Wales Wins Again!

This year, New Balance UK will be staging their first half-marathon on home turf. It will be held in Warrington, but is called the Great British Half Marathon, because Warrington is really not such a nice place. Anyhow, I was excited for this as a bunch of co-workers decided to do it and I rarely get to run with people I know. However the date of this event falls on October 3^rd and as most of you know there is something slightly more important happening that day. Therefore, I decided to find another race and in an extremely hung over state (thanks Colin), I signed up for a half-marathon on Anglesey island. So this past weekend, we once again decided to set out for North Wales, which is really the most amazing part of the UK. Anglesey is an island off the coast of North Wales so we decided it would be fun to book a dog-friendly hotel and make a weekend out of it.

Despite the grey skies, we set out eagerly on our trip. Our first destination was at the furthest tip of the island, called Holyhead. There are huge cliffs overlooking the sea here and supposedly there are puffins as well, so we were super excited. When we arrived the scenery was incredibly dramatic. The sea was a few different beautiful shades of blue and although there were no puffins, there was a nice lighthouse to our North. The place felt a lot like our trip north of San Francisco last year and immediately made us both realize how importance the sea is to both of us.

We were also really excited to find out that something was being filmed. We saw three men dressed in ‘period’ clothing surrounded by a bunch of Americans filming and shouting instructions. A fourth actor came out and he even had an assistant. We both racked our brain to try and see if we knew who these people were. We finally decided we had no clue, but deduced that it was some B rated made for TV Sherlock Holmes thing. We watched numerous run throughs of a scene where they look over the cliff and discuss how best to climb down to the boat. They then started to film and during the second take, our good friend Miller shook his head violently making loud noises much to the dismay of the Production Assistant. He shot us a very American and very dirty look so we decided to be on our way. I thought it was pretty exciting nonetheless and Kathleen enjoyed the crew’s American accents.

At this point, it was getting a bit late so we decided to adjourn to Beaumaris where we had booked a room at the Bulkely Hotel. This was a hotel that was built in order to accommodate the queen a century ago. It was subsequently purchased by Best Western, who made it a much more ‘common’ lodging. As we checked in to our room, we noticed that a wedding was taking place there. Oh, cute we are getting married in a few weeks… yeah, more to come on that in a bit. The room was not the nicest, but we were stoked that Miller could stay. We spent the evening exploring the beach area and downtown which boasted ‘the most technically perfect medieval castle in the world.’ I still don’t know what that means, but it looked cool.

Rather than leave Miller in the room while we went out to eat, we opted to order from their Bistro menu and eat in the Lounge. Well… the food was pretty terrible. Kathleen had a leg of lamb that tasted like ‘what you remember bad lamb tasting like as a kid.’ My lasagne (usually a good pre-race meal) was some meat and weird saucy cheese liquid. I really think there was no pasta in it at all. However, the worst was the other people in the Lounge. Well these people were actually all the young kids from the wedding. By kids, I guess I mean drunk (really really drunk) 12-15 year olds acting very inappropriately, screaming toddlers who had way too much candy, and a few early twenty-somethings inhaling helium. Oh and they were all very interested in Miller who kind of had the best response to them by just growling away.

Needless to say, we booked out of dinner and decided to retire early. We watched some TV while Miller took full advantage of roaming freely on the furniture. At around 10ish, we decided to try to sleep. I could be wrong, but I think this was precisely the time the DJ decided to crank the dance music at the wedding reception. It was an awful, awful two hours. The only good thing coming out of this was we have a long list of Do Not Plays at the wedding including such favourites as:

YMCA – The Village People

Hips Don’t Lie – Shakira

Tell Me More – Grease Soundtrack

The Twist – Chubbie Checker

Kung Fu Fighting – God Knows Who

And much, much more…

I’m sorry if anyone is partial to these, but it just ain’t happening. After a very angry call to the Front Desk, they quieted a bit and then shut down at midnight. Then for the next hour there were the sounds of various drunken guests roaming the halls and urinating in the alley outside our window. I believe I fell asleep until about 4:30 or so only to be awakened to another post-wedding couple activity (our neighbours?) that I won’t go into detail about. Sooner (rather than later) my alarm went off at 6:45 for race day.

We got out of the hotel without any issues, but also without successfully getting our rate reduced. It was drizzling as we pulled out of town and to be honest, we were both feeling a bit surly. However, as we drove on a bit, the rain gave way to sun and a beautiful day opened up for us. We followed the directions we were given to the race finish. I was to register here and receive my chip, and then they would transport me 13.1 miles to the start. The worst part of a race is waiting around for it to start so I made sure I took the last possible bus. Kathleen and Miller put me on, like it was my first day of school, and off I went.

