My WRT

Share your rides with us.

Moderators: Bearbonesnorm, Taylor, Chew

Post Reply
User avatar
Boab
Posts: 2177
Joined: Wed Nov 06, 2019 11:36 am
Location: Cloud Cuckoo Land
Contact:

My WRT

Post by Boab »

Rather than spamming Rob's existing WRT thread with my tale of woe and a gazillion photos, I thought I'd start me own.

I had a few kit worries in the weeks before the event; my MTB Batteries front light had died and the GPS was under reporting distance travelled. So I took the late decision to travel to Wales via Sigma Sports in Oakham, and pick up some replacements. I certainly wouldn't leave it this late to pick up essential hardware again, unless it was a dire emergency. I'd also finally fitted the Garbaruk cassette, jockey wheel cage and front chainring I bought last year. While I did manage a local test ride, it wasn't running as smoothly as I'd have liked.

I was booked into The Wynnstay for the Friday night, although given the timings, I could easily have driven there on Saturday morning and still made the start. Pauline had told me she was full for the night, but had a room "that I have not finished decorating and in need of some severe glazing work!", given where I'd be sleeping for the following two nights it sounded like luxury, so I snapped it up. I'm no social butterfly, but it was nice to vaguely interact with the group of fellow riders who were eating dinner in the lounge when I arrived.

Image

The route I had planned, started off by going in the opposite direction to all the grid references, mostly as I wanted to go and ride some of the tracks I'd seen in some of the Winter Event photos. Then it was just a case of looping around all over the place trying to pick up a few more grid references, while still leaving open the possibility of a poke of chips in places like Mach and Aberystwyth.
There are theories at the bottom of my jargon.
User avatar
Boab
Posts: 2177
Joined: Wed Nov 06, 2019 11:36 am
Location: Cloud Cuckoo Land
Contact:

Re: My WRT

Post by Boab »

After an OK sleep, there was no real rush to get up and out of The Wynnstay. So I took my time to pack all my bags and make sure everything was 100% charged and ready to go. I got shouted at by Pauline for being in the way as she tried to deposit more breakfasts into the dinning room, one of the perils of being deaf in one ear and paying attention to the wrong noises. The drive to Ceulan was short and without incident, and brought back memories of cycling along it on last years BB200.

Image

Never having been to one of these before, I was unsure of what to expect, and how long things would take. I'd worked out various riding times and distances, but they all relied on being off relatively soon after mid-day. I did take the opportunity to finally say hello to a few people, and to say hello again, to others I'd met in passing on things like last years Moors 100. As I've said though, I'm no social butterfly and I was starting to get agitated as it felt like good riding time was being lost and people kept appearing in dribs and drabs. The weather had been decent, but after standing around the yard for a few hours, I was starting to feel the chill.

Image

I think the agitation was more down to the weather forecast, as the best of it was supposed to be that afternoon. Rain was then come in overnight and maybe linger for a few hours on the Sunday morning, before leaving the rest of the long weekend overcast but dry. With that in mind, I'd been swithering about clothing choices, and in the end left my waterproof jacket ad trousers in the car, opting instead for a DHB lightweight waterproof gilet and rain defence arm and knee warmers, a decision that would come back to royally bite me.

Normally when setting out on a ride, I'll switch my GPS on, pair it to my phone, transfer the route, then head off. I should probably have tried doing this back at the Wynnstay when I had some phone signal. No worries though, I sort of knew where I was going, and figured that I'd get some signal when I got to the top of the first hill. I'm not sure if I'd expected everyone to head off in the same direction to start with, but it was quite cool to see everyone just sort of disappearing every which way.

Even though I knew I had some big miles planned, I did what I usually do, and went off like the clappers. I'm not sure why I do this, maybe it's just in an effort get get away from everyone else as quickly as possible, or if I'm just too competitive for my own good, but I'm now wedged between Ian Barrington and Steve Large on that hairpin to hairpin Strava segment. 🤦 Once at the top, I still had no signal so I just kept following whichever track led upwards, until I heard my phone ping, which just so happened to be at some dead-end turning circle..

I paired the phone with the GPS, but it refused to load the route, with some random error about it not being found on the device, no sub standard Sherlock. Not to worry, I'd been pouring over my route for days, and as long as I had a map in the Wahoo app, or on Strava, I'd be fine. So looking at those, I could tell I'd blasted right passed my turn, so I cycled back down until I thought I was where I needed to be. There were no obvious signs, other than a half broken one of a gate saying private. Looking at the maps again, I though that maybe I was still to high up, so I headed even further back down.

