“On a rocky outcrop overlooking the River Conwy, Conwy Castle commands attention with its formidable presence.”

Built in the late 13th century, this imposing fortress has withstood the test of time, bearing witness to centuries of history.

The Castle’s Story

Conwy Castle was built between 1283 and 1287 on the orders of King Edward I. It formed part of his Iron Ring of fortresses, a military strategy to subdue and dominate Wales after his campaign of conquest. The king’s engineer-in-chief, Master James of St George, oversaw the construction. He was a Savoyard with a keen eye for defence and a record of building strongholds in both France and the Alps.

The location was chosen with purpose. The rocky promontory above the estuary allowed for defence from both land and sea. The town of Conwy was also walled at the same time, enclosing it completely, save for its small harbour. This created a garrison town entirely controlled by the Crown. Welsh people were largely excluded from living within the walls, cementing Conwy as a symbol of English dominance.

Conwy Castle cost around £15,000 to build. That was a staggering sum at the time, far exceeding many of Edward’s other castles. Much of the stone was quarried locally, but the scale and speed of construction were extraordinary. Over 1,500 labourers and craftsmen worked on it at peak times, creating a fortress of eight massive towers, thick curtain walls and a great hall fit for royal visits.

Though it started as a military and administrative centre, the castle was soon needed for defence. During the rebellion of Madog ap Llywelyn in 1294, Conwy was besieged. Edward himself was trapped inside over Christmas and into the new year. Supplies dwindled. Conditions were grim. But the garrison held out and the uprising was crushed.

By the 14th century, Conwy’s importance began to wane. The town remained a loyal Crown settlement, but royal attention shifted. In the 15th century, during Owain Glyndŵr’s uprising, the castle was captured by Welsh forces in 1401 through subterfuge. They held it briefly before being dislodged. From then on, its military relevance faded. The Tudor period saw it fall into disrepair.

Key Moments / Turning Points

The Siege of 1294–95

The winter siege during Madog ap Llywelyn’s uprising was the castle’s first true test. Just a decade after it was built, Edward I found himself under threat from the very people he sought to control. Welsh rebels had surrounded Conwy, cutting off supply routes. Edward and his garrison were effectively trapped within the castle walls during a bleak and bitter season. The king had to rely on fish from the estuary and supplies smuggled in by sea. Contemporary accounts note the harsh cold and the king’s discomfort. The siege lasted several weeks but eventually lifted once English reinforcements arrived and the rebellion was suppressed. It was a stark reminder that even the strongest fortress could become a cage.

1401

The next major turning point came in spring 1401. Owain Glyndŵr’s rebellion had sparked a renewed sense of Welsh identity and resistance. Conwy Castle, symbolic of English oppression, became a target. This time, the attackers didn’t lay siege. Instead, a small band of Welsh loyalists under Rhys ap Tudur and his cousin Gwilym ap Tudur used trickery. They gained entry pretending to be carpenters working on the castle’s upkeep. Once inside, they took control and held it for three months. Their hold on the castle, though short-lived, was a major embarrassment for the English Crown. It was only relinquished after a negotiated settlement and payment. The incident marked one of the few times the English grip on their great North Welsh castles slipped.

Civil War Decline

The final blow came during the English Civil War. Conwy was held by Royalists for much of the conflict. It saw limited action, but its strategic position still mattered. After the war, Oliver Cromwell’s government ordered the slighting (deliberate damaging) of many castles to prevent further military use. Conwy was no exception. Its interiors were stripped, and parts of the walls were pulled down. From that point on, it became a ruin. No longer a fortress. No longer a residence. Just a shell of its former power.

Legends and Lore

Conwy Castle may stand in solid stone, but whispers of its past drift through local legend like sea mist over the estuary. While its history is written in royal orders and battle records, the stories told in low voices and shadowed corners are something else entirely.

