Wednesday 14th AugustThe sun shone briefly first thing and I was beginning to think that the forecast for a damp week was going to prove to be incorrect. However, by the time I had eaten, abluted and packed up, a fine Welsh drizzle was falling. I returned my gate card to the warden and asked about the weather forecast. He checked. "This has set in for the day. Sorry!"
It wasn't unpleasant cycling. I just didn't bother with my waterproof as I was warm. A bit of damp didn't matter.
My first stop for the day was the waterfall from which Rhayader gets its name. Rhaeadr is the Welsh ford for "waterfall" and the name of the town is "Rhaeadr Gwy", or "Waterfall on the River Wye". I had been sending my grand-daughter daily messages with pictures, mostly about the rivers on which my trip was based, and a photo of the waterfall was a must. It wasn't that spectacular as there hadn't been a great deal of rain in the area, but there it was.
My first village of the day was Llangurig, also on the river Wye. The A470 follows the east bank, but I was on the west, following the minor road I had ridden a couple of times previously.
I had just started along this road when I spotted two cyclists ahead of me. I suffered from the delusion that I would catch them up, but even though I could see them a few hundred yards ahead each time I started a long climb, by the time I reached the flat or a downhill they were out of sight again. I thought that they were probably the two cyclists I had seen at the camp site, but I wasn't sure.
The mist and drizzle intensified, but I had no need for my waterproof. The weather was perfectly warm enough and I was working quite hard, one or twice having to get off and push. On one descent my bar bag suddenly headed south and rested against the stem: the supporting cable had snapped as a result of the bag bouncing around over several thouhsand miles' use. I simply removed the bag and stuck it under the bungees at the back and carried on, it suddenly dawning on me what an annoying source of noise a bar bag is. The ride was much more peaceful and pleasant without it there.
Eventually, I found Llangurig, just as wet as the last time I went there. However, there was a tea room, of a sort, in a gift shop right by the junction. In I went and there were the two cyclists I had seen ahead of me. We conversed, although the chap was a bit taciturn. It turned out that he was an audaxer in remission. They lived in Llanberis and were heading home, basically along the Lon Las Cymru. He explained that he had discovered girls (his friend interjected "Somewhat belatedly!") and had given up audaxing. His decision had been helped by a falling-asleep-at-the-wheel-after-a-200 incident on the M56. I deliberately didn't mention any of the names I felt sure he would know as I could see signs of a 500-yard stare returning. I talked about cake instead.
They left a little before I did, and again he warned of the hills ahead, as though anyone would cycle the long diagonal of Wales unaware that they were in for a bit of climbing. Knowing these things, I was also acutely aware that the next 5 miles or so, over the top to Llanidloes, would see me traverse the Wye-Severn watershed, and watersheds tend to be high. (Incidentally, some while ago one of our London-based brethren once remarked how rivers didn't matter to cyclists any more. I won't embarrass him by mentioning his name but if he seriously believes that he should try touring in Wales, where every pair of rivers is separated by an enormous mountain, or Norfolk, where there just aren't any bridges over them because the economic activity has never been sufficiently great to warrant the expense of building one).
The moment I left the main road I started climbing, and it was too steep to ride. As I trudged up the hill a cheery local hailed me.
"Don't get off - you aren't half way yet!"
"Actually," I replied, "given that I started on Monday in Chepstow I think I probably am!"
He was suitably impressed.
The climb towards Llanidloes was actually not that long. The Wye and the Severn are quite odd in some respects. They rise within a mile or two of each other in the Pumlumon Fawr range, the highest bit of the Cambrians. The Wye then meanders gently southwards through Wales whilst the Severn heads eastwards on a slumming expedition in a great arc through England, visiting Shrewsbury, Worcester, Tewkesbury and Gloucester on the way to meet the Wye again where the old M48 Severn Bridge crosses them both, in two spans. Once I was about 1100' up I stopped climbing and had a gentle meander through the drizzle to Llanidloes for lunch. I had read of the Great Oak café and found it fairly easily, in Great Oak Street. It was rated as a very good whole food café so in I went.
