Valley Athletic v Caergybi
Holyhead Town v Llanllyfni
After a few weeks in exotic parts (and Swindon), the normality of a Saturday day out from Sowerby, and where better than the far reaches of Anglesey.
So it was off Sowerby on the 0808 to Vic.
There was a major blockade on the main Trans Pennine route with the signalling panel at Huddersfield being relocated to route control at York. This meant that the only line open between Manchester and Leeds was the Calder Valley. Northern had risen to the challenge by not only not running any additional trains, of those that were running, only having two carriages instead of the normal four. It was therefore quite cosy at Victoria.
It was across Manchester, where it was heartening to see that the Wetherspoons in Piccadilly Gardens already has security on the door before 0900. In balance, the neighbouring Gregs is the only bakery I know that has a permanent security guard presence.
To Piccadilly, where the first of the Pendolinos repainted into the IEP/Azuma livery was in platform. Blocks of very light colours seem to be the new vogue for railway liveries, the marketing types forgetting the 150 year long lesson that brake block dust immediately turns any light coloured vehicle into a nice shade of watery diarrhoea.
On through Warrington and Chester and onto the coast, with the Duke of Lancaster now having had its graffiti covered over, with a slap-dash paint job rivalled only by...
...the handywork of Chester depot, as the Arriva Trains Wales class 175 I was on had paint splatters across the window following a particularly care free touch up job on a body side scrape.
The main virtue of a train ride along the central part of the North Wales Coast in Autumn, is the limited requirement for adjectives to describe it.
Colwyn Bay; cold.
Prestatyn; shit.
Pensarn; cold and shit.
Rhyl; shit and cold.
My service was heading to the bright lights of Llandudno, so I was off at the junction.
My original plan for the day had been a double involving Blaenau Ffestiniog and Llanrwst, but the Conwy Valley line seems to only operate for about two days a year as the rest of the time it is either under water or being re-assembled, and today was the endurance of bus replacement.
So instead it was onwards to the full extremity of North Wales. There was the opportunity for a fill in move on one of the two daily through London services that connect in with the ferry. Whilst Northern were trying to cram a large proportion of the combined population of the roses counties onto two coach trains, this service apparently justified ten coaches.
Even though the sole occupants were me and the detritus of the cooking lager shelf of Sainsbury's. It's the only way to get people to Rhyl.
Through the middle of Conwy Castle.
And the opposite view of Conwy Borough's Y Morfa Stadium, that I'd had when I'd seen them in pre-season.
As ever, the views improve west of Llandudno, as the looming presence of static caravan's for chain smoking scouse bingo addicts, are replaced by the Great Orme.
It was one stop onto Bangor, where almost everyone got off.
Everyone knows this sort of train as a Voyager, as they were so branded by Virgin when they ran the Cross Country network operated by these units. However, when the franchise was lost to Arriva, Branson retained the Voyager trademark, so it is only the handful of them that Virgin West Coast operate to North Wales that retain the plates of famous explorers that the class was named after. I had Ferdinand Magellan, the Portugeser who was undertook the first circumnavigation of the Earth...
...and Swiss hot air balloonist Auguste Piccard, who despite inventing the self-propelled deep-sea submersible, and revolutionising mankind's understanding of the ocean, is still only really known for having a Star Trek character named after him. Bloody adult virgins controlling the internet.
Anyway, the ten coaches headed off RA Holyhead, with about eight people on board.
I was onto the following Birmingham International-Holyhead all shacks service.
Across the Britania bridge, with Telford's counterpart in the distance, and of course the Maes Y Coed home of Menai Bridge Tigers.
Which of course means a stop at Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, which was inevitably being photographed by disparate visitors to the adjacent Edinburgh Woollen Mill discount outlet.
The final stretch across Anglesy is always a bit of a featureless slog, after the excitement of the coast.
However, at the western extremity of the main island, this was glimpsed.
A word with the guard as it is a request halt, and we stopped here.
Valley is a bit of an odd place, mainly because it isn't anywhere near a valley, whereas places that are in a valley are called things like Merthyr Tydfil. The villages focus is as the location for Anglesey airport, which is the main training location for Royal Navy jet pilots. I can remember when Subway first opened in Reading and it seemed like the town was firmly on the map. Now there are branches in villages of less than two thousand people. Meatball marinana madness.