The race itself was pretty gruelling, but I pretty much loved every second of it. The beginning reminded me of that area in Welfleet where the Cape is at its narrowest. There were tidal flats off to my right during the first mile, whereas on my left were beach pines, very reminiscent of Truro. I have some pretty terrible shin splints these days, but the scenery helped me to forget. At mile 2-3, we turned inland and the surrounding became much more Vermont like (but with more sheep). The course was pretty hilly and wound through small towns and many, many farms. Off to my right rose the mountains of Snowdonia, still decked out in morning fog. The sun stayed out the entire time and I was definitely glad I had the hat my mom bought me before the Cape Cod marathon a few years back (thanks to Mom for the gift and to Kathleen for reminding me). As I said, my shins kept me a bit reserved the first two miles, but I was then able to open up. My splits were coming in faster and faster, and I even managed one of my quickest miles ever. Finally I saw the finish area, and as I came around the last bend, there were Kathleen and Miller waiting with big smiles, yelling and screaming. I had told Kathleen I would be in between 1:45 and 2:00 as I knew the course was pretty tough. Luckily she erred on the side of caution because according to my watch, I came in just under 1:42. Not my fastest, but quicker than Liverpool in the spring and this was a much more challenging course, so I was stoked.

Soon after, I was showered and hydrated, and we were headed back home. We decided to stop off in Conwy to have lunch. We ate paninis in the harbour underneath another gigantic medieval castle. Afterwards, Kathleen took a quick tour of the Smallest House, and we then meandered back to the car in the crisp fall weather. Despite a horrible night’s rest, our trip was pretty fantastic. The race itself reminded me of 100 on a 100 in Vermont and I would definitely recommend it to anyone. Anglesey itself, is extremely beautiful and worth a day excursion. North Wales is truly an amazing place and if nothing else, we are psyched to be able to spend so much time there.

Still Makin' It Happen

One of the most difficult aspects of moving to Liverpool for me was the prospect of having less than ideal access to surf and snow. I have been super fortunate over the past 10 years to live within an hours drive of one or the either and consequently, these have dominated my life to a large degree. Therefore, as we began a New Year in January, I wanted to commit to doing something that would help fill this new gap. Skateboarding was pretty central to the early part of my life and it enabled me to avoid and get into all sorts of trouble. It provided me with a pretty damn good education as well whether it be learning to navigate the streets and subways of NYC to find the Brooklyn Banks or protesting a proposed act in my town to ban skateboarding. When I graduated college, my skating really cut down as I started to work full-time and got involved in other things. Regardless, I have always had a board and would get back on it once in awhile. I thought that our new life in Liverpool might give me the perfect opportunity to start skating seriously again.
        

And… it has been a pretty amazing and frustrating 8 months or so. It seems these days that skating has enjoyed a lot more public support and financing. Along with inevitable ridiculous marketing and commercialization, this has meant a lot of skate parks have been built. This article in the WSJ is something we would have never dreamed of as kids. Liverpool has about 4 parks within a 30 minute drive, and it has been a lot of fun getting to know the different spots. Skating as 33 year old (as opposed to being a 13 year old) has been pretty rad (although painful) as well. There is nothing like coming home from the park exhausted, sweaty, and bloody, and then going right out for beers with your fiancée.
        

In addition to the lack of surf and snow, I have also missed the feeling of having some close buds around to enjoy them with. Therefore when Colin decided it was about time he came over, I immediately told him it was going to be a skate trip. He landed on a Thursday and despite having been told his board could be a weapon, made it through with everything. After a quick nap and some lunch back here, we went out skating. That first day and for the next couple we hit up Runcorn. This is a concrete park built a few years ago by the Town Council. It has a sketchy half pipe, two small bowls, and all sort of hips and spines and quarters. It is a bit small but is in pretty good shape.

The park itself is situated next to some pretty awful projects. As one of the older guys I skate with who used to live there, ‘It’s pretty much like living in Beirut.’ Despite this perhaps exagerrated claim, the scene at the park is really chill and fun. There is an age range from about 4 to 54 and everyone is super psyched on each other. The only real trouble we encountered were a bunch of little kids throwing rocks at us while we skated the bowl. Not a big deal and they eventually bored of this. We had a lot of fun here over the past few days, re-learning old tricks, playing games of S-K-A-T-E, and generally eating shit. Colin got his pop heel flips back and I spent more and more time in the little bowls. It was so rad to skate with him again and it brought back so many memories of when we were younger. It is pretty awesome to meet a guy when you are 2, learn to skate with him when you are 10, and then be skating together in another country at 33. 
   

