At the end of August, Aunt Maud mentioned the potential for an October 11/12th trip round the 6A. I didn’t jump at the chance; whilst struggling from a virus, too much work and lack of motivation it seemed like a stupid idea….but the seed was planted.
Next thing I know I am buying various lightweight bivi kit and was mentally committed to the ride. Or possibly should have been mentally committed full stop. My first ever experience of bike&bivi on [calsberg]probably the hardest 600 permanent[/calsberg] the Cambrian 6A.
This was the kit and clothing…
All packed up….
We started with a cash point control from Monmouth at 4:30 am to follow the figure of 8 route heading first to Rhayader. It was dark, cold and foggy, but contrary to my initial fears, a quick 5 day taper had left my legs in ok shape and I was feeling ready for the challenges ahead.
The climb to the gospel pass was timed perfectly to coincide with dawn and we were met by a glorious cloud invert over the Wye Valley below. We took time to appreciate it and grab a few photos before dropping into the fog of the valleys. It was a theme repeated several times through the weekend, trudging to the tops of the steep climbs before plunging into cold heavy air settled in valley pockets.
The weather was variable on the Saturday and we got soaked on the way to Rhayader as the route trundled for a little while up the A470. I was surprised at how little climbing we had encountered at that point, and had a feeling we would pay for it later. There are no sections of flat on the Cambrians that aren’t paid for in climbing karma elsewhere. However, we had made good time to Rhayader so stopped for food before heading to Bala via Llanidloes and the infamous Bwlch-y-Gros
The true nature of the ride began to show with endlessly undulating roads and we stopped for a bite to eat at the side of a lane before tackling the Bwlch. I was low on water, but figured, once over the top, it was a roll down to Bala. I already had a game plan in mind for the Bwlch - to do as much as comfortable with the heavily laden bike, but nothing more, as I knew that a few minutes pushing too hard could potentially destroy the legs for the rest of the ride, especially with the weight of the camping kit. I surprised myself and got to the crash barrier before it began to hurt and I chose to stop. I was dreaming of endless glasses of water. Or a kind hearted camper van owner parked on the top. I was so dehydrated I almost filled up the bideon from the mountain stream, but decided the e coli risk was probably not worth it. With a little pushing and more pedalling I finally got to the top to find luck was smiling on me, in the form of Vistaed (OTP) and a riding friend, both carrying Bivi kit and out for a social weekend. Vistaed kindly provided me with a generous amount of water to keep me going until Bala whilst commenting along the lines “if anyone else is mad enough to be up here this weekend it’s you”. We chatted whilst waiting for Aunt Maud, who’s choice of race gears were starting to hurt somewhat. The toil was beginning to take its toll and we were only 170 km in.
A Spar fuelled break at Bala and we were ready for the short stretch over to Llanfyllin. Short in distance it may be, but short in time it was not. The climbs kept coming. But so did the views, and this was my favourite stretch of the ride.
Aunt Maud was in need of some proper food on arriving at the town, especially as it began to dawn how little distance we had covered in the hours we had been out. This was no surprise to me; after the summer’s introduction to the series my predications for the ride were at least 36 hours without sleep/stop time... We stopped for a break at the chippy before setting off on the long road to the Tregaron at 330 km. The relentless climbing didn’t stop and it began to dawn that we would need to refill food and water before Tregaron as it would be likely that nothing would remain open by the time we arrived. The route passed back through Llanidloes on the figure of 8 and the convenience store provided warmth, a floor to sit on and coffee to help fight the dozies. After some gorgeous moorland lanes out of Llanidloes we were on decent B Roads via Devils Bridge to Tregaron, and it was a real blessing. I was struggling with fighting sleep and being able to roll freely rather than descend precariously on narrow leaf, mud and gravel covered lanes helped it feel like progress and the kilometres ticked off…299, 300, halfway!
I had borrowed the other half’s Hope R8 battery with a smaller head unit with the plan that the battery would well outlast the potential total 16 hours night riding. It did not and started to warn low battery at 3 am on the Saturday. Luckily, through hard experience, I always have a good second helmet light and enough batteries to run it as a main light if my bar light fails.
