Never trust a Cornishman
Posted: Sat Sep 30, 2017 2:09 pm
“Never trust a Cornish-man” that’s what I say and why is that? you may well ask.
Well simply put, whilst I was staying near the town of Bala in North Wales on our latest little outing with Annie and myself in my touring caravan, I asked the site manager if there was a dog friendly pub nearby where I could get my lunch. “Ooh Aaar” he replied, “just go back to the main road and go straight across, through the village of Llandderfel then e turns left up the hill and its on your roit and the more dogs the merrier” says he. So off I went, Annie securely strapped into her harness on the passenger seat, then across the main road and followed my nose. Very soon the road started to narrow and snake with sharp bends and twists and me fearing whatever would come around the next bend, when it finally did I had to close in the wing mirrors to avoid losing them as we passed perilously close to each other, fortunately they both work off a switch on the door panel so could be done swiftly. Eventually we arrived at the pub only to find it was more like a tourist restaurant and therefore not somewhere to take your dog, so I headed back towards Bala keeping to the main road which hardly took any longer than the recommended ‘short cut’ did.
On the next occasion I asked him if he knew the location of some ‘standing stones’ that I believed were in this area. For those not familiar, these standing stones or ‘menhir’ (men stones) as they are often called usually date from the megalithic period of man’s history and places like Stonehenge are good examples, the single stones are often erected at places of ritual significance or near burial mounds. Once again I was given similar instructions, “Ooh Aaar, follow the lane up the hill, pass the cottage and look e for a footpath sign on the roit, but it is all marshy up there if the rushes are any indication, so you will need your wellies”. No problem I thought as I have my ‘cut off’ wellie boots that come up to my ankles, so should be OK. So off we went, up the narrow lane, passing the cottage on our right and arrived at a farm gate with a footpath sign pointing up the hill. At first glance this looked very interesting, lots of rocky outcrops and the definite outline of a long lost sunken lane or road bordered by very large stones and in places lined with trees. As I continued up the hill there were piles of boulders with trees growing out of them, probably indicating some ancient habitation, the remoteness of the area and my imagination had Druids meeting in the small grove close by.
While my attention was diverted in reverie I had not noticed Annie had decided to rub her head in a pile of sheep s**t just for the fun of it, “you scummy little dog” I yelled at her whilst prodding her away with my stick, although she seemed indifferent to my chastisement. Further on our way was blocked by an inconsiderate farmer who had made the stile on the footpath right of way unusable, but by now I had had enough searching for the elusive stone and started to make my way back again. A while later I spotted a large marshy area filled with rushes and some way in I could see a large pile of boulders, maybe it was the remains of a neolithic burial mound and the place I was looking for. It was also a good opportunity to get Annie cleaned up a little by going through the long wet rushes. She does not like long grass or rough areas as she has short legs, but will always follow in my footsteps regardless of where I go, so off we set towards the stones. Annie was more scummy than ever and I had soaking wet jeans and wet feet as the bog water came over my short wellies, but eventually we reached the stones. Getting closer I was not very impressed as they just resembled a pile of boulders so I took a few photo’s and we made our way back again, Annie covered in mud and sheep s**t and me sloshing along in my waterlogged boots.
After forcing Annie under a cold water tap at the site and then bathing her in a plastic bowl using my own shampoo and then rinsing her off with a kettle full of water (needs must) I then changed out of my own wet gear. “Did e find it OK” came the jolly call as he passed me later in the day, I told him that I had, but that to me it just resembled a large pile of boulders and then showed him my photographs. “Aah that be roit” “that be just a big pile o boulders” He then explained that I had not gone far enough along the road despite me observing all his given landmarks and then he told me it was easily visible from the road as you drive past!
’strewth! that’s the last time I ask him for any advice.
A long and winding road
Starting up the hill
Following the sunken lane
Where Druids congregate?
