FNRttC Friday Night Ride to the Coast - Cardiff to Swansea 12th July
- Thread starter dellzeqq
- Start date
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StuAff
Silencing his legs regularly
- Location
- Portsmouth
Before the ride report, the report about the ride to the ride.....or if one needed a rather clumsy acronym, the Friday Ride from one Coast to Another, via an Estuary...
Back on Good Friday 2011, self and assorted other locals, plus @PpPete of this parish (joined from Haslemere), rode up for the Felpham FNRttC from Pompey. That, including the ride back, comfortably broke my previous distance record, with a total of 168 miles. I decided to have a crack at a 200 miler, and that September I rode up for the Martlets FNRttC, deliberately sticking an extra little loop in on the way, but bailed on the return leg from Brighton as fatigue and a relentless headwind kicked in. Nonetheless, I took my record to 173 miles. Since then, beating it has been rather elusive for various reasons (weather, other engagements, both...). At first, I did not think that doing a 200 on this ride would be either that practical or even possible. I recall posting on last year's thread that the ride to Cardiff Bay would be 133 miles and about 8,000 ft of climbing (the latter rather more offputting than the first)... I did have an idea to ride up for the Dun Run (which I might still do), perhaps the Southwold ride, but with aiming to cover distance like this, it's best if conditions are as favourable as possible, and when they are, to take the opportunity just in case other options don't pan out. And in view of working a late shift, this ride is impossible for me without taking time off. I'd probably go for a ride in the morning anyway....
So I'd been playing around with bikehike to get a workable not-too-taxing route to Cardiff. The default option that the OSM routing gave me was via the A303 (er, no.....!!!), so to avoid that delightful road, I opted to head north via Whitchurch (the route there I am familiar and comfortable with), then via Marlborough, Calne, Chippenham & Chipping Sodbury to the Severn Bridge, and from there a fairly straightforward route to Newport and Cardiff. 142.6 miles, 7200 feet of climbing, nothing much over 10%. The forecasts were favourable (warm, probably too warm for my comfort, but winds light and generally helpfully directed) and stayed that way. Didn't quite go to plan, but then that's often the case, and I had the time in hand....
I had my alarm set for 6.15, aiming for a 7.30-8 am start, the idea being to get to Cardiff Bay at 8.30-9 and therefore beat/match the booked FGW train (scheduled to arrive Cardiff Central 2043, no idea if the day's problems affected that), and allow plenty of time for delays, navigation fails, etc (I am used to these issues by now...) and rest and food in Cardiff. As it was, I set off at 7.20, and glad I did. First stretch to Whitchurch went utterly to plan, 38 miles done just after 10.30. The Garmin was behaving itself at this point, only one attempt to send me down a non-existant road/path, and I remembered the actual turn (the one that doesn't go through a hedge) was a short distance along anyway. Made that turn, and it continued to give me accurate information for once (not that helpful when you know the way, but it was a start). I was too early at Whitchurch for elevenses and didn't feel that hungry, so I just stopped for ten minutes before pressing on towards Marlborough. A nice direct route northwest, via Great Bedwyn and Savernake Forest.
Oh yes, Savernake Forest. One major flaw, that all too often I come across, with various 'cycle routes' (be they NCN, OpenCycleMap, council signage) is that they seem to consider anything human-powered on two wheels on the same terms. There are multiple Crimes Against Road Bikes of such types (I ran into a few later in the day), but Savernake took the biscuit. Gravel, not just small chunks, but boulders, that was frankly lethal on 25mm tyres. There was stretch after stretch of this, though thankfully some of it was rideable. I don't mind a bit of walking now and then, but it's a Grand Avenue in name only. Glad to get to the A4 after that. Managed to go the wrong way out of Marlborough (the Garmin has the unfortunate knack of not telling you when you're off course, then being somewhat hit and miss about deciding to give you info even when you're back on course- thus leading to further fun and games), and after backtracking into town, then missed the correct turn going west, so carried on north-west (a casual look at the Strava link upthread will show you just how wrong I got that bit). Got back south, eventually, to Avebury at about 2.30, where I stopped for lunch (I kept to the minimal-faff routine, just a sandwich & a scone). Getting out of there proved, again, somewhat fraught, thanks to some crap signage (when there are two paths going in similar directions, it might be an idea for the NCN sign to be where the NCN route is, not on the junction just south....). Result was much walking, u-turns, etc. It turns out from Google Street View and other online mapping that the actual cycle path, which I passed by at least once, was marked as 'Byway'. Nothing indicating its suitability, or not, for cycling. Oh, the benefits of hindsight....
Eventually, after assorted encounters with bridle paths, private roads, etc, headed back to the A4 (which my route was going to pick up anyway) and carried on west to Calne. At Calne, the intention had been to pick up an old railway path, now part of NCN11, to Chippenham. AFAIK, that bit would have been perfectly OK for riding. But after all the shenanigans earlier, I decided I was sticking with the A4 instead- traffic was light enough, the drivers were considerate enough, and I knew it was Going The Right Way. The Garmin at this point was back in 'I know where the route is but I won't give you directions' mode, so I resorted to playing it by ear with the help of a paper map of the route I had sensibly decided to run off on Thursday. Stopped off at Chippenham station when nature called (heard the announcement about train cancellations and was glad I was riding) before continuing. Only one small unintended detour on the way to Chipping Sodbury, another one in Yate, then back on track for the Bridge. I got to Olveston, not far from Aust, at 6 or so, and decided to pause for food. Rather nice meat pie from the village shop, and then onwards.