Looking at the maps again, I could now see that I had been in the right place after all. Another rider appeared at this point and after I explained what was going on, they showed my their phone and I suddenly realised what I'd missed. I had noticed a thin trail leading off the track, but had dismissed it, as I was sure I needed to be taking a trail off a hairpin, I was wrong. So it was back off up the hill again, until the stony trail appeared on the right, and I was off on my own.

Image

This constant stopping and checking the phone became a necessity, although I new where I wanted to go, I didn't know the exact points where I needed to make turns, or in one instance, jump over a fence off some nice double track onto a lumpy bridleway. So I kept flying passed these points, realising things were right, then getting my phone out and looking at a fuzzy map, as I had no signal again, the realising where I'd gone wrong, so going back to pick up the right trail. If I was on tarmac, it was slightly easier, but off road it was proving to be a bit of a pain, and slowing me right down. I stopped trying to load to route at every opportunity ad figured I'd be able to find some Wi-Fi when I hit Mach and I'd give it another go then.

I really enjoyed the riding on the road to and from Talerdigg, as much as I like living in East Angular, it isn't half flat, so any opportunity to ride some hills has to be taken. I was having gear woes at this point, the chain was skipping on the cassette when on the 50t ring, but seemed fine on the 42t ring. Thankfully being fresh, meant I managed to ride up everything without issue on the 42t ring, and I was soon at the turn to head back off road and around Lyn Coch-hwyad. Even though I was on nice big fire roads, I had to stop at most junctions just to make sure I was going in the right direction, it was starting to get tedious.

At one point I felt a load sealant being sprayed onto my legs, thankfully it did its job though. Even so, by the time I'd dropped back down the step descent (which I'm going to have to go back and ride in the other direction at some point), the rear tyre was well squidgy, so I had to stop and pump it up a bit. thankfully this was the first and last tyre related issue, and I had no troubles for the rest of the weekend. The road back to Llanbrynmair took awhile, mainly as there were some idiot sheep out of their field, and it wasn't wide enough for me to sweep past, so they keep running all over the road in front of me.

Image

I now started to head for Commins Coch, but kept flying passed my turnings, as the online maps made the roads look bigger than then turned out to be. I felt the byway of a thousand gates was a bit much, and obviously not used that much, given the amount of crap littering it. I may have got off and pushed at one point, as I just couldn't get any forward momentum up, to roll over all the twigs and small branches, without the front wheel pinging off in random directions.

Image

I was really starting to notice the climbing as I headed towards Darowen, but it wasn't till I was on the way down to Tal-y-wern, that I realised I was on the verge of a bonk. I thought I've been eating and drinking enough, but obviously not. So I shovelled a load of food in and took the decision to stick to the road into Mach, rather than head off up and over another hill on a long bridleway. It felt like time was getting on, the weather was looking like it was about to change, and I didn't want to miss the chip shop in Mach.

Hennighan's Top Shop was busy, but the chips were worth the wait. I was going to find a bench to sit an eat them, but it had just started to spit with rain, so I stood undercover next to the milk vending machine (!?!) instead. Even with my belly now rammed full, I was feeling the chill, so on when the arm and knee warmers, the gillet and my waterproof cap. Suitably aired for the rest of the days riding, I made my way down the High Street to find some Wi-Fi and raid the SPAR.

I stopped outside the Co-op first, as they have customer Wi-Fi. I connected on the phone and the GPS, but as it's one of those things where you have to press a button on a web page to actually get access, I'm not sue the GPS unit was actually connected or not. I tried to load the route again, but got the same error, it would get about 78% of the way there, then just stop. I was quite frustrated, but as I roughly knew where I was going, I just rolled with it and carried onto the SPAR. I should've probably just raided the Co-op and the selection in the SPAR wasn't the greatest, but I've at least ticked another one off.

Image

With a fully loaded hydration bladder, and enough food to easily see me to Llanidloes, it was time to head off towards the sheering shed near Bugeilyn and find somewhere to bivy. Firstly though, after leaving the A487, there was the small matter of getting over a rather steep climb. I managed about 100 meters before my body told me that it would eject the chips forthwith unless I immediately ceased, so I climbed off and started pushing. This was pretty much the pattern for the rest of the evening, anything remotely steep and I was borderline puking, off the bike and pushing.

I'd really been looking forward to the climb after Cwmyrhaiadr, up the zig zags, then on up to the top. I think I managed to get passed the first zig then it was pretty much a push the rest of the way. It was quite frustrating, as the spitting had turned into more of a drizzle, and I just wanted to get on with it. Given when I normally stop for the night on bivy rides, I figured I'd might have be able to reach Hafren, but with all the pushing, it was looking less and less likely.

