Many years ago, shortly after taking on the Cambrian Series rides, I was asked to design the Welsh equivalent of the ‘Maniac Grimpeur’, a 1000km event in the North Pennines and Lake District with as much climbing as possible. I admitted failure at the 1000km event but came up with an 800km event as a rough figure of eight centred on Llanidloes. It’s been on my list to do for some time, but Mrs CET isn’t keen on me spending two nights in a row on my own, for the good reason that I might fall asleep and crash in the middle of nowhere.
This May Bank holiday things seemed to be coming together. Oliver, who is planning to do all the Cambrian series and I both had time available. But the week beforehand was very cold and I was under a lot of pressure at work, and the weather forecast was poor for the second half of the long weekend, so we agreed on the bottom half of the 8A, which is the Cambrian 4F (Aberdare – Hay-on-Wye – Knighton – Llanidloes – Devils Bridge – Builth Wells – Aberaeron – Llandeilo – Aberdare).
My doubts about the weather and the event meant I booked a hotel late, Aberdare was full, so I ended up in the Castle Hotel in Merthyr. I met Oliver at the Butcher’s Arms in Ponsticill, after we’d both done a short ride from our respective accommodation. Then we were straight into fantastic mountain scenery, along the road that cuts through the Brecon Beacons to Talybont, which exceeded our expectations, and had a really steep testing climb before a hair-raising descent. The sun was out and it was just great.
Oliver had a problem with the mount for his saddlepack so we stopped in Hay for some cable ties. Then we headed along the roller-coaster to Knighton through Newchurch and Gladestry. We found a tiny little tea shop for a much needed lunch. It felt like we were on holiday. But whilst we ate the rain started. We climbed up Bailey Hill in light rain, a hill that goes on forever after a steep start. Near the top I stopped to put on my rain jacket and we hurtled down the other side. Spectacular riding.
Every rider has their strengths. Oliver is better than I am up steep hills. And correspondingly I’m better on long drags into the wind, which was also the case for the next six miles towards Llanbister. But it was hard work. The stage continued with a wonderful set of lanes through Bwlchysarnau to Llandiloes, with no major hills, just constant undulations, and a nagging headwind. We could see the highest hills to the west, the dome of Punlumon marked by lying snow. Everywhere lambs gambolled about, untroubled by the strong northwesterly wind that impeded our progress. We dropped into Llanidloes for some much needed food. We were behind where I’d hoped to be, with the wind and spending a bit longer at controls, and I had my first nervous moment about finishing in time.
The shortest route from Llanidloes to Devils Bridge starts up the Hafren valley on little lanes and then cuts across to the A44 mountain roads and avoid the main road to Llangurig. When I’d researched the route I’d been interrupted by a phone call and I had a funny five minutes checking that we were heading in the right direction on Oliver’s Garmin. Confirmed that we were on the right route we went through the most outstanding bit of road of the whole day, the sun shining through bare trees and lighting up the glistening moss that covered every spare bit of ground up a grindingly steep hill, before coming out on open moors and brain-frying descents.
It was so much better than the bleak A44 that we now had to face. I put my head down into the strong wind and drove the gears to the welcome summit. I was cold and tired and hungry and knew that it would take longer for me to eat that Oliver, so I checked that it was OK to go ahead on the descent. I’d been eating and riding well, and I felt that my head and stomach were in a good place, the only worry was the time. We still had 240km to go and would probably only have 16 hours left. That seems like plenty, but with the Elan Valley and then the Devil’s Staircase (at night) to do, it felt quite daunting. I also had memories of a very tough night on the Cambrian 3B a month before, cold and hallucinating.
When I got to the Hafod at Devil’s Bridge it suddenly all hit me. We all have an inner resilience, and life’s events eat at that resilience. That tough project at work had already eaten into mine, as had the previous ride. Now, after two hilly stages into the wind, I suddenly found that resilience was all used up. My head started to spin. I struggled to eat my cawl. Oliver was keen to continue, but I knew I needed to eat, so he set off. I didn’t feel any better. I just couldn’t face riding through the night, knowing that I’d only be able to take a half-hour catnap. I didn’t have enough in my sleep bank. It had been very cold on the descent to Devil’s Bridge. All these things ran through my head.
There is a line between audacity and foolishness and my judgment was that to continue was to cross that line. There is no fun suffering from hypothermia by the side of a road in the middle of nowhere. So I asked the Hafod if they had any accommodation. They didn’t but they called the George Borrow at Ponterwyd, which was three miles down the road. Feeling happier, I rolled along to the George Borrow and went to check in, only to find that room had gone to an internet booking, so I was sent to the Druid Inn in Goginan, a further five miles towards Aberystwyth. The first two miles was a drag up hill and I began to feel particularly rough. Then there was a long descent, which I knew I would have to climb the next day. But John Howell of the Druid Inn was the perfect host. He knew his beer and they had a good chef, whose cod, chips and roasted tomatoes were the perfect recovery meal.
I slept really well (I was asleep just after 9pm) and, after a good breakfast, started off at 8.30am heading back up the A44 in light rain. I followed main roads all the way back, stopping in Builth Wells for a second breakfast. My legs were going well, despite the headwinds, but I had no regrets about stopping the night before. When you I’m really tired its not safe to continue and my speed drops (the legs work but the brain stops giving them instructions). I did have thoughts of retracing the road from Merthyr to Talybont but found myself on the main Brecon road, so I stopped in Brecon to top up my water bottle. The drag up to the Storey Arms went on forever, traffic heading for something in Cardiff going past constantly and the wind blowing heavy drizzle into my face, but I was back to Merthyr in good time, for a quick shower, and a drive to spend the rest of my bank holiday with my family.
Oliver had a satnav issue, so the 4F remains uncompleted, like an unclimbed mountain, tempting those who are bold enough to give it a go. In warmer weather, I’d make more speed and a catnap by the side of the road would be less daunting, so another attempt this summer or next seems on the cards.