There’s a loaded line in Welcome to Wrexham, a new FX docuseries now on Hulu: “A lot of people outside the U.K. aren’t even aware that Wales is not in England.” It’s proof that this proud and storied country—at 8,023 square miles, nearly the size of New Jersey—deserves more attention than it gets.
That’s not to say it goes unnoticed. Travelers might know Wales for its capital, Cardiff; or Mount Snowdon, training ground for Sir Edmund Hillary’s Everest expedition and highlight of Snowdonia National Park. They may even be familiar with the region’s once derided, now celebrated, slate spoils; the grass-felted hills of the Brecon Beacons; or the coastal twinkle of an Anglesey lighthouse. “It’s small,” they might say, “but there’s a lot in it.”
A part of the country that doesn’t draw many travelers’ attention is northeast Wales, with its castled patchwork of vales (valleys), coast, and benevolently profiled hills. It’s home to Wrexham, now known for, yes, its celebrity-owned 1864-vintage football club. The city also claims the historic Bersham Ironworks, which crafted parts for the first steam engines and revolutionized cannon design. In the city center, imposing St. Giles church is the final resting place of the founder of Yale University. (A tower inspired by the church forms the centerpiece of the Connecticut college.)
This was the only Wales I knew. Growing up close to the border, I could see from my English village the hills above Ruthin rumpling the western horizon. “That’s Wales,” I was told. But although my grandmother was Welsh, I didn’t realize what that meant. I understood there was a Prince of Wales on TV, but confusingly, he was English. Some people in Wales spoke a different language but some didn’t. I knew two Welsh words: croeso, welcome, because it was written on a border sign, and araf, slow, because it was written on the roads.
In time, northeast Wales became a familiar neighbor with a subtle charm. The woods were bigger, the summits higher, and the coastlines longer. It was in this Wales I climbed my first hill, drove my first car, and took a family walk every Boxing Day. The towns we passed through were bustling vignettes of rain-smeared light and woodsmoke. It was different and exciting. Beyond the horizon, there was—and is—more.
Forget the stats; when you’re in it, Wales feels anything but small. Here are destinations with star-sized charisma, in a part of Wales that often escapes the limelight.
Everywhere in Wales, the past feels close, be it in the signs of ancient occupation or a prosperity closer in time. Located on the northern coast, Llandudno started out as a mining town and became a well-heeled seaside escape in the late 1800s. Grand Victorian buildings rose along the seafront; a majestic 2,295-foot pier—Wales’s longest—was completed in 1884; and the town grew a network of trams and cable cars. These, plus Bronze Age settlements, a famous road called Marine Drive, and a climbing route of mythical repute create an alluring mix of scenery and culture.
Entering Wales from Shropshire, Llangollen is signaled when you spy Castell Dinas Brân perched on a hill. This 13th-century ruin was painted by Turner and radiates Tolkien vibes, yet it’s only the town’s second most striking feature. The River Dee bisects Llangollen, with the UNESCO-recognized Pontcysyllte Aqueduct just downstream epitomizing Llangollen’s history as a key logistical point in the North Wales industrial canal system, now repurposed for tourism.
Storybook charm and mythical tales
From the Welsh folk epic The Mabinogion to the poems and stories of Dylan Thomas, the Welsh have always loved a good tale. At the foot of the Clwydian Hills, Ruthin (pronounced rith-in) is sprinkled with half-timbered edifices and red-stone houses and forts, including a fairytale castle. Aquifers once fed the town’s brimming mineral water industry. Among these is the Horseshoe Pass, an infamous roadway slinking across the local hills. Its Welsh name is more evocative: Bwlch yr Oernant, or “pass of the cold stream.”
Like many bodies of water in Wales, the country’s largest lake, Llyn Tegid, runs deep with mythology. A beast, affectionately nicknamed “Teggie,” supposedly haunts this nearly five-mile-long glacial artifact at the quiet eastern end of Snowdonia National Park. The lake is home to the gwyniad fish—an Ice Age relic typically the length of a paperback now critically threatened by invasive species and runoff from farming.
While there may be more obviously dramatic parts of Wales, the northeast weaves its own atmospheric spell. Forest-ringed, 1,820-foot Moel Famau is possibly the most distinctive hill in northeast Wales, thanks to its curious topknot, the Jubilee Tower. Construction on the unfinished mock-obelisk began in 1810 to commemorate King George III’s golden jubilee, but a storm largely brought it down in 1862. Now the ruin serves as a perch for magnificent views of Liverpool, Chester, and Wrexham, as well as the mountains of Snowdonia and the Vale of Clwyd. Hike up after sunset to see the landscape lit up to spellbinding effect.
Locally named the Mynydd Hiraethog, the Denbigh Moors is a beautiful pause between the vales of the Clwydian hills and the wild contours of Snowdonia. Among fields of heather, the once grand Gwylfa Hiraethog mansion makes for an evocative, abandoned ruin. The artificial lakes of Llyn Brenig and Llyn Alwen offer scenic trails, kayaking, and fly fishing. But the real lure here—and throughout North Wales—is solitude, space, and views.