We woke up with aching bones and muscles from the exhaustive tour of Cardiff the previous day. A dose of arnica (homeopathic remedy for soreness) and in a few minutes, we were ready to take on the world, let alone Cardiff. But we had a 1:00 deadline for our train back to London, so we needed to get moving. We walked toward Bute Park, the beautiful green space that frames the grounds beyond the walls of Cardiff Castle and found the entry point—a bridge over the River Taff. That’s where we noticed some RVs of people enjoying the ultimate camping experience in the shadows of an ancient castle—hadn’t expected that. Little did we know that the few hours we had left in Cardiff would offer even more surprises.
Tucked into a grove of trees at the park’s edge, we spotted a small coffee shop that felt like a secret shared among locals. We sat in the lovely morning light, sipping coffee and eating our Welsh cakes– crumbly, sweet, and speckled with currants. Free running dogs checked in with their owners, and joggers trotted by. We could’ve spent the entire day there. But the castle called. We walked through the rear gate and took the ancient steps to the Norman Keep. As we climbed to the top, Cardiff unfolded below. To the north, rolling green hills stretch toward the Valleys. To the south, the city rolls toward Cardiff Bay. You can see the outlines of the Roman wall and the Victorian additions all in one sweeping glance—a panorama of over 2,000 years of history. Several rooms of stone, one small one turned out to be a loo emptying into the moat (not in use).
Cardiff Castle’s history spans the Romans, the Normans, and centuries of military and royal use. Yet it was the 19th-century vision of the 3rd Marquess of Bute and architect William Burges that transformed it into a Victorian masterpiece. The Arab Room dazzles with a gilded stalactite ceiling and intricate mosaic walls. The library blends mythology, religion, and astrology—gilded bookshelves sit under carved zodiac signs and biblical texts. The YTY Lan Loft and small dining room each showcase Burges’ flair: the former an intimate chamber lined with poetic inscriptions, the latter a jewel box of medieval motifs and vibrant stained glass. Every room bursts with storytelling and symbolism—hidden creatures in the woodwork, heraldic emblems, and mythical beasts peeking from every corner, making the castle a living tapestry of imagination.
We ended our stay in Cardiff with brunch at the Welsh House, a cozy spot full of local flavor. Chris had eggs benedict topped with rich Welsh rarebit sauce, while I enjoyed a hearty plate of eggs on bread, served with bacon, potatoes, laverbread, and cockles—a perfect farewell, steeped in tradition and the tastes of Wales. This was a visit that has had a profound impact on us. Chris and I were talking about it this morning that there is something of an ancient ancestral DNA that resonates within us, like we are part of the fabric and stones that tied together the history of family in Wales and bridged the ocean to our pioneer roots of those who carved out a homestead in the Connecticut Reserve which is now Ohio. The rugged individualism and sense of adventure are not only our heritage, but a longstanding legacy that we pass forward.
