After much debating with myself about a long ride early in February, I finally decided to ride from Swansea up to Haye-on-Wye and do the Gospel Pass (from North to South as I'd always wanted to do). I didn't plan much - a mistake! - and had estimated the ride as "a long 200". This turned out to be about right, but the ride was really hard towards the end.
I set off at 6.30am feeling none too fit (fags!) and made a resolution to get out at least once during the week. The Nightsun was working nicely, but I soon switched to the dynamo to save the batteries: I anticipated having to come back along the notorious A465 Heads of the Valleys Road for at least a part of the way, possibly in the dark, and wanted to make sure I would not have to use the dynamo then. (There is, for example, a mile-long 1 in 7 climb up a very busy stretch of dual carriageway out of Merthyr.) The first stretch was up the Neath Valley to Glynneath and from there up the Brecon Beacons to the Devil's Elbow (where people get blown off their bikes on a windy day) and down the other side to Defynog about 8 miles from Brecon itself (at 45 miles). I knew I wasn't feeling very strong when I had to stop for a breather about 5 miles from the start of the climb! The climb itself wasn't too bad though, it being one of the least strenuous ways up into the Beacons. It is quite a drag, and because it was still not yet light I took the narrow lane descent carefully and couldn't make up much time. Feeling optimistic at this time, I took the lanes into Brecon rather than the main road. This added a few miles, but the lane is very nice to cycle.
I got to Brecon (45 miles) in about 4 hours - pretty good going for me! But I was knackered. I slumped into our usual cafe, gratefully ordered tea, beans on toast and a chocolate muffin, but then horror: I had forgotten this is a non-smoking cafe. Aaargh :-(
After a longish stop (half an hour?) I set off for terra incognita: the lanes to Haye. I didn't fancy the main road so I took the lanes that skirted the Black Mountains. My first mistake was not to have checked this route with a proper OS map. Although I was feeling fine when I set off from Brecon, the road I'd taken was really quite strenuous. At one point, after about 8 miles, there was a horrible hill that had me standing on the pedals in my granny gear with the back wheel skidding on the greasy surface. It just seemed to go on and on. I was now knackered again, and still had to get up the Gospel Pass... I had mountains all around me now, and they positively loomed at me from their cloud-shrouded hights. After another 5 or 6 miles I found the turning to go up. Another stiff climb: 200 meters in a mile. At the end of that mile I discovered my second mistake: this was a dead end - I had come the wrong way. One day I will be able to tell this as a funny story, but at the time I was completely pissed off: again I couldn't catch up on time on the descent due to the narrow lanes, and I was starting to get off the Audax pace. Eventually I found the right road, but it was badly sign-posted and I had to spend a lot of time off the bike checking my inadquate map and guessing where I was. I also had a puncture which I had to mend when feeling cold and wet (from perspiration), and not a little dejected. It wasn't all doom and gloom: although the road is very hard, some of the views were fantastic, especially when the sun broke through and sent out beams that illuminated the hills in the distance.
Having fixed the puncture I set off for the pass which I could see now way up above me, but I couldn't see how the road I was on linked up with that coming down from the pass! After more map-checking, I realised that although I was not on the wrong road as such, I had got onto a road which approaches the pass in a tortuous way, snaking around (and up and down) the hills. I had to stop again before the final mile's ascent because I was so tired, and when I got to the top (590 meters) at 3pm I realised I was way off pace and resigned myself to getting home by midnight. Get a space blanket! I curled up in mine and stuffed myself with malt loaf (never be without one) and felt quite happy. Now I had the descent to look forward to - this was the reason for doing the pass from North to South: 8 to 10 miles of gradual descent.
As I set off, the drizzle came down, and within 100 yards I saw I sign saying Z-bends for 11 (eleven) miles. The descent was really infuriating: the lane was very narrow, had high hedges, and was busy with daytrippers. I don't think I got up to 20mph the whole way down, having to slow/stop at every corner. At the bottom I had to decide what to do next. The straightest line was to use the A465, but this would entail 25 miles of busy main road in the dark. The only alternative however was to go around the reservoirs north of Merthyr, much longer and entailing some big climbs as well. I decided on a compromise: first go over to Crickhowell and get something to eat, then go around the first two reservoirs (since the road keeps to the water's edge and is therefore flat), then go onto the main road for 12 miles avoiding the big climb around the last reservoir.
The road to Crickhowell was a pleasant run in the late afternoon light, but then: God! would there be no end to these hills? Another big climb before dropping into the town. On the way up I was getting worried because it would be 5pm on a Sunday and I wasn't sure the town was big enough to have a cafe anyway, and the pubs wouldn't be open yet. However, when I got to the top of the hill I had a real shock that blew away such concerns. I was looking down onto the town a couple of miles away, but it was just completely surrounded with the most massive hills: I haven't seen such a mountainous panaroma since I was in the Wettersteins. My heart sank as I realised there was nothing to do but to climb out again after I'd descended. When I got to Crickhowel my luck was in as I immediately found a cheap chip-shop/pizzeria open until 10pm, with seating and smoking permitted. After a long break, two pots of tea, and for one pound, a chip butty that was too large to eat, I set off in much better spirits although disappointed that my arrival in Swansea at midnight looked like being a realistic estimate. I was very saddle sore by this stage, but the road towards Talybont-on-Usk was very pleasant as it was dark enough to feel that I was out on my own in strange country, and yet there was still enough light in the sky to silhouette the surrounding mountains. The first reservoir was as I had thought: flat, but then it started climbing gently as I neared the second. Now quite dark, and again feeling tired, a 1 in 5 hill confronted me. I had to stop again before climbing it, and for the first time I ended up walking it :-(
Finally then, I arrived at Merthyr with 31 miles to go, starting with the 1 in 7 mile-long climb on the main road. And guess what? My Nightsun went out :-( The rest of the ride was a horror. There was no way of avoiding the main road, on-coming traffic dazzled me so I couldn't see where I was going, passing traffic went past close and at high speed. Really quite dangerous and I wouldn't do it again. Furthermore I was so saddle-sore by this stage that any little bump caused me to leap of the saddle in pain, and sitting back down again hurt just as much. I tried riding out of the saddle a fair bit, but of course this tired me even faster. One small pleasure was finding a garage that sold hot drinks: Suchard hot chocolate in fact! There then followed a space-blanked clad, total feeding frenzy in a bus shelter nearby. I knew it was a mistake as my stomach was already feeling iffy, but I couldn't control myself. I found a 2 inch thick slab of malt loaf that had come out of its wrapper and had been compressed at the bottom of my pannier, and even wolfed that down. With a very sore bum, and acute indigestion I limped into the house after 150 miles at about 5 to midnight. In the last few miles I had resorted to walking a fair bit - indeed, I walked most of the way up the "hill" from the centre of town to my house. I was really smashed. Emptying my pannier consisted of simply inverting it and shaking its contents onto the floor. It was a huge effort to stay awake long enough to get out of my wet clothes.
© Kilgore's Enterprises February 1997