Give me civilised South Wales over the rugged and wild North any day, that's what I've always said.
I'm not ashamed to say I'm probably biased on this matter. I grew up in Pembrokeshire where I had my choice of world-ranking beaches (think Barafundle) and the spectacular coast path as my playground. As an adult I moved to Cardiff where I discovered a love of cycling and would happily disappear up the Brecon Beacons for the day on two wheels, spurred on by the promise of cake and frothy coffee at one of the many twee tearooms dotted around the rolling green valleys.
Once, I passed through the very well-to-do high street of Abergavenny and was so excited by the cheese shop, I bought several wedges of cheddar and a jar of chutney and took the train home. You can get more Welsh news and other story updates straight to your inbox by subscribing to our newsletters here.
Read more: 29 reasons people from south Wales should never go to the north
To me, the south, and especially the south-west, feels like home. It feels safe and accessible and, above all, friendly. The mountains are big but not intimidating. The further west you go, the prettier the beaches and the more golden the sand. Which do you think is better - north or south? Tell us in the comments section below.
I can run up the Preseli mountains (a very under-appreciated part of the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park that few people even know is there) and stand on the top for what is, in my self-confessed expert opinion, an unrivalled view. From the summit of Foel Cwmcerwyn, which at 536m is the highest point in Pembrokeshire, I can see Worm's Head, Caldey Island, Ramsey Island, Dinas Island, Newport Sands, the distant peaks of Snowdonia and, on a very clear day, Bardsey Island and the Wicklow mountains all the way in Ireland.
To explore the Preselis is to walk in a land of wild and haunting beauty, Stone Age forts and the origin of the bluestones used to construct the inner circle of Stonehenge 5,000 years ago. It all seems a world away.
I've walked every single mile of the Pembrokeshire coast path in both directions in all weathers. Some of my favourite stretches I've walked dozens of times and each time brings joy to my heart. In springtime there's the coconut-smelling gorse, pink sea thrift and delicate sea campions carpeting the clifftops, in autumn there's seals and their pups.
If it's a contest of hills versus beaches, I'll pick beaches every time. And in Pembrokeshire, I think I'm qualified to say, I'm spoilt for choice with the likes of Tenby, Newgale, Barafundle, Broadhaven and Whitesands. They're the ones which tend to steal the headlines but in my not so humble opinion Marloes, Swanlake, Monkstone, Traeth Llyfn, Presipe, Musselwick, Skrinkle, Porthlysgi, Watwick are all far superior. Especially at low tide.
Not to mention the islands - Skomer, Ramsey and Caldey - home to puffins, gannets and monks.
There are the touristy hotspots like Tenby and Saundersfoot in the south of the county and Solva and St Davids to the north. Each town popular for its own reason, whether it's the harbour town of Tenby with no less than three sandy beaches, or the majestic cathedral city of St Davids. They all have one thing in common: sand, sea and ice cream. If you're in Newport (the superior one in Pembrokeshire) then there's even a Welsh-Italian chef serving homemade pasta from a tiny trailer with some of the best views possible.
In the south, everything feels, well, just so damn civilised and perfect. Exactly what you want from a proper Welsh seaside holiday.
But then this autumn I went to Snowdonia. And not just Snowdon - believe it or not, there is much more to North Wales than Snowdon. Much like how hordes descend on Pen y Fan at every sunny Bank Holiday in the mistaken belief that it is the ONLY mountain in the Brecon Beacons worthy of a hike, so too does the iconic mountain of Snowdon draw the masses. People literally call up the National Park Authority and ask for the best route up Snowdonia.
It wasn't my first trip up North this year: I welcomed the 2022 New Year in the shadow of Criccieth Castle as part of a spontaneous trip to the Llyn Peninsula. I'd heard the odd rumour that it was quite a scenic place and decided I'd go check it out. It's even home to one of the most scenic railway routes in all of Europe. That's high praise indeed.
Gwynedd - and Abersoch particularly - had intrigued me. I kept seeing stories about the second home issues up there, which I thought was a problem unique to Pembrokeshire. Why on earth were people jostling for second homes up there, I thought, when Pembrokeshire was surely superior?
First impressions were dubious - it was a grey day in January and everything just looked a bit monochrome. One thing North Wales does have going for itself is that, like Pembrokeshire, it's never far from the sea. But there's not much space between the coast and the brooding mountains - the mountains almost seem to spring straight out of the sea itself. The granite-grey rugged peaks were shrouded in cloud more often than not and hardly seemed an inviting prospect.
The beaches were vast - too vast if you ask me - and definitely not what I'd call pretty. But slowly, as the days slipped by and I ate up the miles along the Wales Coast Path (which celebrated its 10-year anniversary this year), North Wales slowly infiltrated my bones. I was on holiday in Wales in January - inevitably I got every type of weather thrown at me. And yet, the ever shifting-light kept highlighting just how breathtakingly beautiful this place was. Not pretty, I hasten to add, but striking nonetheless and on a scale that stirred something in my soul.
And nearly always, every beach had the backdrop of mountains rising along the skyline. It just felt like north Wales in a way I can't express in words alone.
