Before you mention it, I know that title is remarkably similar to the one Jack Whitehall created with his Dad. I also know that my report features a town and lots of driving, which doesn’t really belong on a website that prides itself on being called Exit Street View. What can I say? I just had to include a write up about this little break as it was my first trip away with my dad since 2017. It also involved heading back to The Cambrian Mountains, which have rapidly become one of my favourite spots in the whole of the UK.

  I think the main reason for this four- year wait is mostly a result of my dad wanting to stay at home. It’s comfortable, safe and doesn’t involve aeroplanes. That last reason is probably the strongest as I challenge you to find somebody with clammier hands on an aircraft than him!

   He’d be the first to admit that he has no real desire to travel any more. When he did, he seemed to attract bad luck and situations he’d rather forget.  My childhood holiday memories usually involve my dad getting into some sort of caper. There was the moment he slipped over on a crowded Turkish boat and did it in a style not too dissimilar to those characters you see on cartoons. His legs started moving quicker and quicker before he lose control of them altogether.

  There was the time he ate a dodgy French onion soup and got caught short on the way home with the worse diarrhoea known to man. This man has packed a hoover attachment in his suitcase and taken it to Cyprus. I can’t forget all those years ago when he sat up drinking at the bar until the sun came up. The next day he had to haul his body around the ancient city of Ephesus in 42 degree heat. I laugh now thinking about how he tried to look cool, but was dying a million deaths when the tour guide said we had to leave the air conditioned shop we’d stopped at.

This hopefully shows why I had to write about travels with my father. This sums him up brilliantly!

   I had been on at my dad to go on a little road trip for a while, especially after I had discovered how enjoyable they can be. It would give him a change of scenery for a couple of days and give my mum a well- earned rest from his snoring on the sofa. It seemed my perseverance paid off as I finally talked him into a two- day trip to the wildest area of Wales so far not visited by my father- The Cambrian Mountains.

  Travelling with a man who thinks a Wetherspoons Pint is still grossly overpriced, my main job was to keep the cost down and seek out somewhere comfortable yet affordable. Our transport would be free with the use of my dad’s company car, so it was only room and board I had to sort. A bit of searching on Air B and B managed to reveal a 1 bedroom flat in the heart of Llandrindod Wells. It’s a former spa town located only 10 miles or so from The Cambrian Mountains. Our place had a bedroom plus an all important sofa bed option, so we wouldn’t have to re-create the scene from Trains Planes and Automobiles, where Steve Martin wakes thinking his hands are between two pillows!  I couldn’t believe the price- £45.00 for the night. Flat booked and work finished by lunchtime Thursday, it was time to hit the road.

   The journey there was fun initially as we chatted away about everything from my dad’s upcoming music performance to the migrant crisis. We never really get more than half an hour alone, so it was great to have some quality father-son time together, even at my ripe old age of 37.  Within two hours though the sun had set and we would have to undertake the long 50 odd mile journey along the twisty A44 in darkness. It was a shame as I wanted my dad to enjoy the scenery and the ever more hilly terrain as we crossed the border into Wales.

  We finally arrived in town at just before seven PM and decided to stock up in Aldi. The highlight, other than buying their amazing Bara Brith, had to be our visit to the tills. An old lady was in front of us, which was something my dad had failed to realise as she was on the short side. The gentleman behind the till said, “ Good evening Dear,” as you would perhaps expect when greeting a lady of advancing years. He probably didn’t expect my dad, a 6 foot plus man, to reply with a smile. I fell around with laughter and it amused us for a good bit of the evening. I hadn’t seen him laugh so much in a long time- a great sight.

   We were pleased with our accommodation for the night, once we had worked out how to turn the heating on. The hallway was colder than any bothy I’ve visited so far and I wondered if it was haunted. I figured I wouldn’t be spending much time in that part of the flat, so would probably be alright.

