A Welsh Adventure
the joy and fear of taking a solo leap to parts unknown
One dark, dreary, drizzly day last spring, an intriguing invitation popped into my in-box. The Substack phenom and oh-so-talented writer
was hosting a retreat for creatives in the Welsh countryside the following November.Ooooh. Wales, you say?
Images of windswept moors and quaint country pubs sprang to mind. I’d never been to the UK outside of London. The notion of how to pull this off was equal parts exciting and terrifying. After much internal debate, exciting won out. I wrote in and snagged the second to last spot.
Let’s be clear: I might talk a mean streak about getting outside your comfort zone, but I’d never actually gone on a retreat of any kind - not to mention by myself, on a different continent, without knowing a soul, in a remote location, and without a clue as to the logistics of how I would actually get there.
No matter! It was time to put on my big girl pants and do something courageous.
“Oh, the places you’ll go!”
Dr. Seuss
Did I mention I would be driving down highways, byways, and corkscrewing country lanes on the ‘wrong’ side of the road? For six hours?
Google maps claimed it was a journey of three hours from London to Wales. Just for the record, Google does not take into account getting lost, jet lag, traffic, roundabouts with endless exits (see, getting lost), signposts written in Welsh, tractors taking up the road, or multiple near misses with giant trucks and hedgerows that necessitated frequent deep breathing breaks.
All to say, I made it. Barely. As I was to learn, it was worth every mile.
Hopscotch
One does not show up for a writing retreat jet lagged and travel weary. For this reason, I thought it prudent to tag on a few extra days at the beginning of my trip in the nearby village of Hay-on-Wye, Wales.
Never heard of it? Neither had I.
Hay-on-Wye is the original, and perhaps only, town dedicated to books. With a population of 2000 people, and upwards of twenty bookstores, Hay-on-Wye is the undisputed champion of the written word.
Its shops specialize in everything from murder mysteries to gay literature to antiquarian limited editions. There are ‘honesty’ bookstores (pay what you can), used bookstores, poetry bookstores, and magical bookstores. The number of booksellers has been known to rise to forty plus during pop-up season, especially surrounding the Hay Festival, for which it is famous.
Much as I love books (and I really, really love books), this wasn’t the best thing about Hay-on-Wye.
This little Welsh gem felt like traveling back in time to a Hugh Grant movie circa 1980. Sheep dotted the rolling green hills, ivy laden stone walls marched off in every direction, pubs filled with labrador retrievers bumped up against tiny cottages straight out of Harry Potter.
It is absolute heaven.
The Right to Roam
And then there is the right to roam.
As if it could get any better, I quickly discovered one of the UK’s most incredible qualities (beyond pubs, that is).
The right to roam is a centuries’ old tradition that enshrines the public’s right to wander over hill and dale, through private meadows and pastures, and literally under the nose of the resident livestock. For the most part, these furry citizens amble considerately out of one’s way. Occasionally one crosses paths with a local citizen dressed in tweed and wellies, usually carrying a fishing pole or homemade walking stick.
The right to roam is an astounding concept to a North American, where privately held land is Private with a capital P.
My rambles often felt like a journey into a Beatrix Potter book. If I could describe happiness, it looks something like this.
The Power of Women
How can Wales get better, you ask? Oh, but it did.
I haven’t yet arrived at the reason for traveling to this corner of the UK - the retreat itself. After a few dreamy days in Hay-on-Wye, I continued on my merry way to a beautifully converted farmhouse in the countryside to meet my fellow creative souls.
We were a group of eight women, two incredible hosts,
and , and our queen bee, , the talented writer whose brainchild it was. We have Emma to thank for bringing us together, and for this I will be eternally grateful. Emma also, by the way, has the most unique-slash-fun sense of style, quirky and oh-so-British in its sensibility.This mélange of women from all walks of life were the lucky recipients of a chemistry that can only be described as magical. I don’t use this term lightly - it was an incredibly fabulous group of ladies, brought together by a common love of writing.
I believe we were surprised by how deep that connection ran. Like a game of dominoes, writing led to a tendency to observation and introspection, which led to a wry humour at the human race, which led to a cup of tea, meaningful conversation, and a like-mindedness that transcends age or geography.
We chatted, we journaled, we roamed around the 400 acre property and surrounding area (right to roam r us). We sat by the crackling, cozy fire and shared life stories. We created, commiserated, and shared as only a group of women can. By our last night I felt like I’d known every one of our group for a year. Scratch that - there are plenty of people I’ve known for a year who know me less.
Take that leap
The moral of this story is,
go to Wales (just do it)
when life gives you an opportunity, take it
There were plenty of times in my life when I didn’t have the resources or the courage to take that leap. This could be one silver lining of my age.
I’m weeks away from turning 55, and what a gift it is. I don’t care nearly as much what people think. I don’t suffer fools. I deeply respect those who go their own authentic way and live their truth, even if it isn’t trendy or cool.
Taking a leap, it must be said, need not entail traveling across the globe and scaring yourself senseless on rural roads. It does not mean spending a fortune, nor does it mean a departure from life as you know it. But it does require a degree of ‘why not’, a dash of daring, and a sprinkle of faith.
“Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage”
Anaïs Nin
The me who was sitting on the couch last spring, weighing the terrifying versus the exciting, would be so proud of the me who went ahead and did it.
Taking that leap has resulted in new friends, life-changing experiences, and a privileged peek at a gorgeous, eccentric, otherworldly part of the world. One that includes books, cows, muddy boots, pints, and kindred spirits whom I hope to know a lifetime.
And, added bonus: I can now drive on the ‘wrong’ side of the road.
Woo woo r us 🙌 So much fun!
Thank you Lauren! Wales was a revelation… as were the many amazing women I met there!