A HEAVY mist hangs in the air. It blankets the roads and paddocks ahead, making it impossible to decipher anything in the distance. Suddenly, the fog moves ever so slightly and we jump out of the minibus, cameras at the ready.
From behind the haze, the magic that is the Carreg Cennen Castle begins to take shape. There, perched at the top of a 91m limestone crag, are the remains of a mighty fortress.
From the outside, it seems to be still intact.
Alone at the top of the hill, its exterior gives an impression of strength and defiance. Surrounded by farmland, its solid outer walls remain, although their days of guarding against opposition forces are long gone.
One of Wales's most spectacular castles, Carreg Cennan is found north of Swansea in the Brecon Beacons National Park, about 7km southeast of delightful town Llandeilo in Carmarthenshire.
We stop at a farm at the bottom of the hill to inquire about a visit to the castle. The owners supply us with a few details and a couple of torches. They are polite but also nonplussed; we find it difficult to understand how they could be so nonchalant when they live at the bottom of a castle.
We are here on a fleeting tour of the south of Wales ndash; a trip which takes us from Swansea, the birthplace of the infamous Welsh poet and James Dean of his time, Dylan Thomas, to the literary festival in the quaint town of Hay on Wye.
It is still quite chilly in May, but after some hearty Welsh meals and suffering from jet lag, we relish the chance to stretch our legs and climb up the hill to the castle.
For such a magical tourist spot, it surprises us when we discover we are the only visitors.
It is believed to date back to the late 13th century, built on the site of a Roman fort and an earlier Welsh castle.
It fell to Welsh insurgents, taken by the Yorkists in 1462 and dismantled by 500 men with picks and crowbars. Today, a skeleton of the castle remains.
The walls have all but fallen down. But, as we make the climb towards the castle, it doesn't take much to imagine what it would have been like so many years ago.
Remains of the outer walls can be seen, as well as the middle gate tower and ornate windows.
Tourists can also visit the remains of a cave.
A stone's throw away from the castle is the quaint town of Llandeilo. England may be known for its pubs but Wales should be known for its inns.
With bars with delightful names such as the No Sign Bar and the Old Black Lion welcoming you in from the cold, it is hard not to like them.
But back to the inns. In Llandeilo, we bed down for the night at the Cawdor Hotel.
With its deep-red walls and pretty bay windows, it is hard to miss the Georgian building on the main street. Formally called the Bear Inn, it was renovated for Lord Cawdor about 1807. In its day, the inn was a meeting place for thespians and religious leaders.
Today, it is a luxurious inn, cosy and inviting.
Early in the morning, I drag myself from the warmth of my bed, rug up and, with my camera ready, head outdoors.
It's drizzling as I make my way down the street and away from town.
There is not a soul on the streets, except for the postman.
I keep walking, past the terrace-style homes, all positioned in a neat row, painted different colours. The homes here are built right up to the footpath so, as I wander past, I can't help but peer into the lounge room of the occasional unsuspecting resident.
Over the bridge I go. Sheep are grazing down below me in the lush paddock.
After about 20 minutes, I turn back and head back into town, passing the sheep and the pretty houses and the bric-a-brac stores and the supermarket which will soon open its doors for morning trade.
On another of my early-morning walks, I make my way down the main street in the town of Usk. I'm looking for a sign to Usk Castle but walk past it a couple of times before I spot the well-hidden sign. This gem is nestled at the back of a private property.
It's as though the children's book The Secret Garden has been brought to life before my eyes. Sheep, ducks and hens wander among the castle ruins. The garden glistens with morning dew.
A creeper covers one of the stone walls; beyond it is a picture postcard of rolling hills.
Later we visit Raglan Castle, near Usk, in southeast Wales. Known as the finest late medieval fortress-palace in Britain, it was one of the last true castles to be built in England and Wales.
We walk through the gatehouse of the 15th century Tudor-style castle.
Like many castles in Wales, Raglan is also in ruins but the ornate French-inspired outer walls remain. Visitors can marvel at the ornate architecture of the gatehouse and wander through the remains of other rooms in what was a lavish castle in its time.
A ginger cat sits on a wall, oblivious to the grandeur behind it. It makes the most of the rays of sun peeking through the clouds. Our climb to the top of a tower is rewarded by a view of a patchwork of green paddocks.
Days earlier, at the beginning of the trip, we had been a world away from the British countryside and its majestic castles.
We started our journey in Swansea, the birthplace of Wales's most famous poet, Dylan Thomas. A short drive from the town is the Gower Peninsula.
The area had a major influence on Thomas and he often spent days walking alone over the desolate Gower cliffs, communing with the cold and the quietness . Out on the peninsula, it is not hard to understand how it came to play such a pivotal role in his life. Rhossili Beach, at the most western end of the peninsula, has a promontory called Worms Head, which is cut off from the mainland at high tide.
The breathtaking view is dominated by a long, sandy beach and towering cliffs.
The tide comes up, angrily hitting the beach. The rain pelts down but it doesn't deter the inquisitive lambs which wander alone on the misty cliff face.
One comes up to the fence to inspect us. As the mist briefly clears and the rain subsides for a moment, there in the middle of nowhere, open to all the elements, is a tiny white building, apparently a hotel.
The rain comes down again in sheets, the sea continues its rage and even though I am soaking-wet, I am spellbound by this beautiful sight.
The author was a guest of Visit Wales ( ). For details, phone Visit Britain on 1300 85 85 89 (toll free).
Quaint .
.. the lush countryside of southern Wales is home to majestic castles and charming rural townships.
Picture: Jessica Hurt
Tucked away ...
Usk Castle is worth seeing. Sheep, ducks and hens wander among the castle's ruins. Picture: Jessica Hurt
Atmospheric .
.. Wales' fog adds to the mystery that surrounds these historic monuments.
Picture: Jessica Hurt
FOR nearly two weeks each year, the delightful Welsh town of Hay on Wye becomes a hive of activity, with a melting pot of writers, comedians and performers descending on the eccentric market town for its annual literary festival. The town swells as thousands of literary buffs settle in for a smorgasbord of fine books, comedy, food, music, art and street theatre. This year's festival, once described by former president Bill Clinton as the Woodstock of the Mind, runs from May 24 to June 3.
Musicians work the crowds on street corners, tourists keep themselves warm with take away cups of soup and others seek shelter from the rain, cramming into the many pubs or bookshops. On the border of Wales and England, the quirky town is home to about 1500 people and is known as the second-hand bookshop capital of the world, with more than 40 bookshops. Visitors dodge traffic and walk 2km down the road to the epicentre of the festival.
Workshops last year ranged from Germaine Greer exploring the idea that literature is a masculine invention to an exploration of the Australian Dreamtime.
News RSS