Erddig is an amazing place – a house and estate that still looks like it’s about 1832 – and one that housed a family who broke ground by looking after its staff almost if they were their own kin.
The house is beautiful, the gardens simple yet elegant, the names and stories of the staff have been kept and are re-told. Even sold in a book in the gift shop. It’s definitely worth the visit.
However, the place is not too accommodating to wheels.
In my recent experience of being a “Chariot Rider” (it just sounds so much more fun than the very boring alternative), I have found there is a vast difference between being “wheelchair accessible” and “wheelchair friendly”: One is the theory that a wheelchair could get through at least part of it and there’s a wheelchair-user bathroom. The other is the reality that people in wheelchairs can easily use and enjoy wherever they are.
Unfortunately, Erddig is the former.
From cobblestones and steps to gravel pathways and inaccessible toilets, this is a place that is trying, but not quite managing, to make this place truly wheelchair friendly.
I have been so many times to Erddig before, I know exactly what it’s like to see, to go into the house and experience it. But few others in chariots will never know all the things I loved about it, because getting into the house is extremely difficult, involving mouvering over cobbles, getting up old steps and through narrow passages outside, and that’s before you even see anything…
From the beginning, Erddig is not the easiest place to manage, although no doubt they have done their best. They have disabled parking, but the small squares on the surrounding wall that show the traditional wheelchair symbol are very difficult to see, and there are no lines to ensure enough space between cars for doors to be opened wide for wheelchairs and mobility appliances. From there, the car park, like all of Erddig, has pathways covered in tiny gravel that makes it rather difficult to wheel over by myself (others who are stronger may not have as much difficulty).
The entrance goes through to a courtyard. From there you get to the house, the formal garden, the restaurant, the bookstore, National Trust Shop, and the toilets. Unfortunately, most of this is cobbled. There is a narrow flat pathway within them, but there isn’t enough to get all the way to the toilet itself, and you have to manoeuvre over the cobbles to get to it, which isn’t very easy.
Luckily, a member of staff, a chef from the restaurant, was walking back to the kitchen and noticed my difficulties. He helped tip me up enough for me to get up there… But that wasn’t the end of it. I couldn’t open the door now without going back down the ramp. It was right in front of me, and there was only enough room for either me or opening the door.
I manoeuvred into the baby-changing room next door and managed to get out of the way of the door so I could open it up wide. Once I was in, there was only the drop-down handle to help me – the other other one was attached to the wall behind the toilet – but there was just enough space inside to manoeuvre the chair around. By the time I got myself back out again, I was exhausted just from that… and I had only just arrived.
The courtyard is the way to everywhere, including the restaurant and shops, as well as the house. It’s mainly made of cobblestones, but with a ribbon of flat surface surrounding the square in the centre. It reaches the gift shop but that’s just about it. It quite reach to everywhere else, though.
The National Trust gift shop is probably most people’s first port of call (apart from the bathrooms, maybe), and it’s a lovely shop. It’s small, but pretty easy to get around and manoeuvre in. Nothing is in the way, and many things are within reach – quite the novelty! The products are innovative, local and even made on the farm or estate. From jams and preserves, to locally-brewed beer (including beer brewed on the estate), cider from the estate’s own apples, to locally-made (or at least Welsh) sweets, chocolates, fudge, and biscuits, the shop has a great array of innovative and unique gifts and things for yourself and/or others, and it’s well worth a visit.
The restaurant is above the shop, and is directly available via a lift (one of those where you shut the heavy door and keep your finger on the awkward buttons). The menu is available downstairs, at the bottom of the steps to go up, opposite the shop, and easy to see from down low. I did not partake this time in it, but what food I did see being served (when I just outside the courtyard, where the outside seating was) looked amazing.
The other shop there is the bookstore. It’s a second-hand book shop, filled with all kinds of donated books – anyone is bound to find something nice in there if you enjoy reading. I’ve been in there many times before, and I wished it was still able to do so now.
