Anglesey Camping weekend – Sunday Adventure by Elena Bejenaru
Today marked our last day in Anglesey, a perfect blend of adventure, stillness, and a deep reconnection with nature and the layered history of this windswept Welsh island.
The morning greeted us with soft sunshine and a light breeze, though the temperature stayed below 15°C, a gentle reminder that summer here is often brisk and wild. We began packing our tents and gear at the campsite, slowly preparing for our departure, but not before setting off on one final adventure together.
Once the plan was settled, Jackie, Hellen, Chris, and I, along with their friendly golden retriever Eric, headed down to Trearddur Bay, a picturesque beach known for its clean, cold waters and white sand. Meanwhile, John, his son Kyeron, Dom, and Bob chose to stay back at the campsite a bit longer to enjoy a more relaxed breakfast.
Trearddur Bay was calm and peaceful, framed by traditional whitewashed cottages with blue-trimmed windows that gleamed in the morning light. The coastline is dotted with fascinating rock formations sharp, layered outcrops shaped over millennia by wind and tide. They give the shore a rugged, ancient feel, contrasting beautifully with the softness of the sea.
Though I initially swore I wouldn’t swim in water that cold — “No way, not me!” — I was somehow the first to dive in. The cold gripped me instantly, like a thousand tiny needles against my skin, but after a few shrieks and deep breaths, I began to relax. Floating on my back, I felt connected to the ocean, to something bigger and quieter. Chris joined for a short moment, but it was Jackie, Hellen, and I who stayed in the water the longest laughing, swimming, and soaking in the wild beauty of it all. Even Eric ran along the shore, barking at the waves.
Afterward, we returned to camp, warmed ourselves with hot showers and mugs of tea or coffee, and then set out for our final walk , a visit to the Holyhead Breakwater Lighthouse. Jackie and I ran along the massive stone breakwater, which stretches nearly 2 km into the Irish Sea. Built in the 19th century, this breakwater was a major engineering feat of its time, designed to shelter ships from violent storms and provide a safe harbour for trade and travel.
At the far end stands the lighthouse — stark white against the sky, quietly watching over the horizon. From the stone steps below it, we looked out: on one side, the craggy peaks of the distant mountains; on the other, the turquoise sea shimmering under the early summer sun. We sat and listened to the rhythmic crash of the waves and shared quiet conversations, a perfect pause in the middle of a fast-moving world.
Nearby, on a higher ridge, you can still see the remains of a coastal fortification, once a defensive post. John shared a story that added depth to the view: in Victorian times, young boys between 8 and 11 years old worked in the Holyhead quarries, extracting rock that would later be shaped into roofing slates for homes across Britain. The stone from these cliffs was prized for its durability. These boys endured long, difficult days, their work forming part of the industrial heartbeat of the era. Hearing about this added a poignant layer to our walk, a reminder that the land holds memory in its stones.
The place is not only rich in history, but also alive with wildlife. As we walked, seagulls wheeled overhead, their calls sharp and ever-present. Along the breakwater, cormorants stretched their wings to dry, while oystercatchers darted along the rocks. In the waters surrounding Anglesey, it’s not uncommon to see grey seals and even harbour porpoises, especially near calmer bays. And in tidepools nestled among the rocks, you can often find starfish, crabs, sea anemones, and a wide variety of marine life — signs of a thriving coastal ecosystem.
Eventually, we made our way back to the cars, exchanged warm farewells, and headed off in different directions. On the drive home, Jackie and I shared stories and memories, as if our hearts were gently untangling threads of the past and weaving them into something meaningful.
This final day was more than just the end of a trip — it was a slow unfolding of connection, history, and belonging. It felt like a quiet celebration of place, people, and everything in between.
Thank you, everyone, for such an incredible time out!!
I’m looking forward for our next adventure.
