As children grow, we have to find new ways to stay connected with them. My youngest son is bike mad. If there is a trail to ride, a jump to conquer or a new bike park to discover, he is happiest with two wheels beneath him. As a parent, I have realised that finding the balance between simply waiting on the sidelines and actively sharing in his world is becoming more challenging.
So, every now and then, we share an Adventure Day.
The rules are wonderfully simple. We choose somewhere none of us has visited before, set off with an open mind and spend the day discovering something new together. There is no expectation that it will be extraordinary; only the hope that it will give us memories to share.
This weekend, our adventure took us to Carew Castle in Pembrokeshire.
Heavy grey clouds greeted our arrival, threatening rain at any moment, but the sight of striped bell tents, colourful banners and magnificent horses draped in their medieval colours instantly filled me with excitement. We knew we were in for something special.
Carew Castle is an extraordinary place. Standing proudly beside a beautiful expanse of water, it is easy to assume the castle overlooks a natural lake. In fact, the water is a remarkable 23-acre millpond, created centuries ago to store tidal water before releasing it through the mill wheels to grind grain. The castle casts an imposing reflection across the water towards the beautifully restored tidal mill, and even before the day began, the setting itself felt steeped in history.
As we stepped through the castle gates, it genuinely felt as though we had been transported back hundreds of years. Like many Welsh castles, Carew has its own legends. Visitors speak of the mysterious White Lady, said to wander the castle at dusk, and even the ghost of a Barbary ape that once belonged to one of its former owners. Whether you believe the stories or not, they certainly add to the atmosphere.
What has always amazed me about historical re-enactments is the enthusiasm and dedication the people involved bring to every event.
Children sat quietly playing traditional wooden games while food simmered gently in cast-iron skillets over open fires. Craftsmen demonstrated skills that had once been part of everyday life, and everywhere people wore beautifully made period clothing with such pride and authenticity.
One encounter stayed with me more than any other.
I stopped to admire an exquisite embroidery being worked on by a young woman. Every stitch had been sewn by hand. Delicate scenes slowly unfolded across the fabric, each one taking shape with incredible patience and care.
"How long have you been working on it?" I asked.
"Over two thousand hours," she replied.
"When do you hope to finish it?"
"2030 is my aim," she smiled.
"And what will you do with it when it's finished?"
She paused for a moment before replying, "Maybe hang it on my wall."
That simple conversation stayed with me for the rest of the day.
It reminded me that sometimes the greatest joy isn't found in finishing something. It is found in creating it. Every stitch, every hour and every moment spent immersed in something she loved was part of the reward. She wasn't rushing towards the end. She was savouring the journey.
There was another equally memorable moment when I stopped to hold a harrier hawk. James, a young falconer whose passion for birds of prey was completely infectious, spoke with such enthusiasm and knowledge that it was impossible not to be captivated. His love of birds of prey had begun when he was just fourteen, and now, at only twenty-seven, he had built a business from that passion.
The jousting tournament was spectacular. As the horses thundered across the arena, the compère explained the traditions, etiquette and history behind the sport, bringing every contest vividly to life.
Despite the threatening skies, the rain never managed to dampen our spirits. We climbed the highest towers of the castle, tried our hand at archery, explored every corner and wandered down to the tidal mill, where we stopped for ice cream in the little tea shop housed in what was once the lady's outhouse.
As I sat looking across the millpond, it struck me that this remarkable place has quietly worked with the rhythm of the tides for centuries. It doesn't rush the water; it simply waits for the right moment. Perhaps there is a lesson in that too.
Meanwhile, Oliver and his friend had ventured out across the mud, their shoes sinking with every step as they searched beneath the rocks for crabs. Their adventure looked very different from mine, yet it was every bit as magical.
As we drove home, I asked the question I always ask at the end of our Adventure Days.
"What score out of ten?"
Andy and I agreed on a solid nine.
The boys gave it a seven.
Not because the day wasn't wonderful, but because, in their opinion, it was missing one essential ingredient...
Bikes.
I couldn't help but smile.
What these days remind me is that adventure doesn't have to be expensive or extravagant. Sometimes it is simply about saying yes to somewhere new, sharing conversations you never expected to have and creating memories that become part of your family's story.
One day our children might look back on this time and find themselves searching for crabs with their own children. They may remember climbing the towers of an ancient castle beneath heavy grey skies, watching knights charge towards one another and meeting a young woman who had happily devoted thousands of hours to creating something she loved.
Those are the moments worth collecting.
Perhaps this week, you could create an adventure of your own. It doesn't have to involve castles or jousting. It could be a woodland you've never explored, a village you've never wandered through or a café you've always meant to visit.
Sometimes the greatest gift we can give ourselves—and those we love—is simply a shared memory.
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Wherever your next adventure takes you, I hope you find joy in the journey.