There’s a wooden platform that gives you access, and a ramp down from the door inside. However, the platform was not entirely flat and I couldn’t get in there on my own (my mother was already in there), but I didn’t bother trying harder or asking for her help. I felt like if I couldn’t do it myself without too much bother, it was rather a redundant token of accessibility, and that despondency set in again. Regardless, I can’t physically hold books any more, so it would have been a redundant effort, anyhow.
Also from the courtyard you can get to the house and gardens. The gardens are pretty straightforward, but the house is definitely not. From the courtyard, the way to the house is via a single doorway from the courtyard, which also happens to be up a step. It is depressed in the centre, which is great for some, but unfortunately fairly useless for chariots.
The doorway is fairly narrow, and quite frankly, I did not even attempt to try and go any further. The stables and shire horses were also though there, which I wasn’t too pleased to miss out on, as I had hoped to see them.
It’s a shame that they do not allow you access to see more than just the courtyard and the gardens. This place is so enjoyable and fascinating, it’s quite unfortunate that people wheels are generally restricted to the outside.
From there, we went to the formal gardens, which are both simple and beautiful. They’re at the back of the house, sweeping downwards towards a canal behind the gates at the far end. There are two ponds, with three pathways leading around them – one at the far side, one between them, and one on the opposite end of the first.
I was rather enjoyed myself in those gardens. The thin layer of gravel made it a little difficult, although hardly impossible, to push myself along. However it was extremely tiring to have that extra . Even in the fairly warm sun, I was not able to keep it up for long, particularly because it’s not all completely flat, either. It’s disheartening when you feel that unnecessary obstacles are being put in your way to make independence whilst in a chariot a possibility… otherwise despondency can easily set in.
When I was being pushed around, the pathway itself wasn’t uncomfortable, although it was difficult for my mother to manage to push me. She’s nearly 60 years old, in excellent health, and still works full-time as a nurse. But at 4ft 9¾ (yes, apparently the ¾ is vital) she finds it difficult at the best of times to push the Chariot. I’m still not clear why so many places believes clippings are the best pathway covering that could be used… They’re not easy to manage.
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
Unfortunately, on the way back down the other side (the right side, looking out from the house, opposite the clock), there were steps to get back towards the house, unmarked and a complete surprise. It’s not a problem in and of itself that there are steps; however they should have been marked. A warning of steps or even a sign that showed it was inappropriate for wheelchairs would have been useful. They may not have come as quite a shock then.
I’m lucky, I can mobilise a little. An extremely kind gardener came to help when I stood and hung onto a large stone vase that framed the side of the steps. He helped me down the first couple of steps, and when we came to the single one that was a little further down, he helped tipped me back and ease me down… Something my mother could never have managed. Of course, if there had been just a little warning sign for that pathway, then we would have known not to bother going that way in the first place.
I admit, it felt like the place was stating clearly that I wasn’t invited in unless I had some help… and the wheels would be strictly restricted to the outside. It was as if it presumed that “wheelchair user” was clearly defined as someone who either required absolute assistance from a carer or acting-carer, such as an elderly person, or someone who was young and strong with capable upper-body strength to manoeuvre through difficult areas or terrain. Of which I am neither. There seemed to be no compromise for anything else – either you were strong enough to do even the simplest things or you weren’t.
Although there was so much to enjoy and admire, there was too much difficulty in getting about – even doing something as easy as going to the bathroom – to really be able to relax and enjoy it. The terrain was difficult to get around, and the house was effectively out of bounds. It was difficult to feel welcome,
Erddig has tried to be wheelchair accessible, but has not achieved being wheelchair friendly. They’re honest and up-front on their website, but I was hoping they may have made a little more effort to make it more wheelchair-friendly (rather than simply accessible) and make it easier to get into the house.
Erddig Erddig is an amazing place - a house and estate that still looks like it’s about 1832 - and one that housed a family who broke ground by looking after its staff almost if they were their own kin.
