Anyway...
I'm riding along a trail. It's quite a nice trail, being narrow, smooth and grassy; undulating gently across a large area of moorland. It's a bit damp in places but nothing too bad. The sun has shone for most of the day and the wind generally light. Views from this large moorland would be fabulous. It sounds perfect, but it's not...
It's 3am so dark, and therefore no view. I've been on the go for nearly 19 hrs and ridden for 220km with over 5000m of climbing and I'm shattered. What I'm riding doesn't match with where I think I am. The woodland I'd hoped to bivvy in was 15k ago but I don't know this, I think it's ahead. I scroll ahead on the route on the GPS trying to figure out what’s happening. But I can't really see any detail and I can't be bothered to get my glasses out to see. My on-bike GPS shows a purple line with an arrow on it - me. My internal GPS has failed - I'm not lost, I just don't know where I am. All I can do is follow the purple line. Forget where you are, why you are here, who you are, just follow the line, no matter what. Just keep going. And going. And going....
At 7.47 the previous morning I'd departed a bright and sunny Llanbrynmair in a fine mood and the pure pleasure of the prospect of 300k of excellent trails. The drive down the previous day had been a bit of a mission thanks to torrential rain and heavy traffic. But I was here now and ready to go after a fair bit of prep; plus the usual stressing over route logistics, gear choices and planning. As ever, once I departed all this disappeared from my consciousness and I was back into that oh so familiar place of riding my bike on a long route with little cares, despite what was to come.
Prep included much map viewing of the route, trying to figure out what was where, get some idea of what the trails would be like and where I could get food, water and a loo. The weather forecast had got progressively better for the weekend as the week progressed but the un-forecasted deluge on the Friday morning was of concern. Still, if you are in Wales (or anywhere else in the UK for that matter) in October and the weather is going to be nice then you can't really stress about trail conditions can you?
Sure enough the first trail over the first moor was indeed wet. But not a bog, so hopefully the damp would only be surface deep. Puddles I could deal with. The first of much nav faffing occurred just as I met Pete, a fellow 300 rider. I'd been following him instead of the route so missed a kink in the trail to stay on the right line. Back on track and the first descent - narrow, rocky, slatey, slippy. Oh yes slate is like ice when wet so take it steady buddy or we'll be off. More slithers followed on another trail type that would feature heavily in the coming miles - saturated clay churned up by cows, sheep and tractors. Keep the speed down to stop spraying it everywhere, weight well back. No probs, I have mudguards.
A rider on the next trail revealed itself as Bob, who left just before me. We both then passed Liz, also doing the 300 on a steep and stony climb. I revealed my pushing skills and stomped away from them in that oh so familiar rhythm. Open moors and views were the prize and the sea glinting in the sunshine. There then followed forest tracks, stony bridleways, smooth tracks with gargantuan puddles, rocky tracks, (more puddles) narrower trails with huge ruts, puddles, multiple lines.
So much for my unblemished ITT puncture record (5000k of ITT's with no punctures!) I'd turned off a fire road into a rocky descent, thought "steady now" hit a loose stone and 10 yards later felt the back tyre go soft. Specs on, tools out, pump tyre and sure enough two 5mm slits, one near the crown and one right in the bead of the rim - classic tubeless snakebite. I knew they would never seal so got stuck in with the plugs. Pump up tyre, still some leakage but a shake of the wheel and they both sealed. Pump again no probs, crack on. 10 minutes lost.
Just after this was a deep ford – thigh deep at least. Now most people would just plunge in, get soaking wet and then moan about wet feet and cold afterwards. Not me. Plan A was always to avoid such crossings, Plan B was shoes and socks off. Plan A - fight through the undergrowth, throw bike into burn, jump across, rescue bike. Fight through undergrowth back to track, get on, ride. Except the back tyre feels soft. Stop. Sort it. The plug in the tyre bead was fine but the one on the crown wasn't. I've got bigger plugs, I've got this. Pull out the plug and ram in a bigger one. Ram it in properly, this has to do 250k. I started pumping. No messing just up to what I need and sure enough all sealed.
Bob appeared so we chatted a bit (me and Bob often meet on ITT routes - we chat for a bit then my anti-social single speed pace leaves him...) before I pulled ahead. The miles passed, the tyre was firm and the stress dissipated. And why wouldn't it? I was in the middle of what would be one of the nicest sections of the route - fine views, some excellent bike riding on trails which just kept going and going. Occasionally you'd hit a road but often you'd just cross it or follow it for a bit before peeling off on another trail.