Needless to say, a lot of beers were enjoyed after these sessions. Kathleen joined us in Runcorn and hung with the dog while we skated, but she jumped right in on the drinking sessions. She and Colin get a long amazingly well and we all must have looked pretty ridiculous giggling in a booth as we played dice using each of our iPods. Let’s just say that this night did not end up to pretty for a certain individual who has since been told he needs to practice a lot before his bachelor party…
      

As usual with the NW UK we were battling the weather throughout his visit. It would rain at least once a day but Runcorn usually dried up in time for a session. However on Sunday it was grey and rainy from the get-go so we decided to go to an indoor park called Rampworx. This was the place I first started skating back in January. The place has an amazing set up. It has a mini street course with a few hips, a table top, and some nice wedges. There is an amazing mini-pipe there that is so fun to learn tricks on. There is also a nice sized bowl as well. On top of this, there is a whole other side, that I have yet to really dial in. Check it:

Rampworx Skatepark 3D render from Rampworx Skatepark on Vimeo.

Weekdays between 6-8 pm are generally pretty mellow, and Sunday morning sessions are virtually empty (church and hangovers pre-occupy the majority of Britons time on a Sunday morning). Recently I had stopped going on weekdays though because with school holidays it has been awful crowded. There are a lot of kids all packed in here and a lot of BMX’ers and Rollerbladers. It can actually get a bit dangerous at times with people dropping in on each other and bikes flying everywhere. However, since it was rainy and a Sunday, I thought we’d be ok. This was our last skate session of the trip, but definitely was the best. We skated as much as we could and were both landing things that had not even been thought of for ten years or so.
     

Despite being pretty wrecked from the past few days of skating as well as a bit of beer drinking there was still one mission we had been bouncing around. Kathleen wrote in the past about our trip to Hell’s Mouth and with Colin here, we thought it would be a perfect time to head back and actually get some waves. The surf forecast was not encouraging, but Colin was super into the idea so we committed. We woke up early on Monday AM and shot Kathleen up to work. It was go to be pretty fast paced as we had to jet out to the break a few hours away, get a session in, and then be back in time to pick up Kathleen from work. All in all, the plan could not have been smoother.We hit Wales around 9:15 and Colin was super stoked on the surrounding scenery. Our highway twisted and turned along the sea, until it finally spit us out on the tiny Welsh roads we had grown accustomed to. Out first stop was Off Axis, a super dope shop in the heart of Abersoch. We rented a few boards and found out that the surf was “small but would probably pick up some.” We drove straight out of town into the surrounding hilly farm lands. After a few miles of single track, we ended up at the parking lot to Hell’s Mouth. A quick walk down a small path and the Irish Sea opened out in front of us and…
     

“It doesn’t look too bad. Look that wave has a decent shoulder.”
    

“Yup and this incoming set does not look that small.”
     

It was on and all I can say in summary is that we scored. First day out for me and second for Colin and we surfed our asses off. The waves were a solid chest high with a few larger set waves. We caught a dump load of long lefts and rights in an uncrowded and friendly line up. On top of that, we were surrounded by some of the most dramatic scenery you could imagine. Colin and I have surfed on the East Coast and down in Costa Rica, but this was a pretty amazing session. This is not my pic, but you can get the idea.

We were in the water for 2-2.5 hours before it was time to pack it up and head back to pick up Kathleen. I was pretty impressed that we were even a few minutes early. That night we had a few more beers and reminisced on a pretty awesome few days. It is pretty rad that you can know someone for so long, yet still continue to make new memories each time you hang out. And in addition to getting some more skating in, it has gotten me really psyched to surf more. We are headed back to Wales next weekend and at least once more in September. Then I should be all primed up (at least surf wise) to meet back up with the boys back in NYC and MA before the big day!

Wales is Just Rad.

