Guest blog by Llio Angharad
December always starts with good intentions. Early-December me is calm, organised and deeply optimistic. I will buy presents early. I will be relaxed. I will not be panic-buying sprouts at 9pm while whispering “is this too soon?” to myself in the veg aisle.
And yet.
Cities get louder. Lists multiply. Annual leave becomes weirdly political. And somewhere between wrapping paper, mulled wine and the annual debate about whether matching pyjamas with the dog are necessary (they are), Christmas starts to feel less magical and more…well, busy.
So when I’m looking for something festive in the run-up to the big day, I’m not chasing sparkle or spectacle. I don’t want queues, crowds or a sugar high I’ll regret. I want calm. I want air. I want something that feels Christmassy without demanding anything from me.
Which is how we found ourselves pulling on wellies and heading to Candleston Woods' Festive Trail on a very typical Welsh winter evening.
Cold. Fresh. With that light drizzle Wales does so well, never enough to ruin anything, just enough to add atmosphere. The kind of weather that sharpens the air, deepens the smell of damp earth and pine, and makes fairy lights glow warmer. Mulled wine weather, in other words.
No rushing. No overstimulation. Just four adults and one tiny little human ready to wander.
We arrived with our nephew Henrik, plus my partner Nicky, his mum and Gavin, a proper multi-generational mix with very different ideas of fun, all held together by Henrik. As long as we follow his lead, everything runs smoothly. He decides the pace. He decides what’s interesting. He is, without question, the boss.
The trail takes its time, winding through the woods under trees dotted with soft lights. Christmas music floats around quietly in the background, not loud, not in your face, just enough to remind you it’s Christmas and that you don’t need to rush it.
For Henrik, the woods were alive with possibility, from the minute we stepped into the woods, Henrik arrived armed with a wheelbarrow full of questions. The kind that come thick and fast, without pause, and absolutely do not require sensible answers.
Where do the bears sleep?
Are there deer here?
Is a deer a horse?
How many fairies live in the trees?
Do you think Santa lives here? Can we live here?
Fair questions, all things considered.
The woods, for Henrik, weren’t just woods. They were alive. Full of stories. Full of things that might happen if you look closely enough. Fairy houses appeared tucked into tree roots and mossy corners, each one inspected with total seriousness. Tiny doors. Little windows. One door, slightly open, caused genuine concern.
“Where have the fairies gone? They’ve left the door open”
Without missing a beat, I told him they’d popped to the supermarket, to the bakery. To get a seeded roll, the good ones. A staple in the Henrik household. He nodded. Completely satisfied. Obviously that’s where fairies go.
Every step brought another question. Were the fairies sleeping? Were they hiding? Were they watching us? (Yes. They definitely could.)
At one point, Henrik stopped dead in his tracks and announced, very confidently, that this felt like somewhere Santa might live. Not definitely. But possibly. And really, that’s all you need in December, the possibility.
He made a wishing wand, clutching it proudly like it was an actual tool of magic, before leading us all to the wishing tree. We stood there together, four adults and one small, very serious person, making wishes quietly, properly, no laughing. Henrik “ I wish to see Lightning McQueen”
There’s something about watching a child believe so fully that makes you behave better. Slower. Kinder. You don’t rush them. You don’t interrupt. You just follow along and hope you don’t ruin it.
We all made wishes. Proper ones. The kind you don’t say out loud. The kind you forget to make once you’re an adult because you’re too busy thinking about emails and shopping lists. No phones. No checking the time. Just us, standing in the woods, under fairy lights, letting a child lead the way.
The disco barn arrived like a joyful curveball ,Henrik dancing freely, we joined in. It felt easy. Communal. Unforced. No one is trying too hard to create “a moment”. It was a great selfie moment.
Midway through the trail, the woods open up and suddenly there are fire pits everywhere, glowing and crackling like they’ve been waiting just for you. Marshmallows were toasted (some better than others).
The Forest Barn café was a very welcome sight. Warm. Bright. Smelling strongly of hot chocolate in a way that instantly makes you relax your shoulders. Somewhere to sit down.. We ordered drinks, wrapped our hands around mugs, and stayed longer than planned because, quite simply, there was nowhere else we needed to be.
Later, we wandered over to what might genuinely be the biggest Christmas tree in South Wales. Fully lit. Impossible to ignore. Pizza was handed out and eaten standing up, fairy lights overhead, people chatting to strangers like they’d known each other longer than ten minutes.
There were kids everywhere, darting between trees, playing, making friends the way only children do, quick hellos, no awkward small talk, straight into it. One minute they’re strangers, the next they’re off together, sharing snacks, sticks, and very important fairy intel. It made me wonder why we lose that as adults. When did making friends start to require a personality assessment, a shared calendar, and at least three successful coffees? Kids don’t overthink it. They just turn up, ask a question, and get on with it. The confidence. Honestly, we could all learn a lot.
That’s what Candleston Woods' Festive Trail gets right. It doesn’t overload you. There’s plenty going on, but nothing feels rushed or loud. Just lots of thoughtful touches , places to warm up, food and drink along the way, sheltered spots for when the weather does what Welsh weather does.
It’s also very real-life friendly. Well-behaved dogs on leads are welcome. No extra planning. No dog sitter. Just bring them along. Group bookings and school visits are welcome too, and SEN sessions can be arranged, which makes a big difference and says a lot about how much care has gone into the whole thing.
If you want to stretch the evening a bit further, adults can book the Outdoor Sauna & Spa separately (16+). A lovely extra if you’re visiting with friends, or if you fancy sitting somewhere warm and quiet after the walk, pretending you’re very relaxed and zen.
The Candleston Woods Festive Trail runs on selected dates throughout December, with timed early evening slots. Book ahead, especially closer to Christmas, when everyone suddenly realises they want to do something festive but not stressful.
The woods are just outside Bridgend (CF32 0LS). Easy to get to, but once you’re there, it feels like the rest of the world has politely stepped back for a bit.
This isn’t a big, loud, look-at-me Christmas attraction. It doesn’t try to impress you. It just lets you be there.
Walking.Warming your hands.Holding a hotdrink.
Watching a child get excited about fairy doors.
It felt like exactly the right end to theday, and when we thought it couldn’t get any better a little young deer calmlypassed our car. Like a thanks for the coming stroll. We all stopped. Not a wordwas said. Not a breath was taken. We all just watched. It was just perffaith.
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