Image

I knew I'd pass another sheering shed complex after the top of the climb, but it was downhill a bit, and I didn't want to drop down, find it unsuitable and then have to climb all the way back up. So I just stuck to my route, but with all the tracks, I was having to stop to check the phone a lot, which meant I was getting cold and wet. With the light fading, I stopped to fix my new Exposure Diablo to my helmet, but I could hardly feel my fingers and had started shivering. I realised I'd put myself into a bit of a dangerous situation. Five hundred meters up, with cold wind and rain, and darkness failing, while only wearing lightweight summer lycra. At this point, I realised that I really should've put the waterproofs in one of my bags, even if it was just the jacket, what an absolute muppet.

While I had long finger gloves and a primaloft jacket in my luggage, I was loath to get either wet this early in the weekend. Knowing that I just needed to get down off the exposed area I was on, and find some cover, I put on a pair of latex gloves I carry if I need to do any bike maintenance, fired up all the lights and ploughed onwards. Thankfully the track did eventually descended back into some forest, which offered a bit of protection, but nowhere flat to pitch the tent. I didn't want to continue any further, as I didn't want to risk it, but I also didn't want to pitch the tent right next to the track either. Thankfully I spied a gap in the trees, that looks like it had been made by some tracked forestry management equipment, and finally found somewhere relatively flat and out of slight to pitch the tent.

Once the tent was up, I could really hear how heavy the rain had become, so was really glad I'd decided to stop. Some more food and a beer later, I was all wrapped up in my quilt, waiting for sleep to come. I awoke many times in the night, listening to the rain batter against the tent, glad that I was all warm and toasty and not freezing cold and soaking wet. I did realised at one point, that I'd never got round to sealing the seems on the Lanshan, so drifted off again hoping I wasn't going to wake in the morning soaking wet regardless.

Image
There are theories at the bottom of my jargon.
User avatar
RIP
Posts: 9009
Joined: Wed Nov 12, 2014 7:24 pm
Location: Surfing The Shores Of Sanity Since 1959
Contact:

Re: My WRT

Post by RIP »

Enjoying the write-up! Compliments for making the effort to do a lengthy one. "Where's he off to in the next instalment I wonder?" :smile:
"My God, Ponsonby, I'm two-thirds of the way to the grave and what have I done?" - RIP

The sign outside the asylum is the wrong way round.....

"At least you got some stories" - James Acaster
User avatar
Boab
Posts: 2177
Joined: Wed Nov 06, 2019 11:36 am
Location: Cloud Cuckoo Land
Contact:

Re: My WRT

Post by Boab »

I woke up early, as I tend to do these days, to the sound of the rain still hammering down on the tent. I ignored the bladder, turned over, and had another doze. By the sounds of things, it had stopped raining when I next regained consciousness, but as I lay there contemplating getting up to soaking wet trails, the rain started up again, so I turned over and had yet another doze. This was very out of character, but given the tech fail and lack of appropriate clothing, I figured my planned route (and alternates) were mostly out of the the window, so an extra couple of hours waiting for a gap in the weather wasn't the worst thing to do.

The bladder wouldn't wait forever though, so I did eventually emerge from the warmth of my quilt, get back into my damp lycra and venture out of the tent. It was noticeable when packing up, that there had been more than a few drops of water falling from the seems of the tent during the night, but nothing that was going to impact the performance of my sleeping gear. I'd have to stop and dry the tent at some point though, as it was soaking on the outside from the rain, and soaking inside from the condensation. I was still planning on a poke of chips in Aberystwyth, so figured if the weather cleared I'd be able to dry it on the promenade later in he day.

While it wasn't raining, the cloud level was somewhere down below, visibility was limited and noises muffled. I still didn't want to put on my full finger gloves, or Primaloft jacket, as I wanted to keep them dry for as long as possible, just in case. So I put the latex gloves on under my mitts, and headed off wearing pretty much everything else I had available. We were soon out of the forest and back climbing again, which just made me doubly glad I'd stopped when I did. I really would've been in trouble if I'd continued to my planned earliest stopping point at the sheering shed near Bugeilyn. A couple of riders appeared out of the cloud at this point, and cheery mornings! were exchanged as they sped downhill and I slowly ground my way up.

