Yet Another Cycling Forum
General Category => Rides and Touring => Ride Reports => Topic started by: Kim on 04 September, 2014, 08:49:53 pm
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On the basis that I hadn't done enough cycle-touring this year, had a gap in the calendar post-Mildenhall, and the general simplicity of trains, I decided to gratuitously plagiarise Wowbagger's idea from last year of riding across Wales. My hastily made plan, such that it was - and inspired in no small part by the bridges thread - was to get a train to Newport, and keep riding at about 80km/day in a direction loosely correlated with NCN42 and NCN8 until I got to Bangor. Simples.
ETA: As requested, the GPS track of the route:
view on bikehike (http://www.bikehike.co.uk/mapview.php?lnk=http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/maps/wales2014.gpx)
download GPX (http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/maps/wales2014.gpx)
Day 1: Newport to Three Cocks
So, on Saturday morning, I loaded my bike and trundled up to University station, from where a direct train runs to Cardiff without having to go to Mordor Central. Unfortunately, the train had to go to Mordor Central first, where it appeared to have broken. Several Cross-City trains and some 30 minutes later, the three-carriage Class 170 turned up without its middle carriage. Fortunately, there was no problem with getting the bike on, and it made up a little time on the way to Newport.
Now, I'm aware that tradition dictates that these sort of adventures should begin in Chepstow. However, I recommend to the panel the Newport approach as having three main advantages: Firstly, level access to the westbound platform. Secondly, the presence of gratuitous bridgepr0n a short way down the A4042. And thirdly, unlike Chepstow, it's at least theoretically possible to escape Newport without riding up a bastard hill.
So a short while later, I'd escaped the one-way system around the station - avoiding any NATO entanglements - and made my way to the Transporter Bridge. In the interests of both time and Knees, I didn't take the opportunity to climb to the overhead walkway, but did ride across on the ferry. Surprisingly smooth it is, too.
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0850.sized.jpg)
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0851.sized.jpg)
Bridge jollies completed, I escaped Newport via the ringroad and a little bit of central reservation barrier cyclocross, and was heading northeast on minor roads parallel to the A449. These quickly adopted welsh gradients, in spite of no net gain in elevation to speak of, and full use was made of the granny gear on a short stretch of single track road before Usk, where I somehow accumulated a tailback of no less than four police cars.
A minor outbreak of common sense at the planning stage, inspired by a comment in Wowbagger's report had lead me to approach Abergavenny via the B4598, rather than the pointlessly lumpy and circuitous cycle route. This involved a large gyratory junction with the A40, but a general lack of traffic meant that it was a reasonable trade-off. I stopped for lunch and a loo in Abergavenny, bid farewell to the 3G data signal, decided that Pen-y-Pound was probably a Welsh joke, and then set about the climbing in earnest.
The first slog up to Pantygelli is this: A git. Nothing you can't winch up on a loaded tourer, but with an annoying combination of broken glass, speed cushions and van drivers to avoid on the way. From that point things improve immensely, as the road narrows, becomes more rolling, and the few drivers develop typical rural levels of patience. After a while I got to Llanthony, where I decided a tactical pub stop was in order before the serious climbing began. From there, you have about 320 odd metres of climbing, on a winding road of inconsistent gradient, affording plenty of opportunities to ease off and relax between steeper sections. My thought was that it wasn't dissimilar to climbing Ditchling Beacon three times, without the stresses of overtaking motor traffic to worry about. There were a few steep sections where run-off had washed skog onto the road, which would have been annoying to deal with a motor vehicle head on, but those I encountered seemed to understand that a loaded cyclist probably wanted to get to a flatter bit with passing room before stopping.
I paused for a knee break before the final chevron climb at Sheepfold, and was passed by a pair of mountain bikers who made impressed noises at the amount of luggage I was carrying. With a bit of effort I managed to match their climbing speed a few minutes later, but by the time I reached the cattle grid (where I decided that I didn't quite have enough momentum to ride over) they were gone. And so was the tree cover:
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0857.sized.jpg)
The final climb of the Gospel Pass isn't particularly steep, but was blocked by a group of horses, standing sheepishly in the middle of the road. A car travelling the other way had stopped to wait for them to move. Obviously a stubborn group of unsupervised horses is what every recumbent rider dreams of encountering, especially uphill with a load. I edged my way towards them tentatively, and quietly stopped some 50m or so away, stood upright astride the bike and spoke to them sarcastically until they decided to move. The motorist made appreciative gestures at me, revved hard (I'm not sure why), and proceeded on their way. Presumably the idea of getting out and persuading the horses to move simply hadn't occurred to them.
