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We abandon our chosen campsite!
Away by 8.00am, we are heading for Machynlleth and its Wednesday market, where we grab a coffee and a bacon roll within the grounds of the first Welsh Senedd parliament back in 1482 (now called Owain Glyndwr House). It’s a sacred place for those of us who are Welsh (along with principality stadium of course).
We love a
good street market. Fresh farmers produce, various craft stalls, DIY and
household goods, pretty printed fabrics, clothes and even old vintage model
trains. We buy a beautiful metal bat sculpture for our ecologist daughter before
stopping to admire the market square clock and an ingenious conversion of a
motorhome to a mobile bakery!
Powys car
parks are all free for motorhomes overnight and the one we have parked in is
large and flat although it seems the toilets were closed overnight. The toilet
door iron grill gates were still padlocked at 9.00am as we walked into the high
street.
After
breakfast and an explore it is decision time and with no fixed plans, we decide
to head to Tywyn on the coast via the rather aptly named ‘Happy Valley’ road at
Cwrt. From Tywyn, we will head back up to Talyllyn via the B4405 before heading
into Dolgellau and then back out along the coastal road A493 to Fairbourne (where
we will be staying for five nights). It’s a meandering route but with some
stunning scenery on the way.
The plan is out
the window a third of the way along the ‘Happy Valley’ road. On a sharply
ascending double hairpin bend by Pant-yr-On, a passing driver kindly informs us
that the road three miles ahead is closed and blocked and they are trying to
turn fifty cars and campervans around in a narrow lane. Stopping us just above
a farm gate entrance, he has fortuitously allowed us to roll back down the
bends and then make a tight 180 degree turn back down the road in a field
entrance gate.
Back at the
junction with the main road, we meet a postmistress in her van trying to turn
into the ‘Happy Valley’ lane because the main road to Tywyn is closed. Her
disbelief and frustration cannot be adequately described when we explain she
will have to turn around for a second time!
And so, this ever-increasing
convoy of diverted vehicles makes the journey through Corris and then down the Tal
y Llyn road down to Tywyn, where despite all the road closures in the area, even
on this road they are attempting to do white line marking. The whole road
network down in one go! Ah well there is no rush. The views are magnificent as
steep mountains rise either side of the small valley floor and its ribbon lake
and we have plenty of time. (We later discover all the road closures, very
poorly signposted by the way, are due to ‘The Tour of Britain’ cycle race!)
At Tywyn we draw breath, in relief to be honest, having just squeezed under a 10’ rail bridge with only 3 inches clearance to spare. We have a snack on the sea front whilst watching for the famous cardigan bay porpoise and dolphins just off the beach and then we drive to our campsite at Bwlchgwyn Farm by a different road out of town. Don’t want to encounter that low bridge a second time!
Allocated a
pitch right at the very top of Bwlchgwyn farm campsite, despite telling them in
advance that we were a 6.8m long motorhome, we are about to get a lesson in how
not to drive a low-profile coach-built motorhome. Poor Bryony!
The road up
to our pitch looks and is, frankly, insane. The tarred entrance lane goes up
one of the steepest hills we have been up so far, a series of tight switch back
loops. We never come out of first gear. Racing ahead in his little farm buggy,
the farmer pushes on, generating clouds of gravel dust on the way. The first
terrace road has become a loose gravel rutted track. On the second, terrace, we
encounter steep tight bends at the end and our wheels begin to lose traction. We
keep going, stones flying out from beneath the front wheels. They have managed
to tow caravans up here, so we should be able to get up the tracks!
Our allocated
pitch does indeed have the promised ‘stupendous views to die for’ across the Dovey
estuary. Absolutely fantastic views to be honest. Best we have ever encountered
so far on our motorhome travels.
Just
one small problem.
We can drive
into the pitch but we can’t turn around. Before we have realised the
predicament we have got into, the farmer has given us a quick explanation of
where to find various facilities and is away in his buggy down the hill at
breakneck speeds, leaving another dusty haze in his wake.
