If One L is Good Then Two are Better

That philosophy also applies to the letters d and f. Here we are in Wales where Welsh is the predominant language on maps and road signage. We have been here for several days and have not actually heard a single person speak in Welsh so we do not have a clue about pronunciation. Give a few of these a try: Llanfihangel-y-traethau, Llanfachreth, Blaenau Ffestiniog, or Llanystumdwy.

Although Pollyanna Mike assures me that the sun will shine tomorrow, I am becoming a skeptic. It seems that fall has arrived in this part of the world. The falling leaves swirl around the car like birds migrating south. Minor hops out of the car to get a better look or take a photo left our clothes and hair soaked and our shoes squishy.

 

Today was intended to be one of visiting Victorian engineering marvels installed amongst scenic vistas as we travelled northwards from central Wales. With the Baskerville hound receding in the distance, we drove off in damp greyness towards Rhayader (pronounced ray-drr) and the Elan Valley, a landscape Mike last visited some 45 years ago. To resolve water supply issues in the British midlands around Birmingham, the government of England decided this could best be achieved by flooding a large area of neighbouring Wales. A series of five wonderfully massive dams was constructed, typically over-engineered and decorative in keeping with Victorian principles, each one individual in style, and a corresponding series of valleys was subsequently flooded submerging farms, houses, churches and manorial homes. Each of the resulting reservoirs holds billions of (genuine full-size Brit) gallons of water, and the total output is then piped some 70-80 miles downhill to Birmingham for Brummies to clean their teeth with.

 

 

By the time we reached the Elan Valley visitor centre, our post-breakfast damp greyness had become mist and almost continuous rain with occasional torrents. A guide there was explaining to a group of students that the afternoon weather was going to be substantially worse! We grabbed a couple of leaflets and set off to explore in sogginess before the prospect of drowning arose. It was a losing proposition. We completed the tour of dams, stopped for lunch, and visited the ruins of Clymer Abbey. With each stop we wondered why all of our waterproof clothes were thousands of miles away in Portland.

We were not the only creatures out in the wind and rain. At nearly every turn of the road we were greeted by dozens of sheep who seemed much better adjusted to the weather. They consider themselves the royalty of the road and amble out in front of the car whenever it suits them always watching with one eye to make sure the driver is aware of who is in charge.

 

 

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