I did see my 24 year old American friend again, in fact I had to wake him up long after he had missed breakfast. He turned out to be a big fan of everything that is English having attended a New England boarding school where he learned to play cricket. I walked to the pier at Bangor which stretches impressively out into the Menai Strait which gave me my first glimps of Telford's magnificent Menai Bridge. It was not long till I was walking over it to set foot on Anglesea. Half way across I met a girl from London who gave me some useful information. You can not walk to Caenarfon on the road as it is too dangerous. It is possible on the beach if the tide is out but it wasn't. You cannot walk back from Anglesea on the strange looking Brittania Bridge - it is a double decker with the railway below and the road above which is to high for pedestrian safety. And finally I must visit Church Island. The island was magical even in the intermittant heavy showers. A hermit lived there way back in the 7th century when it was fashionable for some of well-to-do families to indulge in that sort of life. There were lots around this part of Wales and they certainly knew how to choose their spots on land which probably belonged to Daddy! The other thing that impressed me was the speed of the water of the incoming tide as the Irish Sea rushes through the narrow strait. I have to pay on buses in Wales and it cost me £4.95 to get to Caenarfon. I could see how dangerous the road would have been especially in the pouring rain. Caenarfon is special. Like Conwy it is a large castle plus a walled town and both built originally as King Edward I efforts to impose himself. It is the capital of Welsh speaking Wales. The sound of the language is everywhere. It is light and playful and dances in the air. It sounds happy and full of humour. When they speak English it only sounds slightly like what I would call a Welsh accent and has some Northern English inflections. I had supper (Welsh Lamb) on a floating restaurant and went for an evening stroll. The lights were on and the door opened to St. Mary's Church where Father Robert met me. They were holding a vigil for a local man who had been murdered three weeks ago in New Zealand. He was handling it in a professional manner and gave me a few tips about holy places I should not miss on my journey south. The weather forecast is not good.