So, one track
in and no turning space. The only possible turning point on our small terrace
is occupied by a VW van and awning and the owners are away! We are 6.32m long
with an addition 70cm of bike rack hanging off a tow bar.
I give it a
go! I try a 180 turn on the terrace in the space available before eventually
conceding and admitting defeat. With the front wheels a foot away from a steep
30m drop and the bike rack stuck on the rising slope behind, we are not turning
around anytime in this century.
I manoeuvre
back to the beginning, facing inwards onto the terrace and then gingerly reverse
out, hoping that we can turn on the track junction where another gravelled
track goes higher up again.
No way. That
isn’t going to happen either. Same problem, too long for the space available
and the two tracks are so unstable at their edges. Nowt for it, we are going to
have to reverse 30m back down the steep gravel track to the nearest turning
point, a little track extension back to another terraced area, which lies off a
very steeply angled tight bend with a dangerous inside camber full of loose,
loose shale and gravel. Who doesn’t like an insane challenge eh?
Wheels slip
and spin, stones shoot out and upwards pinging off the base of the motorhome. Bryony
sounds like a WWII tank receiving gun fire against its armoured plates.
I stop after
five metres and insist Maggie gets out. One of us has to survive for the kids’
sake and I’m genuinely fearful I am about to lose traction back down the hill
and go into a nasty broadside which could result in me rolling the motorhome, I’m
sure.
After ten
minutes gingerly reversing downhill (great practice for using my mirrors), I manage
to get to the space where I can reverse back sufficiently enough to turn the
motorhome to face back down the lower bend.
The inside
camber of the downslope bend is grim; 4-inch-deep piles of extremely loose
gravel and shale. Will we tip sideways? Will the driver’s front wheel
be able to grip in the very loose, deep rocky gravel and fragments? Are
we just going to do a slide downhill? With
rain forecast and this track likely to be a slurry lane, how will we get
back up there over the next few days? And of course, we can’t turn around
at the top because there is also a small VW campervan and awning tent just in
the very place where we could actually do a 180 turn.
Sweaty palms,
furrowed brows, nervous facial tics and sighs of resignation (and that’s just
me), we reluctantly agree to phone the farm once again.
“Have
you anywhere else?”
They do. One pitch
left, right at the very top, above the one we have already attempted to get on.
Will the
exhaust hit the brow of the track? Will the bike rack ground?
It’s also a
300m walk back down the gravel track to the elsan point and showers! I know I
need the exercise but….. !
I give it a
try, with Maggie watching on from below. The farmer’s advice rings in my ears. “Keep your foot right down and welly it”.
Oh dear God,
I do try, but on the brow of the hill with the plateau a mere 5m away, the
wheels give up and start spinning. Bogged down in self-made ruts, wheels flinging
stones against the underside of the motorhome, the exhaust grounds on a ridge
and the engine sounds like an overachieving tornado.
I admit
defeat. There is no torque left. We are stuck and even in first gear, poor Bryony
can’t do it. The wheels just keep slipping and stones just keep flying.
The farmer
comes alongside and yells “We’ve got bigger than you up here, honest now,
just welly it”.
If people get
bigger Mohos’ up here than ours then well done. Good on them! They are far better drivers than me and my
experiences driving four weeks off road around Costa Rica, including several
river crossings as well (albeit it in a 4 x 4) have clearly counted for nothing.
Reversing
down again is now a 30m affair, back down that very steep, bumpy track to
reconnect with the one I’d got stuck on in the first place. And then? A further
30m reverse back down to that bend where I can back into the side track and
turn around.
60m reversing
down a steep gravel track with a nasty drop one side. Its character building!
We ask for a
refund and the farmer gracefully does so, with a parting shot “We have had
things bigger than you do it. You didn’t welly it enough”. I leave feeling chastened, a motorhome driving
failure.
Down at
Fairbourne, another site, Ynys Faig, takes us in.
