The Bryn Awel Hotel

Denbigh Road, Mold, CH7 1BL, United Kingdom

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British Museum's photoBritish Museum's photo

Tough me, next to Moel ArthurTough me, next to Moel Arthur

Travel Tips for Mold

The Mold Gold Cape

by Eilian

Are you a freak of ancient Britain?
Well I am.

I've learned that The Mold Gold Cape comes from this Mold Town I've been to, and is listed one of the top ten treasures of Britain at the British Musem.

Yr Wyddgrug

by muguruki

"The Mold Gold Cape"

Not to be confused with

The Gold Cape, Mold

The Mold Gold Cape was dug out of an old burial mound 3,400 years ago in Bryn yr Ellyllon near Mold. The workmen who discovered the cape decided to cut up the cape and share the booty. A few years after the discovery The British Museum got its hands on the largest piece and over the years several other pieces were found and reunited with the larger piece of cape.

In March 2010 Elfyn Llwyd Plaid Cymru MP for Meirionnydd Nant Conwy has said that the cape was part of the Welsh “collective memory” and should come home to North Wales. A point I myself made on the VT forum some time ago. Keep up Elfyn!

Mold

by Eilian

"The absolutely non-touristic town!"

Why I went to Mold? Only because the biggest and hardest and more wonderful day of my life has to start there.

Get your chips or you crisps, this is a long story.

And there is picture to come along, soon.

***************************************
It all started because of the book I am writing, again. The final happens not far from Mold, on a hill called Moel Arthur. And I had to see it. This was the goal of my trip.

I had exchange some emails with Mold's Tourist Infos center before leaving, and a guy told me it was easy to go to the Moel by walk and that I just had to come over.
Hah! Damn him.

I went to their TIC at 10am, and the woman there just could not help me at all. I was lucky to have printed maps out of the internet before going! Oh well, she told me it was quite a ride (I knew) and tried to convince me to go to the Moel Famau instead! NO WAY, I want moel Arthur, I've seen it on the BBC's website!

So I left, and went to the bus station (no train goes to Mold). I heard that a bus could bring me to Loggershead, which is a National Park, I think. Closer to the Moel I wanted to see. But the morning bus had left and the next one was at 3pm! HAH!

I wanted to cry.

But I also wanted to see the moel, damn it!

I'll walk.
I can do it.
16 miles, if I am right. Round trip.

I saw a nice old couple, waiting for a bus. I showed them my maps and asked them what was the way I had to take. They told me.
At last! Someone help me!

So now that I knew where to go, I went and got myself a tuna sandwich with a lemonade.

Then I went and bought scones, one yum yum (kind of donut), cheddar, chocolate, water, an apple, some nuts and a Red Bull. Just in case ;)

It was about 10h45. And I started my hiking. I'm not in a very good shape, so I was a bit scared.

I walked until I got to Loggershead. About 3 miles. A bit hilly. Meeting nice people on my way.

At Loggershead, they wanted me to go to Moel Famau, too! NO! I want Moel Arthur!!!! Oh, it is a long walk, you know... Blah blah blah. Oh! Really?

I'm going anyway, you want to help me or not? Well, walk until there and blah blah blah.

Ok, thanks.
So I left the lady, and continued my walk.
Then I saw that sign to go to Cilcain, a little town I read about before going to England. It was nothing much, and made a cross on it because it was a détour from to road to the Moel.

But now, the sign says : Cilcain, 2 1/2 miles. I'm going. And I knew we could go to the Moel from there. I've read someone's experience.

I've walked through lovely roads. Many sheep. It's lambing time. Baby sheeps. Wouahah! I'm happy. It's hilly. Not too much, though. But it is never really flat. I eat some cheese and scones while walking. I have to not miss the last bus. It must be about 2h30 now.

I walk, walk, walk. Take pictures. Look at the landscapes. Mmmmmmmmm. Meet some locals on the road.
Alright? Alright.

I think they were wondering what a girl was doing, walking like that on her own! Oh well!

Then I arrived to Cilcain.

"Cilcain to the Moel"

I won't talk about Cilcain too much, you can go and see my page on it, later.

In Cilcain, it was dead. No one outside, only dogs in the yards. Then I met a lady, who showed me the way to the Moel. And then I left with a smile.

I hiked, and hiked. Crossing horses, more sheeps, landscapes. It was lovely. LOVELY!

And then I got in the real path to the moel. I was not sure, though, there was no sign at all. And I've seen no one yet. It is maybe 3pm, or 3h30. I have to go back soon, I have to walk back all that I just walked to come here!

I walked around the damn Moel Famau that everyone wanted me to go, because I knew Moel Arthur was not far from it. But I was afraid to be lost. I climbed a hill, my my, it was windy, and I screamed : SEND ME A SIGN!

This is when I saw to persons, appearing from behind a little hill. So they were coming from where I was going. I go.

I meet mountain bikers. Good, I'm on the right path. And then : I SAW THE SIGN, stating : Moel Arthur 1 1/2 mile! WOOOHOOOO!

"Going going gone"

So I climbed this very very hilly last hill before Moel Arthur. I wanted so much to see it. I could not stop saying to myself : I'm gonna ***ing do it.

And then, it appeared to me.
It was now very windy, raining. Even the weather did not want me to see the Moel!!! Argh.

I saw Moel Arthur. I cried. I sat down for 2 minutes. I closed my eyes to feel the energy. It's raining. I am all wet. And I smell because my raincoat is cheap. But I have the moel in front of me. And I take two pictures.

What a wonderful view we have on Wales from up there.

***************************************
Moel Arthur is one of the best kept old fort in England. There was a population there.

It was very special to me.

So I walked back to Mold, I thought I was going to die. Hehe.

I went back to Chester and bought a very big steak and chips and salad at Wetherspoon - the first place I saw that sell food. And pint of Guiness. I've talked with Stan, a real gentleman of 75 years old.

I went back to the youth hostel. I was exhausted and leaving Chester the day after. But Tom, at the hostel, greets me and we spent all night talking. He spoke welsh. Mmmmmmmmmm. Welsh. I'm in love with that language now. He could say anything in Welsh, I was going crazy!

My day ended there.

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