We did a Wales road trip the other year in Tom’s little 2007 Ford Fiesta, a rather rushed weekend was all we could manage. We had a great time all the same. This time we had a bit more time, we wanted to go up to Scotland but we didn’t have as much time as that and so a Wales revisit seemed the next best thing. The Lake District was a consideration but being July and good weather forecast I had a the feeling we would not be the only people considering it. A return to Wales was to be.

The route had some constraints. The first would be how far could we go on a Thursday evening to stay at a low cost hotel to be in place to start the trip proper on Friday morning. The route itself would be the length of the A470. For some reason I had assumed and started the planned route at Llandudno, north to south. I looked for cheap accommodation and there just was nowhere near Cardiff to stay, there was absolutely nowhere to stay on the route either. That was not totally true, there were plenty of campsites but Tom told me he was not going to be camping at all. There were “pods” at some of the campsites, something I quite fancied. Cheap and basic, and not a tent. Tom informed me he was not sleeping in a shed. That gave me some quite serious constraints. There were plenty of nice looking B&Bs along the route but all out of our price range.

I turned the route upside down, starting at Cardiff and suddenly we had options. Getting near to Cardiff on a Thursday evening was a lot more achievable and allowed us to do the route where places to stay near Llandudno at the end were cheap too. In the end we spent our first night at Weston Super-Mare with Tom’s grandparent.

Driving the length of Wales is no quick task, there is no fast road from South to North (or North to South). It must be quicker to drive over the England, go up the motorway and pop back over to Wales at the opposite end. Interestingly, the train journey it much the same through mid Wales, it is slow and winds its way along past various request stops. It sounds like a great railway journey, one we must do. Another time maybe. The A470 is made up of bits of road that finally all got renamed the A470 over time, some of it quite recently. Not many countries don’t have a major North/South road allowing for easy travel, but Wales is an exception. The A470 is basically Wales’ idea of the A1 in England, just not as direct or fast, not much dual carriageway and whole sections not covered by mobile phone signal. One thing for sure, while we would be using a map (real journeys use paper maps, not Google Maps and GPS) really all we had to do was keep following signs stating A470 until we got to our destination.

I drove that first part, “motorways are boring” was Tom’s reasoning. For some reason Google Maps took us through Guildford and then onto the M4, not a route I would normally follow but it gave a nice evening drive along minor routes through Billingshurst and up through Guildford.

We spent an enjoyable evening at Weston, had a good sleep, we were ready at 9am the next day to start our trip.

To Cardiff

Tom would be driving for the day, it was his car after all, and he does have the Welsh sheep mascot sitting on his dashboard. The first milestone of the trip would be doing our first complete road, the M49 from start to finish. Not hard seeing as it is so short just taking off the corner to get the the M4 and Severn Bridge. With no junctions (we discount the one complete in 2020 and not actually connected to the local road system due to a dispute on just who will pay for it) and the uniqueness as the only motorway to only be accessible from other motorways it, it was a good start to the trip. It was pretty empty too.

We soon got to the bridge, we whizzed past the old and now abandoned toll control centre and into Wales. It was hot and sunny, normally at this point it is raining. The M4 towards Cardiff is an interesting motorway, lots of twists, the odd tunnel, raised sections where you can peer into people’s gardens as you pass by. We finally got to, some say, the largest roundabout in the UK, the junction 32 of the M4 and started on the A470. The real start of the road is deep in Cardiff itself but we didn’t fancy fighting our way through to get to it. For us, this would be the start, the first signpost stating A470. We followed it and started our way north.

To Merthyr Tydfil

We joined the A470 when it was still a dual-carriage way but left to go along the A4054 which on the map, and later confirmed when I checked, looked to be the old A470 prior to duelling. It gave us a drive through what I had imagined a Welsh village in the valleys to look like. Long terraced small houses, small side streets, I assume a coal pit or two would had featured in a not too long distant past. I was transfixed on each house in the terrace having a satellite dish, all pointing in the same direction. As old now as dishes are (and some may even see them as relics of the past), they seem so out of place whereas a TV aerial (surely a real relic of the past) exist invisible to the noticeable eye.