A short while later, I came to a car park, then a bend in the road which my GPS informed me was the summit. The view was slightly hazy, but absolutely worth it:
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0860.sized.jpg)
After a short stop for a snack and to admire the view, I added a layer and set off on the descent to Hay-on-Wye. The road surface and gusting crosswind wasn't really conducive to speeds of more than about 30mph, but it was still thoroughly worth the climb. I arrived at Hay in what seemed like no time at all, and rode around in search of a shop selling something more edible than books. Supplies obtained, I had a short ride to my campsite for the night at Newcourt Farm (http://www.newcourt-campsite.co.uk/camping-hayonwye.asp). This would have been easier if my legs hadn't turned to jelly as a result of all the climbing, and progress was slow. Progress got even slower when after a number of mis-shifts I felt the tell-tale prickling under my right index finger. Stopping to examine the situation revealed that the rear gear cable had disintegrated and become a tangle in the channel of the bar-end shifter. Being too tired for mechanical faff, I gently persuaded it to settle on my third largest sprocket, and continued in three-speed mode for the final couple of miles to the campsite.
Top tip for anyone making this trip with an inadequate selection of gears: The campsite is the second turning after Tregoyd, and the OS grid ref they publish will take you up a gratuitous hill to the wrong farm. If it hasn't got a brown sign at the junction, it's the wrong one.
The campsite itself was basic, but perfectly adequate for £5/night. A gently sloping field meant that Minbari beds were the order of the day. Clean loos, paper towels. The single shower (well, there's presumably another in the men's) took 50p coins and dispensed plenty of decently hot water. Notable were the pot-washing facilities, which consisted of a couple of sinks (one with hot water) behind the bar of what was presumably a former bunkhouse - a large unheated building with a plentiful supply of tables and chairs, and all manner of maps and useful information pinned to the walls. I eventually discovered a sneaky mains socket in the logical-for-wiring but not obvious place, and was able to top up my supply of electrons the following morning.
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0866.sized.jpg)
As I settled in for the night, a light shower (which had been threatening all afternoon) began.
Day 2: Three Cocks to Llanidloes
As morning broke, I became aware of the non-YACF-compliant interpretation of "three cocks". Deciding that there wasn't any chance of more peace and quiet, I emerged from the tent to use the facilities and take stock of the weather situation. The promised mist and fog (what's the distinction?) hadn't materialised, but the humidity was close enough to 100% that even with the intermittent sun, nothing was drying at any sort of speed. I replaced the broken gear cable with my spare, packed up, and wiped the worst of the water from the tent using the J-cloth I carry for such purposes.
On the basis that paranoia is an intelligent form of common sense, I decided to stick to the A-roads where possible until I was able to acquire a new spare gear cable. The previous day's crosswind had turned to a headwind, and I made steady but uninspiring progress to Builth Wells, where a promising bike shop in an industrial unit was extremely closed, and after extensive searching another one showed no signs of existing. Being a Sunday, the bulk of the traffic on the A470 was groups of motorcyclists - who it turned out had been attending a "No bull, just beer and bikes" rally the previous week. My general impression is that groups of motorcyclists are extremely sensible around cyclists (idiocy on motorcycles seems to be a solitary passtime), and since the majority of the four-wheeled road users were locals towing a trailer full of sheep, the A-roads were actually quite pleasant - especially considering the generally high quality of the road sufaces involved.
Skipping the planned comedy off-roading, I continued on the A470 to Rhayader. The road did a fair bit of up and down, but at easily manageable gradients. I kept seeing warning signs for "CYCLE EVENT", but no sign of any unpowered cyclists until I got to Rhayader itself. As I reached the end of the likely-looking shopping street, I found a motor spares shop with a couple of mountain bikes outside. They didn't have any bicycle parts, but did tell me where the bike shop was - and that it might well be open because of the cycling event. And so it was:
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0867.sized.jpg)
"What can I do for you?"
"Gear cable, standard Shimano, stainless if you've got it?"
*rummages behind counter*
"That'll be four hundred and ninety-nine pounds."
"Ah, the Wales-on-a-Sunday-afternoon tax. Will a fiver do?"