The Bridge...much of the earlier cycle routes were examples of how Sustrans gets it wrong. The route to and from the Bridge was Sustrans getting it right. Excellent signposting, decent tarmac, no traffic calming. For some reason, all the online info about the cycle path on the bridge say it's the north side, south side for pedestrians, but both paths are shared. I went down the south side, and it was clearly marked as for cyclists as well, including a 15 mph limit (which I comfortably broke). Anyway, the crossing was very enjoyable- great views, winds not a problem, think I had it pretty much to myself, and the route to rejoin the road on the Welsh side was equally straightforward. Slight unintended detour through Chepstow (headed north as planned, just not on the planned road) before turning southwest for Newport. Rejoined the A48 for the most part, in view of the Garmin's return to not giving me directions I went a slightly different way through town- just stuck with the A48- before rejoining The Pink Line Trail at Basseleg. From there, the route to the Bay was straightforward, and I made it to Pizza Express at 9.25 ish, along with a few new friends from Carmarthen. Bit later than planned. Bit longer than planned (157 miles). Stops at Whitchurch, Avebury, Chippenham and Olveston totalled barely an hour (how's that for not faffing?). Without all the extra miles and the detours I'd have been a couple of hours earlier. Never mind, glad I did it. More fun than sitting in a three-carriage FGW cattle truck for three hours...
Back on Good Friday 2011, self and assorted other locals, plus @PpPete of this parish (joined from Haslemere), rode up for the Felpham FNRttC from Pompey. That, including the ride back, comfortably broke my previous distance record, with a total of 168 miles. I decided to have a crack at a 200 miler, and that September I rode up for the Martlets FNRttC, deliberately sticking an extra little loop in on the way, but bailed on the return leg from Brighton as fatigue and a relentless headwind kicked in. Nonetheless, I took my record to 173 miles. Since then, beating it has been rather elusive for various reasons (weather, other engagements, both...). At first, I did not think that doing a 200 on this ride would be either that practical or even possible. I recall posting on last year's thread that the ride to Cardiff Bay would be 133 miles and about 8,000 ft of climbing (the latter rather more offputting than the first)... I did have an idea to ride up for the Dun Run (which I might still do), perhaps the Southwold ride, but with aiming to cover distance like this, it's best if conditions are as favourable as possible, and when they are, to take the opportunity just in case other options don't pan out. And in view of working a late shift, this ride is impossible for me without taking time off. I'd probably go for a ride in the morning anyway....
So I'd been playing around with bikehike to get a workable not-too-taxing route to Cardiff. The default option that the OSM routing gave me was via the A303 (er, no.....!!!), so to avoid that delightful road, I opted to head north via Whitchurch (the route there I am familiar and comfortable with), then via Marlborough, Calne, Chippenham & Chipping Sodbury to the Severn Bridge, and from there a fairly straightforward route to Newport and Cardiff. 142.6 miles, 7200 feet of climbing, nothing much over 10%. The forecasts were favourable (warm, probably too warm for my comfort, but winds light and generally helpfully directed) and stayed that way. Didn't quite go to plan, but then that's often the case, and I had the time in hand....
I had my alarm set for 6.15, aiming for a 7.30-8 am start, the idea being to get to Cardiff Bay at 8.30-9 and therefore beat/match the booked FGW train (scheduled to arrive Cardiff Central 2043, no idea if the day's problems affected that), and allow plenty of time for delays, navigation fails, etc (I am used to these issues by now...) and rest and food in Cardiff. As it was, I set off at 7.20, and glad I did. First stretch to Whitchurch went utterly to plan, 38 miles done just after 10.30. The Garmin was behaving itself at this point, only one attempt to send me down a non-existant road/path, and I remembered the actual turn (the one that doesn't go through a hedge) was a short distance along anyway. Made that turn, and it continued to give me accurate information for once (not that helpful when you know the way, but it was a start). I was too early at Whitchurch for elevenses and didn't feel that hungry, so I just stopped for ten minutes before pressing on towards Marlborough. A nice direct route northwest, via Great Bedwyn and Savernake Forest.
Oh yes, Savernake Forest. One major flaw, that all too often I come across, with various 'cycle routes' (be they NCN, OpenCycleMap, council signage) is that they seem to consider anything human-powered on two wheels on the same terms. There are multiple Crimes Against Road Bikes of such types (I ran into a few later in the day), but Savernake took the biscuit. Gravel, not just small chunks, but boulders, that was frankly lethal on 25mm tyres. There was stretch after stretch of this, though thankfully some of it was rideable. I don't mind a bit of walking now and then, but it's a Grand Avenue in name only. Glad to get to the A4 after that. Managed to go the wrong way out of Marlborough (the Garmin has the unfortunate knack of not telling you when you're off course, then being somewhat hit and miss about deciding to give you info even when you're back on course- thus leading to further fun and games), and after backtracking into town, then missed the correct turn going west, so carried on north-west (a casual look at the Strava link upthread will show you just how wrong I got that bit). Got back south, eventually, to Avebury at about 2.30, where I stopped for lunch (I kept to the minimal-faff routine, just a sandwich & a scone). Getting out of there proved, again, somewhat fraught, thanks to some crap signage (when there are two paths going in similar directions, it might be an idea for the NCN sign to be where the NCN route is, not on the junction just south....). Result was much walking, u-turns, etc. It turns out from Google Street View and other online mapping that the actual cycle path, which I passed by at least once, was marked as 'Byway'. Nothing indicating its suitability, or not, for cycling. Oh, the benefits of hindsight....