As you all probably know, Kathleen is back in the US seeing some friends, hitting the beach, and enjoying her time off. In the past when she has left me alone, I generally turn it into a Boy’s Weekend of sorts which means my friends come over and we drink a lot of beer, eat Crab Rangoon, and usually surf. However since 3 out of those 4 things are not currently available I had to think of another way to ‘seize the opportunity.’ One of the things I have learned about Kathleen is that she absolutely hates to get out of bed in the morning. It does not really matter what is planned for the day, weekend or weekday, she likes to sleep in. As do I, but my idea of sleeping in is to about 7:00 am or so at which point I am ready to take on the day. Since we had come back from Wales, I had been thinking about hiking the tallest peak in the country – Mt Snowdon. The problem is that there is only one small parking lot from the trail head and everywhere stated how early it filled up. Considering we are about two hours away from said car park this would mean that if I were to climb it, I would have to leave the house early… like early early. So when I saw the weather was looking decent for today, I began to plan it all out.

My day started at around 4:15 AM. That is when the alarm went off and my partner for the day, Miller, was at my bedside immediately licking my face. I took him for a quick walk, and then debated whether I should feed him so early or wait. I figured it is not great to hike on a completely full stomach so I fed him quickly and headed out. The drive over was pretty painless and we were making good time. That was until the sat nav told me to get off the highway and I found myself on the scenic route. Oh yeah, Welsh roads… I had forgotten how they are like mountain biking single-track through the woods: Narrow and windy with not a lot of room for forgiveness. We wound our way through some amazing countryside and picturesque towns until we reached the trail head. Luckily, there were some parking spots left and we quickly geared up and headed out.

Our route was to follow the Pyg Trail up until it converged with the Miner’s track. Here the incline would increase dramatically and I had heard tales of people down on all fours climbing. I was a bit nervous about Miller as this was a pretty hefty hike with some supposedly technical ascents and some very steep faced ridges. I should not have worried one bit as he did much better than I. Although he’s no Darryl Strawberry (well I mean, who is really?) catching fly balls in the park, he is one agile little mutt. This part of this hike was absolutely outstanding view-wise. I had heard many people compare this hike to those in the Scottish Highlands and I was not disappointed. We were surrounded by sheer rock cliffs and clouds you could nearly touch. Below us were a series of lakes, which I had promised Miller we could hit on the way down. The weather was at times sunny and bluebird and then pouring down rain. It was a bit windy but the air temp was good though so we were doing well.


Miller even met some friends.

He was also good at blending in with things.

Well, only in Black and White.

As much as I was looking forward to the hike itself, I was not looking forward to the summit. They have a steep railway up to the top and I had heard on nice days it can be a mob scene. Additionally, word was they built a café on the top and today was opening day! However, I was going to overlook these as I was really there for the hike itself. Miller was not too excited about the summit either though.

Luckily the crowds were scare because the summit was socked in with cloud cover. However, this did impede my views.

On the way down, we took the Miner’s Track in its entirety so we could hit the lakes. Miller swam a lot, much to the enjoyment of a group of school kids.

Overall the hike was amazing, but not nearly as long or difficult as I had thought. It was only 11:00 when I got back to the car. Since the sun had come out (for good it looked like) I decided to take Miller down to Criccieth. This was a small sea-side town where Kathleen and I had visited earlier. I remembered the beach was pretty decent so we packed up the car to head down. As we were doing so, I found a small surprise in the back of the car. It seemed Miller does not really like Welsh roads either and my decision to feed him first thing this morning was a bad one. Vomitous dog!

After a quick clean up we drove down to Criccieth (this time I tried to drive more slowly). We parked at the beach and walked a ½ mile down or so to avoid the crowds. The water was actually clean and there was no litter. There were a lot of rocks on the beach, but it was great. The sun was out and Miller swam a lot. I even decided to take a swim as well, however Miller was not into the two of swimming together. At this point, I must admit I began to miss the Cape and Surfing a bit. However, seeing the old Criccieth Castle sticking out on the horizon to my right:

and the mountains of Snowdonia to my left:

I was pretty damn psyched to be in Wales!

On our way home we had another harrowing drive on the Welsh road. This time there were runners as well! It seems like there is some sort of large scale relay race here, similar to Vermont’s 100 on 100 (fitting, no? Vermont=Rad, Wales=Rad).

I weaved my way through the runners, on-coming traffic, and some bikers as well. I am not sure of my time, but as you can see I finished the leg.

The rest of the drive was uneventful: Miller stinking up the car and me fighting yawns. I got back and took a long nap. I am now enjoying a well-deserved glass of Irish and trying to decide what to plan for next weekend!

