Pembrokeshire - where Gran lived before she moved to Devon,
or Southwold - where Gran spent her childhood.
The first time I went to mid-Wales I was vastly disappointed.
They had promised me mountains.
"Where are the mountains?" I demanded,
feeling rather let down, as we journeyed ever westward.
"Look out of the window" I was told.
I did and I had been. All I could see were large hills covered with grass, trees and sheep.
"I can see hills, but I cannot see mountains," I replied.
My geographically minded elder sister advised me that a mountain was a hill with an elevation of over 1,000 feet.
Then my mother sussed the problem.
"What do you think a mountain looks like?"
"It goes up and up to a very fine point like a needle, and has snow on the top..."
They laughed.
I was too disgruntled at the inadequacy of the landscape to care.
My expectations of mountains had been formed by illustrations in storybooks rather than knowledge of the landscape of mid-Wales.
I was familiar with Pembrokeshire, which was in essence very similar to England.
"You will like this part of Wales," they said, "It has mountains - lots of them!"
I had great expectations
which, to be honest, I fear only the Alps or Himalayas would have satisfied...
I regarded at the green/brown lumpy bumpy land masses
that dominated the Welsh landscape, sadly.
I mourned for the mountains of my imagination - majestic towering peaks,
embellished with never-melting snow,
castles clinging to their upper reaches.
Gravity-defying engineering,
providing homes worthy of beautiful princesses and dragons - well it was Wales...
I soon grew to love mid-Wales and appreciate the landscape.
Further north the mountains were more rugged and rocky
- not quite as barren as those I had envisaged,
but towering and majestic all the same.
Fast forward fifty years! 50?!!! (Gulp!)
As caravaners, we use the M5 a lot because (barring the unexpected) it allows you to reach your destination easily and provides plenty of services where we can stop.
For the last three years we have spent most of our holidays in South Devon.
Not this year.
The KHT insisted that we should go somewhere else, much as she loves the moors, beaches, towns and people she has got to know in South Devon..
"Let's go to Wales!" she declared.
And so it came to pass that we ended up in Wales.
My first choice was already fully booked by the time I got round to looking,
I googled campsites in Fairbourne and got a pitch at the first site it suggested.
What could possibly go wrong...
When I phoned to pay, I was advised that as we only had a Mondeo, we should park up in the pony trekking centre, and they would tow us up the hill.
Hill?
Surely Fairbourne is flat!
It transpired that the site is near Fairbourne.
In truth, it is about a hundred feet or more up a hillside overlooking Fairbourne,
and Barmouth,
and Cardigan Bay
and the Mawdach valley and estuary
and the Lleyn Peninsular...
DH and I had several discussions about the best route - should we take the easy option and go up the M5/M6/M54?
After much cogitation, we decided on a more southern route,
opting to avoid both roadworks on the M5 (Oldbury Viaduct)
and Kidderminster - with all the roundabouts and hills that route delights in,
Whilst DH was hooking up the caravan I set the satnav - for both the site and Caersws,
ensuring that we would not end up further north than we needed to be.
Ending up on the road to Dolgellau would be a disaster,
as this has a very long hill with a hairpin close to the summit.
Off we pootled,through the delightful countryside
of mid Wales.
Along quiet, albeit slightly winding 'A' roads.
Initially the satnav disagreed with our choice of route,
recommending a complete about turn.
We got our own back later,
when we drove along the new Newtown bypass,
the existance of which it was blissfully unaware... Mwhahah!
Just as we were thinking that we should stop for lunch we missed a turning.
Fortunately, there was a large forecourt we could turn round in.
We went back a few miles, but didn't like the look of the road we thought we should have taken.
Only to realise that we hadn't missed a turning at all!
Grrrr!
The satnav was just referring to a mere kink in the road!
We discovered a layby with a generous verge between us and the road,
which would allow us to turn around again
and stopped and had lunch anyway,
before continuing on our way.
We had an anxious moment in LLwyngwrll,
where we encountered a caravan travelling in the opposite direction
at the point where the road narrows and there is a bend.
The worst place to meet anything really, let alone a caravan!.
DH had to do some nifty reversing,
or a random doorstep that protruded into the road,
on a bend,
on a slope,
may have reshaped the caravan!
Fortunately, the other road users could see what the problem was,
and gave him sufficient space to carry out a rectifying manoeuver
before it all went horribly, horribly wrong.
We breathed a huge sigh of relief
as the caravan wheel dropped off the lower part of the step
before the road dropped away too far!
Phew!
Arriving at our destination we found the reception for the pony trekking centre, as directed,
but no-one was about.
I wandered into reception and called out a tentative
"Hello?",
but only a pony answered.
I rang the farm and they promised to send someone down.
We only had to wait a few minutes.
Mind you, it is quite disconcerting watching someone else disappear with your caravan!
The view from our pitch is amazing!
Far far better than I anticipated.
This picture from my phone really does not do the view justice.
Later the KHT spotted the Llyn Peninsular sprawled out along the horizon.
"Wow! Is that Ireland?"
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