Eventually, after assorted encounters with bridle paths, private roads, etc, headed back to the A4 (which my route was going to pick up anyway) and carried on west to Calne. At Calne, the intention had been to pick up an old railway path, now part of NCN11, to Chippenham. AFAIK, that bit would have been perfectly OK for riding. But after all the shenanigans earlier, I decided I was sticking with the A4 instead- traffic was light enough, the drivers were considerate enough, and I knew it was Going The Right Way. The Garmin at this point was back in 'I know where the route is but I won't give you directions' mode, so I resorted to playing it by ear with the help of a paper map of the route I had sensibly decided to run off on Thursday. Stopped off at Chippenham station when nature called (heard the announcement about train cancellations and was glad I was riding) before continuing. Only one small unintended detour on the way to Chipping Sodbury, another one in Yate, then back on track for the Bridge. I got to Olveston, not far from Aust, at 6 or so, and decided to pause for food. Rather nice meat pie from the village shop, and then onwards.
The Bridge...much of the earlier cycle routes were examples of how Sustrans gets it wrong. The route to and from the Bridge was Sustrans getting it right. Excellent signposting, decent tarmac, no traffic calming. For some reason, all the online info about the cycle path on the bridge say it's the north side, south side for pedestrians, but both paths are shared. I went down the south side, and it was clearly marked as for cyclists as well, including a 15 mph limit (which I comfortably broke). Anyway, the crossing was very enjoyable- great views, winds not a problem, think I had it pretty much to myself, and the route to rejoin the road on the Welsh side was equally straightforward. Slight unintended detour through Chepstow (headed north as planned, just not on the planned road) before turning southwest for Newport. Rejoined the A48 for the most part, in view of the Garmin's return to not giving me directions I went a slightly different way through town- just stuck with the A48- before rejoining The Pink Line Trail at Basseleg. From there, the route to the Bay was straightforward, and I made it to Pizza Express at 9.25 ish, along with a few new friends from Carmarthen. Bit later than planned. Bit longer than planned (157 miles). Stops at Whitchurch, Avebury, Chippenham and Olveston totalled barely an hour (how's that for not faffing?). Without all the extra miles and the detours I'd have been a couple of hours earlier. Never mind, glad I did it. More fun than sitting in a three-carriage FGW cattle truck for three hours...
BigGee
Senior Member
- Location
- North East London
FNRttC Cardiff to Swansea
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/341899277
Well having spent the first half of last years ride chasing the pack having hopelessly underestimated how long it would take to cycle from Bristol to the start at Cardiff I decided to come down to Wales a day early this year. My sister lives in Ferryside about 30 miles from Swansea so I got down late on Thursday afternoon and cycled over to her place.
I have cycled in Wales before so it should not have been any great surprised to discover how steep and hard some of the hills can be. My legs had clearly gone off to sleep after 4 hours on the train and I had forsaken the easier road around via the coast in favour of a more direct approach which involved several monsters, one of which was over 20% in places and left me temporarily defeated near the top. I was glad to get there in the end and had a pleasant night and the following morning enjoying the sights and scenery of Carmarthenshire, which is a beautiful place to visit and a wonderful place to ride a bike.
The next day started with a trip to Laugharne, home of Dylan Thomas and supposed settling of Under Milkwood. We had lunch in the Boathouse, his former home and saw the famous writing shed. It is a beautiful spot and far less touristy and spoilt than I imagined it was going to be. Well worth a visit for anyone who is going to be in that part of the world. After that it was time to move from one type of culture to another, so it was back on the bike and heading back to Swansea, dinner at my friends house there, then onto the train back to Cardiff for the start of the ride.
I found my way down to the Millennium centre without any great problems and a very impressive building it is to. I was pretty much the first on there and as I was fairly sure that there were not two millennium centres in Cardiff opted to wait it out and slowly other figures on bikes started to appear out of the dark. After last years escapades Simon seemed to look relieved that I had made the start. With all names present off we went into the night and it was a joy to role out of Cardiff on relatively clear roads. Eventually I started to recognise bits from last year and finally got a sense of deja vue when I recalled the spot near Tesco's where having been chasing hard for a good while we finally saw the red lights of the group in front of us just at the point when we were completely cooked and knew we were going to have to stop to refuel ourselves and reluctantly had to pull into the Tesco's ourselves.
That is just the point where the ride starts to open up. There was no need to refuel this time and it was onward up the first hill of the night then off the main roads and into the country side. Last year I thought we went down these country lanes quickly as we were chasing and trying to catch up. This year I realised that we were going like that as these lanes are just designed to be ridden at that sort of pace. We were all getting carried away with it and no one was getting left behind. The narrowness, the rolling nature and the high hedgerows give you the sensation of being in a tunnel. Think a part of the car chase from the first 'Italian Job' film when the mini's are down in the sewer pipe!
When we eventually cleared the lanes and moved into move open countryside near Llanwit Major, Simon suddenly realised we were way ahead of schedule and he and Claude at the front gently tried to slow things down a little. However we arrived at our break point, at Ogmoore by Sea, to be greeted by a few sheep sleeping by the side of the road, 28 miles into the ride, just after 02.30. I could not help thinking that If we had left from HPC we would barely have cleared London by this point in the ride. Such are the joys of the FNRttC awaydays. They are a very different kind of ride to what we normally do!
Talking of differences we were also able to sit outside at the pitstop, did I mention it was warm down in Wales! I don't recall sitting outside during the night in any previous ride I have done, even in the summer it can usually be chilly at that time of the night. As usual we were well feed and watered by our hosts and after a pleasant hour were ready to get up and going again.
