8th June - Llanidloes to MachynllethWe had a pretty short day today. Jeff wisely made sure that we were not bashing out the miles, and given that the ride was about 270 miles all told, and that we had allocated 9 days' riding to its completion, 30 miles a day for a group of 4 people averaging 72 years of age was doable.
This may have been a short day, but it was a challenging one. Firstly, the forecast wasn't great, but the rain was due to stop some time in the late morning. We checked out at about 10am, parked the bikes under the large shelter in the centre of Llanidloes, had a natter to a few other hardy cyclists, and then made straight for a coffee shop so that we could minimise the amount of time we spent in the rain. Inevitably, at some point we had to set off and our first task was the Hafren Forest.
"Hafren" is the Welsh word for the Severn, and we were quite close to its source in the Pumlumon range. Jan and I had a number of walking holidays in this area a few years ago and we knew from experience that firstly Pumlumon (Plynlimmon to you English types) was 2468' high, and secondly that the Severn, the Wye and the Rheidol all rise within about a mile of each other on its slopes (
http://www.streetmap.co.uk/map.srf?X=279420&Y=287950&A=Y&Z=120 refers). It was therefore not at all surprising that we had a Monster Climb again today. Initially we rode through the drizzle with a very youthful Severn on our left, tinkling through its valley with waterfalls and pools and far too many conifers. Gradually the weather improved, and I think today we met more cyclists than on any other day. I nattered to a few of them.
Again, I was mostly progressing on my own and when we left the Hafren forest I decided to take a short detour into Staylittle to see if the shop was open, as I could do with some lunch, and secondly to see if I could use the bog. I definitely wanted to unload prior to my climb up to the top. I bought a chicken pie, a slab of "Happy Shopper" flapjack and a cup of coffee and had a good natter to the shopkeeper, but he apologetically told me I couldn't use his bog as it was out of action. I refrained from telling him that he was a busted flush, even though he told me that that was why he had the plumber calling. He did, however, recommend the pub in Dylife, a couple of miles along the road, and whose existence I had forgotten. I ate the pie, saved the flapjack for later and then headed towards the pub. When I got there I couldn't be bothered to lock the bike up as it's such a remote area, and I walked into the bar. My 3 companions were there tucking into their lunch, so I had to order some food as well! I ate a wrap with some ham in it, consumed a bottle of ale, sat and Dylife'd and, much more comfortable, set off for the summit described by Wynford Vaughan Thomas as having "the finest view in the whole of Wales".
There's no doubt that it is a very good view, but I don't think it's any better than that from the top of Cader Idris on a clear day, or Snowdon, or Fan y Big, or any other of those much taller peaks. What I do like about this particular view, though, is the way you can see the road down to Machynlleth snaking away on what appears to be a series of ridges, In fact, the best view isn't quite from the top, as the road at its highest point is between a couple of shoulders of land, and there's a viewing point a little further down.
The Number of Cyclist Count was massively increased at this stage as there was some sort of road race going on, which involved the competitors climbing from Machynlleth and then hurtling down the other side. I made sure that I was wearing my full winter gear again as although the rain had stopped and there were some blue patches appearing, it was far from warm. I set off on the descent, but didn't need my brakes all that much as there was a headwind. Down, down, down I went and eventually came to rest on a picnic table outside a fish & chip shop whilst awaiting my companions. They turned up in short order and we then had another mile or so to ride to our hotel, Plas Dolguog, and old, fairly rambling place. My room was very comfortable and had a splendid view across the Dyfi valley towards Cader Idris, which I couldn't see because someone had placed a 666 metre high peak in my direct line of view. The armchair from which I admired this splendid vista had seen rather better days as one of its arms fell off whilst I was sitting in it, and one of the handles inside the bath was also broken. We ate our meal in the hotel, in a dining room that was designed to seat far more people than were actually there, and we wondered how such a place could keep going.
Jeff, Ian and I partook of a nightcap consisting of Penderyn, and the conversation became somewhat heated. Ian, a retired accountant, has a certain set of views which are perhaps not atypical of that profession and he and I did not see eye to eye on a number of key political points. However, no blows were exchanged and we were still on speaking terms when we got up for breakfast the following day.