Angelsey – Holyhead

I’m home as I write this and listening to the mellow strains of Côr Meibion Bro Aled. I felt the tug of the land in Holyhead, Angelsey, the birthplace of my great grandfather,  who emigrated to Australia in 1916.

Our time in Wales was far too short, but solidly packed with memories and impressions. My first and abiding impression is that of immense generosity and hospitality. My uncle Ian was the family historian and my Aunt Chris wrote to relatives in Wales with whom Ian had corresponded before he passed away in December 2016. Merfyn (the grandson of my great grandfather’s sister) responded with news of family in Wales and subsequently offered to show us around the family historical sites.

Angelsey is an island on the North coast of Wales, closer to Dublin than Cardiff, the capital of Wales. Welsh is the predominant language and although Wales has not been a separate country to England since its conquest in 1283, there is a sense of a separateness here, and a distinct culture.

Merfyn asked for our North Wales wish list and incorporated it into a very full day, taking us to significant places in Angelsey. I’m glad I mentioned I wanted to see Beaumaris Castle, not being quite castled out at this point. Merfyn is a retired history teacher, knowledgeable and enthusiastic. He’s also a member of a wonderful male voice choir, Côr Meibion Bro Aled. I’ve heard that all Welshmen sing, and Merfyn is in two choirs, travelling four hours a week for rehearsals.

We then headed for Holyhead Island, firstly to the remote South Stack Lighthouse, built in 1809 to warn passing ships of the nearby dangerous rocks, and then to the tiny town of Cymyran, to see the family home (then the dwelling for four families). The house still stands on a rugged and remote shore, separated from the mainland for much of the day by the tide, though it is now a beautifully renovated holiday home owned by an English family.

Edward Hughes, the eldest of nine children, was born into a family of fishermen who also had a long history serving in the Rhoscolyn lifeboat, going back to at least 1855. In 1920, two of Edward Hughes’ brothers were amongst five members of the lifeboat Ramon Cabrera who drowned trying to save the crew of a steam ship. Merfyn took us to the Rhoscolyn cemetery, where a memorial to the five crew members has been erected, recently renovated by the local RNLI Volunteers. The graves of other family members are also here.

We stopped at a couple of popular Anglesey beaches and then had dinner at the White Eagle pub in Rhoscolyn, reputedly also frequented by Prince William and Kate.

Our final stop was to see my grandmother’s cousin Hamlet. Hamlet and Megan gave us a warm welcome, including traditional Welsh cookies. It was astonishing to see the similarity in characteristics between Hamlet and my grandmother, Myfanwy. Hamlet and Merfyn sometimes slipped easily into their first language of Welsh, now once more being taught in Welsh primary schools . Hamlet and Megan live next door to the home where Hamlet was born.

We hope to one day see some of the Welsh family visit Perth.

Peaceful Snowdonia

We drove through the Snowdonia National Park en-route to North Wales. Incomprehensible Welsh language road signs contained English translations beneath. Sheep and goats grazed along the roadside of rolling lavender covered hills, and pines stood tall upon distant misty mountains.

North Wales, the Lakes and the Highlands are walking country – the long summer days and beauty draw a person out of winter hibernation. From our accommodation we walked in the evening by a wide, rocky stream in gentle drizzle reminiscent of Ireland.

Limited for time, we decided to take the train up Snowden, the highest peak in Britain outside the Highlands of Scotland. We booked the train trip months in advance as it books up fast. Unfortunately, our view for most of the journey was obscured by fog, thickening as we climbed the summit, our hair and clothing dripping when we alighted.

Deprived of a mountain view, walkers who had left at dawn stopped as we passed and waved. As we climbed higher the density of walkers increased to Tongariro Crossing levels (a remote yet busy walk in New Zealand).  Carol, our lovely host at the bread and breakfast said it was possible to walk in mist for the whole ascent and then the skies could clear for minutes when you reached the summit, dramatically unfolding the beauty of the surrounding landscape. She had experienced this and felt it was worth the chance. The walkers at the summit when we reached it weren’t so fortunate.

Following the train trip, we walked around a lake at the base of the mountains, spectacular in the swirling mist. We saw only a tiny section of Wales and realise we could come back here for weeks.

The Bible and the Welsh language

Bishop William Morgan translated the bible into Welsh in 1588 (before the King James Bible in 1611). We visited the farm house where he was born in Tŷ Mawr Wybrnant (near Penmachno, in North Wales), now owned by the National Trust. Born to poor farmers, William was sent at a young age to be schooled with the landlord’s children and was subsequently educated for 10 years at Cambridge including Divinity, Greek and Hebrew.

In the process of translating the bible, William Morgan created the first standard version of written Welsh. Prior to this, Welsh was banned from formal use, including within the church. By the following century, literacy in Wales was at one of the highest levels in Europe, and the Welsh language was preserved, still very much in use today.

The early Methodists were usually very disadvantaged in both education and material possessions. Bibles were very difficult to afford, and schools were not established in all rural areas. Mary Jones World is near Lake Bala in Wales and commemorates the establishment of the Bible Society. I read what I thought was the biography of Mary Jones as a child and reread the book prior to our visit. Mary Jones first attended school at the age of ten and her driving motivation was to learn to read the Bible. In the year 1800, after saving for six years, Mary Jones walked 25 miles barefoot through the mountains from her home in Llanfihangel-y-Pennant, to Bala, to buy a bible from Thomas Charles. Her story was one of the driving forces behind his determination to form a society to supply bibles. I found there were differences between the accounts held in the museum and the biography. Mary Jones’ father died when she was very young and she was raised by her mother, a hard-working weaver. However, in the book her father has a prominent role. I queried this with the museum attendant who, no doubt inured to the question, responded that the bare bones of the story of Mary Jones’ walk were true, as was the response of Thomas Charles, but that the rest of the biography could well be fiction. I think it is sad when real people and their lives are misrepresented, but it is nevertheless a story of strong faith, determination and conviction.