Trefriw is in the Conwy Valley, an area renowned for its beauty and tranquility. Hang on, let’s cut the commercial jargon and get to the point….

My naughty Westie, Margo, and I took a walk on one of the Trefriw Trails yesterday. It was a rather unglamourous start as the path began by the public toilet in the village square.

Thank goodness the toilets are kept clean by the council and there weren’t offensive odours to put up with. I had learnt of the trails sometime ago but had been too pre-occupied with setting up a new home to think much of it. It was Margo who insisted on taking the sad looking narrow path that led us to discover the beautiful panoramic views.

Crossing a bridge and going through yet another gate, we walked on a grassy plateau parallel to Conway Road (B5106) for a short distance. Familiar houses lined the left side of the road, backed by mountains and hills. We passed the house with many flags; Dilly had told me that was Bob’s house. I was so engrossed by the sight of the flags that I failed to notice a grey heron perched in a tree not far from us. Startled, it spread its wings and soared over us until it finally came to rest lower in the valley, still within sight of us. It was a lovely creature even as it sat on a broken bit of tree.

Margo had heard the sound of the bird but did not see where it landed. She finally gave up looking and was content to move on. It was about half-past four in the afternoon on February 11^th. The sun was at such a fantastic position that the valley was bathed in lovely gold - nothing opulent and definitely not jaded. This, I thought, was Wales as I saw it ten years ago. I didn’t think we would end up on the trail. Hence this vision of Welsh beauty caught me by surprise. I was slightly annoyed that I didn’t have my camera but decided that it was enough for now to appreciate the glory of the sunshine and the gentleness of the valley and surrounding hills. I inhaled deeply; I was loving the crisp air, the evening light, the smells the earth gave out. The atmosphere that enveloped everything within it filled me with peace.

Margo was otherwise occupied. She had been staring at the sheep in the distance. Being a West Highland Terrier meant anything that wasn’t a toy was to be hunted or eaten. The sheep stared back at her balefully, but one in particular looked like it was getting ready to butt her into orbit. At a stern word of disapproval from me, Margo gave up on the sheep. I had had her only five days and she was proving to be highly intelligent albeit wilful. I thanked her afterwards with a few kisses, which she didn’t quite care for, and a stewed beef and carrots dinner mixed with a scoop of fruit and bran cereals, which she completely devoured.

I must go back on the trail today although the sun isn’t quite as boisterous. Margo will love it. And I’ll have that camera ready in case I see the heron again. I’m not Welsh, but I feel as if I’ve known this place all my life. We’ve been to many countries but I’ve always wanted to come back to North Wales. I love this place with my heart and soul.

Should you visit don’t forget to leave behind all pre-conceived notions born of glossy brochures and coffee table talk. The best way to enjoy this spectacular vision of grandeur is with an open mind.{gallery}conwy_valley{/gallery}

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