The small reservoir eventually appeared out of the gloom, so I propped my bike up against a post and took a photo. I could swear that I heard the occasional voice, but I couldn't see anyone, and thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me. I rolled over the dam overflow and got off to push up the slope, when I realised that I had been hearing voices, and some fellow riders were all stood at the top watching me approach. So I stopped for a chat, "where did you go yesterday?", "where are you off to today?", "are you enjoying yourselves?", etc, etc. I like the fact that these interactions are relatively short and sweet, I get the benefit of human interaction, of a shared but different experience, without having to spend too much time in other peoples company.

I was soon on my way, but only after having to explain what the shiny, shiny, orange bling Garbaruk stuff on my bike was. It might not have been working properly, but at least it was aid to conversation. I was still suffering a bit from the cold and wet, so was happy to be on my way, mostly if it was just try try and generate some warmth from the effort of the riding.

Image

The sheering shed came and went, I think EscapeGoat's description from the pub was totally correct, it utterly reeked of sheep poor show. While I'd have been out of the weather, I'm not sure my olfactory system would've appreciated a night spent in there. With my tech woes meaning I was still having to get my phone out at junctions where I couldn't work out which way I needed to go, plus I was still in the cloud, the moment I saw a road appear on any of the maps, I was off in that direction. My route actually went the other way, but I only realised when I was speeding downhill on the road, and passed a sign for Dylife; at least I know knew where I was, and how to get to Llanidloes.

I had been planning on heading up into and around Hafren, but as it was shrouded in cloud, I made the decision to try and stay low, as I now knew my meagre clothing wasn't sufficient to be up high in that kind of weather. It seemed to take ages to get from the Bunkhouse to where we turned off on the BB200 last year, I remember cycling this bit with Steve Large so maybe chatting away made it go quicker that day. I passed a gaggle of bikepackers coming the other way, but I couldn't tell if they were doing the WRT or not, they were all like me though, on gravel bikes and wearing roadie clothes. Another gaggle of riders, this time on MTBs, were all preparing to head up into Hafren from the car park, so plenty of people were up and out, regardless go the crappy weather.

I rolled into Llanidloes and headed straight for the SPAR. Arms full of savoury and sweet edibles, water, a can of Red Bull and an coffee from the machine, I took stock outside as I packed my bags. One plan had been to head down to and along Claerwen reservoir, I ditched that idea based on the extra distance. Another plan had been to head up and around Cefn Croes wind farm, but with the cloud cover still low, I ditched that idea too. I remembered that if I followed my route to where I was going to head up into the wind farm, I could continue straight on, loop right and pick up where I would've come out. With a plan in place, I headed off again, passing another rider on their way into town, just as I was leaving.

I managed to get two thirds of the way to Llangurig, when I started to feel totally empty. I suddenly realised that the coffee from the SPAR had done nothing to warm me up and I wasn't just feeling cold because of the weather, I was in the middle of a bonk. thinking back, I'd had a small flapjack and a Kind bar since leaving my bivy, I'd been riding for nearly three hours, but with stops I'd been on the go for longer than that. Even though I'd just stopped for supplies, I hadn't actually eaten any of them, I really am my own worst enemy at times. Pondering on it since, I've come to the conclusion that the lack of eating, especially in the morning, is because I do intermittent fasting and don't eat till midday, as most of my riding is in the early morning before work, I don't eat; I may not eat for another three hours after finishing the ride. I'm just used to not eating while riding, which is the only explanation I can give for why I keep bonking, as I'm just not used to shoving food in as I ride.

I downed a gel, ate a bar and decided to stop at Llangurig for a sit down and something savoury. When I got there, everything was shut, and I couldn't see a bus stop, or anywhere else that would provide shelter, or a dry seat. So I pulled out a cheese and onion pasty, and ate it while spinning along the A44, waiting for my turn to, er, turn up. Once off the main road, I realised that I hadn't quite taken into account how steep the next section of riding would be. Strava think that I hit section of 17%, regardless of what it actually was, I was off and pushing and I had no desire to regurgitate the pasty. All the climbing took my back up over 500m and while not quite into the cloud, the temperature was lower and I started to get chilled again.

Image

I also wasn't expecting the drop down to the bridge over Afon Diliw, and was absolutely frozen when I climbed off the bike to have a chat with Gethin (?; the chap who won the lightest bike weigh in). I think I must have been in a bit of a state, as he very kindly offered me a own brand fun sized Marathon. Given that he was wearing even less that I was at that point, my failure to eat and keep warm was driven home somewhat. The chap he was riding with was coming down the "road" on the other side, so I took the opportunity to explain my situation and ask for the fastest way to Aberystwyth. I wasn't too keen on the answer, which was to go straight through the wind farm.