   Our tummies enjoyed dinner time as we headed to Fabian’s Kitchen. It’s the place myself and Lou seem to visit every time we’re now in the area. It was much quieter than usual, probably given the time of year and the fact it was a Thursday. The food didn’t disappoint though as we both enjoyed Fab’s homemade curry. With our bellies full, we slowly ambled back to our home for the night, with my dad expressing his love of the Victorian architecture. The High Street is indeed very attractive with those glass-fronted shops you picture in old Victorian Christmas stories.

The great Fabian himself cooking up another tasty meal. The best fish curry I’ve ever eaten.

  By 11pm we were in our beds with me hoping we’d both sleep well and no ghosts from the hallway  would visit either of us.  The following morning we rose early and left our keys in the safe by 8.30. I was really excited and felt a bit like a child on Christmas morning. I had rambled on so many times to my dad about how amazing The Cambrian Mountains were and he’d finally have a chance to see it for himself.

  First stop was the Elan Valley, where we had a look at one of the dams and looked at the bothy myself and Lou camped outside from the other side of one of the resevoirs.  The weather was pretty wild with frequent squalls and it seemed we’d be sampling all four seasons in one day. Pretty normal Cambrian Mountains weather I would say!

   From here we drove to amazing mountain road across the mountains to Cwymystwyth. It offered views I will never get bored of as all signs of civilisation are left behind and only mountain sheep, red kites and mountain rivers and streams for company. Dad clearly enjoyed the drive too, especially when we entered the more dramatic scenery as we approached the mines near the tiny village.

  We decided to pull in to stretch the legs, admire the views and look around the old mining site. It is an amazing place and you can’t help but wonder what life must have been like here all those years ago when it was an active site. The cascading waterfalls down the mountainside behind made for an incredible backdrop.

  Half an hour later and with each of us consuming a delicious cinnamon bun, we got back into the car and tried to work out what to do with the rest of the time we had. We knew we had to drive the two hundred miles home in the early evening, so didn’t want to spend too much time in the car.

   Dad had said he wouldn’t mind visiting one of the bothies I had stayed in with Lou, so figuring it wasn’t too far away, I decided we should head back up to The Teifi Pools, where the Claerddu Bothy can be found. I had warned my dad about the drive there, stating it wasn’t for the faint-hearted and could at best be described as a rollercoaster.

   It was fun watching his reaction as we snaked up, down and around the various hills along the route. At times you can’t see what is coming around the corners and the gradients are so severe that you can’t help but wonder what you should do if another car happens to meet you coming the other way. Anybody visiting The Cambrian Mountains should certainly drive this stretch of tarmac. The concentration needed to tackle all its bends are more than worth it.   Thankfully the same little spot I had parked in previously with Lou was free and we got a few bits together so we could enjoy a fire and some lunch down at the bothy. 

  Dad did look a little concerned at this point and on asking him why, said that this spot was extremely remote and that we hadn’t seen a soul on the entire thirty minute drive. He was right.  If something went wrong with the car or either of us, then we’d be in trouble. The frequent hailstorms, which were now bombarding us and the landscape around, didn’t help either. My Dad had fears that the road would become impassable with thick ice. I did my best Michael Fish impression, telling him that we’d be OK and snow wasn’t on the forecast.

A short walk across familiar terrain and we made it Claerddu, which thankfully was empty. I wasn’t sure what to expect after Lou and I had been disappointed with the grime left behind from a weekend party. It couldn’t have been more different this time though with a clean kitchen area and ample firewood left.  We got the fire roaring in no time and the Jet Boil worked its magic as we enjoyed a chunky beef soup and crusty rolls for lunch.  It was great and I think even dad was enjoying it even if he said there was no way on Earth he’d ever stay somewhere so basic. I could live with that. Just getting him to The Cambrian Mountains and watching Bothy TV ( the fire ) was an achievement and I’m glad he enjoyed it.

  Dad perfectly striking a pose by the bothy entrance. Hopefully I haven’t completely put him off the idea of maybe doing a similar trip in future.