I finally summoned up the courage to go on a mini tour on my own last weekend. The forecast wasn't too bad, as we know forecasts are subject to change.
Over 2 and a bit days my goal was to try and test myself on 2x200km days (one to be a DIY 200km audax to restart my 2nd RRtY halted in March due to Covid) with Monday spare to get to Bangor and a train home. To ride and explore more I have to be able to be self sufficient.
My plan was the Sustrans Lon Las Cymru route across Wales starting from home early Saturday (south Bristol) through Chepstow via the Old Severn Bridge, up Gospel Pass then Elan Valley/Rhayader climbing up to the remote Clywedog Forest/Reservoir to wild camp the first night after 205km. Sunday was the long climb and magnificent descent to Machynlleth and out to the coast to loop up to Barmouth, Harlech and Porthmadog then looping through Snowdonia/Pen y Pass (and hopefully a campsite) before a dash to Bangor on Monday morning for a train home. #WalesNeverFails
The original plan:
It was wild and brilliant and challenging and pretty tough and an awful lot of Type II fun was had in the pretty atrocious rain and as soon as it was over I vowed I would do more solo multi day rides. On Saturday evening I had been in the middle of a gravel track in the remote Elan Valley with hardly any water. Water was all around me in swampy streams, but there were sheep everywhere so it was not safe to drink a drop. I was supposed to be through Rhayader for supplies and up to Clwedog and I had no idea if I could find somewhere out of sight enough and suitable to camp. I was never going to cycle again then.
I did get some water, and found a (not ideal) camp spot and survived. It left me with too much for Sunday so I dropped back my ambition to just the original Lon Las route to Bangor without a side trip through Pen y Pass.
The weather was pretty horrific, I was soaked before I was out of Bristol and over the bridge, having left home at 6.30am on Saturday.
After a very brief outside café/Co Op stop in Usk it was dry for Gospel Pass the easier way from Abergavenney but I thought it was harder than from Hay, I was carrying a tent, sleeping bag, sleep mat and a stove on my lighter weight set up, but the steepest bit is right at the top of the easier way. I have conquered Gospel from Hay a fair few times but up from Aber was a first, and once past Hay I was onto unknown roads for me until I was through Machynlleth. I made it up Gospel with no walking though...
..and the descent to Hay on Wye was fantastic.
I got a bit lost in Builth Wells and eventually found the river path out of town. Once past the canoeing centres it got much more remote and I climbed up to the Elan Valley, a dozen trials bikes buzzed me descending. A while later they passed me again, fewer of them but ascending in the same direction and they disappeared again. I paused to eat something and then found the route turned into a gravel greenway.
Nothing too technical and I carefully made my way along until I rounded a corner and found the bikes parked ahead of me with their engines off the other side of a closed gate. It was a shock, I did not know what to do, if I turned around I imagined the rest of them closing me off. The parked ones all started their engines and one by one carried on along the Greenway, gouging it up. I waited until it was silent. I had no choice but to continue through the gate and just hope they were trying to find space to illicitly gather and have a smoke and I was the inconvenience not a target.
I walked to avoid falling or being knocked off if being a target was my fate. I also knew I had run out of time to make camp near Clywedog that night, and I had very little water left. Eventually I came to tarmac again, I could hear a few motor bikes in the distance accelerating up the main road the other side of the valley, I was fairly certain I was OK now. Another routing mistake (walking round a field looking for a track 50 m too early) and eventually I trundled into Rhayader and found a Spar and bought the all important water and another meal deal. I had to move quickly as I was committed to the main road, suspecting the route I was supposed to be on was more off road by the river that would slow up progress and I needed to get away from town (and water) to find somewhere to camp. The road was hideous, so fast and steep sided but I noticed a left turn signposted for Route 8 to the river and took it. I managed to find a field where the hay had been cut and ducked behind the hedge. It was dusk and once I was off my bike realised I was shaking. I had not eaten enough in hours and bolted a sandwich before putting the tent up and crawling in utterly relieved. Things improve after a night's sleep but randomly 3 tractors shot past and started hay making in the adjacent fields as I was drifting off at 10pm. I was so sure I was going to be rumbled but they finished around midnight and I was left in peace. The farmers knew what they were doing, the rain started up soon after.
It was very wet on Saturday night and I had a soaking heavy tent to stow Sunday morning, and rejoined the route by the Wye. I was totally alone in the brooding and very wet Clywedog Forest but I was very happy, it was stunningly remote but a hard working forest, cloud swirling around before an emotion releasing descent ramping into the long steady satisfying climb preceding the most swooping <out of this world> descent ever on a smooth road to Machynlleth (and it's Co op for yet another meal deal and a take away coffee.) The descent and the hot coffee were out of my world. Finally it stopped raining. As Ian Walker says in his excellent book "Endless Perfect Circles" (about his own world record breaking ride across Europe) "it never always gets worse." I had kept that mantra in my head the night before and it was true.