One of the oldest tales involves a hidden treasure. It’s said that during Owain Glyndŵr’s rebellion, a chest of gold was hidden somewhere within the castle by the retreating Welsh. The rebels, unable to carry it with them, left it buried beneath a flagstone in one of the towers. Over the centuries, treasure hunters have searched, but no hoard has ever been found. Some believe it was never gold at all, but sacred relics spirited away for safekeeping. Others think the story is nothing more than an excuse for poking around in dangerous ruins.

Then there’s the ghost of the monk. Visitors and custodians alike have spoken of a robed figure glimpsed on the battlements or seen walking the chapel ruins at dusk. No one knows who he was, but he’s always described the same way: grey habit, bowed head, silent steps. He vanishes without a sound. One theory is that he was a former chaplain who remained even after the castle fell into ruin, refusing to leave his post. Another suggests he may have been a prisoner or even a penitent who died within the walls.

In the upper chambers of the king’s tower, strange sounds have been reported for years. Metal clinking. Echoes of laughter or muffled cries. Some say these are the spirits of soldiers from Edward’s time, still on guard. Others point to the Civil War, when the castle saw occupation again. One chilling account tells of a visiting school group in the 1980s, where a teacher reported seeing a group of figures in armour at the far end of the hall. When she approached, there was no one there. The children hadn’t seen a thing.

None of these stories can be proven. They linger like the castle’s own memories, half-formed and persistent. But stand inside those great walls on a quiet day, especially when the clouds hang low and the sea is calm, and you might feel it too—that subtle shift in the air that says Conwy is not quite empty.

Architecture & Features

Conwy Castle’s structure is both brute force and careful design. What you see today is close to what Edward I would have seen in the 13th century. Time and damage have taken their toll, but the bones remain.

The layout is straightforward: a narrow, elongated enclosure divided into two wards by a central wall, with four towers at each end. These eight towers are round, tall, and solid, each originally topped with battlements. The stonework is grey and coarse, hewn from local rock. It rises straight out of the craggy base, blending into the landscape like it grew there.

Twin round towers flank the gatehouse. That alone is worth noticing. It’s a rare example of symmetrical defence from the period. Most castles have off-centre entrances for tactical reasons. At Conwy, they built big and bold—possibly to show off English might. The barbican outside the gate was another line of defence. Anyone trying to breach it would face arrow fire from several angles before they even reached the main door.

Inside, the castle was once grand. There were royal chambers, a great hall, a chapel, and service quarters. Edward didn’t just build a fortress; he built a palace where he could rule and rest. The great hall still stands, roofless now, but its scale is clear. Windows with traceried arches, columns that once held the floor above—it's easy to imagine it filled with banners, servants, and the noise of court.

The chapel is a fine example of early Gothic work, with pointed arches and delicate carvings. Small, but it would have been richly decorated. Religious life was crucial to royal authority, and no king travelled without his own place of worship.

The towers were not just for defence. They held living quarters, guardrooms, and storerooms. Each has its own spiral staircase. They’re steep and narrow, designed to favour defenders. If you visit today, you can still climb them. From the top, you see the full stretch of the estuary, the walled town below, and the mountains inland.

The town walls are also worth a mention. Over three-quarters of them still stand. They wrap around the medieval town in a tight oval, with 21 towers and three original gates. Few places in Britain have kept such a complete medieval circuit.

Modern Access / Preservation

Conwy Castle stands as one of the best-preserved medieval fortresses in Wales. That survival hasn’t happened by accident. Centuries of ruin left it vulnerable, but determined restoration and ongoing care have kept it steady.

In the 19th century, growing interest in Britain’s past sparked efforts to stabilise the structure. The Office of Works began repairs in the 1860s. Vegetation was cleared. Dangerous walls were braced. It wasn’t a full restoration, more of a rescue from further collapse. The work was slow and careful, avoiding Victorian embellishment that marred some other heritage sites.

