A Brewtiful Journey: Blaenau Ffestiniog to Porthmadog

“Another important area for slate quarrying is further to the south, centred upon the drab town of Blaenau Ffestiniog.”

Rambles in North Wales by Roger A. Redfern (1968)

During my week hiking in Holyhead and Snowdonia, I had come face to face on several occasions with the evidence of the rugged life that once existed here. Ruins of copper and slate mine communities dot the landscape in places that seem too remote to be suitable for habitation. It had to be a dirty, lonely, dangerous life. Slate mining in particular is considered “the most “Welsh” of all Welsh industries.”¹ The slate from this region was used for roofing all over the world. In 1900, 4 out of 5 houses were roofed with slate.² This dropped dramatically by World War II where clay and concrete became the most common materials. What was already a rough-living part of the world had to suffer the economic downturn it could ill afford. No town exemplifies this harsh legacy like Blaenau Ffestiniog.

In 1836, a railway was opened up between the town of Blaenau Ffestiniog and Porthmadog, where the slate would be put on ships and sent out to the world. Today, this railway still exists to support the industry which has come to replace mining… tourism. There are several routes in the Welsh Highlands, in fact, which have been converted from industrial use into scenic train rides. (More information can be found on the Festrail website. ) I chose the Blaenau Ffestiniog-Porthmadog route in part because of unique inspiration. A board game.

Snowdonia is a fantastic board game where you compete to excavate and build the railway from Llanberis to the top of Mount Snowdon (Yr Wyddfa). One of the mini-expansions is building the railway from Blaenau Ffestiniog to Porthmadog. This was my first exposure to this curious town name which looks like a mix of Bavarian and Welsh influences. What better way to bring the board game to life?

It was befitting on the morning of the train ride that the skies were as gray as slate. This did not bode well for the scenic part of a scenic train ride. But I could not have anticipated that Blaenau Ffestiniog was even grayer. It was every bit the word “drab” in the quote above. High Street on a Saturday morning was practically listless… other than a supermarket and one lonely gift shop (Siop y Gloddfa). While waiting for the train, I stopped into the small St. David’s Church which has stained glass memorializing the town’s slate-mining past.

To the town’s credit, the Old Post Office Bookshop (Siop Lyfrau’r Hen Bost in Welsh) had an impressive collection of used and antique books. I picked up a couple of classic travel books there.

The route from Blaenau Ffestiniog to Porthmadog is called the Quarryman route. Each way takes about an hour and allows for 2.5 hours to explore in Porthmadog.

Porthmadog is a bustling harbor town with a lot of restaurants and shops. The majority of its attention seems to come from all of the daytrippers visiting by train.

With only two and a half hours to burn, my attention was spent mainly visiting the taproom for The Purple Moose Brewery called The Australia. Fish & Chips and a couple nice IPA’s were a good finale to an amazing week.

Final Words

I am not normally someone who enjoys taking tourist trains; however, I was quite charmed by it. I can envision in the future taking a similar train between Beddgelert and Porthmadog, which passes through the famous Aberglaslyn Pass. This journey didn’t feel like a touristic cash grab. You can look around and see that it has an authentic connection to the region’s industrial past.  And this makes it a thoughtful addition to any itinerary here.  Speaking of ‘in the future’, I have already booked my next visit to Beddgelert and North Wales for August of 2025, and writing these posts over the last few weeks about my 2024 trip has stirred a boundless excitement to get back to North Wales and explore more. There is something about this region which has captured my heart and imagination. It is a mix of its obscurity, its ragged beauty, and its mysticism. Whatever all of that means. Who can really explain what connects us with a place? Meanwhile, I have planned another route to the summit of Yr Wyddfa hoping to finally get a clear view, and I don’t doubt with this news that a couple of horns have popped out of Yr Wyddfa’s cap as it smirks devilishly in my direction.

1. Rambles in North Wales by Roger A. Redfern (1968) ↩︎
2. Rambles in North Wales by Roger A. Redfern (1968) ↩︎