The North Wales coast line is due for resignalling, with the local semaphore boxes being replaced by automatic colour light signals controlled from the national signalling centre in Cardiff. This means not a lot of money is being spent on the upkeep of the existing structures, the cabin here at Valley looking past its prime. My unit returns to Birmingham, with those that can be bothered to zoom in, will be able to see an intending traveller giving a stop sign to the driver, as this is a request stop.
The venue for my first game was adjacent to the station.
A less than strenuous naming policy. Three words, of which two are the same.
Valley Athletic 2 v Caergybi 4, Kon-X Wales Ltd Anglesey Football League
Valley Athletic are an Athletic Club from Valley. They were formed in 2012. Right, I've managed to get two sentences about them just by looking at their badge. They won the Anglesy league in 2015, but ground restrictions prevented promotion up to the Gwynedd league. Or maybe they just didn't want to, after all a Saturday afternoon in Llanystumdwy isn't everyone's idea of fun.
I'm sure it won't need me to point out that Caergybi is the Welsh name for Holy Isle, which is the small island off Anglesey that Holyhead is located on. The football club set up over the summer and I think are an old boys team of the main school in the town, which boasts such alumni as Glenys Kinnock, Dawn French and Tony Roberts, one of whom has played in goal for Wales.
Probably the worst photo of a ground I've ever taken*, unless you really like fence posts and grass. Anyway, the ground is a fenced off area in the middle of common land and woods.
*That's a critique of my photography skills rather than the ground
Seating capacity was limited.
Though I am a big advocate of the liberal provision of styles around the pitch, which are required for players to retrieve wayward balls, of which there were a few.
Forget goal line technology or that magic spray at free kicks, without doubt the major innovation in football in the last five years has been the use of motorcycle chain locks to secure goals to. No more postponements due to midweek activity from scrap metal thieves.
Kick off was advertised on the league website as being on the hour, and when I arrived there were a few people warming up, but they then wandered off. Then the home team appeared.
But wandered off again.
Then the away team appeared, but they two wandered off again.
With it way past the advertised start time, I was getting concerned that Anglesey football rules were based on walking two and from the dressing rooms, but in time we did have two teams, and a referee.
Incidentally, from the above, I was heartened to see a proper team sponsor. Modern non-league seems to be plagued with companies who are either 'solutions' or 'providors', (The Anglesey league itself being sponsored by Kon-x Wales; "an independent managed service provider providing print and document hardware and software from multiple manufacturers and supporting an installed base of over 2,000 devices", what utter wank), therefore I thoroughly approved of having this on the back of the away team tracksuits...
...and this on the front of the shirts.
And so the game got underway.
These people played football.
Whilst there was some sort of shenanigans going on in the far goal.
This bloke chain smoked and offered sage advice. I have growing respect for actual smokers as they have resisted the temptation to vape. Only an utter cock could be addicted to sucking perfumed water from an electronic whistle.
Meanwhile, the Kes re-enactment was still going on, with the ref seemingly less concerned than Brian Glover was.
Pressure from the home side.
But our heroes are still in action. Notice top left, the shot being lined up in the last picture, being returned from its landing point, which was somewhere near Rhoscolyn.
The stands were at capacity.
With a decent following on the terraces.
An unexpected bonus was the presence of @nonleague_train. The other through London service of the day passed.
A power failure at Ty Croes meant the signaller was unable to release the crossing gates, so trains were being stopped and running under caution. ATW's 1W92 0915 Cardiff - Holyhead crawls past, twenty minutes late.
My double Voyager set from earlier headed back to London.
There are two ways of detecting what level of non-league is being viewed:-
1. The lower down you go, and the moment between a player being told they have 'time' by a team mate, and then actually being clattered by an opponent, can only be measured in nano-seconds.
2. The lower down you go, the greater liklehood a goalkeeper will adopt the Sunday league stoop; leaning forward with hands on knees.
This picture is about three minutes into the game. Good work keep'.
As you will know, the greatest enjoyment I get from watching football is seeing how high the ball goes. Quite early into the game I could already foretell the end result of the game, as this was a quite decent effort by the home team.
But it was eclipsed (almost literally) by this mesmeric, ozone splitting offering from the visitors. Absolutely magnificent from the Caergybi centre half. I would gladly pay premier league ticket prices if it could be guaranteed that there are a few of these per game. Although having attended Georgia v Wales a couple of weeks ago (report will be posted tomorrow), I can safely say that as long as Ashley Williams is playing, there will be a very strong chance that there will be.