When Cadw took over management in the late 20th century, the focus shifted again. They made the site safer for visitors, added interpretation boards, and improved access routes. Importantly, they didn’t try to restore the castle to a fictional former glory. What you see now is honest: centuries of wear, war and weather, held together with skilled masonry and regular maintenance.

The surrounding town has been protected too. Conwy’s walls are a World Heritage Site, along with the castle. That status means strict planning controls and a preservation-first attitude. You won’t find high-rises or modern clutter here. The castle dominates the skyline, as it always did.

Recent years have seen increased visitor numbers, especially in summer. That brings its own risks—footfall wears down ancient stone. Cadw has put down walkways in some areas and installed barriers in others. You can still explore freely, but the site is managed with conservation in mind.

Education is part of the modern role too. School groups come year-round. Events like medieval fairs and re-enactments bring the castle’s story to life, though these are carefully balanced against the need to protect the site. Digital guides and AR apps have been trialled, helping younger visitors engage without touching fragile parts of the structure.

There’s also a steady stream of archaeological interest. Surveys and minor digs continue, especially in the less-explored areas of the curtain wall and the chapel tower. Every so often, a new detail emerges—a forgotten staircase, a section of mosaic, a buried fragment of pottery.

Conwy Castle is no longer a place of war or politics, but it’s far from frozen in time. It’s part of a living town. And thanks to steady hands and clear priorities, it’s likely to stand for generations yet.

Visiting Today

Walking into Conwy Castle is like stepping through time. The ruins may be roofless, but the scale and layout are intact. You don’t need to imagine much. The great towers still reach skyward. The curtain walls still frame the estuary. The bones of royal power remain exactly where they were set down over 700 years ago.

The entrance is just beyond the town centre, beside the harbour. Most visitors come through the arched gateway near the old suspension bridge. There’s a ticket office, a small shop, and leaflets in multiple languages. Cadw staff are usually on hand to answer questions or offer directions.

Inside, you’re free to roam. There’s no fixed route, but the layout makes sense once you’re in. Spiral staircases lead up the towers. They’re steep, uneven, and narrow, but the views at the top are worth the climb. On a clear day, you can see across the water to Deganwy and out to the Irish Sea. Inland, the mountains of Snowdonia loom.

Information panels are scattered throughout, offering context without clutter. You’ll see outlines where wooden floors once spanned the towers. Fireplaces carved into the stone. Arrow slits pointing across the estuary. In the great hall, some sections have been partially reconstructed to show scale, but nothing is faked or glossed up.

The chapel is quieter. Small birds nest in the high windows, and ivy creeps across some sections of wall. It’s a good place to sit and let your legs rest. You can almost hear the chant of mass echoing off the stones.

The outer ward is often used for school groups and heritage events. They bring in actors or blacksmiths, sometimes musicians. On quieter days, it’s just the gulls and the wind. The walls are high enough to block most traffic noise, so it still feels isolated—apart from time.

There’s limited wheelchair access. The ground level and some areas of the outer ward are manageable, but the towers and upper walls are only reachable by stairs. Cadw has made digital tours available online, and there are video guides on site as well.

There’s parking nearby, including spaces for disabled visitors. Conwy train station is a five-minute walk. The town itself is worth your time too—still walled, still small, with decent pubs and quiet corners. But the castle is the reason most come. It dominates the place, and rightly so.

References

Cadw official site: https://cadw.gov.wales/visit/places-to-visit/conwy-castle
Taylor, Arnold. Conwy Castle and Town Walls. HMSO, 2004.
Griffiths, Ralph A. Conquerors and Conquered: The Story of Edward I's Castles in Wales. Tempus, 2006.
Pounds, Norman J.G. The Medieval Castle in England and Wales: A Social and Political History. Cambridge University Press, 1991.
RCAHMW (Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Wales) archives and Canmore entries
UNESCO World Heritage Centre: https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/374/
Local accounts and visitor testimony (gathered from reviews and oral history projects hosted in the town)