I had ponded about a visit to Aberfan, we would be passing right by it. There is nothing to see and a quick Google search showed it appearing on a website concentrating on “Dark Tourism” suggested “dark tourist” keep a low profile. How does a village try and forget things of the past that altered things so suddenly and drastically both at the time and still day? They don’t forget, they just don’t make a thing of it and carry on. I looked on Google Street View, saw the memorials in the graveyard, and moved on. We were not going to be “dark tourists” today, although I did want to drive through the village as it seemed a real typical ex-mining village and very Welsh. As it happened, I was navigating and missed the turning.

We rolled into Merthyr Tydfil and stopped in a car park for an early mid morning lunch. This is where the Iron Bru situation occurred as upon me opening it, it fizzed up and sprayed over hitting Tom, the seats, the dashboard before I was able to direct it out of the window. The remainder sprayed over the outside of the passenger door. I wiped up the mess as best I could, feeling a bit sorry for doing it but at the same time reminding myself how many times such things had happened in my car with a younger Tom and with brother making a complete mess of the back of my car. Payback time? I thought it was all funny in the end, I’m not sure Tom did as much.

To Brecon

We had been to Brecon years ago when we stayed at a house on the canal and spent the day biking along the tow path ending up at Brecon where we had a well earned drink. I was thinking of revisiting the same place for a drink but decided to actually see Brecon town instead. On the way we stopped in a layby to view the reservoir at the side of the road and witness the intense heat of the sun. The car did not have aircon but at least we had moving warm air with the windows open. Upon stopping it was like being in an oven. We soon continued on our way.

Coming into Brecon we got to traffic queue which, according to Google, was caused by road works on a roundabout that we were nowhere near. Not a problem as queues sort themselves out after a while, everyone gets a turn and we were in no hurry. The problem here was that we really were not moving very far very often. A quick check on Google Maps again showed a more direct route into Brecon through an industrial estate, we had seen a couple of cars whizz down on the wrong side of the road to take the turning. We waited our turn and took the route through the industrial estate to be faced by a gate and a no motor vehicles road sign. Fortunately, the gate was open, the turning was tight but the Fiesta made it with a bit of a wheel spin.

At Brecon we waited ages at traffic lights on the cross roads and found a small carpark where the ticket machine was foxing the people in front of us. It foxed us too but in the end were able to pay by card which seemed to remove some of the extra complex steps the people in front were having. We wished them good luck, leaving them still trying to get it to accept their cash.

Starting with the High Street we found a number of possible cafes but in the end we stopped at a small café in the High Street Superior (according to the road signs) and indeed have a good coffee. It was too hot to hang around and so found the car and continued on our way once again.

Roadworks and Suspension Bridges

We joined a traffic queue, once again miles from any junction or road works, once again it seemed we sat not moving for ages and never saw many cars coming past the other way. We stopped for so long that I was about to suggest we turn the engine off and coast down the slight hill. We finally got to the T-junction and it didn’t seem that bad, I couldn’t see what all the fuss and hold up had been. Then, straight after the corner, roadwork traffic lights, they turned red while the van in front carried on through. We tutted, but we wish he had known what the van driver may have known at the time.

The view was quiet, and then it started. Traffic came through, thick and fast. There was some sort of hold up behind us at the junction where nothing was moving meaning traffic through the works was not moving either. The lights changed green and after about 10 seconds went red again, we had no chance. It continue this way for certainly a life time, we were joined by motorbikes having made their way to the front of queue and in front of us. We were surrounded and they were getting fed up as much as we were. A couple of brave bikes edged forwards and finally the flood gate of bikers was opened up and they all went through. The traffic coming towards us was at a standstill, we were at a standstill, the traffic lights mocked us by turning green, then red, over and over. The bikers made their way against the flow of oncoming queued cars, horns were going but I could relate to the bikers frustration. I looked at Google Maps, if only we could turn around then it would be a massive diversion off our route but we would be saved. I wasn’t worried about other drivers getting annoyed and honking at us, everyone passing us was annoyed, most people were honking. For whatever reason, there was a lull in the oncoming traffic, I couldn’t see anything coming towards us and, ignoring the pretty much redundant traffic light and whatever it might be showing, we went through. So did the car behind us, and the one behind them.