This sub ran quite strangely as the home side took a corner.
The visitors scored twice when I was trying to unwrap a Wham bar, but it had been safely consumed when Valley pulled one back.
Caergybi added another just before half time.
However, with the kick off being later than I'd planned for, it meant I had to leave shortly into the second half. A very pleasant early afternoon game eventually finished 2-4 to Caergybi.
The signalling issues meant my intended train move wasn't happening.
Fortunately, an alternate bus option was available, with the timetable quaintly broken down into colour coded parts of the day.
An Arriva service arrived from the north of the island.
Rather than the A55 expressway, the bus took the traditional route into Holyhead, skirting the Cymran Strait.
Through Trearddur Bay.
Who had a game in progress at their seafront ground. Trearddur Bay United play in the Welsh Alliance, and were the leading club in the area for a few seasons, however, a lot of their players appear to have decamped to Holyhead Town, and they are also having some ground issues. If you want to hear two separate people turn the phrase 'under handed' into a single word, watch this short video.
I carried on into Holyhead, accompanied by some particularly scathing graffiti.
I was off here, on the outskirts of town.
Which is home to these. Holyhead has a long, complex and ultimately unrewarding history of football clubs in the town. I've watched quite a bit of football in the town, as it has been a stop off point either having done the loco hauled on the North Wales coast, or else when getting the ferry over to Ireland, so here is my understanding of things. For most of the last century, Holyhead Town were the leading club, playing in the FA cup, but the lack of a definitive structure in Welsh football, and being too far away to play in the English pyramid, made progress difficult. Even the emergence of the Welsh Alliance in the 1980s saw the club without the required ground. By the time they did join in the 1990s, a new side, Hotspur, had been formed. Hotspur took advantage of the available facilities, and rose up to the Welsh Alliance, and immediately up to the Cymru Alliance, the feeder into the Welsh Premier, and they remain there today, as the leading club on Anglesey.
The ground situation is equally intertwined. For a long period, Holyhead Town played at the well developed Cae Mwd (Mud Park) on Turkeyshore, in the centre of the town by the station. It was owned by the railway and when a new Freightliner depot was needed for the ferry traffic, British Rail requisitioned the ground in 1970. It is currently the fast ferry terminal. Town eventually got hold of the site of the former Holyhead Swifts ground in the 1980s.
On it they built a decent stadium, the problem being that it had an artificial pitch, so when they gained promotion to the Welsh Alliance, it couldn't be used. So instead, this ground was developed next door, with stands being built using old walkways from the ferry terminal.
As well as this main stand. However, Town dropped out of the league and the site was taken over by Hotspur, with the smaller pitch being used for games, and the floodlit artificial pitch being used for training.
However, the rise up to the Cymru Alliance meant a requirement for lights, so the artificial pitch was ripped up, and they returned to the original pitch, but with grass, as well as a spruce up of the spectator facilities. As if it couldn't get any more complicated, they are now looking at installing a 3G pitch.
So two grounds to watch a game at. However, there was no sign of activity at either of them. I was hoping to see Holyhead Hotspur Reserves v Llanberis in the rather brilliantly titled Lock Stock Fire Works Challenge Cup, but despite the league website, and the clubs, both showing it as a scheduled fixture, there was no sign of any activity.
All was not lost, as I did have a plan B, which also meant a meet with an old friend.
When I lived in Swindon, a regular move was the first or last bus to Pewsey for days out on the West of England main line or the brew pubs in Pewsey itself. These was always worked by Wilts and Dorsets only Pewsey depot based Optare Solo, T641 AJT. Now, there was a handy bus move into Holyhead, operated by local independant, Goodsir. And what turned up, only my old friend from the south, still in Wilts and Dorset livery.
It dropped me off here.
Holyhead Town 7 v Llanllyfni 0, Cynghrair Peldroed Gwynedd League.
Much of Holyhead Town's history, I have covered above. I'd got as far as them being on the slide in the 1990s. This carried on into the current millennium, including a few dormant years. However, the last couple of years has seen a significant renaissance, with the club rejoining and winning the Anglesey league last season, and now up to the Gwynedd league, and with an absolutely fantastic badge.
Llanllyfni is a small village back on the mainland, south of Caernarfon. The original football club were formed in 2005 and raced up through the Caernarfon and Gwynedd leagues, up to the Welsh Alliance. However, last year saw them resign from the league mid-season, and the club are now restarting at this lower level, with a young team.