I have to add that the village of Portmeirion in peak off-season is just bizarre. But the steepest street in the UK at Harlech was a fun jaunt and a stroll out over the dunes and onto the beach, which stretched further than my eye could see, made me reassess just how big Newgale really is. Despite the numerous caravan sites suggesting otherwise, I really don't get the appeal of Fairbourne or Barmouth - the latter is best experienced from afar, preferably just as the sun is catching the sand from the top of Cadair Idris.
That New Year trip planted a seed and I returned in September, this time to cross off a few things on the bucket list: summit Cadair Idris in clear skies, climb the north face of Tryfan, seek out the Fisherman's path at Dolwyddelan and actually visit Anglesey. And, perhaps a bit niche because I'm a cyclist, but cycle up to the Stwlan Dam.
And this is when my opinion changed and I hate to admit it, but I've been wrong all this time. Pembrokeshire is not superior and nor does it hold all the best things in Wales. The thing that really swung it for me was climbing Tryfan, with views down the Ogwen Valley and over towards the vast Carneddau peaks. Never before in Wales have I stood on the side of a mountain and just been overwhelmed by a deep sense of being so tiny and insignificant (in a good way).
The terrain just oozes history and a sense that it knows it's been here longer than I have and will be here long after I've gone. It's brooding and forbidding and yet I want to start walking and not stop. It drew me in. The only thing that brought me back to my senses was a strong whiff of goat on the air moments before I looked up to see a hairy goat surveying its kingdom on a rocky outcrop above me.
The mountains of the Snowdon Massif, the Glyders and the Carneddau, are all distinctly different even though they're all part of the Snowdonia National Park. They're like one big adventure playground. They demand the utmost respect but they will also reward the adventurous with unrivalled scenery and a deep sense of achievement. It's true that on a global scale they're relatively small. But here in the UK they're some of the best we've got and they deserve our attention.
I know it's a bit niche but I have to mention the Stwlan dam climb which I did as part of a route that took in the wonderfully-named Crimea Pass between Blaenau Ffestiniog and Dolwyddelan. As far as climbs go, the Llyn Stwlan Dam may well be the best kept secret on British soil: it boasts the type of tight switchbacks that look more like the Stelvio Pass than anything you might expect in the back roads of Wales, as well as a savage gradient of 9.7%.
As it is the service road for a dam, it is also blissfully free of motor traffic. And once you reach the dam itself, the view over Snowdonia is unique and well worth a few minutes in the red, which I most certainly was.
I'll confess that I'd been desperate to visit the rickety Fisherman's Walk in the Lledr Gorge ever since we wrote about it in April this year. More of a dangerous ladder route rather than an actual path, it does allow access to an impressive gorge and a series of spectacular waterfalls. It was the perfect place for a cold water dip too, although I did take a hot water bottle for afterwards. There is no better way to feel alive than to immerse yourself in cold water.
The day I climbed Cadair Idris dawned bright and I knew I'd have views for miles at the summit. Located in the southern part of Snowdonia, it really is a super climb and much more interesting than Snowdon I think. With 360-degree views right into the heart of Wales, out to sea and up to Snowdon itself, it really was the best place to stop for a hot coffee from my thermos flask. It's the simple things that make all the difference. I have to confess that these views are significantly better than atop the Preselis.
I don't mind admitting I think Anglesey is a strange old place. I decided the best way to see the island was to cycle it's entire circumference in one go, so as to make sure I didn't miss anything out. South Stack was pretty spectacular, but no more so than Strumble Head in my beloved home county, and I practically blinked and missed Cemaes Bay. The coastline was typically Welsh but it didn't make me want to spend the day at the beach. And I hate to sound like a coffee snob, but there was a distinct dearth of cafes available for what I considered to be a well-deserved cake stop. The highlight for me was cycling back towards the mainland where the entire horizon was filled with the dramatic Carneddau mountains, layers of blue and grey reaching into the sky. Seeing them there made me smile as I remembered the previous day's adventures.
So now you've listened to me waxing lyrical about Wales, what can we deduce? I know I've missed out other notable things in Wales - I've not even mentioned the castles. But when it comes to North Wales versus South Wales, I will now hotly dispute that one holds anything over the other. To suggest one is better than the other is just plain silly. This is not to say there aren't differences - there definitely are.
If I had to sum it up in a glib soundbite, I'd say think dramatic craggy mountains and robust castles for the north and spectacularly pretty coastline for the south. Dare I say it, but north Wales feels, well, just that little bit more Welsh. The south feels like home.
What we really should be saying is aren't we so damn lucky that we get to call this country home? We have three designated national parks in Wales and each one has something different to offer. Maybe the one thing we don't have is the weather. Yet I've never let a bit of rain hold me back - I say add another layer and run a bit faster. I feel a great sense of satisfaction in spending my money in Wales - whether for a cream tea in Snowdonia's Ugly House or a bacon butty from Bubbleton Farm Shop in Pembrokeshire.
But I think the biggest take home message is to have the confidence to get off the beaten track. There's more to Pembrokeshire than Tenby and St Davids. There's more to Snowdonia than Snowdon. There's more to the Brecon Beacons than Pen y Fan. All you need is a thermos flask and a decent coat.
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