Rob picked us up at 8:30, loaded our luggage, and headed for the Snowdon Mountain Railway in Llanberis, where we had tickets for the 9:00 a.m. departure. Some of the engines were coal-fired steam locomotives, but ours was a 12-cylinder diesel named George. All of them have a rack-and-pinion traction drive that allows them to travel up the steep grade to 1085 meters above sea level on 
steel rails. We passed a beautiful waterfall and through a forest of gnarled oak trees before emerging above the tree line. A hiking trail paralleled the rail line. At the halfway point, a small restaurant, recently under new ownership, sells homemade lemonade to thirsty hikers. No lemonade for us, though, just a brief stop.A modern railway station with toilets, a snack bar and a gift shop rests at the top of Mount Snowdon. You can buy a t-shirt that says, “I climbed Mt. Snowdon,” even if you rode the train. 
There is a “two-minute walk” up several flights of stone stairs to get to the absolute summit, where there is a brass marker on a plinth pointing to what you can see in all directions. What you could see, that is, if the summit were not shrouded in clouds and mist. Upon our return, we spoke with Irene, who was there with her group of English and Italian ladies. Irene assured us that mist is normal at the top of the mountain. We were lucky to have good views on the lower half of the mountain.
There is a “two-minute walk” up several flights of stone stairs to get to the absolute summit, where there is a brass marker on a plinth pointing to what you can see in all directions. What you could see, that is, if the summit were not shrouded in clouds and mist. Upon our return, we spoke with Irene, who was there with her group of English and Italian ladies. Irene assured us that mist is normal at the top of the mountain. We were lucky to have good views on the lower half of the mountain.
On our way to lunch we took a brief stop for photographs at a beautiful rest stop overlooking a glen with a lake in Snowdonia National Park. Then on to a bar lunch at the Tanronnen Inn in Beddgelert, reputed to be the most picturesque village in all of Wales, which is saying something. Gelert was Prince Llewellyn’s pet wolfhound in the 13th century. Llewellyn came home one day to find his young son missing and a bloody mess near his son’s bed. He blamed the dog and killed him with his sword. He then found a dead wolf nearby, as well as his son, who was just fine. Llewellyn realized the dog had killed a wolf, saving his son from harm. He buried his dog in a grave and never smiled again. “Beddgelert” means “Gelert’s grave” in Welsh. The grave and its stone marker have been preserved to this day. A modern bronze statue of the dog is in an enclosure nearby. 
Beddgelert is a picturesque village, not just because of the quaint houses adorned with overflowing flower pots, but also because of its setting in a glen surrounded by steep hills. The hills look too steep to climb without technical gear, and rise suddenly out of a small plain surrounding a crystal-clear river flowing in a rocky bed through the town and under a stone bridge. We drove to Port Meirion, the conceit of Mr. Clough Williams-Ellis, who built the village to show how a beautiful site could be developed with
out spoiling it. He started work in 1925 and finished it 55 years later. Port Meirion was the setting for “The Prisoner,” a 1960’s TV show starring Patrick McGoohan, which was one of my favorites, even though I didn’t understand it. The whimsical village is now owned by a non-profit organization, the Clough Williams-Ellis Foundation.
out spoiling it. He started work in 1925 and finished it 55 years later. Port Meirion was the setting for “The Prisoner,” a 1960’s TV show starring Patrick McGoohan, which was one of my favorites, even though I didn’t understand it. The whimsical village is now owned by a non-profit organization, the Clough Williams-Ellis Foundation. Port Meirion is one of a kind. It is an odd assortment of decorative items salvaged from buildings throughout Britain, inserted into a setting of new Italianate buildings. There were many mermaids, rescued from the balcony of a building in London 
that was demolished. We saw a one-armed Buddha from China that had been bombed during the war, and a statue of the apostle Peter preaching to the city. It was low tide, so we walked down to the hotel, where a wedding was in progress, and out onto the enormous sand bar in the estuary. Signs warned us to make our way back before the tide came in, or we could be trapped on the other side of the estuary, a few hundred yards from the hotel, but 15 miles away when travelling on dry land at high tide. We did not tarry.
that was demolished. We saw a one-armed Buddha from China that had been bombed during the war, and a statue of the apostle Peter preaching to the city. It was low tide, so we walked down to the hotel, where a wedding was in progress, and out onto the enormous sand bar in the estuary. Signs warned us to make our way back before the tide came in, or we could be trapped on the other side of the estuary, a few hundred yards from the hotel, but 15 miles away when travelling on dry land at high tide. We did not tarry. We drove to the Park Hotel in Pandy near Abergavenny, arriving shortly after 8:00 p.m. A pair of horses and a colt, belonging to the owner, grazed in a field next door. Outside the front door, a stone dragon’s head coming out of a wall was placed so as to water one of their plants with water coming from the dragon’s mouth. We piled our luggage in the breakfast room, and moved to the dining room to order supper. The food was good, and the company even better. People were tired after a long day and went right to bed after supper.
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