Millbank playing fields sit above the town centre and have a stunning view over to Mynydd Tŵr and from some vantage points, out to the Irish sea. I've seen a few matches here over the years, and it has previously been a scruffy venue in various states of vandalism, so it was a very pleasant change to see it in such a good state, after a lot of hard work over the summer to get it up to Gwynedd league standards.
A couple of large duggouts are provided, though the teams seemed to be favouring standing pitchside, and they had been commandeered by spectators, as the hillside location means a cold wind was blowing in.
A form of terracing sits in one corner, which was occupied by the youth element.
Below the main ground a second pitch is located, although it looked waterlogged. This is where the away team in the first game of the day are based.
My arrival was immediately greeted with a goal.
And then a delicately curled in second.
And a third.
The lonely home keeper had to content himself with the stunning views of Holyhead Mountain.
And a fourth goal.
The ground is actually an athletics field, with a grass running track.
As well as long and tripple jump pits behind the goal.
Though there appeared to be more danger of getting trench foot than there was of seeing any records broken, it being apparent that it was some time since it had seen any use.
I'd finally found some evidence of Holyhead Hotspur in action.
The home left back appeared to be a 1970s IRA Quartermaster stopping off in the town whilst fleeing from the West Midlands Police on suspicion of masterminding some pub bombings.
Small numbers appear to be an Anglesey thing, as the home side were another who's gone for font sized 12, although this was probably so they fitted in with the shirt stripes.
Though the printing was balanced with a huge shirt front sponsor.
Town appeared a very good side, whilst Llanllyfni were following up a 11-1 defeat.
The game carried on going to form with another well worked goal for the home side.
The highlight for the visitors, as they got a corner.
Which they somehow manged to concede a goal from as Holyhead immediately broke from the clearance.
Fair play to the Llanllyfni centre forward, who gave the referee a stern lecture about how the sixth goal definitely looked offside, from his position fifty feet up the field. Never say dai.
The seventh goal didn't see much celebration, just a lot of people sitting down.
The home goalkeeper had surpassed the previously described Sunday league stoop, and was practising avoiding getting struck by lightening.
However, this wasn't needed, with proceedings coming to an end at 7-0. Another very enjoyable game. Good to see the return of Holyhead Town, with a very enthusiastic committee obviously putting in a lot of hard work, and a very successful and entertaining team to match those efforts.
I headed back through town to the station, with the new stabling point in operation.
And the Fast Ferry just arriving into harbour from Dublin.
Parked up in the sidings was the ATW flagship loco hauled service. With devolution and the Welsh parliament starting up in Cardiff, Welsh AMs suddenly had to use the train a lot and were shocked to find that the service between North and South Wales was infrequent, slow and overcrowded. They had the option of investing money in a lot of new carriages to ease the problem for the masses, or pay Arriva a fortune to run one intercity train a day, South in the morning and back up in the evening, with first class and full dining, at times that just happen to tie in with the sessions of the Welsh parliament. Naturally, the latter was chosen, with first class just occupied by politicians and retired railway staff. It is hauled by class 67s, spare because they were built to haul postal trains that no longer operate. This one is painted into a Canadian/German livery to commemorate the former MD of DBS, who provide the traction. Anyway, the set is stabled at Holyhead during the weekend at this purpose built depot.
I headed around the front of the station, with the ornante harbour clock.
Awaiting was a Cardiff service.
Which was taken on the 2.5 hour run to Chester.
Onto a following Manchester Airport service.
With me alighting at Oxford Road.
A walk across Manchester took me to Victoria, where there were a mass of people awaiting the late running service to Leeds. Due to the overcrowding, coaches were being put on, and there was an almighty scrum to get on the two coach train that eventually turned up, with a train loads worth of people being left behind. Whilst initially I was grateful for getting on, as the journey progressed I became less so, as I was sat in a bay of three seats inbetween a non English speaking German on his way back from Anfield, and a Halifax supporter on his way back from Tranmere. Fifty minutes of a potted history of the last 25 years at the Shay, acted out in pigeon English and gestures, was traumatic. I cried less at Bambi's mum dieing, than I did in Halifax's rivals declining from Burnley and Huddersfield, to Rochdale and Bradford City, and is now Guiseley and Harrogate.
Calder Valley overcrowding excepted, another good day out, and encouraging to see an upturn in the footballing outlook for the Holy Isle.