With various and sundry options discussed and discarded, I carried straight on and up the broken road on the other side. I'd been warned the descent down the the valley road was meaty, but wow, going to have to go back and ride that in the other direction at some point. I did stop at the side of the track a couple of times to let a pair of riders passed who were coming the other way; glad I wasn't them.

Image

I hit the tarmac again, and as it was downhill, it was head down and arse up, in an attempt to get as far down as quickly as possibly. This was probably a mistake, as the Cwmystwyth Lead Mine Workings whizzed passed in a blur of wind tears. By the time the road flattened out, I felt like a block of ice, and was shivering away. I made the decision to just follow NCR81 for a bit, mainly as it looked like it was going in an Aberystwyth kind of direction. I stopped near the Hafod Walled Garden to eat some food, as I didn't feel able to eat while riding. I discovered the can of Red Bull I'd bought earlier and completely forgotten about, so I downed that too. There was a gorgeous Lilac bush in full flower on the other side of the road, so I wandered for to stick my nose into it, which cheered me up no end.

When I hit the B4343 my heart sank, the gradient signs made for grim reading, either super steep downhill, or not quite so steep, but still steep enough up hill. After consulting the phone maps again, I realised I should've paid attention to the sign for Devil's Bridge that I'd passed, as that's roughly where one of my planned routes passed, so up hill in that direction it was. About half way there, it was almost like someone had flicked a switch as I suddenly noticed the temperature had shot up a few degrees. While it had been raining again coming down the descent passed Cwmystwyth, and you could see more weather rolling in to the South of Hafod, it was noticeably brighter on the way to Devil's Bridge.

Just those few degrees were enough to ease my worried mind and I suddenly felt safe and out of immediate danger. While riding on an A road isn't generally high on my list of priorities, I turned left onto the A4120 and headed for Aberystwyth. I could see weather on both sides of me, and I was thankful that I seemed to be riding along in a bubble away from it all.

Image

Not long after The Halfway Inn, I dropped down the side of the valley onto a quiet single track road along the bottom, near the railway. The only traffic I met was a massive tractor pulling a slurry tanker, which was so wide, I had to dive into the hedge to let it passed. After a few wrong turns in the industrial area on the outskirts, I flew passed the big Morrison's on the outskirts of town, thinking about where the SPARs were in the centre, I doubled back and restocked with everything I would need, bar water, to see me back to the start. Bags stuffed full, I made my way through the traffic to The Chip Box 4.

Poke of chips purchased, I made my way to a bench on the promenade, and got the tent and other damp stuff laid out to dry. I was there for about an hour, as a lack of any real wind or direct sunshine meant the moisture on the tent took a while to dry off. I got many strange looks, and I'm not surprised, I probably looked a bit of a sight. The chips hit the spot, and I think part of my woes earlier had been due to not putting any hot food into my face. I should definitely have microwaved a pasty in the Llanidloes SPAR...

Image

One the tent was dry and packed away, I had the small matter of hauling myself up Primrose Hill. One thing I've neglected to mention up until this point, was the fact that I'd been having ever more frequent issues with the rear derailleur. I'd be happily cycling along, when the chain would just fall off the front chain ring. When I'd stop to put it back on, I'd notice that the jockey wheel cage was jammed in a forward position, which had slacked the chain allowing it to fall off. The cage would spring back easily enough, but it was starting to get on my nerves, as there was no pattern to it happening and it would fall off on the tarmac, as much as on the byways. I still couldn't use the 50t ring on the cassette either, as that was still skipping, again with no pattern to when it would happen or not.

The observant amongst you will have put two and two together and come to the conclusion that both of these issue were the same thing, and you'd be right. Once I'd hauled myself up Primrose Hill without stopping, I noticed the chain skipping in the 50t cog, but more importantly I noticed that it was cause by the same derailleur jamming, it just wasn't severe enough to slacken the chain enough to allow it to fall off. Rather than head off road, up hill, on a bridleway around Banc y Gwmryn, I continued out into the countryside on quiet back roads and resolved to stop at the trail centre and have a go at fixing it.

