For my annual cycling flit, I thought I’d give Sustrans Route 8 a go. It’s advertised as one of the toughest, so I chickened out of the wild camping and enjoyed the pleasures of a predictable water source and time saved in not having to look for a pitch. I added a 50 mile flit around Anglesey onto the end to take the mileage up to 300 in total.
Here’s how I got on…
Friday
Up at 5.30 in the Premier Inn Cardiff. Set off into soaking rain by 6am. The forecast was for heavy, persistent rain for the whole morning, so not entirely unexpected. Headed off alongside the Taff with very few inclines. Dawn crept in slowly as I was joined by dog walkers, joggers and occasional commuter.
Hit my first mechanical at 8.00. The rear tyre had been feeling softer and softer and by this time the rim was starting to roll around on the corners. I’d put the majority of the weight in the rear panniers hoping to minimise the effects of the weight on the bike’s handling at the front, which gave the rear instability something of a here-we-go sensation. Stopped under a bridge, de-luggaged the bike and set about looking for the hole in the tube. Nothing. No deflation, no jet of air. So I popped another tube in, reassembled the jalopy and headed on somewhat disconcerted by not having been able to find the cause of my puncture.
Cue mechanical #2. Lying the bike on its side allowed moisture seep down the rear of the GPS and into the port for the SD card. The unit lost its Landranger maps, then lost the route. Happily Route 8 is well signposted, so I could tick along without my gps monitoring anything other than speed and distance covered. By the time I reached Merthyr Tydfil, I’d climbed 1,000 ft, covered 32 miles and worked out my average progress to be a little below 10mph.
Into the Brecon Beacons and up to the highest point of the day (1,430 ft) just past Torpantau Station. The rain had eased to a light drizzle by this point and it was heartening to see a good 30-40 people alighting the train and setting off for a walk. There followed a long, swooping drop along a wide track to the banks of the Talybont Resevoir. Spectacular scenery and the best views of the day. I left the park at Brecon and climbed up and down to Talgarth.
From Talgarth the route follows road to the side of the A470, which can be a little frustrating after a long climb and descent, all overlooking a perfectly flat (and mostly empty) main road. The route sticks to very quiet roads and some tracks with a mix of forest and some open views. The rain eased in the early afternoon and gave up altogether by about 2pm.
I got a call from the campsite I’d booked for Saturday night. A storm was forecast and due to their being right on the coast they wanted to know if I’d like to cancel. There was a hint of well-you-have-been-warned about the conversation, but not having any alternative lined up, I told them I’d be along and see how the situation presented itself.
A repeat of the morning’s rear tyre woes stopped me to reinflate the tyre. I figured that since it was going down so slowly, I could nurse it along for the afternoon and sort things out properly with a sink full of water at the campsite. Cue mechanical #3. In stopping for a second inflation, I noticed the material of my right rear pannier had separated from the backing at the front from top to bottom. Fortunately I had my stuff in bags inside the pannier so I hadn’t left a trail of clothes and camping accessories. I managed to bind the whole thing together using the pannier’s cords and some bungies and press on to Builth Wells to find a bike shop. Located the only bike shop in town (hidden at the back of a yard off the one-way system) who sold everything except luggage. On to the next bike shop at Rayder, which looked a bit tight for making it by closing time. I spurned Route 8 for a straight run up the ‘old 470’, which was deserted, as advertised by the first bike shop. Made it in time, bought the new panniers, transferred luggage, binned the old set and set off to the campsite a mile or two up the road and checked in around 5.30pm.
That evening I tracked down the hole in the inner tube, which was tiny and away from the section of the tyre that would have been in contact with the road. I can only think that the extra weight caused a bit of shifting around of the tyre, which gave the tube the tiniest pinch. I patched the tube, reinstalled it and committed to more even weight distribution between front and back.
Friday: 103 miles with 6,600 ft of climbing.