Now to borrow a phrase from football, this was a ride of two halves. Unusually for a FNRttC the first half was significantly shorter than the second which was also much harder. I moved to the back at this point to take over TEC duties. As I had come down for a couple of days this time I had elected to bring the tourer with a pannier on board and so zooming back and forward to waymark had proved beyond me and so I was glad to take on a role at the back. 'You can't come to Wales without doing some hills' we were told and sure enough hills there were and they were indeed proper hills with gradients of 16% and the odd ramp within up to 21%. Enough to make all of us go trawling for our granny gears.
Understandably the ride slowed down and spread out at this point and at the back we were able to go at the sort of pace that really enables you to admire the scenery. As I had done a decent day's exertion on the Friday I had hit a bit of a bad spot just before sunrise and was having to concentrate hard to stay on a straight line. The dawn and the hills revived me and reminded me of all the reasons I like cycling. It was watching Robert Millar winning stages of the TDF in the Pyrenees so many years ago on World of Sport that inspired me to take up cycling and later on to follow him up some of those mountains. This was not the Tourmalet or Luz Ardiden but it proved a pretty good substitute and reminded me that there are still more climbs on my bucket list to be conquered!
The final run down to Swansea was on the infamous Bog Road. I had thought that was made up until looking at my GPS track now that I posses a Garmin I noticed that is what it was really called. Last year it was a more apt description as we took it when it was under about 2 inches of water, praying that no one would puncture. This year it was dry but we did not have the same amount of luck as poor Gordon had his new tyre sliced open on the side wall by a metal plate of some description that looked as if it had fallen off a car. This needed Some ingenuity by the TEC team led by Adam, whose senses where clearly not dulled by cycling up from London to the start the previous day and a boot to patch the tube from the inside was concocted from a piece of cardboard from an inner tube box. A temporary fix but it got us down the hill and along the majestic Swansea seafront to our well deserved breakfast at Mumbles pier.
By this stage at eight in the morning it was already over 20 degrees and we all enjoyed an al fresco meal. Goodbyes were said to a lot of our Welsh colleagues and a suitably revived we retired to the CastellaMare pub just up the hill. For the purists among us, who feel it is their moral duty to do these things, this involved another 1:5 hill. Short and sharp this time but always satisfying to make it. The Craic at the pub was tremendous. Naps were had by those that needed them and tongues were loosened as they usually are by pints of bear. Stories were exchanged about the delivery of tax demands and how fat people should be banned from crowded trains!
Bit by bit as those of us who had to return to London reached their train departure points we started to drift off. The Swansea airshow was taking place that afternoon and the town was now heaving so it involved a bit of a fight to get back to the station. I was the only one of the riders on the 13.28 and felt tired again once the train set off. I could not really sleep though probably the train was to hot. As I got off at Paddington A Great Western employee thrust a complimentary ice lolly into my hand at the barrier, not something I often have but it was just what I needed and it was consumed with gusto. It was just what I needed to fortify me for the long hot, fumed filled 13 mile ride home through central London. Having been feed and showered I feel into a coma at about 20.30 and emerged 12 hours later with lots of great memories about a fantastic couple of days in Wales. This ride is already in the diary for next year!
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/341899277
Well having spent the first half of last years ride chasing the pack having hopelessly underestimated how long it would take to cycle from Bristol to the start at Cardiff I decided to come down to Wales a day early this year. My sister lives in Ferryside about 30 miles from Swansea so I got down late on Thursday afternoon and cycled over to her place.
I have cycled in Wales before so it should not have been any great surprised to discover how steep and hard some of the hills can be. My legs had clearly gone off to sleep after 4 hours on the train and I had forsaken the easier road around via the coast in favour of a more direct approach which involved several monsters, one of which was over 20% in places and left me temporarily defeated near the top. I was glad to get there in the end and had a pleasant night and the following morning enjoying the sights and scenery of Carmarthenshire, which is a beautiful place to visit and a wonderful place to ride a bike.
The next day started with a trip to Laugharne, home of Dylan Thomas and supposed settling of Under Milkwood. We had lunch in the Boathouse, his former home and saw the famous writing shed. It is a beautiful spot and far less touristy and spoilt than I imagined it was going to be. Well worth a visit for anyone who is going to be in that part of the world. After that it was time to move from one type of culture to another, so it was back on the bike and heading back to Swansea, dinner at my friends house there, then onto the train back to Cardiff for the start of the ride.
I found my way down to the Millennium centre without any great problems and a very impressive building it is to. I was pretty much the first on there and as I was fairly sure that there were not two millennium centres in Cardiff opted to wait it out and slowly other figures on bikes started to appear out of the dark. After last years escapades Simon seemed to look relieved that I had made the start. With all names present off we went into the night and it was a joy to role out of Cardiff on relatively clear roads. Eventually I started to recognise bits from last year and finally got a sense of deja vue when I recalled the spot near Tesco's where having been chasing hard for a good while we finally saw the red lights of the group in front of us just at the point when we were completely cooked and knew we were going to have to stop to refuel ourselves and reluctantly had to pull into the Tesco's ourselves.
That is just the point where the ride starts to open up. There was no need to refuel this time and it was onward up the first hill of the night then off the main roads and into the country side. Last year I thought we went down these country lanes quickly as we were chasing and trying to catch up. This year I realised that we were going like that as these lanes are just designed to be ridden at that sort of pace. We were all getting carried away with it and no one was getting left behind. The narrowness, the rolling nature and the high hedgerows give you the sensation of being in a tunnel. Think a part of the car chase from the first 'Italian Job' film when the mini's are down in the sewer pipe!
