Big Apple Weekend - Cider Festival at the Gower Heritage Centre

On Saturday and Sunday, the Gower Heritage Centre hosted an event called the Big Apple Weekend. It celebrates a part of Welsh history that has been present around for hundreds of years: hard cider. originally, a large group was supposed to go, but in the end only me and my flatmate Yaren were left to attend. We were able to bus as far as Mumbles, but then could not find any other bus routes to take us to the location. On the map, the Heritage Centre was close to Mumbles, and so we figured we could always walk if need be. However, we soon discovered that it was a two hour walk.

Nonetheless, we went with it. I knew that the Gower was a very beautiful place and figured the walk would be the same; and it was. The start was rough as it was all uphill. Once it flattened out in suburbia, it became much easier. But the sidewalks did not stay with us for long.

We had to make sure we were always facing traffic and walked as close to the side as possible. This was not expected, but we assumed that it wouldn't last long. Plenty of people must walk here. Well, it pretty much switched off between sidewalk and no sidewalk for the entire two hours. At one point it even had us walk through a park.

The time went by slowly for the first hour. We even timed it, and so that two hour walk turned out to be longer since google map minutes went by slower than real time minutes (though by how much we are uncertain). The last hour was the prettiest as we were really starting to get out in the middle of nowhere. However, we had to deal with the least amount of sidewalks.

Weirdest bus stop ever.

It reads, "Take the weight off your feet."

The scariest thing to happen was when a little girl came out of her house with a dog. It was a black lab with no idea what cars were, but loved people. Naturally, it wanted to cross the street to greet Yaren and I. Panic rising, I tried to shoo the dog away. When that didn't, I called it closer. The dog just wanted to jump around in the middle of the street. Quickly, I looked both ways to make sure no cars were coming. Then I grabbed the dog by the collar and pulled it towards me. Yaren said, "Sierra, look out!" A red car was slowly turning the corner. I stopped so that it would not hit me, but the car also stopped so as to let me pull the dog away.

I waited for the road to clear more before dragging the dog back to the little girl. I didn't dare let go of it's collar until I made sure the girl had a firm grip on it. As we left I heard an older woman's voice telling the dog it was bad and would have to get locked up behind the fence now. I was very happy to hear this. Keep it inside the fence. There are no cars there.

The rest of the walk was pretty uneventful, but we did enjoy each other's company and talking about random things. I enjoyed imagining myself living here, taking my dogs for walks along the peninsula and angering the farmers by letting them chase the sheep.

The white dots by the tree are sheep.

 There was a strong smell of manure at one point, which Yaren was not too fond of. I didn't expect to like the smell either. In California, I went to high school next to a horse farm, which had a strong smell when the wind blew in the right direction. At Sonoma State, there is a small that we like to call the "Sonoma Aroma" and comes from the many farm areas around Sonoma county. In general, I live in an area with a lot of agriculture, and so the smell is very familiar to me. While in the Gower, I breathed it in deeply since it reminded me so much of home. I never cared for it before, but when you're so disconnected from your origins, any reminder of home is pleasant.

I think it says a lot that the smell of poop is comforting to me.

At one point, we saw a sign for the Gower Heritage Centre that led in a different direction than what Google Maps was suggesting. Yaren said we should go there since there is a reason that sign was put up, but I looked on the map and the way it was having us go looked to be a shortcut. After continuing on it, I could see why the sign wanted us to turn earlier. The sign is for cars to follow and where we were going, no cars would be allowed.

It was a little dirt road where people could bike and walk. At one point I slipped on the rocks and my phone case took a beating in the corner (but the phone inside was fine). Although I was bummed about the rubber corner getting wrecked, Yaren just wanted to make sure I was fine. I've fallen plenty of times, and so I wasn't really concerned for my well-being. She was, though. I definitely think I have found a good friend in her.

As we continued along, we found some magnificent homes. Many of which I would not mind living in.

The owner came out as I took a picture and talked about living here. Awkward...

There is also this great mansion.

The best areas came about 15 minutes before we reached the Heritage Centre.

Future Home!

Or maybe wherever the house with this backyard is.

Seriously, this is gorgeous.

There was a mini mart we stopped off at before to get water (a 2+ hour walk makes you thirsty), but after that it was to be all hard cider.

There is nothing as gratifying as seeing your destination after a long and sometimes difficult and dangerous adventure. We took a selfie to commemorate our success.

The front did not have a lot to it, and for a worried moment, I wondered if the festival was just an apple cider press and a couple people selling overpriced apples. But then I heard music coming from the distance and knew that this was just a small sampling.