Image

I didn't get quite as far as the trail centre before my patience had worn thin. I'd gone from dropping the chain once and hour to once every five minutes and trying to ride up steep inclines not knowing if the chain was about to fall off, had become seriously unfunny. The amount of chain slap I'd been experiencing was also concerning, as it's not something that I've had to deal with, as the GRX derailleur has a clutch. After descending some mind bendingly steep road down to Old Goginan, I stopped on the climb back up again and broke out the tools. Those who pay attention to the What you done t' your bike today thread, will already know what was actually wrong, and that anything I did trail side could never have actually fixed the underlying problem. Loosening the captive nut that holds the cage to the main derailleur did stop it from jamming again though, at the cost of totally knackering the cage return spring. So even though the clutch wasn't working, I could now use all the cogs on the cassette, without any skipping or dropping the chain, it completely changed the riding experience for the rest of the weekend.

I'd been worried about the next bit of my route, as I was supposed to go down The Mark of Zorro trail, I needed have worried though, as it was all closed, due to forestry activities. This also meant that if I wanted to go via the visitor centre and continue following my route, I'd have to backtrack and go along the main road, or bushwhack my way down some other unknown trail. I decided not to bother, and took the diversion which plonked me onto a trail that would eventually lead me to Llyn Blaenmelindwr.

Image

Chucking any remaining pretence at doing a previously researched and planned route was quite possibly the best decision I made all weekend. That's not to say that I didn't end up riding bits of my previously planned route, but I just stopped looking at my phone, looked at what was in front of me and thought, that looks like it's going in roughly the right direction and got on with it. The riding from then on was utterly fantastic, decent gravel roads, plenty of climbs, remote desolation, the works. I actually started to enjoy myself again and really appreciate where I was and what I was doing.

Image

I had planned to spear off West to Bont Goch, before coming back East on a byway to pick up another grid reference. I did contemplate doing it, but I could see the cloud base was still hovering around where I'd end up riding, so doubled down on the track I was on and continued. I did pass some blokes in a 4x4, parked up at the side of the trail, their bonnet open, I said afternoon and skedaddled. Given the state of some of the landscape, I'd say they were there to rag the poor show out of their vehicle over whatever they could find.

Image

Everything was grand at this point, even the fatigue from all the climbing couldn't dampen the mood. It wasn't exactly warm, but neither was I cold. I continued to eat and make good progress. Shortly before being spat out onto the road near Nant-y-Moch reservoir, I bumped into a couple of ladies out walking a dog. One of them asked in a really strange sing song way, where does this go?; I couldn't tell if she was serious or not, so just blurted out some nonsense and headed off.

For some reason Angler's Retreat has fascinated me since I first heard about it on here a while back, so I decided to ride passed it and have a gander. When I got to the turn off the road and back onto the gravel, there was a car driving around looking lost, they went one way, then another way, then started following me along the gravel. I noticed they'd stopped to checkout some ruins, but unsure if that was a ruse, I ploughed straight on and down the hill as fast as I dared. I checked my phone once I was out of sight, only to discover that I should've turned left at the ruin, but no matter, there was a trail I could now take that would end up in pretty much the same place, so off we went.

Image

I had to push for large sections of it, as it has mostly been washed away. All that was left was a serious of deep gullies where a gravel track once existed. After a while I realised that there was a faint trail a couple of metres off the ruined track, it was mostly ridable. Progress was slow, but it was still only early evening and I could easily have continued for another five hours or so, not that I wanted to. I was however, aware that the more I rode today, the less I would have for the final morning. Given that I was heading back up to 500m or so, I wanted to get over and back down the other side to bivy at a lower level, so we kept at it.

Image

It's definitely and area I'd like to go back and ride again, as it's so different to anything I can do locally. I now found myself crossing over the track I'd cycled down the previous evening, I could see the sheering sheds, but given the stench of the one at Bugeilyn, I decided I wasn't quite that desperate. Instead, I continued on the bridleway, headed through all the sheep, round a corner next to a cliff and dropped over the other side. I really wish I'd been on a mountain bike, or had more confidence in whatever meagre ability I have, as that bit was ripe for hooning down like a total yob. Instead I picked my way down slowly with both brakes practically jammed on all the way.

Image

It was still early, but the views were amazing and I decided that I'd like to wake up to one of them. So I slowed right down and kept stopping to checkout potential bivy spots. Either they weren't flat enough, or big enough for the tent, or the ground was too hard to get the pegs in, or it was too visible to distant habitation; all options were dismissed. I'd dropped further down the bridleway to the point where it split in all sorts of directions, so I chose one that hadn't been on any of my plans, this lead to even more views, so I picked the track that I though would provide the best and set off looking for a spot. After much searching nothing suitable presented itself, which is I suppose, the weak point of having a tent over a bivy bag.

