I was at Uni in Salford, Greater Manchester, then frightful now redeveloped as Lancashire’s Silicon Canal. For my 20th or 21st birthday I invited all my Uni mates over to camp at the farm & have a party in the farmyard. Most of my friends from high school – Ysgol (school) Glan-y-Môr (by the beach) Pwllheli came up the hill from town to join us. I guided the (mostly) student bikers to the venue with a kite on 400ft of string.It was a great night until the strength of the home brew worked its magic on the cultural differences between the two tribes & a fight broke out. All very silly & no bones broken, a fine time was had by all. Many slept in the cow shed, some couldn’t find their tents & slept around their bikes.
The following day we all went down to the legendary Ty Côch (Red House) Inn on the at Porthdinllaen.
The pub is right on the beach in a hamlet of 5 houses & a lifeboat station only accessible by walking along the beach or across the clifftop. My guests ate & drank their fill & then rode (carefully) back to Manchester.
I’ve not been back to Ty Coch for about 25years & as the weather was good on the one day we’d set aside for me to show C North Wales we ended up walking to Porthdinllaen.
It was just past the point of the day when I can usually persuade C to let me have a pint (about 12:15pm, depending if I’ve been good).
The place hadn’t changed a bit, other than the weather being perfect, & we sat on the wall outside the pub & lapped it all up. Across the bay, looking north up the coast two mountains called The Rivals peered down at the village of Trefôr. Miserable spot that is, in shadow most the day even when the rain stops, Trefôr recently cheered itself up by unleasing Welsh soul diva Duffy onto an unsuspecting world, she’d not have been born till a couple of years after the last time I was here. Ho hum.
One of the best lunchtime pints of my life. Just perfect.
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