CIRCLING THE IRON RING
DAY ONE
Flint Castle stands overlooking the River Dee estuary. Once imposing, symbolizing a conqueror’s power, it is now in ruins and rather incongruously abuts a modern housing estate. It was the first castle to be built by the English king Edward I in his quest to end rebellion from the Welsh princes. I am on a quest too. A year ago, I visited every site where the body of Edward’s queen, Eleanor, rested overnight: the Eleanor Crosses. Over the next two days, my latest venture is to visit each of the 17 castles Edward either built from scratch or had rebuilt. I take a quick walk around Flint, imaging its former glory and then it’s off a few miles south west to Hawarden.
Here, my plan is scuppered because the sole remaining part of the castle, a derelict keep, lies on the estate of the new Hawarden Castle, built in the 18th century and once the home of prime minister, Sir William Gladstone. I venture onto the estate and assail a couple of elderly residents out in their garden. They have no idea where the keep is but they suggest that I might ask Sir William. I suspect it isn’t the Victorian politician, but as he lives a fair walk inside the grounds, I never find out, which is a shame. Hawarden was a rebuild after the first 1277 Welsh rebellion under the leadership of Llewellyn ap Gruffudd or Llewellyn the Last as he is now poignantly remembered and the place where the second rebellion began in 1283, when his brother Dafydd attacked it.
I am getting a sense of déjà vu on arriving in Holt, as another local resident seems oblivious to the location of the castle that I eventually discover on the edge of the village. Built within a sandstone quarry, it does not possess the commanding heights of many of Edward’s other castles, but it guarded an important crossing of the River Dee which marked the border. In contrast, Chirk is positioned high up on a hill. The National Trust owns the property, the only one of the castles that has been lived in continuously. Thoughtfully, they have sited the car park at the bottom of the hill, so it takes a steady climb to reach the gatehouse where a party of cub scouts, dressed in tabards, is being marshaled into line by a knight in full armour. I visit the apartments but they are from a much later time. Caergwrie, is also on top of a hill, necessitating yet another stiff climb from the small settlement below. Here, I find a group of men cutting back the bracken that covers the surrounding area and a fair portion of yet more ruins.
My next three castles lie fairly close to each other, as I make my way north towards the coast again. I see a flag flying on the red sandstone tower of Ruthin castle, as I near the delightful town. That’s as much as I do get to see, however, as it now a 4 star hotel. I have another upwards trek to Denbigh, which has remnants of the ancient town walls still evident: at some point the town decamped to the bottom of the hill. The castle has a unique triple towered gateway but now lies in ruins after being destroyed by the victorious Parliamentarians after the English Civil War. This fate befell many castles in Wales and also in England, although militarily at this time, they has more or less outlived their usefulness. I get a fabulous view of Rhuddlan castle as I take a wrong turn and find myself bypassing the town. After Llewellyn the Great destroyed a castle at Dyserth, there had been no protection for the northern end of Offa’s Dyke, which formed the border. Rather than rebuild Dyserth, Edward instead chose Rhuddlan, close to the sea on the river Clwyd. It is one of the ‘Iron Ring’ fortresses that were Europe’s most extensive and ambitious military building project at the time.
The sea was very important for these castles: it was a vital route for the various builders and craftsmen, travelling from across the midlands, and for supplies. There is easy coastal access at Conwy, a premier league castle, in an excellent state of repair and well worth the £15,000 Edward spent on it, making it the most expensive. By now, it is getting late and I have a long drive ahead, so I take a quick photo and move on. Then it starts to rain, it starts to get dark, the speed limit hovers between 30 and 40 for mile after mile on the winding coastal road that leads to Beaumaris. A gale is howling when I venture out at my final castle of the day, shaking the polythene covers that are protecting some restoration repairs. A hot shower and a curry await in Caernarfon so I don’t linger. Ten castles down, with seven to go.
DAY TWO
It was my intention to visit Caernarfon at night, but as it was pouring with rain, I make an early morning excursion instead. It is one of the most impressive of all Edward I’s Welsh castles, and the most symbolic. Edward wanted to create a piece of England here, destroying the original Welsh town and building a new town whose walls still stand. It was here that he presented the people with a new Prince of Wales, his son Edward II, to replace the princes he had just defeated. I have been inside the castle many times when I used to bring school parties on residential visits. It all feels very familiar.
The journey to the next castle, Dolwyddelan takes me through the heart of Snowdonia. The castles were built in response to two rebellions led by Llewellyn ap Gruffudd (Llewellyn the Last) in 1277, and with his brother Dafydd in 1283. Edward had not set out to conquer Wales. The country had been divided for many years between the Anglo-Norman Marcher lords and the Welsh princes. Llewellyn’s grandfather, also called Llewellyn, but with the more pleasing sobriquet ‘the Great’, had unified the principalities. When grandson Llewellyn refused to travel to Chester to pay homage to the English king, Edward mustered an army and invaded. Llewellyn quickly realised he was not going to win, especially as many of his Welsh lords defected to join the English, and so he sued for peace. Dolwyddelan was the birthplace of Llewellyn the Great and Edward had it rebuilt so that it could continue to oversee a key valley road.
The idea of my journey was to see each castle in its setting and to record my observations along with some details of my experiences. Time and money prohibited extensive exploration - I’d done my research beforehand. However, at Criccieth, maybe it’s the way the castle seems to hang over the shoreline that tempts me to part with my cash. I spend a happy few minutes in the bright autumn sunshine clambering around the ruins, reading information boards and gazing out to sea. Far in the distance I can just make out my next destination, Harlech. Well no, that’s a lie, I forget to look but, travelling on, I am soon aware of its presence, silhouetted against the skyline. It’s another gold star castle but,I’ve been to before, I do not tarry long, setting my sat nav for the romantically named Castell y Bere.
The journey down the coast mirrors in reverse one I made years ago. I was meant to be leading a school residential visit to Snowdonia, but I got an interview for a new job. After what felt like a very good interview, I caught the train to Porthmadog. I was so looking forward to the dramatic scenery as it travelled along the Welsh coast, but after changing at Birmingham and Wolverhampton, and stopping at every tiny station and halt on the interminably long journey, I couldn’t have cared less when the sea finally came in sight – and I didn’t get the job! As I follow signs for the castle, I do wonder where I am going to end up: five miles of single track road with Man Pasio (Welsh for passing place) and then a car park in the middle of nowhere. It’s my last hike up a hill but so worth it, for the castle, now fallen into disrepair, is on a rocky outcrop in a broad green valley, mountains towering up on every side. This remote spot – there is no habitation visible in any direction – was another strategic location. There used to be a small town that served the castle but of that, nothing remains.
I’d been to Abersytwth once before and found it very grey. It must have been an off day, because today, with the sun shining on its glorious pastel painted seafront hotels, it looks very inviting indeed. The place is full of young people out walking, remarkably full of young people. Maybe there’s nothing else for them to do. There was an English castle here before Edward decided to build a new one. In a near gale, I climb up to look at the walls, the wind so strong that it’s blowing my arms about as I try to take a photograph. Charles I had royal mint here and Cromwell blew the castle up later. So, with 16 castles visited, I embark on a long final journey to Builth Wells. This is probably the least impressive castle. Abandoned before it was finished, absolutely no stonework survives: most of it is in the walls of the local houses. However, it is an evocative place to stand and imagine life in a 13th century castle that served to keep the peace between two nations – one of Edward I’s mighty Welsh castles.
