As summer approached, we started to think about where our holiday adventures might take us. A few options made the shortlist—exploring more of Anglesey, heading over to the Isle of Man, or even stretching across to Northern Ireland. Scotland is still on our horizon, but we want to make the most of this coastline first. Of course, as ever, the weather plays its hand. With fixed holiday dates, we get what we’re given. Thankfully, 2025 has been kind to us so far. After a brilliant Easter and plenty of smaller weekend sails, we set off in good spirits.

Getting Ready

The week before was busy with work, so when we arrived at the boat on Saturday afternoon, we gave ourselves a couple of days just to settle in—relaxing, sleeping, provisioning, and even mounting a solar panel in a temporary spot on the roof (plans for the arch are evolving). By Sunday, we’d gathered the fresh supplies, and by Monday evening we were ready to cast off.

The forecast promised northwesterlies, showers, and a touch of unsettled weather, so we planned to spend the first few days around Abermenai Point, ready to hop over the bar when conditions allowed.

First Passage

Just after 6:30pm, we slipped lines and made our way out. This was the first time we’d left the marina straight after the gate opened, meaning we’d have to punch the tide out of the river before catching a push towards Puffin. Allegra was working hard—under almost full power, she was crawling along at 3.5 knots until we picked up a helpful eddy near Conwy Marina. I’ve seen boats take this shortcut along the right-hand side of the river before; not entirely sure of the depth, we stuck to the main channel until Conwy and then edged over. It worked. The tide eased, our speed crept up, and the pressure came off the throttle.

The evening turned pleasant as we cut the corner at Puffin (a route I’m finally getting confident with) and continued on towards The Pool. Dark clouds and light rain greeted us, but we dropped anchor, got the kettle on, and watched the weather sweep past.

Through the Swellies (Again)

Morning brought another trip through the Swellies. We timed it well, travelling with another boat, and slipped through without drama. Allegra is running a little slower under engine at the moment—time for a scrub and some TLC—but we made it comfortably to Abermenai Point, where the skies looked brighter, if still a little unsettled.

Destination: Llanddwyn

Wednesday dawned grey, but the forecast hinted at better things. Today’s target was Llanddwyn Island, a place I’ve long known by the anchorage name “Pilot’s Cove.” We’ve visited the beach at Newborough National Nature Reserve before, but never from the water. It’s a famous spot—photos of Goleudy Tŵr Mawr lighthouse with the Llŷn Peninsula in the background often grace Welsh tourism guides. Time to see it for ourselves.

Light WNW winds meant more motoring than sailing. A little chop over the bar kept us alert, and visibility was poor enough that spotting buoys was tricky. Sometimes they’re far apart, sometimes only one side is marked. At Belan Narrows, there was no sign of Mussel Bank at all, so we steered by the Harbour Trust’s course until Catherine (with her eagle eyes) spotted the mark. Distances between buoys felt long, visibility about half to three-quarters of a mile. The dogleg past the wreck of the Grampian Castle—a trawler that sank in the 1980s—was a reminder of how changeable these waters can be.

Finally, we made a wide arc around the sand and headed straight for Llanddwyn.

Anchored in Paradise

We tucked behind the island and dropped anchor in about 5m of water. Plenty of space, a choice of coves, though a few rocks mean charts are essential. A gentle swell rolled in from the south, but it was comfortable enough. Best in W to NNE winds, though any Irish Sea swell can sneak in too.

Birdsong and the cries of seals drifted over from the next bay. We poured a drink, launched the dinghy, and went exploring. Ashore, we found the cottages, church ruins, two towers, wildflowers in bloom—and that view. It’s everything the postcards promise.

The real magic came later. As the tide rolled in, the day-trippers disappeared. We bundled up dinner, rowed ashore, and ate on the beach with nothing but the sound of waves and birds. The clouds cleared, the sun dipped low, and the island felt like ours alone. Pure magic.

Back to Abermenai

We spent a few more days back at Abermenai Point. The weather gave us dry spells, and we filled the time with boat jobs—hull scrubbing (still a big fan of the Scrubbis) and a few swims. Nell wasn’t herself, and at one point she misjudged a jump, missed the dinghy, and struggled in the strong current. A sobering reminder of just how powerful the tide is here. We now leave the dinghy prepped and ready whenever we’re at anchor, just in case.

The solar panel was a revelation. Even in overcast skies, it fully charge our batteries. Still strapped to the roof for now, but performing brilliantly.

A Stop in Caernarfon

By Friday, with Nell still under the weather, we decided to spend a couple of days in Caernarfon Marina. A friendly welcome, clear instructions, and easy access to town. Some parts of Caernarfon are prettier than others, but the walk along the front and around the marina is lovely. With Nell on plain chicken and rice, it was easier to manage her needs ashore. We treated ourselves to fish and chips, restocked at Morrisons, and Christine even cooked Catherine a roast dinner aboard.

Sunshine and the Sail Home

By Monday, the forecast looked golden—two days of blue skies before the next front arrived. We couldn’t resist. Back to Abermenai Point we went, spending Monday walking the beach and Tuesday soaking up the sun.

By Wednesday evening, the weather had turned again, poor right through until the following Monday (naturally, just in time for work). We set off for home, motoring back through the Swellies before picking up a lovely sail from Bangor all the way back to the marina.

Reflections

From the first punch against the tide to dinner on a deserted Llanddwyn beach, this holiday had everything—challenges, discoveries, and those priceless still moments that make it all worthwhile. Allegra might need a clean, Nell gave us a scare, but we also found paradise just a few miles from home. That’s sailing life, and we wouldn’t swap it for anything.