The mysterious boulder pile in a swamp
'Sheep Sh*t' the dog
Well simply put, whilst I was staying near the town of Bala in North Wales on our latest little outing with Annie and myself in my touring caravan, I asked the site manager if there was a dog friendly pub nearby where I could get my lunch. “Ooh Aaar” he replied, “just go back to the main road and go straight across, through the village of Llandderfel then e turns left up the hill and its on your roit and the more dogs the merrier” says he. So off I went, Annie securely strapped into her harness on the passenger seat, then across the main road and followed my nose. Very soon the road started to narrow and snake with sharp bends and twists and me fearing whatever would come around the next bend, when it finally did I had to close in the wing mirrors to avoid losing them as we passed perilously close to each other, fortunately they both work off a switch on the door panel so could be done swiftly. Eventually we arrived at the pub only to find it was more like a tourist restaurant and therefore not somewhere to take your dog, so I headed back towards Bala keeping to the main road which hardly took any longer than the recommended ‘short cut’ did.
On the next occasion I asked him if he knew the location of some ‘standing stones’ that I believed were in this area. For those not familiar, these standing stones or ‘menhir’ (men stones) as they are often called usually date from the megalithic period of man’s history and places like Stonehenge are good examples, the single stones are often erected at places of ritual significance or near burial mounds. Once again I was given similar instructions, “Ooh Aaar, follow the lane up the hill, pass the cottage and look e for a footpath sign on the roit, but it is all marshy up there if the rushes are any indication, so you will need your wellies”. No problem I thought as I have my ‘cut off’ wellie boots that come up to my ankles, so should be OK. So off we went, up the narrow lane, passing the cottage on our right and arrived at a farm gate with a footpath sign pointing up the hill. At first glance this looked very interesting, lots of rocky outcrops and the definite outline of a long lost sunken lane or road bordered by very large stones and in places lined with trees. As I continued up the hill there were piles of boulders with trees growing out of them, probably indicating some ancient habitation, the remoteness of the area and my imagination had Druids meeting in the small grove close by.
While my attention was diverted in reverie I had not noticed Annie had decided to rub her head in a pile of sheep s**t just for the fun of it, “you scummy little dog” I yelled at her whilst prodding her away with my stick, although she seemed indifferent to my chastisement. Further on our way was blocked by an inconsiderate farmer who had made the stile on the footpath right of way unusable, but by now I had had enough searching for the elusive stone and started to make my way back again. A while later I spotted a large marshy area filled with rushes and some way in I could see a large pile of boulders, maybe it was the remains of a neolithic burial mound and the place I was looking for. It was also a good opportunity to get Annie cleaned up a little by going through the long wet rushes. She does not like long grass or rough areas as she has short legs, but will always follow in my footsteps regardless of where I go, so off we set towards the stones. Annie was more scummy than ever and I had soaking wet jeans and wet feet as the bog water came over my short wellies, but eventually we reached the stones. Getting closer I was not very impressed as they just resembled a pile of boulders so I took a few photo’s and we made our way back again, Annie covered in mud and sheep s**t and me sloshing along in my waterlogged boots.
After forcing Annie under a cold water tap at the site and then bathing her in a plastic bowl using my own shampoo and then rinsing her off with a kettle full of water (needs must) I then changed out of my own wet gear. “Did e find it OK” came the jolly call as he passed me later in the day, I told him that I had, but that to me it just resembled a large pile of boulders and then showed him my photographs. “Aah that be roit” “that be just a big pile o boulders” He then explained that I had not gone far enough along the road despite me observing all his given landmarks and then he told me it was easily visible from the road as you drive past!
’strewth! that’s the last time I ask him for any advice.A long and winding road
Starting up the hill
Following the sunken lane
Where Druids congregate?
The mysterious boulder pile in a swamp
'Sheep Sh*t' the dog
But it got you out in the fresh air H and that can't be bad.
What was that bang 
was just thinking while reading your post of the land around your walk...are you not scared to come across any bogs & slip into it never to be seen again..............& only found a thousand years later in good nick with your wee dog.
not very good quality as I was using my torch to see the way. 