When we eventually cleared the lanes and moved into move open countryside near Llanwit Major, Simon suddenly realised we were way ahead of schedule and he and Claude at the front gently tried to slow things down a little. However we arrived at our break point, at Ogmoore by Sea, to be greeted by a few sheep sleeping by the side of the road, 28 miles into the ride, just after 02.30. I could not help thinking that If we had left from HPC we would barely have cleared London by this point in the ride. Such are the joys of the FNRttC awaydays. They are a very different kind of ride to what we normally do!
Talking of differences we were also able to sit outside at the pitstop, did I mention it was warm down in Wales! I don't recall sitting outside during the night in any previous ride I have done, even in the summer it can usually be chilly at that time of the night. As usual we were well feed and watered by our hosts and after a pleasant hour were ready to get up and going again.
Now to borrow a phrase from football, this was a ride of two halves. Unusually for a FNRttC the first half was significantly shorter than the second which was also much harder. I moved to the back at this point to take over TEC duties. As I had come down for a couple of days this time I had elected to bring the tourer with a pannier on board and so zooming back and forward to waymark had proved beyond me and so I was glad to take on a role at the back. 'You can't come to Wales without doing some hills' we were told and sure enough hills there were and they were indeed proper hills with gradients of 16% and the odd ramp within up to 21%. Enough to make all of us go trawling for our granny gears.
Understandably the ride slowed down and spread out at this point and at the back we were able to go at the sort of pace that really enables you to admire the scenery. As I had done a decent day's exertion on the Friday I had hit a bit of a bad spot just before sunrise and was having to concentrate hard to stay on a straight line. The dawn and the hills revived me and reminded me of all the reasons I like cycling. It was watching Robert Millar winning stages of the TDF in the Pyrenees so many years ago on World of Sport that inspired me to take up cycling and later on to follow him up some of those mountains. This was not the Tourmalet or Luz Ardiden but it proved a pretty good substitute and reminded me that there are still more climbs on my bucket list to be conquered!
The final run down to Swansea was on the infamous Bog Road. I had thought that was made up until looking at my GPS track now that I posses a Garmin I noticed that is what it was really called. Last year it was a more apt description as we took it when it was under about 2 inches of water, praying that no one would puncture. This year it was dry but we did not have the same amount of luck as poor Gordon had his new tyre sliced open on the side wall by a metal plate of some description that looked as if it had fallen off a car. This needed Some ingenuity by the TEC team led by Adam, whose senses where clearly not dulled by cycling up from London to the start the previous day and a boot to patch the tube from the inside was concocted from a piece of cardboard from an inner tube box. A temporary fix but it got us down the hill and along the majestic Swansea seafront to our well deserved breakfast at Mumbles pier.
By this stage at eight in the morning it was already over 20 degrees and we all enjoyed an al fresco meal. Goodbyes were said to a lot of our Welsh colleagues and a suitably revived we retired to the CastellaMare pub just up the hill. For the purists among us, who feel it is their moral duty to do these things, this involved another 1:5 hill. Short and sharp this time but always satisfying to make it. The Craic at the pub was tremendous. Naps were had by those that needed them and tongues were loosened as they usually are by pints of bear. Stories were exchanged about the delivery of tax demands and how fat people should be banned from crowded trains!
Bit by bit as those of us who had to return to London reached their train departure points we started to drift off. The Swansea airshow was taking place that afternoon and the town was now heaving so it involved a bit of a fight to get back to the station. I was the only one of the riders on the 13.28 and felt tired again once the train set off. I could not really sleep though probably the train was to hot. As I got off at Paddington A Great Western employee thrust a complimentary ice lolly into my hand at the barrier, not something I often have but it was just what I needed and it was consumed with gusto. It was just what I needed to fortify me for the long hot, fumed filled 13 mile ride home through central London. Having been feed and showered I feel into a coma at about 20.30 and emerged 12 hours later with lots of great memories about a fantastic couple of days in Wales. This ride is already in the diary for next year!
Wobblers
Euthermic
- Location
- Minkowski Space
I must confess to harbouring some apprehension over this ride, what after being left at Llanwit Major the first time and the date being almost exactly a year to the day after breaking an ankle. A part of me wondered what was going to happen this time... But... it's a fantastic route with fantastic company in a fantastic country, and last year a random stranger gave me a mug of tea whilst I was waymarking a corner in darkest Wales. How could I possibly say no?
Juggling with train reservations meant I was able to avoid the Ultimate Sacrifice: changing at Cheltenham. But there was a certain feeling of deja vu when I looked out the window at Chepstow to spot Flying Dodo and Mistral - didn't we do this one before?! Some cheery banter with other passengers ensued - one of them thought that I was Dutch!!
Once off the train, we had time to find our way to Pizza Express for a drink and some thing to eat. Leaving Cardiff was... interesting. I dod have to restrain the urge to shout "Cretin!" instead of the more usual "Hole!" warning as an ever so slightly inebriated gentleman staggered in my way clutching his can of special brew. But after that, there was a long sweeping descent out of the city lights and then proper dark lanes. As before, they were a delight - they seem to have been made specially just for cycling in the middle of the night. And if Dell suggests that bright headlights take some of the fun out of it, I'd have to say nonsense, it just means that you can cycle faster. Just as spectacular as the riding was the sky, the darkness allowing a myriad of stars to blaze forth in a manner you just don't get in the Midlands or SE.