As I left triumphantly, and had a quick chat about recumbents with one of the customers, someone came in needing a "freewheel thing for a Giant bike", thus proving that someone was having a worse day than I was. I stopped to buy some lunch in the Spar, which had mud-coated mountain bikes with drybags strapped in all the right places outside. Presumably the cycle event was mostly off-road.
As I ate my late lunch, the remaining cloud cover dissipated, and I took the opportunity to drape my towel on the bike seat. In 20 minutes it was mostly dry. A old woman with an impenetrable Welsh accent, on an electric-assist bike, stopped to ask if mine was motorised. I explained that this one wasn't, but my partner rode an electric tricycle of similar design, so I had a reasonable idea of what they were about. I was pleased to note that she'd bodged a broken power level switch (why are these things always made of cheese?) with cable-ties, rather than replace half the wiring loom.
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0870.sized.jpg)
As it had been going so well, I decided to stick with the A470 for the remainder of the route to Llanidloes, in the interests of getting to the campsite in sufficient time to make use of the remaining sun for drying purposes. This still involved a fair amount of climbing, but with less twisty lumpy stuff than the minor road the cycle route takes appeared to have. I began to see the attraction of riding around Wales on motorbikes.
Llanidloes is also a spa town (in the audax sense), so I stocked up on supplies, and went off in search of the camp site, which had had its signs removed due to roadworks. As I returned from some comedy off-roading on a building site down the road, a man on a quad bike with a dead sheep on the back asked if I was looking for the campsite, explained that he was the owner, and to turn in at the farm entrance by the cones back down the road.
The campsite at Dol-llys Farm (http://www.dolllyscaravancampsite.co.uk/) is a delight, having an elusive blend of luxurious, well-maintained facilities, a pretty riverside location, and somehow still maintaining that small family-run business feel to the whole thing. There's plenty of firm flat field with hookups for the caravanists, but tents can be pitched in another field right on the river bank, where FIRE is permitted:
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0875.sized.jpg)
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0876.sized.jpg)
On the basis that river banks tend to involve midges, and I was more interested in an early night than pyromania, I opted to pitch further back, on an exposed flat area (for maximum sun drying) closer to the wash block.
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0879.sized.jpg)
There was a horrible *CRACK* as I put the tent up, and closer inspection revealed a slight technical problem with one of the poles:
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/IMG_4259.sized.jpg)
I had a spare pole section with me, but wasn't sure what the correct procedure for replacing it was, wrt the threading of the elastic. After contemplating it for some minutes, I decided to cut the elastic, thread it through the new pole (using my precious spare gear cable as a fish wire) and tie it back together at the other end. This involved using toes to hold one of the ends under tension, and just a tiny bit of gaffer tape. It appears to have worked.
The showers run on 20ps (I used three for a decent length shower), and you get a small room to yourself with a washbasin and mirror rather than a cramped cubicle. I took the opportunity to wash some clothes in the basin, and hung them out to dry in the remaining sun. Provided kitchen facilities included a microwave oven, so I put my freshly-washed mitts in for a minute to sterilise them (if you haven't tried this, it completely neutralises the pong, though it's a technique best kept for £3 Aldi mitts). I cooked some dinner and chatted to a pair of cyclists who'd appeared while I was in the shower. They were riding NCN8 in the other direction, and we exchanged tips for things to watch out for.
Day 3: Llanidloes to Barmouth
The next morning I packed up quickly as the weather was deteriorating faster than the sun was getting above the opposite side of the valley. Some faffing about with multiple trips to the loo was necessitated, but at least I managed to get my batteries fully charged (plenty of sockets in the wash block) while I did so.
First order of the day was a climb up through Hafren Forest. As I rode out of Llanidloes it started to rain. As it was fairly warm, I decided to stop and swap my clean, dry jersey for the clean, soggy one I'd washed the previous night. This made the rain stop almost instantly. The ride through the forest is best described as damp. 100% humidity with occasional mizzle, no wind to speak of, and the smell of sheep and wet greenery in all directions. Nothing too severe gradient-wise, though, and a surprise civilised loo stop (at the start of the mountain bike trails) halfway up.