Wales Part II

After the beautiful hike in the hills of Snowdonia, we decided to take a drive to the sea. Mark had done some interwebbing and knew of a few surf spots in Wales, so we first headed to a surf shop about 15 miles away. One moment we were driving on Welsh farm roads, surrounded by sheep, and the next moment we were in... Oak Bluffs? Or some similarly surreal beach town, with limited parking, girls wearing Roxy sweatshirts and guys who could have come from southern California if not for their accents. 

The town itself wasn't our favorite, but Mark was able to chat with some of the guys in the shop and learn a bit more about our 'local' break, which seems to be similar to the Cape. After a brief walk through town, we decided to head out to Hellsmouth, five miles of coastline with a decent break not too far away.

It took us longer than we thought, since we kept looking for a 'main' road but found ourselves on narrow farm paths crisscrossing the countryside (it turns out there is no 'main' road to Hellsmouth), but eventually we parked the car and walked out through the dunes.

We watched a few people paddle in the knee-high waves, taking it in (and trying our hardest not to compare it with Coastguard and the National Seashore) before looking more closely at our surroundings. 

Now, I don't know if this is a British thing, but it's definitely something we've noticed since moving here: litter. Around Liverpool, especially it's beautiful parks, there is so much litter and dog waste that it's really disheartening. Sometimes people will take the time to pick up after their dog and bag the waste, but then they leave the bag on the sidewalk, or beside a bench. And the litter is so pervasive that we find ourselves talking about it quite a bit. We're hoping that with the warm weather of spring, there will be a clean-up day in Sefton Park (which isn't as bad as other places we've seen: the Otterspool promenade, for instance) and we can help pick up.

But this beach was sad. More than the occasional soda bottle, condom, and beer can - there were rubber gloves, household waste, and other assorted items. I don't know if these were washed in (in which case, the poor sea!) or if people dump their waste at the beach, but it soured the experience for both of us.

Maybe we've just been spoiled, but I hope this has just washed in from the winter seas, and that people respect their surroundings this summer...

In any case, after the beach we drove back to our cottage and watched a movie next to the wood stove until it was time to get ready for dinner. We went out on a date at Poachers and had a wonderful time.

The next morning we sadly began to pack our things to head home. As we thanked our hosts for our great weekend, Katherine (the wife of the farmer we met the first day) suggested that we follow her husband to (insert Welsh name here). He was packing a few lambs into a trailer and would be heading out in a few minutes. Mark and I found ourselves agreeing, and within five minutes were struggling to keep up with the truck ahead of us. As he careened around sharp turns on the narrow farm roads, we started laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Everyone in Wales drives at least 50mph on these roads, but there is barely enough room for one car. When another car approaches, both have to slow and turn almost completely off the road to allow eachother to pass. I don't think this picture does justice, but here goes:

In the meantime, at every bump we could hear the sheep bleating in the little trailer. I panicked as I thought - are we following these lambs to slaughter? Mark tried to comfort me and tell me that there was no way he'd invite us to see that, especially after seeing me moon over the lambs each morning in the barn. 

(As a side note, do you want to know the cutest things about lambs? Within days, they are too tall to easily suckle from their moms. So they head over, bend their front legs, and crouch to get at the teat. Their butts stick straight into the air, and as they begin to get milk, their tails start wagging furiously. It is the cutest thing in the entire world.)

Anyway, the truck veered off onto a dirt road and we paused, unsure whether to follow. We then hit the gas and followed him up the hill to the most beautiful view we'd had yet. Rolling green hills sloping to a bright blue sea.

The farmer has additional land over by the sea, and he was moving the ewe and her lambs to the other site. We were both in awe at the beauty of the place, and have since tried to convince the farmer and his wife that they should build a little cottage there. And we would move there.

But the time had come for us to leave, and so we packed our bags and said good-bye. On our way back, we had decided to stop at one of the castles we had passed on the Friday before, and decided on Caernarfon.
This beautiful castle juts out to the sea at the mouth of the River Menai, and was the location of Prince Charles' coronation as Prince of Wales. The castle itself was built in the thirteenth century by Edward I (though I think it took a few more Edwards to see it to completion).

And so ended our first (of many, I hope) trip to Wales. The trip back was adventurous, as well, since they decided to close the main autoroute and so we were diverted through the Welsh countryside and had to fight the same traffic we'd seen on a major autoroute on those little Welsh farm roads I described before. You haven't lived until you've tried to steer around a giant truck (lorries, they're called here) on one of those roads where a hedgerow on each side prevents you from actually pulling off the road. 

But we made it home...