The actual traffic works were small, the disruption was immense. The lorry driver waiting at the other end to come through did not look happy, he had already started to pull out and was waving his arms about, but we had started the trend with a long line of cars behind us making a break for it.

We got to a junction signposted to Llanstephan (toilets straight ahead, it said), we turned and were straight away faced with a “Weak Bridge” sign. We had taken the correct turning. I saw this on the map as I planning the route, the Lady Milford’s Bridge, a wooden suspension bridge built in 1922 to replace a ford, very narrow and very wooden. I’m not really very good with weights and I did look up the typical weight of a mark 6 Ford Fiesta to make sure we would make it; it turns out we could had got three Fiestas on the bridge before we would be in trouble. Tom concentrated on the driving, not hitting either of the sides (very narrow) while we both listened to the clunking of the wooden slats under us. Before we knew it we were across. I really wanted us to go back and have another go, but the biker in front of us had already done that. A nice bit of driving by Tom over a very narrow, very wooden, very shaky bridge. According to Google Maps reviews, the bridge gets a 4.3 rating. Why not a full 5? Blame Duncan Chan who only gave it 4 stars stating “4 (stars) for interesting and cool looking. 1 less star for shitting myself driving over it and the noise!”. He needed to man up, surely.

Mid Wales and a Pub Break

We had had quite a lot of excitement, now we were in the “bit in the middle”. It wasn’t the beginning, it wasn’t nearing the end, it was just the bit in the middle that, while still really good scenery, was starting to be a bit of a lull. The roads were still great, the hills fantastic, but I noticed myself yawning once or twice and I was sure Tom was likely feeling the same. I needed a wee too. I shouted out to Tom, “Take that turning” as I saw a signpost suggesting services and toilets. The turning was more off an “off ramp” veering off to the right down a steep hill and putting us in the middle of a deserted single street village. I was sure no-one would speak English in what looked like a forgotten land, I was expecting to see traditional dress at least. It had a very large car park with a massive hill at the end and houses opening up straight into the car park. We soon found the toilets and we walked, in scorching heat, up and down the street where we found a very 1950s crown post office, and an ancient looking pub. I said to Tom, as we walked into the pub, that we should expect to be the only customers. Either that or we were about to enter The Slaughtered Lamb, I told Tom to look up that reference as he looked at me blankly.

No werewolves, we were the only customers. The bar was small, the barmaid was Welsh, speaking English and not in traditional dress, friendly all the same. I was wondering how a place like this can keep open during the day but during a brief visit the customers came and went, sat outside in the hot sun. It may have felt like an oasis in the middle of mid Wales, deserted by modern life only to be discovered by us (that barmaid had waiting all day for us to arrive I’m sure). It was only mystical for us, but it was well placed for our needs.

Onwards to Llundudno

The break had woken us up and got us ready to enter Snowdonia national park. The Fiesta struggled up the long climbs upwards while I watched the scenery go by. We watched the slate mines of Ffestiniog go past and carried on now slightly familiar roads from our previous road trip around Snowdonia. So many places we could had stopped but time was getting on and we were closing in on Llandudno. This arrived with no fan fare or even a town sign saying “Welcome to Llandudno” that I saw, I would had taken a photo if I had seen it. We were soon on driving into town, lots of roundabouts until we got to the seafront and amazingly, we parked on on the main promenade road. Parking was free after five.

No one was there to welcome us or cheer us having ended our long drive up the whole A470. That is the only problem doing such adventures, all the prep, all the excitement, all the struggles, all the stories to tell, and then it’s all done. We were pleased though even if everyone around us had no idea of what we had just completed. We had a walk along the seafront and through town and decided we were both knackered. We went 18 miles down the Expressway to find our Premier Inn, had KFC while sitting in a nature reserve which turned out to be an old railway line. We had a walk past an old castle and back to our room for the night.

Bonus Trip – Anglesey

The next day we planned a route around Anglesey, along the coast to Holyhead and back along the old A5 to the mainland. We first had to drive through what seemed like a major caravan/holiday home area with park after park. Traffic was not much but the 20mph speed limit made it feel like we were on a slow tourist trail, it took a while to get out of the other side.