Tick, tick, tick, tick... what's that? A thorny branch stuck in the front tyre. I pulled it out without thinking and the removed thorn led to a hiss of air. A quick spin of the tyre and the sealant did its job. Some time later the same happened. This time I left it so the thorn would help with the seal as I was now becoming puncture paranoid. Was this the time I'd have to DNF through a mechanical?
Finally I was spat out on a precipitous road descent, followed by a hard road climb. There would be plenty more of these but I kept telling myself - "7500m of climbing, 7500m of climbing." It's no good looking ahead and hoping the route won't drop you into that valley, or won't follow that track climbing steeply up the hill opposite. There is 7500m of climbing on this route so yes, you are going to drop down to that valley and yes, that is your route up that hill opposite. Still, for me it's dead easy - you roll to the bottom, get off, push.
Respite seemed a blessing for some easy miles, spent eating. The next bridleway was as clear as mud - a 2m corridor of properly gooey clay with added puddles. There was no chance of bypassing any of this as the local horsey fraternity had ensured the full available width was ploughed into glop. I must thank John Allan and Tom Bruce for showing the best line though all of this. I'd become aware I was following two sets of bike tracks some time ago and they were a boon through this lot.
Bless Stuart though - he must have predicted this as just afterwards was a nice ford to wash the worst of the mud off. A stick scraped about half a kilo off the crud catcher and rear 'guard and off we go. Into more of the same.... OK not that bad and soon enough I was onto more fire road. I stopped for a drink from an incredibly clear burn at the track side. Two passing horse riders were firstly concerned about my seemingly abandoned bike and then nextly by me emerging from the undergrowth by the burn...
The afternoon was drawing on but I was feeling OK overall with a large dent made in my food supplies and near perfect pacing. Ford number two appeared but I got across it feet dry thanks to a bit of line imagination as the middle bit the vehicles used was deep. All part of the fun.
A public loo provided a much needed pause. I didn't bother with water here as I'd filled up from a trackside spring - again, crystal clear and fresh. What I will call 'digestive system maintenance' is just as important as all the other stuff you need to do these things. If your guts disagree with you when you are trying to ride 300k's your stuffed. Literally. The problem being is that if your digestive system gets too upset then it will grind to a halt and you lose the ability to process food. The next thing you know your energy disappears and then you grind to a halt. Ask me how I know...
What's next? – A nice grassy trail up, up and away then a steep descent back to civilisation. Best of all I had a major treat at the end of it - a Spar shop on which I fell like a rabid hyena on a week old corpse.
My belly was stuffed, I'd used the loo (again), my bags were near as full as at the start, my (water) bladder was brimmed. Off we go then. I was way, way ahead of my most optimistic schedule so whilst the light was fading, I was confident I could bash through the next section before dark O'clock which would be good as it was a bog and tussock fest. Done, just! The long night beckoned so on with the lights and on we go.
A near full moon had risen in the east and I couldn't help noticing the large hill right below it. I suspected that this was the routes high point. As I was pushing up the next big climb, two things with lots of lights attached appeared on the road behind me. I correctly guessed a couple of off-roaders were approaching but I was determined to keep ahead. Not because I had any fears about their occupants although it did occur to me that this wasn't the best time or place to meet a bunch of cyclist hating 4x4 rednecks. No, my concern with this lot was that I'd be dammed if I was going to let them past on the climb only to be held up on the descent!
In the event I outpaced them by miles -1x1 is better than 4x4. The big climb loomed in my sights. The approach was typical of what I'd seen so far - a quagmire. I knew it would improve once I left the lowland and it did. Briefly. Then the trail deteriorated to yet another strip of sheep trodden gunge. The first bit was not too bad, I just followed in Tom and John's tyre tracks! Then it lead into a wide area of 3-4" depth of (not to put to fine a point on it) sh*te. Mud, sheep dung and wee all mixed together. I slithered through this cursing loudly; when things got much worse.
A loud hiss from my back tyre signaled yet another hole. What in the name of all hell could cause a puncture in this lot? I spun the wheel so the hole was at the bottom of the tyre but it took a worrying few seconds of hissing and squirting of sealant, and a lot of shouting and swearing, before it sealed. feck, now what? Possibly a nail or a bit of wire but trust me to find it this way and no chance of trying to plug a hole given the tyre is caked in an inch of mud. I've been plagued by such punctures in the last couple of years, but not on an ITT! Whatever, just push up the hill and we'll sort it at the top.