150 year old working cider press.

Here is where they squish the apples for their juice.

But they do not keep any of the pulp. It gets put in a trailer to be disposed of.

Rotten apples are also discarded.

And in case you thought classic red telephone booths existed only in London...they do make a rare appearance elsewhere. I saw a couple of them in Bristol. Never in Swansea, though. Who would have thought that out in the middle of nowhere I would have found one? Of course I needed a photo of me standing next to it. No self-respecting American would do any differently.

On the inside, the festival was spectacular. It was inside the heritage center, which allowed us to also experience some of the exhibits it had to offer.

Old water wheel

I found like three or four of these...I don't understand.

After looking around for a bit, we knew our first priority should be food. We hadn't eaten since breakfast (which was a little later in the day), but by now it was about 3:45 and that food was long gone. Yaren was able to find a little barbecue place where we managed to get some decent burgers. They had mature white cheddar (the cheese of the welsh) and 100% Welsh beef. Plus onions that they grilled alongside the burgers. Unfortunately, mustard seems to be a Western trend and so I had to settle for garlic mayo as my condiment.

Shredded cheese is how it is done here. Sliced cheese? How American.

Not a bad lunch spot either.

With full bellies, we were ready to take on the main festivities. There were some booths with non-alcoholic things such as soaps, bread, and butter (all homemade). But we were interested in finally trying the cider. We were a little unsure of where to go, but did come across this little store.

All of the cider was made fresh using apples from their own orchard. She explained that cider needs special cider apples (like how there are different kinds of grapes used for wine). This may be why it had such a high alcohol level (7%). There are different types of cider (sweet and medium is what I sampled), and every time I didn't have something mellow and sweet, I made a funny face (eyes shut tight and head shaking from the weird taste). Meanwhile, Yaren preferred the stronger medium blends. Of course, she is also more accustomed to drinking being from Cyprus.

Surprisingly, I liked the cider made from pears the most. It didn't have too strong of an alcohol flavor but instead was rather sweet. Plus, I have always been fond of pears, and this was like pear juice with a kick.

We wandered around some more shops, looking for other places to sample cider from. Eventually we found the shop of a glass-maker.

Always love to see a craftsman at their trade.

The wife who ran the front desk was very sweet. I asked her if this was a popular trade in Wales, but she was sad to say that it was not. She also mentioned that it is a lot bigger in America. That's when I informed her that I was actually from California and studied art at my home university, but I was abroad for the year. Yaren and I then talked to her a little about Swansea.

Although I did appreciate the conversation and enjoyed both seeing the craftsmanship and the end result, I did not buy anything that he made. Instead, I went for the yarn. Is anyone that knows me shocked? It was made from Welsh sheep and hand-spun in Wales. I couldn't resist.

The heritage centre had a lot to offer besides the festivities, and we went around exploring some of the exhibits. There was an old post office, an area for a black smith (we missed the demo), a little antique store, etc. It really is an amazing place that is far bigger on the inside.

It was especially interesting as we were the only ones who did bother to explore the centre. Everyone else just stuck to the main centre with the cider and music. But eventually, we too were ready to settle down with a glass of cider and enjoy the festivities. There was another booth that we found with samples.

Again, Yaren preferred the mediums, and I could only tolerate the sweet stuff (including their version of pear cider, which both places called Peary). Since the festival was starting to wrap up (only a couple hours left on the last day), the half pints were discounted to £1. I don't remember which one Yaren settled on, but my final choice was a cider called Yarlington Mill. 

Drinks in hand, we found a seat and settled down with the live music that was playing on stage. 

Freshly pressed cider banner to remind everyone why this cider is the best. Also,
a Welsh flag to remind them why this cider is the best. The Welsh are a proud
group of people.

I felt so much like an adult in that moment. Here I was, sipping alcohol and listening to live music. I have seen people do this often at the art and wine festival but, being under 21, could never partake. Even at places like Truckee Thursday and the rib cook-off, people do this. It is a quintessential adult experience. And at long last I got to have it. I was even able to pretend I REALLY ENJOYED the cider (when in all reality I think fresh pressed apple juice would have been better). 

Another look at the whole set-up. Picture taken from a high-up path behind the stage.

 Yaren was able to finish her drink relatively quickly. By the time I was about a third of the way through, she was already done. Once I was at about halfway, another musical group came on. I wasn't too fond of them, and suggested we figure out how we were to get back since there was only an hour left of the festival. 

