So we went to Chirk first. To get there there was an aqueduct, closely followed by a tunnel, both of then single track, but we were able to get through without delays, unlike the two locks this morning where we were delayed by a party that seemed to think that narrowboats should hunt in packs of three. Chirk aqueduct would probably be famous if it were not so close to an even better one at Pontcysyllte, and the fact that it is right next to a taller and even more impressive railway viaduct.

The approach is along an embankment at rooftop height. This is the view from the towpath.

In most of the world slate roofs are expensive, but in North Wales they dig the stuff out of the ground, so it is the cheapest thing to put on top of a house. Nice weathervane, but I had to crop out the TV aerial.

After the tunnel, we moored up and walked a bit over a mile through the fields to Chirk Castle.

This was built in 1295 to keep the Welsh out of England. It seems to have worked pretty well. The Myddelton family bought it in 1593 and lived there full time till 2004. They still have an apartment there to stay in when they visit though most of the building and contents is now owned by the National Trust. The rooms are done up in various styles. I liked the Georgian stuff, though I am not usually a fan of that period. It was just so unexpected to find it in a medieval castle.

The Myddeltons were parliamentarians in the Civil War, but became royalists when the restoration looked like it was a happening thing. As a thank-you for their belated support, Charles II gave them this chest.

It’s hard to imagine a more useless and overdecorated piece of furniture. My guess is that it was an unwanted present to Charles and he took the opportunity to unload on an equally useless and overdecorated courtier.

On the way back through the fields the path was blocked.

I was forced to chase them away from the path twice, once for Paula and me, and then again for Peter and Sherri, who were behind us.

I shouted, “Stampede!” several times, but they did not take the hint.

On to a marina to pump out the holding tank, and then the long awaited Pontcysyllte aqueduct. Time to learn to say, “Pontcysyllte”. First of all, Pont, meaning bridge. From the Latin, Pons, Pontis, a bridge. This means that the Welsh didn’t know how to build bridges till the Romans turned up. Welsh also has a lot of loan words from English – for any piece of technology more complicated than a longbow they use the English word. I leave you to draw your own conclusions from that one, but it does make the BBC News In Welsh pretty amusing to listen to.

OK, ready for the next syllable? Cy, pronounced ker, or kuh. C is always hard in Welsh. So far, so good.

Now for the hard bit. Remember that double L noise that you were spitting all over your keyboard for yesterday? Put that after a si: silth. Like filth but with an S and more saliva.

It’s all downhill from here. Te, pronounced tee. Ready to put it all together?

Pont-ker-silth-tee.

It means, “The bridge that connects.” That’s pretty redundant, really, because the whole purpose of bridges is to connect things, but then it never hurts to explain things twice to the Welsh.

OK, you’ve earned some pictures after all that.

Did I mention the sheer drop of over a hundred feet on one side of the aqueduct?

Also, a raging river to land in should you survive the fall from the aqueduct.

Now back to the embroidery exhibit at Chirk Castle for the last picture, for a quite amazing piece of needlework.