

We thought the best way to begin our exploration of Cardiff was to buy a hop on / hop off bus ticket. For the concession (seniors) rate of 8 pounds we got 48 hour ticket complete with historic commentary.

Yes, we did see the sun today along with blacker clouds, sideways rain, wind that trashed a multitude of umbrellas, mild temperatures and some that required tea mid-day just to thaw out. Remember way back, I mentioned the words of a wise old Scot , "you can have 4 seasons in one day." Today the rating was 3.5. You may get a sense from the next few photos - blue sky, heavy cloud, multiple raindrops. The wind is difficult to photograph but I removed my hearing aids because it was blowing the rain right into the receivers. Photo distinctive in that it showcases raindrops.

Our plan was to bus the entire 50 minute route and then hop off on the 2nd loop around. Fortunately the sun shone brightly as we enjoyed the leisure city loop. Unfortunately, the sun went AWOL the moment we decided to hop off. That is pretty much is how the bus trip went. Interesting sights pelted with rain, sun sparkling occasionally and the wind persistent. Photos - Cardiff Castle clock tower, Cardiff City Hall, Cardiff Bay

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We finally decided to explore the shopping arcades.


Cardiff, as a city, is not ancient. Although it has been inhabited since the Roman invasion in 300 AD it really just came into its own during the Industrial Revolution, as a port to export coal, iron and iron products throughout the world. We have noticed there is a major initiative happening to revitalize the old docks and Victorian buildings. The result is an impressive mix of old and new, particularly in the old dock area and on the outskirts of the city centre, which is our location. The shopping plazas are mostly pedestrian friendly. Many of the old lanes and alleys are now connected with overhead glass roofing. This makes for miles of meandering alleys of small businesses all protected from the elements. We even found a charming traditional market complete with hollering fish and vegetable mongers. Many of the modern department stores have a facade of the original old buildings. Not much shopping for us, however. Darned weight restrictions.


I mentioned earlier the combining old and new. The next photo taken in the bay area shows a modern loft style building adjacent to restored dock warehouse. How would you like to clean those loft windows?

Amazing work is being done to revitalize the bay area. Little is shipped out now so the docks have become entertainment, cultural, sports, recreational, residential and business areas. This city, which was once the most import coal shipping port on the world now imports coal from Russia and Poland. The council is,doing a remarkable job of making Cardiff a beautiful place to live and to visit. Photo is of the Millennium arts and cultural centre on Cardiff Bay. The photo does not do justice to the beauty of the facility. The writing appears to be etched in the stone but is actually glass. At night the letters are illuminated from within.

RP wants this photo in the blog. Notice his hand pointing toward the bus window. He was saying "OMG, that green freight truck is not more than 12 inches away." Yes, we are in the UK where space is at a premium and we are still not quite used to it.

Tomorrow we are still staying in Cardiff but taking the little black car to 3 ancestral spots.
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