In the end the track ran out and I had no option but to winch myself back up to where all the bridleways split. I took the next one, which dropped my down quickly, right above a farm. I had all my lights on by now, as I'd wasted a lot of time in the fruitless search. Imagine my horror when a powerful torch was shone at me from the farm, I suddenly started to question if I was actually on a right of way, or if an angry farmer was about to drive out an berate me. I have since checked and it was a bridleway, disconcerting at the time none the less.

I headed down the road, as I was pretty sure there was a byway at the end of it. A byway duly appeared, but the it was blocked by a gate and some signage that was less than explicit about it being a right of way. I was just desperate to find somewhere out of the way, still worried that someone was coming to shout at me; it's a recurring theme. I backtracked to the road, partly as the byway seemed to track long the edge of a field and I couldn't tell if their was any livestock in there, and partly as I'd notice a good gravel road on the other side of a stream.

I headed up the gravel road, but no areas suitable for pitching a tent appeared. I noticed a small grassy track leading up into the trees, it wasn't well used, judging by all the small twigs and branches that littered the floor of it. I figured that I'd eventually come to a bit that was flat enough for the tent, and eventually I did, just big enough and no more. So up went the tent, and I sat down to some more food and a beer I'd picked up at the Morrison's earlier.

Image
There are theories at the bottom of my jargon.
User avatar
Boab
Posts: 2177
Joined: Wed Nov 06, 2019 11:36 am
Location: Cloud Cuckoo Land
Contact:

Re: My WRT

Post by Boab »

The final morning dawned, as did the realisation that I hadn't refilled my water bladder since Aberystwyth the previous afternoon; no wonder I was feeling slightly dehydrated. With everything packed away, and a massive flapjack shovelled in as breakfast, I headed back down to the gravel track. Rather than heading back down to the road, I headed further up the track, on the basis that the stream must pass under it as some point, so I'd be able to get some water there. A hairpin in the track duly appeared, as did a stream running under it, so I broke out the TrailShot and filled up my bladder

Image

I checked my phone, but as per, there was no signal, and none of the maps would resolve into anything more than vague blurry blobs. I thought I knew where I was, and if I just kept to the track, I'd eventually get spat out on to the road near Forge. Except I didn't actually have any idea where I was, which became painfully obvious when the gravel track deposited me at a myriad of options, none of which had any signs indicating what they were, or where they went.

I knew one of my planned routes vaguely passed this way, but couldn't remember exactly where. So I just pointed the bike at one of the more favourable looking tracks and off I went. I checked my phone occasionally, and tried to zoom out on the GPS, but I couldn't really make out where I was. After heading upwards for quite a while, I managed to spot a road on one of the maps, so figured I was heading in the right (ish) direction, but I was pretty sure I shouldn't be doing this much climbing on the way to Forge.

While I had no idea where I was, I was loving the riding. The bike was working, at least in so far as I could use all the gears, so I was just merrily spinning my way further and further up the track, making decisions about which was to go based on nothing more than a shrug of the shoulders. While the weather wasn't great, being mostly overcast, I was slowly getting hotter and hotter as I spun my way further and further up the track.

Quite unexpectedly, I happened upon a gentleman out for a hike. I stopped and explained my situation, explaining that I knew where everything else was, I just didn't know where I was. I explained where I was trying to get to and he suggested I continue the way I was going, after a while he said I'd come to a small reservoir and to turn this way and that and I'd end up at the road I wanted. Thanking him very much I set off again and promptly left the forest behind and was back out into a similar landscape to the one I'd ridden the previous day.

Image

It was amazing, and I was having a great time riding along looking at the scenery, thankful for being lost and ending up there. The penny hadn't dropped by this point, and it still didn't drop when I spied the reservoir and thought it look exactly like the one I'd stopped at the previous morning when I'd chatted with this fellow riders; maybe all small reservoirs in Wales look the same, I though. The penny still hadn't dropped when I saw a post I could prop my bike against so I could take a photo. It finally dropped when I looked down and though that bone looks exactly like the bone I saw next to a post yesterday ... oh for fucks sake!. So yes, I'd basically doubled backed on myself and climbed all the way back up passed where I'd bivied on the first night. Of course I hadn't recognised where I was, it had been either dark, or shrouded in cloud! At least I now knew exactly where I was... 🤦

Image

To be honest, I wasn't the least bit bothered that I was back up there, as I got to see it all in a new light. I was well warmed up and with no cloud obscuring things, I'd been really enjoying myself. Progress was also much quicker and I was speeding around Glaslyn in no time. I passed a pair of ladies at this point, steaming by with a cheery morning!. I held the gate open for them when they reached the road, as I'd stopped to eat, take a photo and try and figure out where to go next. I still had no phone signal, so was still looking at a screen of diffuse blobs that were pretending to be a map, and I couldn't remember if I was going left or right at this point, as I had planned multiple routes, and they all had different ways back to the start.