Tregaron had one option for control, a Natwest cash point. Everything was shut, but luckily we were self sufficient in food and water and we kept chugging along with the hope of reaching our proposed bivi point at Newcastle Emlyn – 380 kms in. However the dozies took hold and we started looking for potential bunk down sights through Lampter and the following villages. There was nothing. We needed a little shelter, being cold and damp with low autumnal temperatures. The need for safe sleep began to become an overriding concern. Eventually we found the open campsite shower block and snuck in, to hunker down for an hour or so. It was even clean and heated, we were blessed with good luck. Never has lying on ceramic tiles next to a man’s toilet felt so good. The Thermarest matt is a stunning piece of kit, possibly one of the best things I have purchased in recent years. The OMM bag also did me proud, although it was hardly a fair test in a such a sheltered environment. I didn’t even need a bivi bag. I was flat out in seconds and forgot to set an alarm, but woke at 5 am with a start, and we were back on the road before anyone was awake.
The road to Fishguard was quiet for the majority of the distance, and it was, as always, an overwhelming pleasure to see the sea. The climb out of the harbour was, as always, cruel and savage! So was the complete lack of open cafes. Another cash point control. I asked some council workers if there was anywhere serving coffee and we were pointed to a garage a short distance off route. Bad instant coffee. Luckily Aunt Maud, being experienced at this camping marlarky, came up trumps with some single serving filter coffee and the lovely lady in the garage let us use the hot water for free. I even got to use my new fold up ultralight camping cup. Glee!
After Fishguard I started to get problems with my left ankle. The Achilles was getting swollen and was very painful every time I stood up. On the steep lanes, there is no choice other than to get out of the saddle so it was ‘rock and hard place’ time. There wasn’t a huge amount left in my quads for seated spinning, but stomping uphill (normally my strongest point in times of tiredness) I knew was causing more and more damage. The lanes were gorgeous, isolated, quaint and where I wanted to be riding, but on reaching Llandeilo at 500 km I knew I was in trouble. So was Aunt Maud as the race gearing was taking a massive toll on the hill climbs. Ignoring the temptation of a train, knowing there was only a normal training ride back, we made the decision to follow the horrific A40. It added only around 12 km, but made it possible to finish in time and minimise any further damage to my ankle. I was a bit gutted, it felt wrong and not in the true spirit of a Cambrian ride. It was, however, perfectly acceptable under audax regulations and so we got our heads down and tried to blot out the traffic. Just to make sure we retained some audaciousness, the weather gave us an easterly head wind instead of the normal westerly tail wind and the pace was dragging. Aunt Maud is much stronger than I on the flats, and I stronger on the climbs, so we struggled to stay together. Sense of humour went awol for a while. It was ok until Brecon, but the single carriageway stretch from Brecon to Abergavenny is a horrid piece of road I swore I wouldn’t ride again after the 2A. At Abergavenny there was another choice, head straight over to Rockfield the direct (true) route with the 16% climbs, or the duel track to Monmouth. Well, there wasn’t really a choice. I couldn’t walk properly without significant pain, or stomp on the pedals, so it was flat or nothing. Thank goodness for the wide hard shoulder ‘sheltering’ us from the 90 mph vehicles. Until the Monmouth tunnel which was without a hard shoulder and quite frankly, the most dangerous bit of road riding I have ever done. Just. Got. To. Get. Back. Alive.
I was a bit dazed on arriving at Monmouth. We controlled at the same cash points used the day before, yet so much had changed in that time, and so many things experienced. It was a brutal ride, although my climbing muscles were good for it, my ankle paid a price. I was just glad to finish in time so I’d never have to do it again….
…of course I am going to do it again, when I am even fitter and I have the ankle problem sorted. So I can follow the true route home.
Recommendations from the weekend for anyone planning the 6A:
1) Plan a good bivi stop if doing the ride outside of the summer. Preferably have a bunkhouse or something lined up. Difficult though as it is out of season this time of year and nothing is open.
2) Have appropriate gearing for endless savage climbs.
3) Make sure you have enough kit, back up light and food to be fully self sufficient through the long night stages as the small Welsh towns have very few long hour facilities.
4) Hope luck is on your side, it certainly was on ours!
5) Don't underestimate the power of home-dried toothpaste