The halfway stop was delightful - what with tea, sandwiches and Welsh cake - what more could you ask for? The second half was slower, and tougher with more hills. It was also a tad cooler - I spotted TC surreptitiously putting on an extra layer and arm warmers, whilst my midlayer remained undeployed. There were interesting temperature variations where it went from being very warm to cool and then back again, all in a few metres: I don't think I've experienced that before. But by now the sun was coming up, and soon banished both the cool spots and the dawn mists. Though not one last 16% hill and Bog Road. These both were conquered and it was a tired, but triumphant FNRttC that swooped through the streets of Swansea to a final confrontation of breakfast. And beer in the sun for those hardy souls afterwards. Beer furthermore enlivened by the spectacle of aircraft doing acrobatics. It seemed a fitting end, somehow, to what had been the best FNRttC of the year. Sadly, all too soon it was time to go and catch the train - thanks for the directions TC! - that ride all the more memorable being set against a backdrop of the thunder of a Eurofighter Typhoon doing its stuff over Swansea Bay.
Naples couldn't hold a candle to Swansea! And that's without the air show!
Juggling with train reservations meant I was able to avoid the Ultimate Sacrifice: changing at Cheltenham. But there was a certain feeling of deja vu when I looked out the window at Chepstow to spot Flying Dodo and Mistral - didn't we do this one before?! Some cheery banter with other passengers ensued - one of them thought that I was Dutch!!
Once off the train, we had time to find our way to Pizza Express for a drink and some thing to eat. Leaving Cardiff was... interesting. I dod have to restrain the urge to shout "Cretin!" instead of the more usual "Hole!" warning as an ever so slightly inebriated gentleman staggered in my way clutching his can of special brew. But after that, there was a long sweeping descent out of the city lights and then proper dark lanes. As before, they were a delight - they seem to have been made specially just for cycling in the middle of the night. And if Dell suggests that bright headlights take some of the fun out of it, I'd have to say nonsense, it just means that you can cycle faster. Just as spectacular as the riding was the sky, the darkness allowing a myriad of stars to blaze forth in a manner you just don't get in the Midlands or SE.
The halfway stop was delightful - what with tea, sandwiches and Welsh cake - what more could you ask for? The second half was slower, and tougher with more hills. It was also a tad cooler - I spotted TC surreptitiously putting on an extra layer and arm warmers, whilst my midlayer remained undeployed. There were interesting temperature variations where it went from being very warm to cool and then back again, all in a few metres: I don't think I've experienced that before. But by now the sun was coming up, and soon banished both the cool spots and the dawn mists. Though not one last 16% hill and Bog Road. These both were conquered and it was a tired, but triumphant FNRttC that swooped through the streets of Swansea to a final confrontation of breakfast. And beer in the sun for those hardy souls afterwards. Beer furthermore enlivened by the spectacle of aircraft doing acrobatics. It seemed a fitting end, somehow, to what had been the best FNRttC of the year. Sadly, all too soon it was time to go and catch the train - thanks for the directions TC! - that ride all the more memorable being set against a backdrop of the thunder of a Eurofighter Typhoon doing its stuff over Swansea Bay.
Naples couldn't hold a candle to Swansea! And that's without the air show!
StuAff
Silencing his legs regularly
- Location
- Portsmouth
Et maintenant, part deux....
9.25. Cardiff Bay Pizza Express. After making through the heaving masses (International Food Festival) and saying hello to the Carmarthen contingent (suitably dumbstruck when I mentioned how I'd got there), a large plate of carbohydrate and some fluid replenishment was in order. Got the desired outside table (best to keep an eye on the bike just in case), and was making my way through the rapidly served, much needed and most tasty canneloni when Simon, Susie and the first of Team London arrived, replete with tales of railway cattle-truck horror. Been there, done that...Two large glasses of water and an excellent tiramisu (and the last of the malt loaf. And a cereal bar. And a Zipvit protein bar) later, felt somewhat recharged. Further friends, Welsh and English, arrived here and there as the night went on- Steve on his Moulton APB, who I remembered from last year, getting lots of attention and queries about the bike from passers-by. The famous Keith Oates, returned from the (really, really) Far East. FD and Mistral, were perhaps unsurprisingly, the last from Rather Less East, and it was good to see they'd made it in plenty of time and in good spirits, I well remembered the heroics of last year's riders from London and their somewhat dishevelled state when they eventually caught up. But then, this year, as I told her at dinner, Claud had clearly sacrificed the right people to the weather gods...
Bottles refilled, lights mounted, and over to the Millennium Centre for the slightly less large but no less grand depart. Leaving Cardiff was, as on previous occasions, a joyous experience compared to That London (drunk pedestrian possibly related to That Bloke in Brentwood regardless). And when it was time for More Light, two Hope Vision Ones do the business. Our progress westward was smooth and speedy, to the extent we made Ogmore by Sea (not to be confused with plain, inland, Ogmore) ahead of schedule. Thankfully, our excellent hosts were soon ready for us. Tea, ham sandwich and a welsh cake later, and on we went.
Second bit more than half was, unsurprisingly, rather harder work, even if I hadn't had a bit of irritation where one really doesn't want it... There was a bit of a chill in the air, so I got the jacket on for a while, and Quite a Few Climbs. With one exception (the second of that delightful trio of hills) they did not defeat me- that one I think I just got bogged down having failed to get down the gears quick enough. Old Road in Neath was straightforward enough, though that last kick up at the end really was adding insult to injury...And judging by the way Guto sped up every climb, some of them repeatedly, he must be related to a certain doctor. Either that or he's on the same preparations...
And then Bog Road. I hated it last year. Gravel. Holes. Twisty. Very, very, downhill. Oh, for a nice bit of nice flat dual carriageway. But we didn't want to do that, did we (well, actually, I did)? Nonetheless, fairly straightforward, if white-knuckle, right until I overcooked it on a stretch that was of course laden with gravel, and had a sudden de-accleration into a bank. It freaked out John, who happened to be the next man, rather more than me. Picked myself up, dusted myself down (quite literally) and got on with it. A little bit of road rash on the thigh, a scraped right ankle, and more importantly no damage to the bike. If I'd scratched up that nice shiny Athena derailleur (having recently replaced its crash-tarnished predecessor) I'd have been most annoyed.