We got to Conwy, I remembered I had been here before back in 1985 or 1986 maybe. I had taken photos back then and now I was remembering where I had taken them. Tom drove round twice while I remembered bits of that trip. I quickly looked up where that place is with the really long name that I had visited during that time. It turned out it was just “down the road” so we added to our plan for later.

First, the Expressway which felt more like a scene from a computer game, it felt like was playing Out Run once again. We had tunnels that were bendy and flat open road, everything I imaged an Expressway would be.

We stopped off a Bangor to find some lunch. A bit disappointing having heard about “(Didn’t We) Have A Lovely Day at Bangor” for years only to find not much there. Even if it did have one of the longest high streets in the country, there wasn’t much point if it didn’t have many shops on it anymore. We may have been a fit unfair, it was hot. We went into Nero’s to find a snack, it was too hot to sit inside so sat in the shade outside. We had a bit more of a walk around and found some nice parkland, we found a Greggs which we wished we had seen before. Tom could had got a free coffee from there, although too hot for such drinks maybe.

Over to Anglesey, the coast road twisted its way around. Nice driving and nice views, dipping down at 20mph through holiday destinations. Past the nuclear power station in the distance and down to Holyhead, final destination before Ireland. We had a walk around the town, it reminded me a bit of Newhaven which, unfortunately for Holyhead, was not a good thing. Yet another depressed looking port town where people don’t go to unless they are passing through to the ferry. It was Saturday but everywhere was deserted. We found a small shop with a disinterested person manning the till who took our money for a cold drink out of the fridge. It really was too hot to hang along for too long, we got back in the car and ventured our way out. We caused somewhat of a scene as a diversion caused us to mistakenly go down the wrong way along a set of one way streets. Some people looked at us strangely, watched us pass, a nice couple informed us of our mistake while the driver could only swear at us as we passed. We quickly took a turning and desperately tried to escape the backroads of Holyhead. It felt like the desperate situation with the road work traffic lights the day before. We got within yards of getting back to the main road only to be stopped by one way signs. We had no cars behind us this time to back us up, we had to venture back into the one way streets and find another way out. It was too hot for this sort of thing.

It’s a good test for Google Maps and it’s UI when you ask it for directions to Llanfair­pwllgwyngyll­gogery­chwyrn­drobwll­llan­tysilio­gogo­goch. It looked strange on the screen but it handled it well. We ignored the directions as it wanted us to go along the new Expressway A55 whereas we stuck to the old A5 which, apart from the 20mph limits in the villages, was long, straight, fast and mostly deserted by cars. We could see the Snowdonia hills/mountains in the distance and it felt a bit like we were in Texas driving through little settlements which were mostly just old service stations while the road was empty and straight. Some good driving and much more fun than the new main road that had turned these service stations into the old abandoned places they now looked like.

We arrived at Pwllgwyngyll and quickly found a famous train station with the more exciting name of Llanfair­pwllgwyngyll­gogery­chwyrn­drobwll­llan­tysilio­gogo­goch. A bit of a 19th century tourist ploy to get people to visit, and in 2025 it is still working. I had been here before but remembered little about it. There was not much to see but the request stop station was nice. We listened to a gaggle of young people speaking Welsh while waiting for their train. It was still too hot to hang about so we left before the train arrived but instead ventured down a side street to find a manned signal box. We heard the bell ding in the box and the man came out and closed the crossing gates by hand and went back in. Minutes later the train slowly went passed after which he came out and opened the gates once again. I could be quite happy doing that job.

It was a good end to a good two day road trip. From here we swapped over who was driving and made our way back along the Expressway right over to the M6 and found our place to stay for the night. It was a big budget hotel in the middle of an industrial estate, we seemed to be the only people staying until we were informed that if we were going to be eating this evening then to go it sooner rather than later, they had a coach party due in anytime soon. We started our evening meal as the only two people in a massive empty restaurant. We were soon joined by two coach loads of tourists from Scotland on their way to somewhere.

By the time we got up in the morning, the coaches had gone on their way. We started our massive trip back to Sussex. No interesting scenery and hills this time, just the motorway and the delight on hearing the M25 was closed meaning a quick drive through Staines. Welcome home.