“From the
one up the road, are you? Did they try and put you on those top pitches? Don’t
worry, we have rescued many who have tried and not made it; we’ll find you a
nice flat pitch with hook up now. Word of advice, check your underside tanks,
pipes and wiring. Those stones can do some havoc and damage you know!”
A warm
welcome, a man with twinkling eyes and a mischievous grin, who couldn’t do too
much for us. Such a relief; he even offers us a fire pit and wood. Relaxation
therapy for those whose nerves have been shredded apparently!
Of course, I
had forgotten we could have stayed at the golf course for a few nights off grid
in their car park. Having already done two off grid nights, a third would be
pushing our luck. After all, we are new to this motorhome malarkey and frankly,
we are feeling slightly traumatised. We need showers and toilets! Well I do for
sure!
We had
planned on a cycle ride for the afternoon but it’s now 3.45pm. We stroll to a
fantastic long sandy beach backed by a storm ridge of grey rounded pebbles and
pyramidal coastal defences where we have a ‘consolation’ ice cream and admire
the little Fairbourne 15” gauge railway that puffs its way past us down to the
end of the long spit. (http://www.fairbournerailway.com/
)
The weather
is changing. Big spots of rain occasionally fall and later this evening some
rumbles of thunder echo off Cadair Idris behind us. To rub salt into my
festering wound of broken pride, when we walk back from the promenade and look
up at the hill behind, someone has driven a whopping big ‘C’ class all the way
to that top pitch! I’m a broken man and I hang my head in shame for the
remainder of the walk back to site.
There upon
the skies darken ominously, the air falls still and humid. A storm is coming. We
forlornly survey our bumpy grass pitch and fervently hope we can get off it in
the morning. We have an underground slate quarry mine tour booked for tomorrow
afternoon and having got stuck in the mud at Dartmouth on our very first outing
in Bryony, we don’t want a repeat of that humiliation. (https://wherenexthun.blogspot.com/2020/11/our-first-ever-overnight-in-bryony-at.html
and https://wherenexthun.blogspot.com/2020/11/how-to-avoid-getting-your-motorhome.html
)
During teatime,
the microwave plays up for a second night in a row. After two minutes, it over
heats, the thermostat kicks in and the microwave switches itself off. It has
never done this before so we are somewhat perplexed. We remove everything in
the cupboard above and check the vent outside isn’t blocked. Perhaps it’s
because inside the van is 24C, despite all windows and doors being open.
We also have
an annoying drip from the freshwater drain pipe outlet tap. We put a bucket out
last night at 6pm and when we checked it at 7am this morning around 4 litres of
water had dripped away overnight. It looks as if the seal on the blue tap has
gone for some reason. Given they only dropped the tank two weeks ago to replace
the water pump, we are now suspicious. Every time our dealer fixes something,
another thing goes wrong a few weeks later! We are trying not to be cynical!
And to make
matters worse, the bathroom sink push down plug doesn’t seem to be working. I
unscrew it to discover the rubber washer has perished. I have no idea where it
has gone!
Ho hum. Just
one of those days. Tomorrow will be a better day.
Route
today: A487 – B4572 –
B4353 – A487 – A493 – A487 – B4405 – A493 -
Distance: 97 miles with detours
Expenditure: £192 refund from Bwlchgwyn Farm and £100 4 nights at Ynys Faig
Websites:
Bwlchgwyn
Farm (which we will
say is an amazing site with stunning views and very accommodating owners): https://www.bwlchgwynfarm.co.uk/
Ynys Faig site: https://www.pitchup.com/campsites/Wales/North-Wales/Gwynedd/Fairbourne/ynys-faig-farm/
Fairbourne
Railway: http://www.fairbournerailway.com/
Tywyn
tourist information: https://visit-tywyn.co.uk/
Fairbourne
tourist information: http://www.mawddachestuary.co.uk/places/fairbourne.html
Machynlleth
tourist information: https://www.visitwales.com/destinations/mid-wales/powys/must-do-and-around-machynlleth
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Hi, we always look forward to hearing your comments, tips and thoughts. Drop us a line or two below. Take care now. Steve and Maggie