As Gordon's tyre had failed in shy, retiring fashion (it made as much noise as Big Martin's tube explosion on the Whitstable run), Claud led the remainder of the ride on to the Kingdom of Swansea, as the League of Gentlemen so accurately dubbed it, while the necessary repairs were made. Thankfully the last stretch was uneventful. Mumbles Pier and its environs looked fantastic. Ginormous and excellent breakfast later, plus the first of several micro-naps (for which I need no excuse, even though I say so myself), and on those who were inclined went, up to Castellamare via That Twisty Climb. Which defeated me. Again. 34x27 and a nice light bike weren't quite enough when the bloke on top had been awake for 25 hours and had 224 miles in his legs.
Self and Michael were booked on the 1128 London-bound service (in my case as far as Cardiff) and we just about made it in time, despite me missing the correct turn towards the station (sorry!). I had no problem making the connection for the 3 carriage cattle-truck to Pompey, though I did manage to leave one of my bottles on the first train. Fitful napping on the train east before the mile-and-a bit ride from Cosham, home at 3.45 or thereabouts. A cup of tea and then I had a much needed nap- out like a light despite the sunburn and rash.
Same again next year? Well, I'll be looking for a better route north-west......
9.25. Cardiff Bay Pizza Express. After making through the heaving masses (International Food Festival) and saying hello to the Carmarthen contingent (suitably dumbstruck when I mentioned how I'd got there), a large plate of carbohydrate and some fluid replenishment was in order. Got the desired outside table (best to keep an eye on the bike just in case), and was making my way through the rapidly served, much needed and most tasty canneloni when Simon, Susie and the first of Team London arrived, replete with tales of railway cattle-truck horror. Been there, done that...Two large glasses of water and an excellent tiramisu (and the last of the malt loaf. And a cereal bar. And a Zipvit protein bar) later, felt somewhat recharged. Further friends, Welsh and English, arrived here and there as the night went on- Steve on his Moulton APB, who I remembered from last year, getting lots of attention and queries about the bike from passers-by. The famous Keith Oates, returned from the (really, really) Far East. FD and Mistral, were perhaps unsurprisingly, the last from Rather Less East, and it was good to see they'd made it in plenty of time and in good spirits, I well remembered the heroics of last year's riders from London and their somewhat dishevelled state when they eventually caught up. But then, this year, as I told her at dinner, Claud had clearly sacrificed the right people to the weather gods...
Bottles refilled, lights mounted, and over to the Millennium Centre for the slightly less large but no less grand depart. Leaving Cardiff was, as on previous occasions, a joyous experience compared to That London (drunk pedestrian possibly related to That Bloke in Brentwood regardless). And when it was time for More Light, two Hope Vision Ones do the business. Our progress westward was smooth and speedy, to the extent we made Ogmore by Sea (not to be confused with plain, inland, Ogmore) ahead of schedule. Thankfully, our excellent hosts were soon ready for us. Tea, ham sandwich and a welsh cake later, and on we went.
Second bit more than half was, unsurprisingly, rather harder work, even if I hadn't had a bit of irritation where one really doesn't want it... There was a bit of a chill in the air, so I got the jacket on for a while, and Quite a Few Climbs. With one exception (the second of that delightful trio of hills) they did not defeat me- that one I think I just got bogged down having failed to get down the gears quick enough. Old Road in Neath was straightforward enough, though that last kick up at the end really was adding insult to injury...And judging by the way Guto sped up every climb, some of them repeatedly, he must be related to a certain doctor. Either that or he's on the same preparations...
And then Bog Road. I hated it last year. Gravel. Holes. Twisty. Very, very, downhill. Oh, for a nice bit of nice flat dual carriageway. But we didn't want to do that, did we (well, actually, I did)? Nonetheless, fairly straightforward, if white-knuckle, right until I overcooked it on a stretch that was of course laden with gravel, and had a sudden de-accleration into a bank. It freaked out John, who happened to be the next man, rather more than me. Picked myself up, dusted myself down (quite literally) and got on with it. A little bit of road rash on the thigh, a scraped right ankle, and more importantly no damage to the bike. If I'd scratched up that nice shiny Athena derailleur (having recently replaced its crash-tarnished predecessor) I'd have been most annoyed.
As Gordon's tyre had failed in shy, retiring fashion (it made as much noise as Big Martin's tube explosion on the Whitstable run), Claud led the remainder of the ride on to the Kingdom of Swansea, as the League of Gentlemen so accurately dubbed it, while the necessary repairs were made. Thankfully the last stretch was uneventful. Mumbles Pier and its environs looked fantastic. Ginormous and excellent breakfast later, plus the first of several micro-naps (for which I need no excuse, even though I say so myself), and on those who were inclined went, up to Castellamare via That Twisty Climb. Which defeated me. Again. 34x27 and a nice light bike weren't quite enough when the bloke on top had been awake for 25 hours and had 224 miles in his legs.
Self and Michael were booked on the 1128 London-bound service (in my case as far as Cardiff) and we just about made it in time, despite me missing the correct turn towards the station (sorry!). I had no problem making the connection for the 3 carriage cattle-truck to Pompey, though I did manage to leave one of my bottles on the first train. Fitful napping on the train east before the mile-and-a bit ride from Cosham, home at 3.45 or thereabouts. A cup of tea and then I had a much needed nap- out like a light despite the sunburn and rash.