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0882.sized.jpg)
Eventually the road levelled out, and the tree cover opened up a bit, with a view out over the reservoir that operates as a sort of header tank for the Severn:
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0891.sized.jpg)
A bit of forest descending later, and you emerge into a valley. I had the eerie feeling as I rode along the valley floor towards Staylittle that I was still at some altitude, though whether I'd still have had that without the aid of a map or GPS I couldn't say. In the absence of anywhere better, I paused for some food at a windy roadside before tackling the remaining half of the morning's climb. This involved some proper gradients, some proper wind, and some proper views. Oddly, my phone signal returned at some point, and I was bombarded by text messages miles from anywhere. Eventually I reached the summit, notable only for the Sustrans route marker:
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0893.sized.jpg)
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0898.sized.jpg)
From there it's miles and miles of down, with only a couple of undulations on the final road into Machynlleth. Splendid stuff! Eventually I reached the point where I'd met Wowbagger on the previous tour, and was on familiar roads. I stopped to buy something to eat and drink in the Co-op, and the cashier made such a big deal of giving me my receipt, I was compelled to explain this wasn't actually an audax.
I've done the climb from Corris to Dolgellau in both directions now, so in the interests of being a bit different, I turned left and followed Route 82 out to the coast. I'm not sure this was actually an easier option, as I was now heading straight into the wind on a relatively exposed road. I missed the turn for the Happy Valley route due to not paying attention, and decided that continuing to Aberdovey, while adding some miles overall, was less frustrating than backtracking, and did at least avoid a gratuitous chevron (though probably made up for it in headwind).
After playing leapfrog with the railway (a pretty but slow train journey, that) for some time, I arrived at the coast. Turning north reduced the effect of the wind somewhat, and I soon re-joined the cycle route at the excellently named "Marconi Bungalows" - a singletrack road popular with pram pushers, blackberry harvesters and inexperienced mobility scooter riders. For a short while the wind was behind me, and I was able to maintain decent speeds on the flat for the first time since Abergavenny.
My plan was to leave the cycle route at Bryncrug and continue along the coastal road to the Barmouth bridge. This involved more headwind, and an unanticipated amount of climbing, but also some lovely views of the sea.
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0901.sized.jpg)
As I rejoined NCN8, I made a quick stop for the much-needed loos, and to explain the funny shaped bike to a curious 4-year-old with an awesome dinosaur cycle helmet. The bridge was pretty as ever, marred only by a particularly non-sensible dog playing chicken with the bike as I winched it up the final climb at the Barmouth end (I vaguely recall something similar occurring last time):
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0909.sized.jpg)
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0905.sized.jpg)
A stop in Barmouth for supplies, and a short distance up the coast brought me to my campsite for the night at Trem Enlli (http://www.campingandcaravanningclub.co.uk/campsites/uk/gwynedd/barmouth/tremenlli). I'd found this through the C&CC, and it perhaps wasn't the best choice of the zillions of sites in the area, being a small site aimed squarely at caravanners. On the other hand, it had an excellent shower block (20ps again - but an innovation in the form of a coin unit with a digital countdown display viewable from within the cubicle - no running out as your head's covered in shampoo), and the proprietor seemed quite enthusiastic about having a cycle tourist staying. I pitched up on a flattish bit of grass near the wash block.
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0910.sized.jpg)
The sky remained clear all night, and although condensation formed, the sea breeze took care of most of it in the morning. My 3am loo visit determined that an army of slugs had formed a perimeter around the tent, but not actually attacked. I removed everything I didn't want covered in slug snot from the porch, and for whatever reason the slugs had lost interest by morning.
Day 4: Barmouth to Llanberis
Packing up was quick and easy, on account of the general absence of moisture to worry about. The plan was to continue up the coastal road to Portmadog, then turn inland to Beddgelert. The wind, while still a westerly, had died down somewhat, and I was soon at Harlech. There were two things on the agenda - firstly, a loo, then the 40% hill at Ffordd Pen Llech (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ffordd_Pen_Llech). The first was located easily enough - what Wales lacks in mobile data signal, it makes up for with readily available, clean public toilets. Having done this, the now legendary descent (fortunately, it's a one-way street in the downward direction) was actually the sensible route back to the main road. I stopped for the obligatory photo of the sign...
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0911.sized.jpg)
Then proceeded to give my brakes a thorough testing. It's like Smalldean Lane on performance-enhancing drugs, and I don't think I'd want to do that on a DF bike in slippery conditions!