Once we arrived, we found out there were no buses back, but that we wouldn't have any troubles finding a ride. When we went to the information center this time, we were told to come back in half an hour and that we would have a ride. As a way to fill in that time slot, we found a puzzle that required us to go around finding letters at the various attraction. Now given we only had a half hour, this was an impossible task from the beginning. But we got pretty close. 

The letters were on signs around the Heritage Centre and the pictures of the signs lined up with the riddle. (If we were looking for a leaf sign, the riddle would be about a leaf in the location it was placed.) We were able to find over half of them as well as many other letters that didn't fit into any of the riddles. But there was no time to find the other letters nor enough time to unscramble them all to form the prize-winning word. 

Still, it gave me a chance to finish drinking my cider and go around and explore the area. 

There was an air raid shelter at Cardiff as well. Goes to show how much more
WWII affected Europe compared to the USA.

This is the air raid shelter.

"Big Foot's Coffin"

Always in Welsh.

Smallest toilet!

By the time we got back, we found out the lady who was in charge of the fresh butter and bread would be giving us a ride back. She was a worker for the Gower Heritage Centre and did not mind driving us back to the school. Originally, we were told we would only be able to get a ride back to a city with a bus that could take us back. She, however, took us all the way to the front of Fulton (the main building of the university).

We helped her load up the car with the supplies from her booth. (She didn't ask even for this help, but we insisted. It was the least we could do.) Plus, she had a dog that I could pet and loved to lick me. According to her, this was an amazing job since it was one of few that allows you to take your dog to work. I couldn't agree more.

On the topic of animals, Yaren and I also met an adorable cat named Mr. P while the lady giving us a lift went to retrieve the car. 

It was a very sweet cat that came when I smacked my lips in summoning.

This kitty loves all people and will rub against you in a shameless attempt for pets.

Aside from random cats, nice people, gorgeous scenery, and cider, the Gower has a lot more to offer. It is unlike anything I have ever experienced before. Somehow the rules change once you are here. It could be that there are no grocery stores (just some little convenience stops) or that the whole place gets eerie when the fog hits. But suddenly when entering the Gower you loose sidewalk, the accessibility to buses on a Sunday, and nature runs free. I am used to creeks, but in the Gower even creeks run on their own agenda. Instead of restricting themselves to one area where no one else really goes, the creeks run right along the sidewalk. 

You have to cross the creek to get to the other side.

Looking left, this is what you see. It is emerging from where creeks are generally restricted to.

And looking left, it is returning to the normal creek area once more.

I brought this up to the lady giving us a lift, and she just told us that the Gower has it's own rules. 

Once we loaded up into her car, I was a little weirded out that the dog was on the driver side with a lot of gear. Initially I thought, "Why would she do that? Now she just needs to move it all to the other side." Then I remembered that the drivers sit on the other side in the UK.

The lady was a lovely woman to talk to. She told us that she did not mind driving university students because she has kids in uni and would want someone to give them rides. She also said that she understands what it is like to be stranded on the Gower on a Sunday when the buses don't run. It had happened to her before.

She also told us a little bit about the Gower and some bad things that she had seen tourists do. Apparently you cannot swim in Rhossili Bay since there are bad riptides and it kills many people annually. Also, it is dangerous to get too close to the end of Worm's Head (same area) as many people slip down the cliff. It reminded me of the story we were told on the Gower tour. 

For starters, this is Worm's Head:

It's the long strip of land in the background. I saw it when I went and took this picture.

People walk along that path to get to Worm's Head, but do not consider high and low tide. Once high tide comes, it is impossible to cross as the path gets submerged under water. There is about a two hour gap in which you can cross to and from safely. One year during the Gower tour, they had left some people behind who then got stuck on Worm's Head and had to have a helicopter take them back. That was why this year they constantly counted the people on the bus.

When I told this story to her, she wasn't surprised. 

She also talked to us about her own life. She too went to Swansea for one of her degrees. But in addition to that, she had two degrees from two other schools. She used to teach history at a university as well. Now, she is essentially the historian of the Gower Heritage Centre. When the kids come in, she is the one who talks about the history of the place. 

Eventually, she also wants to move to France. It would allow her to get the house she wants for the price she wants. Even though she can't speak the language, she is sure she will learn. In France, she wants to teach again. 

We were thankful for both her stories and the ride that she gave us. We could not stop saying "thank you" when we left. 

It was an absolutely amazing day filled with friendship, culture, cider, and kind people. Everyone told me how nice the Welsh are, and I could not agree more.