Everything was veggie. I opted for a rather good vegetable madras and some tea. There was quite a lot of salad to go with the madras and rice and I felt that any flatulence experienced during the afternoon would be useful as a form of rudimentary jet propulsion to help me climb the much bigger watershed between the Severn and the Dyfi. It occurred to me that they shouldn't really be allowed to call it "whole food" because they always miss the best bits (meat) out.
After my calories I was ready for the afternoon's climb. I had done my best to keep my speed up during the day as Kim was due to meet me in Machynlleth and her train arrived at 4.46pm. I sent her a text message to say that I thought I would be more likely to arrive around 5.45, and then I set off.
The Severn was on my left but, magnificent though it is when it is more mature, at this stage it is a mere infant, tumbling merrily from pool to pool, sometimes almost narrow enough to jump across. The weather was doing its best to increase the flow, but again it was mostly fairly easy cycling. I did get back up to 1000' in the Hafren forest, and descended ust below that figure by the time I reached Staylittle. I turned left onto the B4518, which had very little traffic on it, and was diverted briefly by a large bird of prey on a post. I'm pretty sure it was a buzzard, but it had the palest colouring of any I had ever seen. It flew off when I stopped to get a better look.
Soon came the left turn towards Dylife, and the major climb of the day. The rain was still falling and very shortly I was going steeply up to meet it. I thought about stopping at the Star pub but in the end didn't bother. I knew I would drink beer if I went in there and the alcohol would affect my already substandard ability to climb. I didn't want to keep Kim waiting in poor weather.
Given that I was already 1000' feet above sea level, and that the top of this mountain was about 1650' and the highest point of NCN8 (the Gospel Pass is on NCN 42) I calculated that all I had to do was, in effect, two Mighty North Hills (Essex residents will know what I mean). Thinking about it in those terms actually made it quite manageable psychologically, although it was rather steeper than the approach to Little Baddow from Paper Mill Lock. However, there were no chevrons, at least, not on my side, so I was able to ride almost all of it.
I had read that the late Wynford Vaughan Thomas, the renowned Welsh broadcaster, considered that the view from this mountain was the finest in the whole of Wales.
Something told me that it wasn't going to be my day in that respect. However, I finally did reach the rather odd waymarker at the top
and put my waterproof on for what was going to be a long and speedy descent - about 1600' of it.
I was still in the cloud to begin with, but after a couple of hundred feet of descending the view opened up.
The photo doesn't do it justice, but I could see the roads snaking away for about 6 miles, seemingly leaping from ridge to ridge. It was pretty windy on the top so I kept my speed down initially, but then temptation became too great and I allowed the bike to go a bit more. Down, down, down I went, back into the trees, past a few houses, and then, on a straight bit a mile or two before I reached Machynlleth, there was a recumbent rider coming up the hill towards me. It was Kim.
I felt quite emotional when we greeted one another as I hadn't seen another human for quite a few hours and it was such a great feeling to be in the company of friends again. "How absolutely bloody marvellous to see you!" said I. Then practical considerations needed to be addressed.
"What are we doing about food tonight?" I asked.
"I have already got enough for me," Kim replied.
Right on cue, a Co-op appeared and I went and bought some fresh pasta with chilli, milk, Welshcakes, that sort of thing, and then we trundled through the town, over the Dyfi and up towards the Centre for Alternative Technology where we camped for the night. There were the two cyclists with whom I had been conversing earlier, as well as a couple of Italians with a Bob Yak and a rather older New Zealander who had a bike with a Y-frame trailer. He was heading south.
We pitched our tents, Kim experimented with the ladies' shower, the rain stopped for long enough for me to wash and try to dry some clothes, I found that the men's shower was rather more effective than Kim's description of the ladies', and with lots of rain forecast we retired to our tents and slept.