The hotelkeeper held out a discouraging prospect in regard to the hills
ahead of us. He said that the majority of the motorists who attempted
them were stalled and that there had been some serious accidents. We
went on our way with considerable uneasiness, as our car had not been
working well, and later on trouble was discovered in a broken
valve-spring. However, we started over the mountain, which showed on our
road-book to be not less than three miles in length. There were many
dangerous turns of the road, which ran alongside an almost precipitous
incline, where there was every opportunity for the car to roll a mile or
more before coming to a standstill if it once should get over the edge.
We crawled up the hill until within about fifty yards from the top, and
right at this point there was a sharp turn on an exceedingly stiff
grade. After several trials at great risk of losing control of the car,
I concluded that discretion was (sometimes) the better part of valor,
and with great difficulty turned around and gave it up.

We made a detour by way of Welshpool and Oswestry, where we came into
the London and Holyhead road, bringing up for the night at Llangollen.
We found it necessary to travel about sixty miles to get to the point
which we would have reached in one-fourth the distance had we succeeded
in climbing the hill. It proved no hardship, as we saw some of the most
beautiful country in Wales and traveled over a level road which enabled
us to make very good time with the partly crippled car.

Although Llangollen is a delightful town, my recollections of it are
anything but pleasant. Through our failure to receive a small repair
which I ordered from London, we were delayed at this place for two days,
and as it usually chances in such cases, at one of the worst hotels
whose hospitality we endured during our trip. It had at one time been
quite pretentious, but had degenerated into a rambling, dirty, old inn,