RTTS 18.
Posted: Sun Jul 08, 2018 5:07 pm
The second annual Run to the sun took place this weekend in conditions which I can best describe as 'fukin' hot' with a recorded 32 degrees yesterday afternoon while riding / pushing / carrying up a fine mountain.
Nine riders assembled in the arse end of Welsh nowhere on Friday evening and around 11.15pm had completed faffing and were ready for the off.
The ride wasn't without it's mishaps ... you can see Burty praying to the rubber gods here, asking that his tyre will stay up for another hour or so.
The aim was to arrive at the coast to watch the sunrise. It's quite a difficult thing to time, so while we didn't arrive in Porthmadog until after dawn, we did arrive bright and breezy and made ourselves at home until the first cafe opened.
After a hearty breakfast, we made our way to the park and kind of took it over for a couple of hours. It was a relaxing morning of lounging, eating and wondering whether David's tally of seven ticks was some kind of new world record.
When it could be delayed no more, we collected ourselves together and began the high altitude journey back from whence we'd come. By this pont most of us had had no sleep for over 30 hours but spirits were high and we forged on into the increasing heat. Our route is probably best described as a series of very big climbs intermingled with smaller ones.
As the day wore on the climbs got bigger and things got hotter. Shade was limited and any natural water source that still contained water, became an oasis in which to dunk yourself. It was far more run from the sun than toward it.
Around 5.00pm we eventually dropped off the other side of the days biggest climb. Awaiting us was a lake which washed some of the sweat and grime away and allowed me to bodge my slashed tyre ... yes, I had to walk down the longest descent of the trip.
Dinner time in Beth Gelert seemed like a long time ago. We located a pub beer garden that was both infested by midges and milfs and sat down to enjoy the show while slapping ourselves about the arms, legs and face for a couple of hours. We were beginning to fade in sync with the light but with the chances of kipping in the beer garden with either midge or milf very slim, we headed back out and straight into another nice big climb.
Pretty much 24 hours to the minute since we set off, we laid bivvy bags out, said our good night John-boys and fell asleep. Luckily, we'd picked a spot about 300 yards from a cafe, which at 7.30am contained us and by 8.00 also contained 80 roadies departing on a race. Fed and watered, it was a simple matter of crossing one last bwlch before a plummet back to the start ... and a trial fitting of Mike's new bra, which I found for him at the side of a mountain stream. I'd like to apologise to the woman who owned it, if you hadn't actually discarded / lost it and were in fact having a refreshing swim nearby when I passed.
A big thank you to Mike for sorting out the route and everyone for the company and laughs.
Nine riders assembled in the arse end of Welsh nowhere on Friday evening and around 11.15pm had completed faffing and were ready for the off.
The ride wasn't without it's mishaps ... you can see Burty praying to the rubber gods here, asking that his tyre will stay up for another hour or so.
The aim was to arrive at the coast to watch the sunrise. It's quite a difficult thing to time, so while we didn't arrive in Porthmadog until after dawn, we did arrive bright and breezy and made ourselves at home until the first cafe opened.
After a hearty breakfast, we made our way to the park and kind of took it over for a couple of hours. It was a relaxing morning of lounging, eating and wondering whether David's tally of seven ticks was some kind of new world record.
When it could be delayed no more, we collected ourselves together and began the high altitude journey back from whence we'd come. By this pont most of us had had no sleep for over 30 hours but spirits were high and we forged on into the increasing heat. Our route is probably best described as a series of very big climbs intermingled with smaller ones.
As the day wore on the climbs got bigger and things got hotter. Shade was limited and any natural water source that still contained water, became an oasis in which to dunk yourself. It was far more run from the sun than toward it.
Around 5.00pm we eventually dropped off the other side of the days biggest climb. Awaiting us was a lake which washed some of the sweat and grime away and allowed me to bodge my slashed tyre ... yes, I had to walk down the longest descent of the trip.
Dinner time in Beth Gelert seemed like a long time ago. We located a pub beer garden that was both infested by midges and milfs and sat down to enjoy the show while slapping ourselves about the arms, legs and face for a couple of hours. We were beginning to fade in sync with the light but with the chances of kipping in the beer garden with either midge or milf very slim, we headed back out and straight into another nice big climb.
Pretty much 24 hours to the minute since we set off, we laid bivvy bags out, said our good night John-boys and fell asleep. Luckily, we'd picked a spot about 300 yards from a cafe, which at 7.30am contained us and by 8.00 also contained 80 roadies departing on a race. Fed and watered, it was a simple matter of crossing one last bwlch before a plummet back to the start ... and a trial fitting of Mike's new bra, which I found for him at the side of a mountain stream. I'd like to apologise to the woman who owned it, if you hadn't actually discarded / lost it and were in fact having a refreshing swim nearby when I passed.
A big thank you to Mike for sorting out the route and everyone for the company and laughs.
,thanks for the company , 
