Day 11: Off to the seaside

We got a fairly early start on Tuesday morning after saying goodbye to Jan and Steve. We had to detour to Birmingham as it  turned out, as I had hung Jeff's new rugby shirt in the closet at Lynne's house and forgotten to take it out when we left. Luckily, we were able to set up a rendevouz with Lynne, who took the shirt to work with her. We survived driving the narrow and busy streets of downtown Birmingham and met Lynne outside her office, then we were on our way.

Our next destination was Prestatyn, on the coast of northern Wales. I was excited to finally make it to Wales, as it was our family's frequent holiday destination when I was young. Prestatyn was the closest we could get to Rhyl, one of our places, using Airbnb. It was a bit of a drive, so we finally discovered, after over a week of driving British motorways, the service stops. Toilets (HOORAY!), restaurants, even showers, should you require one. I was so excited I took a photo. 

Driving long distances in England entails taking a mixture of small, narrow roads and multi-lane motorways where I am going 70 mph and almost everyone else is going 100. Or so it feels. On the side of one of the narrow roads we saw a gypsy encampment. Jeff was enthralled, but there was no one in evidence, just the bright wagons and a couple of horses. Which is probably just as well, seeing as how we parked very obviously on the side of the road to take photos. 

On a whim, we stopped in Stoke-on-Trent to visit the Potteries Museum, as we were ahead of schedule. North Staffordshire became a centre of ceramic production in the early 17th century due to the availability of salt, lead, clay, and coal. Hundreds of companies have been in production there, including Wedgewood and Doulton, and examples of their wares are found in the thousands at the museum. It was a bit overwhelming, to tell the truth. But we had a nice walk through the city and it was a good break from driving. 

Our one planned stop of the day was at St. Winefride's Chapel and Well in Holywell, a Catholic shrine that is not far from Prestatyn. We like to see curiosities along the way, and this was definitely one of those. The well has been known since Roman times and pilgrims have been visiting it since 660 AD. Supposedly, St. Winefride was beheaded there by Caradog, who intended to rape her. She was restored to life by the prayers of her uncle and continued to live there until her second death 22 years later. Pilgrims still visit to partake of the supposedly healing waters. Oh dear, I said "supposedly" twice. 

And you can gain entry for the mere sum of 80p one pound. Unless you are over 60, which Jeff is. 

And yes, Welsh is spoken by many people in Wales. All of the traffic signs are bi-lingual and our host of the evening informed us that the deeper you get into the countryside of Wales, the more it is the preferred language. Which I think is awesome.

The grounds are very picturesque and a little eerie as the sun sank lower in the sky. The chapel is in the middle of this photo and it houses the well.

By the time we were leaving, the sun was catching the tower very nicely.

It wasn't far to Prestatyn from Holywell and we made it in time to cook a quick dinner (I had stocked up on some pork chops and veggies at the supermarket) and go for a walk along the promenade. I do love a good promenade. Our hosts were two of the happiest people I have ever met and they ran off to a concert shortly after we arrived, leaving us to enjoy the evening in peace.