That silliness dispensed with, I continued on the pan-flat road at refreshingly decent speed, passing the site we'd used the previous year near Talsarnau. No toads were in evidence. Then it started to go downuphill. I'd completely forgotten about the bridge works at Pont Briwet. "No chance of a bike getting through?" I asked the man in hi-vis guarding the "ROAD CLOSED" signs. "Nope" he said. So several miles of detour up the valley to Maentwrog it was. For reasons that weren't apparent, a long section of this road was operating as single-direction traffic, controlled by temporary traffic lights. After a while, I realised I'd acquired a tail - a works van with flashing yellow lights was following me at a respectable distance. A kilometre or two later I came to the other set of traffic lights, where another man in hi-vis unleashed the queue of vehicles that had been waiting for me to pass. :-[
I stopped to nibble some food and peer at the map. The B4410 was an obvious shortcut, but on account of all the chevrons, I decided to perform a Larrington Manoeuvre via Penrhyndeudraeth and pick up the A4085 to Beddgelert from there. The lumpiness increased as the wind became less relevant, and I was soon on familiar roads again. I stopped at the loos at Bethania, and chatted to a local cyclist on a sporty hybrid who was having a day off to ride some hills, then the climbing began.
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0913.sized.jpg)
The road undulates somewhat, but without excessive severe gradients up past Llyn Gwynant. I passed the cyclists I'd seen earlier about halfway up, I hope I didn't make him feel bad. Then the road evens out to a smooth climb up to the junction with the A4086. Most of this stretched passed without note, as I was distracted by a watching a paraglider attempting to stay in a thermal on the other side of the valley. The road up to Pen-y-Pass looks steep, and certainly seemed that way when I came down it a few years ago, but was much the same gradient - easily trundled up with a gear or two to spare.
I stopped at the top to re-create this photo (https://yacf.co.uk/forum/index.php?topic=36983.msg730965#msg730965), and chatted to a cyclist coming the other way, who offered to take a picture for me. (That's her altogether more sensible bike in the background.)
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0920.sized.jpg)
It was at this point that I noticed that my front gear cable was now hanging by a thread. I decided that I only needed one upshift into the big ring, then a downshift in Llanberis and if it then got stuck in the granny ring it wasn't a problem, so I left it, and made the most of the descent.
My plan was - if the timings worked - to pitch up, then go and see about a ride to the summit on the Snowdon Mountain Railway. I found the campsite (http://www.campinginllanberis.com/) on a steep hill behind the youth hostel, but the owners had left a sheepdog in charge.
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0951.sized.jpg)
The dog said "Woof", which I took as a suggestion that I pitch up and come back later, so I did. Tent pitched, and a cursory washing-off of road grime later, I set about replacing the gear cable. At this point a mountain biker returned to an adjacent tent, and I asked if they new when the owners would come back. He told me they'd gone up the hill to fettle sheep, and should be back shortly. I finished my repairs, and heard some woofing from the direction of the farmhouse, so wandered over to see if they were back. The owner turned out to be the most Welsh person I've ever met, and not just because he was covered in sheep shit. I paid for the camping, shuffled some stuff between panniers and set off back into town, taking note of the weather report on one of the many outdoor shops:
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0922.sized.jpg)
I bought a ticket for the 17:30 train to the summit on the Snowdon Mountain Railway (http://www.snowdonrailway.co.uk/) (the last train of the day), and took the opportunity to do some shopping. Opting not to climb back up the hill to the campsite, I made good use of an icecream van, and looked for somewhere near the station to park the bike. A member of staff noticed my plight and suggested that I might like to lock it to the staff-only side of some railings, and opened the relevant gate for me.
The train comes highly recommended, especially if the weather is decent and you don't have the knees for reaching the summit in the traditional manner. It cogs its way to the top in about an hour - sheep and weather permitting - with some fabulous views on the way.
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0932.sized.jpg)
I found it particularly humbling to look down on Pen-y-Pass, knowing I'd ridden over it a few hours earlier, from an elevation of some 300 metres higher:
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0947.sized.jpg)
And the view back towards Llanberis:
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0936.sized.jpg)
The train stops at the summit for half an hour before returning - enough time to get a drink in the visitors' centre and climb the last few metres to the trig point. It should be noted that the latter is somewhat hazardous in SPD sandals, especially if you're having a bad knee day.
The low sun and haze made for challenging conditions for my crummy Nokia, but hopefully these give some idea of the view (you'll have to imagine the wind):
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0937.sized.jpg)
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0940.sized.jpg)
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0939.sized.jpg)
Ob-Garmin (elevation pretty much spot-on):
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0944.sized.jpg)
Descent was pretty much the reverse of the trip up, though I had the sense to sit on the other side of the train, and the light was going as we descended to Llanberis. A chilly ride back up to the campsite, and I was in the nice warm shower. I noticed that the tent was already covered in condensation (and a little bit slack as a result), and was being guarded by a chicken when I arrived.