As it happened the grass and heather along the way was soaked with dew so the tyres were soon clean. I squeezed the rear and it still seemed firm so on we go and up, and up, and....
Oh dear. My earlier good feelings disappeared into an endless climb. I plodded on, my eyes glued to the GPS screen to make sure I stayed on the line. Finally I was looking at a moonlit view rather than a blank hill side. I was up, 648m right enough, downhill all the way back! Or not. Still, the moonlit panorama around me served to lift my mood, helped by the prospect of a monster descent.
The descent was a mixed bag - another glop fest thanks to excessive (illegal) use by trail bikes, a vague overgrown line (yeehar, my kind of trail!) more mucky riding then fire roads right to the road once more. Phew that was a major relief getting all of that out the way - now what!
The most easterly point of the route after some ups and downs. I'm pushing a lot now on any grade steeper than 'a bit.' My energy levels are dipping - just a general feeling of tiredness and a slight upset stomach. I need to eat more food. A selection of my stash goes down the hatch but it's an effort. Haribo helps and the pure sugar gives an instant kick. Then I'm off back west. The GPS is showing 202k - It should only be 190 but I'm not complaining. Dunno where the extra 10k has come from. I'm thinking of what's coming up and planning my bivvy stop - a small plantation right by the route. Shouldn't be too far.
Not long after I do pass a plantation which I can't remember seeing on the map during route homework. The answer is staring me in the face but my tired brain doesn't make the connection. I actually consider stopping but it's only 12. Keep going.
So off I go into a maze of trails, all alike. Onwards and onwards I go, no idea where my bivvy spot is, or where I am on the route. The GPS shows 230k which can't be right given what I still have to do. Just follow the line and the two tyre tracks. Finally I hit a road and a massive descent. There is a full temperature inversion so it gets rapidly colder as I descend. This has been happening since it got dark but this time it's particularly chilly. I keep on as another climb will be along soon to warm me back up. And does it more up to another huge moor. But not the one I think it is, so I'm still confused and I can't equate anything around me to where my failed memory thinks I should be.
Eventually I stop, put my reading glasses on and look at the GPS screen, scrolling along the route behind and ahead to find out where the hell I am. The penny finally drops. My bivvy spot is miles behind. I am in fact miles further along the trail than I thought I was. A ‘café’ was not too far - the porch would be open with tea and coffee making supplies, and a loo. I would bash on to there, crash out for a while and then get this route done.
Obviously it wasn't as simple as that. Down another steep road and off through a BW / field. An odd crunching sound as I ploughed through it confused me until I realised it was a hard ground frost. It's an odd feeling to be colder at valley level than on top of a large and breezy moor. Woodland challenges came thick and fast and anything remotely uphill was pushed. Finally I exited the forest, lights ahead.
A couple of bikes were parked outside the cafe and two guys were ensconced - Martin and Jay doing the 200. I made a cup of strong, sweet coffee which tasted like nectar. We chatted a bit about our experiences of the last 20 hours - much the same. Lots of hills, lots of mud. They left soon after but I settled back for more coffee and food from my bag, whilst running through the experiences so far in my mind. 50 odd k to go and one significant climb left.
Soon enough I saw the first hint of dawn. Daylight started to creep over me and a blue sky was revealed. Then that final climb - a monster and terrible at this stage in the game. Worse it seemed to have endless false summits which in my knackered state drew it out well beyond what the map suggested. I was on the final miles. More forest shenanigans, more ups and downs then I emerged onto the final road section. I had a stiff tailwind and a short easy climb before the long run back down to Llanbrynmair. I relaxed - I'd done it. Tyres had held up, knees a bit sore, back and arms aching from all the pushing and I seemed to have an energy limiter set to 'very little' which prevented any attempt at hard pedalling on the occasional short climb.
I rolled into Llanbrynmair community centre at just after 10, 26 hours and 15 minutes after leaving the previous day. Stu and Dee were there to greet me and a few others who'd finished the 200.
Another single speed triumph although I did miss a granny gear in the final miles. Doing the whole route in a oner was not the plan but my route confusion put in a position where I was best just keeping going. I got away with it (just) so I’m quite happy as that is the longest ride I’ve ever done. Stopped time was only a couple of hours plus 20 minutes fixing punctures.
Oh and having looked at both tyres, the final hole score was 6... And for some reason my GPS gained 10k and registered a max speed of 200kph!