The weather wasn't everything. The foodie highlight was fish and chips in Barmouth mid afternoon on Sunday (my only hot meal in 3 days) with balmy weather to eat them on a bench in surreal crowds. The coastal loop into Barmouth I had ridden before, it's just delightful as you hit the coast and turn north and then alongside the rickety wooden railway bridge practically touching the train. Jaw dropping vistas of moody sea and sky. The anticipation of the fish and chips, as I was back on known territory to Barmouth.
Brutal hills to Harlech followed straight after Barmouth and brake pad screaming descents too, the scenery was outstanding. Minute lanes, sheep, waterfalls and hillsides and very many gates.
Gates are a pain with a loaded bike on your own, everyone needs a gate butler. I never did master a slick technique.
It took me 2 hours to find somewhere to camp out of sight accessible and dry enough on Sunday night, but I found a just acceptable spot hidden behind a wall as it got to dusk again. I had to lift my bike over a gate, paddle through liquid sheep poo and share with sheep. The tent was still soaking and I did not dare light my stove to warm some dahl through (in case of discovery) so ate more mini pork pies (I maxed out calories on 4 meal deals in total!) and slept very badly as the rain hammered down. The rain drowned out the munching sheep who always surround a tent to keep the occupant awake with their very loud chewing. My new tent kept the rain out (Alpkit Soloist) but condensation was a problem.
My plan for Monday, post tea and a packet latte, I'm getting better at this, was to get to Bangor preferably for a morning train. The weather forecast was drizzle until 9 then supposedly dry but it was biblically wet from the outset and never let up, I was fairly wet getting out of the tent, soaked through by the time the tent was packed. Away by 7.30 and chasing down a pretty good bike path to Caernarfon and a respite from hills, but many more gates.
Given the standing water everywhere it was a relief the surface was good. Caernarfon Castle rose bleakly out of the murk and I got extremely lost trying to get out of town but avoiding the fast crazy road to Bangor that all ways led to, I could not see my Garmin at all in the solid rain, glasses long since discarded. All the little social distancing signs are blue like the Sustrans signs which doesn't help.
I discarded my carefully transported litter into a near empty bin after this photo, never a full one. Ashamed I'd had to buy water in plastic and not recycled.
David Lloyd George needs to come back and take control I think, he was looking a tad damp but still authoritative.
Eventually I found the Morrisons at the start of the path to Bangor but the dropped kerb at the sign to the path from the car park was not dropped, I found this out as I flew through the air backwards onto my well padded bum whilst yanking my right knee badly as it detached from the pedal. I landed with an almighty splash as the car park was flooded and the water was up to kerb level, hence why I didn't realise it wasn't dropped until too late.
Thank goodness no one saw me and I was so wet anyway it didn't matter, I hobbled the last 15km to Bangor, my knee was searing agony so I put no weight through it and stayed unclipped on my heel, I didn't nip across Menai Bridge as planned, I was more keen on making the 11am train (next Trains for Wales one was 3, routed via Hereford, being half the price of others routed via Birmingham), which I did. I was anxious I'd not be able to buy a ticket as technically a bike ride across Wales in foul weather is not "essential travel" but I do have a disabled railcard and I am a key worker so I was hoping I wouldn't get turned away, and might have begged if need be. Turns out essential travel only for public transport had been dropped in Wales on that Monday morning and the whole of North Wales was going shopping in Chester, or so it seemed. I dashed to Morrisons for a final meal deal for the train and was back just in time. I dripped, shivered, put on a dry long sleeve merino over my wet short sleeve base layer and then my puffa jacket on top and dry leg warmers. I stank, there was no problem people keeping their distance from me! Most of the shoppers got on after me.
I managed to limp home, with my right heel on the pedal, from Bristol Temple Meads after standing holding my bike on the two trains from Shrewsbury. It had been dry the whole way, my hair had finally dried, puffa jacket stowed, I turned into my village and the heavens opened again, I was totally drenched in the last 5 minutes. I squelched through the front door, very fitting. Apparently I smelt like wet tent.
I did it, on my own. I survived, I evolved plans, I'll do similar again. This was a bit of a try out for something else.... if my knee heals in time. Long distance endurance cycling takes us back to the basics of a working body, eating, resting and avoiding danger. Life revolves around surviving and you tend to forget everything else. Yes I could have a pep talk from a friend as I had a mobile, access to internet, a Garmin to navigate which makes everything a lot easier, but basically it's you vs the elements and topography. As much a mental game as a physical one and I was stretched to the limits on both. The feeling of euphoria (for a very minor expedition compared to others) is still with me. I imagine others get high on drinking/drugs/gambling/closing a deal etc which do nothing for me, but then my career has been abject failure. I get high on reaching a goal and the stunning wildness of the outdoors, it's all very primitive. In some ways I get even more out of it when the weather is dramatic. Nearly everyone I know thinks I'm bonkers, because yes I get a ton out of stretching myself. I don't have to put myself through it but I do.
Thank you Wales.
#WalesNeverFails #Type2Fun
Day 1 Lon Las Cymru Sat 187km 2583m
Day 2 Lon Las Cymru Sun 147km 2139m
Day 3 Lon Las Cymru Mon 44km 263m
378km 4985m