Day 5: Llanberis to Bangor
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0949.sized.jpg)
A leisurely start, as I wasn't concerned about drying anything. I had a 12:00 train out of Bangor, and a little over 16km to cover to get there, so spent an extra couple of hours in my sleeping bag reading before getting out and packing up. The weather was humid, but not raining.
(http://www.ductilebiscuit.net/gallery_albums/wales2014/Photo0950.sized.jpg)
I took the ride slowly in a lowish gear, both because going faster would just mean more time hanging around in Bangor, and because my knee was still complaining from the previous day. I arrived with over an hour to spare, but out of general tiredness decided that sitting at the station reading was as good a way to spend the time as any.
The train journey itself was annoying. What was supposed to be 3 and a half hours of slow but direct train turned out to involve two unscheduled changes as various pieces of rolling stock developed faults. Given the events of the previous week, I assume this was metal fatigue, as I seem to be suffering a lot of it of late. I eventually arrived at Mordor Central only a little bit later than planned, and pootled home via the cycle route in order to avoid the worst of the Birmingham driving, which I was very much not in the mood for. Birmingham, I noted, is hot and smells of pollution.
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Superb report Kim. I really enjoyed that.
The boys and I stayed in that campsite on our Crib Goch climb. It was crowded and there were no flat bits left.
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As above he beat me to it! Must do this trip.
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Great report. 40% hills sound terrifying though.
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Great report. 40% hills sound terrifying though.
It's a rounding error. It's really only 36.63% (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ffordd_Pen_Llech) :)
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Jolly good write up and ride :thumbsup:
Looks like you had good weather too. The campsites look fairly deserted,they're always packed when I go. Now you've scratched the itch, just need another couple of trips to get this years touring quota ;D
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Yes, while the incessant headwinds go some of the way towards cancelling it out, I'm pretty sure I've used up my welsh weather quota for another year...
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Top report there Kim.
I liked this bit:
The owner turned out to be the most Welsh person I've ever met, and not just because he was covered in sheep shit.
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Great report Kim.
It's especially nice to read (and see pics) of Snowdonia, Beddgelert, Penrhyndeudraeth - years ago we used to holiday regularly in the area, staying in a cottage near Maentwrog. Had it's own railway halt (Campbell's Platform) on the Ffestiniog railway.
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Great report Kim, and some lovely photos.
Lacking in Welsh riding this year - must try and make up for that next year!
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Wonderful stuff!
I took a photo of the Gospel Pass from that point as well.
(http://peter.chesspod.com/gallery/d/18812-2/DSC09736.JPG)
The other guy in the picture is Hamish.
The summit before you reach Machynlleth was described by Winford Vaughan-Thomas, a noted Welsh Windbag, as having the "best views in Wales". They are pretty damned good, although when I was up there last year, a few minutes before meeting you coming the other way, I was in the clouds and the views didn't start until later.
Have you managed to replace your tent pole? And you certainly seem to have eaten your way through gear cables.
I'm quite envious of your railway trip. When we were there when the children were small, I climbed to the top with the three oldest while Mrs. Wow stayed with the Land Rover with our youngest. It was a sweltering, cloudless day when we did it and the café at the top was shut. We found our way by the simple expedient of following the railway track. IIRC the train fare was well beyond our budget.
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Great ride and trip report Kim :thumbsup:. I enjoyed that :)
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I just read your ride report to Aunt Phyllis, Kim. She thoroughly enjoyed it, particularly the description of the most Welsh man you have ever met, Phyllis herself being Welsh, albeit Valleys Welsh, which is a completely different magnitude of ordure from the Mid-Walian sheep-farmer Welsh.
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The summit before you reach Machynlleth was described by Winford Vaughan-Thomas, a noted Welsh Windbag, as having the "best views in Wales". They are pretty damned good, although when I was up there last year, a few minutes before meeting you coming the other way, I was in the clouds and the views didn't start until later.
I think the view was better slightly further on. It flattens out a lot, so you don't actually see that much from the summit itself. Some lovely views on the way up, too.
Have you managed to replace your tent pole? And you certainly seem to have eaten your way through gear cables.