Image

One of the ladies had a heavily annotated map and after a bit of discussion, they headed off to the right, and I headed off to the left and down the hill. The roadie in me is definitely going back to ride that in the other direction some day. 😂 I stopped quite a few times on the way down the hill, not because I needed to, but I wanted to take in the view. I also stopped at that memorial circle thingie to that poet chap, as I'd seen it previous on here but didn't know where it was. I realised as I was mooching around it, that a byway I had been planning taking finished right next to it, so I was back on one of my planned routes. Except it turns out that that route was straight back up the hill and off down where the two ladies had headed.

Image

I found my turn though, and started making my way along the series of tracks that would eventually drop me back at Ceulan, I was nearing the end. Looking at the GPS I could see that I hadn't ridden very far, and wanted to keep going for a few more hours. Normally I would've headed off in some other random direction until I was utterly knackered, but I had a word with myself about not ruining what had turned into an amazing adventure and settled for finishing with energy to spare.

Image

I txt'd my wife that I was loosing signal again, not that I'd had much at any point during that day, and would let her know when I was on my way home at some point when I had signal again. All that was left to do, was roll down the hill and up Stu and Dee's drive. I rewarded myself with multiple slices of cake before heading for home.

Image
There are theories at the bottom of my jargon.
User avatar
Bearbonesnorm
Posts: 23904
Joined: Sun Jun 05, 2011 8:53 pm
Location: my own little world

Re: My WRT

Post by Bearbonesnorm »

Glad you enjoyed it eventually Bob :wink:
May the bridges you burn light your way
User avatar
fatbikephil
Posts: 6511
Joined: Wed Apr 02, 2014 10:51 pm
Location: Fife
Contact:

Re: My WRT

Post by fatbikephil »

Phew that was a bit of a marathon Bob - great tale though :-bd
SR
Posts: 72
Joined: Mon Feb 23, 2015 9:45 pm

Re: My WRT

Post by SR »

That's map has seen a lot of action Bob
😉
User avatar
Boab
Posts: 2177
Joined: Wed Nov 06, 2019 11:36 am
Location: Cloud Cuckoo Land
Contact:

Re: My WRT

Post by Boab »

Bearbonesnorm wrote: Sat Jun 18, 2022 7:51 pm Glad you enjoyed it eventually Bob :wink:
Apart from Sunday morning, I had a great time. 👍
Maybe I wont leave my waterproofs in the car next year though... 😂
All joking aside on that one, I do feel like I dodged a bullet, or used up one of my lives, or whatever. Pretty stupid on reflection, being up that high, in that weather, in only a thin skin of Lycra.

SR wrote: Sat Jun 18, 2022 8:36 pm That's map has seen a lot of action Bob
😉
That was the plan, this one is where I actually ended up...

Image

Red was Saturday afternoon, blue was Sunday and green Monday morning; 250KM covered, with 5,600m of climbing.
The first few rides back home were spent wishing I was back in Wales. In a slightly masochistic kind of way, I can't wait for this years BB200 (assuming I can get an entry).
There are theories at the bottom of my jargon.
User avatar
Bearbonesnorm
Posts: 23904
Joined: Sun Jun 05, 2011 8:53 pm
Location: my own little world

Re: My WRT

Post by Bearbonesnorm »

I must admit, reading that while knowing the area intimately is very interesting because you keep thinking, 'no, don't go up there' and 'why are you going that way' :wink:
May the bridges you burn light your way
User avatar
whitestone
Posts: 7847
Joined: Thu Dec 04, 2014 10:20 am
Location: Skipton(ish)
Contact:

Re: My WRT

Post by whitestone »

A "poke" of chips? Not heard that before or is it some weird auto-correct?
Better weight than wisdom, a traveller cannot carry
User avatar
Boab
Posts: 2177
Joined: Wed Nov 06, 2019 11:36 am
Location: Cloud Cuckoo Land
Contact:

Re: My WRT

Post by Boab »

whitestone wrote: Sun Jun 19, 2022 9:06 am A "poke" of chips? Not heard that before or is it some weird auto-correct?
It doesn't translate particularly well when you get yer chips in a box. But when they're wrapped up in newspaper, like they were when you were a kid, they're a poke...

https://www.scotsman.com/news/15-words- ... nd-1478896
There are theories at the bottom of my jargon.
Post Reply