Christopher Jackson reviews Bodysgallen Hall and enjoys every minute of it

 

It is always a curious thing to arrive somewhere at night: we experience a world without contours and landmarks – a dense dark which really could be anywhere, and yet we also know we are entering somewhere new.

We arrived in northern Wales just in time for a storm to lambast Conwy, just as storms have been doing for millions of years: Wales always feels like ancient history.

My main memory is of watching the windscreen wipers rushing back and forth in increasing desperation to rid the windscreen of rain, as if seeking some slightly higher setting than the maximum.

We negotiated a long winding drive, unimpressed sheep crossing the pathway in their own time to move out of the way of our car. As we emerged from our vehicle, our bags immediately weeping with rain, we scaled some steps and the door peeled back magically: this was the greeting of the avuncular night porter Marion.

 

First impressions

 

As I glanced at the décor of Bodysgallen Hall – the fireplace, the 17th century panelling, the venerable portraiture – I thought: “Well, this is a whole better than the M6.” Better than the M6, and indeed better than more or less any hotel I’ve stayed at, as it would turn out.

 

We were shown upstairs to a warm upper room, and learned from Marion that the building was initially constructed as a tower house at some unspecified point in the Middle Ages. Its meaning was to serve as support for Conwy Castle, that marvellously preserved stronghold overlooking the bay: from Bodysgallen you can replay how a signalling system might have worked between this place and Conwy. One imagines Irish ships, a flame of warning, and then the bustle of preparation for whatever came next.

What came next is what always comes: invasion, conquest, resistance, peace – the known variations of human life. It is, in fact, a marvellous place for a spa, as the history here is so rich you know precisely what it is you’re seeking to get away from.

I had just enough time before I drifted into sleep to learn that Bodysgallen had once been a place where Cadwallon Lawhir, King of Gwynedd – the name means ‘long-fingered’ – had lived, when a luxurious peace enveloped me, which probably had something to do with not being on the M6 but also something to do with excellent bedding.

Into Enchantment

 

The following morning, the first amazing thing I did in what was to be an entirely enchanted day, was to open the curtains. This isn’t normally a particularly marvellous aspect of life in London: my curtains usually reveal Southwark Council branded bins and houses opposite which look identical to the house I have just woken in.

 

At Bodysgallen Hall, the experience is very different: you look out onto an unbroken glory of horticulture, leading onto a still more beautiful and dreamy landscape: that masterpiece of nature which is Wales’ northern coastline.

It must be admitted that Wales probably gets about three days of delightful sunshine per year: we got one of them, and in late October. The trees everywhere were having their annual rethink, deciding on russets and umbers. Their dying can sometimes seem peculiarly optimistic.

Our first move was to eat a breakfast of champions in the tall-windowed breakfast room: a full English exactly as it should be done – heartily, and without any unnecessary complications. The food in the restaurant is Michelin standard.

The views from the gardens are not to be forgotten. It was a day of bronze and misty light: Conwy seemed in shadow. The medieval folly can be seen in the distance, and it’s possible to walk up there for a better view of the coastline beyond the Orme and Little Orme headlands.

The garden has a remarkable history. The original garden design dates from 1678 and is credited to Robert Wynn, son of Hugh Wynn, who was the first of that family to come into ownership of the Hall. A sundial bears that same date 1678. In that year Bunyan published the first part of The Pilgrim’s Progress, and the Battle of Saint-Denis was conducted between the French and the Dutch, with the verdict disputed by both sides, though its result all too clear to the 5,000 or so soldiers who lost their lives.

In those days, everything was in the Dutch fashion: with high walls which make you want to know what lies beyond them. There is also a topiary maze, and a rose-garden which was still giving out a beautiful scent even in mid-October. The herb garden produces herbs and vegetables which form part of the menu in the first-class restaurant.

Everywhere you go is beauty – and this was an unusually beautiful day. One could really spend a week walking these grounds, and not be near the end of it, but our time was more limited.

The Spa

Bodysgallen Hall is known also as a spa, and so we went there during children’s hour. Newspapers I would not have time to read were laid out in civilised fashion in the reception area.

The spa itself consists of a warm swimming pool, a jacuzzi, steam room and sauna. My eight year old boy splashed around in children’s hour, which wasn’t quite long enough for him, and one sometimes wishes there weren’t such severe regulations around jacuzzi use when it comes to children.

 

 

After that we walked again up to the obelisk, which was built in 1993 and a landmark visible from all around. It is, like Kafka’s castle, a thing which one nears but never quite gets to. But the trying to get there yields acres of mushroomy woodland, and a sense of blessing at trying to get there at all.

Lunch consisted of sandwiches taken in the crocodile alcove. Bodysgallen Hall is a place of little nooks and surprises. It is also a place of superb beef sandwiches. My son and I agreed we could quite easily have eaten 400 of them, but had to settle for eight.

 

The Land Beyond

 

As the afternoon began I sensed Conwy calling. We had been in the castle before on a previous visit: it is an extraordinary place which the first-time visitor will need to do. But the joy of second-time visits is to strike out in surprising directions, and so we decided instead on two churches.

The first is Llangelynnin Old Church, which is to be found a 20 minute drive out of Conwy up a winding slope. It isn’t where you’d expect to find a church, amid the beginnings of the Welsh hills. We didn’t expect it to be open, but the door had an obliging give when we tried it: inside the side walls date from the 13th century and the impression is of a peace which is worth climbing up here for.

Round the corner is St Mary’s church which is on the site of Aberconwy Abbey which was founded in 1172. Here, you begin to get to the nub of the matter: two yew trees older than Chaucer preside over the church, and there is information inside establishing the ancient nature of this site, where the Romans also had an outpost. Both these churches are supported by the National Churches Trust.

 

This is the infinite nature of Wales: its wonder is to do with deep time, and the many layers it contains. Bodysgallen is the way to explore it and also to experience a luxury which is both classy and not too ostentatious. It is an additional pleasure that to come here is also to support the National Trust, which in addition to maintaining our nation’s heritage, also clearly knows how to run a hotel. A special mention must also go to the magnificent receptionists Catherine and Hayley who were helpful and kind throughout our all-too-brief stay.

In our second swimming session, my son Beau, determined now and fortified by a fine day in Wales, swam his first length – a cunningly constructed amalgamation of front crawl and breaststroke. We might have arrived at night – but we left sensing a sort of dawn in ourselves.