It's a work in progress. It appears that Hilleberg switched to butted poles (gaining an extra millimetre in diameter at the junctions and rendering modern spares incompatible with older poles) at some point since my tent was made, so in the interests of improved strength and spares availability I'm going to upgrade the whole lot.
I'm quite envious of your railway trip. When we were there when the children were small, I climbed to the top with the three oldest while Mrs. Wow stayed with the Land Rover with our youngest. It was a sweltering, cloudless day when we did it and the café at the top was shut. We found our way by the simple expedient of following the railway track. IIRC the train fare was well beyond our budget.
It's very much Not Cheap (though not unreasonably so, if you do a back-of-the-envelope calculation of what their running costs must be). But I decided that since I'm unlikely to be able to climb Snowdon on foot without injury, it was probably worth it. Especially as the weather was good.
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I just read your ride report to Aunt Phyllis, Kim. She thoroughly enjoyed it, particularly the description of the most Welsh man you have ever met, Phyllis herself being Welsh, albeit Valleys Welsh, which is a completely different magnitude of ordure from the Mid-Walian sheep-farmer Welsh.
:)
Glad she enjoyed it.
I've just uploaded the GPS track and added it to the OP for those who were asking...
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Great write up, really enjoyed that, makes me want to do something similar next year.
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Thanks, Kim, that was great. "Horses standing sheepishly" - excellent stuff!
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Enjoyed that write up of your trip. After my first attempt this year I am keen for a second go. I may have just found something to base it on.
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Enjoyed that write up of your trip. After my first attempt this year I am keen for a second go. I may have just found something to base it on.
Unintuitively, the Sustrans routes make a good basis for a tour in Wales. Probably because they're mostly on minor roads, rather than the gate-infested substandard cyclepaths we're used to. The off-road paths they do use are of refreshingly high quality, with the occasional gates being designed to contain sheep, rather than frustrate cyclists.
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I wonder to what extent this is down to the Welsh Assembly wanting things to work properly. I have often read, and my experience has borne this out, that in general the quality of the road surfaces in Wales are better than the norm, certainly in England. I have a mixed opinion of Scotland. Some have been very good, but the A713, from Carsphairn northwards, is dreadful, or was on the two occasions that I have ridden along it.
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Agreed about the road surfaces. Obviously there were bad patches here and there, and much (relatively recent) surface-dressing in evidence on the minor roads but the A-roads especially do tend to be a delight to cycle on, compared to the rubbish you get here in the West Midlands.
Of course, it could simply be that there's less heavy traffic, so they deteriorate less quickly?
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Thanks for an enjoyable read an lovely photos of Welsh Lumpiness.
FWIW. My technique to rethread the elastic in a tent pole is to pull the elastic through the other poles until its at full tension and block it by wrapping around a clothes peg and gripping it. There should be enough elastic to push through the last pole without any tension in it. Then knot several times to stop its retreat. I've never needed a mousing line to pull it through.
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FWIW. My technique to rethread the elastic in a tent pole is to pull the elastic through the other poles until its at full tension and block it by wrapping around a clothes peg and gripping it. There should be enough elastic to push through the last pole without any tension in it. Then knot several times to stop its retreat. I've never needed a mousing line to pull it through.
That's how I started out, but once I had the elastic de-tensioned it became obvious that the elastic itself had perished and snapped in many places, leaving the outer nylon to curl in random directions and generally not be particularly cooperative. I agree that a new, undamaged length of zipcord should be easy enough to thread through a pole by itself (though, obviously, easier if you happen to be starting from the thin end of the pole, which I wasn't). Still, if I've got a bike I've probably got a spare cable with me, which neatly solves that problem.
My real question, I suppose, was whether tensioning and cutting/knotting the elastic was the correct to go, rather than somehow being able to disconnect it at the end-cap.
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Lovely write up Kim - read cover to cover in one sitting. Had my fingers crossed you wouldn't need a third cable.
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Ferry?! It's called a gondola, y'know! I thoroughly enjoyed this write-up, lovely stuff. I walked across the top of the transporter bridge back in the 80's, shortly before it was closed for safety reasons. It rattled and shook when the gondola went underneath!
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The bridge manager used changes in the noise created by gondola movement to target inspections, alongside more conventional inspection regimes. Transporter bridges are interesting pieces of kit, at least for this former bridge engineer.
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Off-topic I know, but I think I was safe on the top, except maybe for the odd wobbly timber. It was the gondola and associated mechanics which needed lots of attention - in particular I believe the rails needed replacing in many places.