Same again next year? Well, I'll be looking for a better route north-west......
For me, the ride was in three very different sections.
1.
I set out from home to meet Flying Dodo, some 60 miles away in Wantage. I had plenty of time and for once the weather gods were smiling, all was well with the world. The first 30 miles were fine and achieved in a leisurely pace. There followed a series of incompetent navigational errors and I was soon playing catch up. To make things worse, to ‘save time’ I had failed to stop and take on food, so the last 20 miles was done on determination alone.
At Wantage the beaming face of Davy Walnuts greeted me at the pub garden. He had joined Adam for lunch before heading back to the smoke. I arrived; despondent, very late, very embarrassed and very drained. A bit of food and sugar in the form of cake and cupcake I felt a little more normal.
Looking at the Ride with GPS stats – what should have been 60 had taken me 80.6 miles and involved just over 1500 ft of energy sapping climbing in the last 20 miles alone
2.
We set off around 2:45, the first 10 miles were really difficult for me. It then got a little easier, I started to feel a little less weary was able to appreciate Adam’s excellent route. The rolling Wiltshire and Somerset countryside was traversed mainly by the most minor of minor roads and some spectacular descents. Although not quick, we made steady pace. But it soon became apparent that my delay would mean making it all the way to Cardiff would be difficult. High tea in Malmsbury before the final 20 odd miles to the bridge. Here we took the inevitable decision to get the train from Chepstow, joining McWobble on the train and some of the locals in good cheer returning from the races.
A special mention to Adam, who kindly waited (far too long) for me in Wantage and then accepted a slightly reduced pace to allow me to keep up.
3.
In Cardiff, a good salad Nicoise and then the impressive Welsh Parliament building gave me a further lift to attempt the next part of the adventure. It’s been mentioned before, but I think this is the darkest of our rides; stars being readily visible, even if not the road wasn't at all times. A beautiful early midway stop overlooking the sea, where I learnt about lesbian tea and face sitting in performing art. Maybe something was lost in translation or was I dreaming at the time...
The route had some twists in its tail as some leg sapping hills had to be encountered before the glorious bay stretched out ahead of us, arcing towards Mumbles in the splendid early morning sun.
Breakfast on the pier with the lovely Fridays and a good number of local cyclists. The world was put to right once again, with great company and some beers atop Mumbles overlooking Bracelet Bay.
Thank you to everyone who joined the ride you all help to make these things so wonderful
I reckon did around 210 miles and over 9,000 ft
1.
I set out from home to meet Flying Dodo, some 60 miles away in Wantage. I had plenty of time and for once the weather gods were smiling, all was well with the world. The first 30 miles were fine and achieved in a leisurely pace. There followed a series of incompetent navigational errors and I was soon playing catch up. To make things worse, to ‘save time’ I had failed to stop and take on food, so the last 20 miles was done on determination alone.
At Wantage the beaming face of Davy Walnuts greeted me at the pub garden. He had joined Adam for lunch before heading back to the smoke. I arrived; despondent, very late, very embarrassed and very drained. A bit of food and sugar in the form of cake and cupcake I felt a little more normal.
Looking at the Ride with GPS stats – what should have been 60 had taken me 80.6 miles and involved just over 1500 ft of energy sapping climbing in the last 20 miles alone
2.
We set off around 2:45, the first 10 miles were really difficult for me. It then got a little easier, I started to feel a little less weary was able to appreciate Adam’s excellent route. The rolling Wiltshire and Somerset countryside was traversed mainly by the most minor of minor roads and some spectacular descents. Although not quick, we made steady pace. But it soon became apparent that my delay would mean making it all the way to Cardiff would be difficult. High tea in Malmsbury before the final 20 odd miles to the bridge. Here we took the inevitable decision to get the train from Chepstow, joining McWobble on the train and some of the locals in good cheer returning from the races.
A special mention to Adam, who kindly waited (far too long) for me in Wantage and then accepted a slightly reduced pace to allow me to keep up.
3.
In Cardiff, a good salad Nicoise and then the impressive Welsh Parliament building gave me a further lift to attempt the next part of the adventure. It’s been mentioned before, but I think this is the darkest of our rides; stars being readily visible, even if not the road wasn't at all times. A beautiful early midway stop overlooking the sea, where I learnt about lesbian tea and face sitting in performing art. Maybe something was lost in translation or was I dreaming at the time...
The route had some twists in its tail as some leg sapping hills had to be encountered before the glorious bay stretched out ahead of us, arcing towards Mumbles in the splendid early morning sun.
Breakfast on the pier with the lovely Fridays and a good number of local cyclists. The world was put to right once again, with great company and some beers atop Mumbles overlooking Bracelet Bay.
Thank you to everyone who joined the ride you all help to make these things so wonderful
I reckon did around 210 miles and over 9,000 ft
Stu, you incurable romantic!
Well - it's been quite a weekend. The sort of feast for the senses that reminds one, in countless surprising ways, just how glorious it is to be alive. I kidnapped The Dellzeqqs and The Clarks from Castellamare, and we ate a simple summery dinner of pasta with halloumi cheese and tomatoes and spent the evening (I say evening, but none of us made it far beyond 6pm) preposterously, delightfully, outrageously drunk and exhausted, finally attempting to cool down by all sitting with our feet in a single small bowl of cold water, which the wonderful Mrs Clark would periodically refresh. I have one or two childhood memories about days that hot - burning my feet walking on the sand in Cornwall aged 3, and, aged 10, collapsing indoors with exhaustion after spending the day in the garden mastering the art of walking everywhere on a barrel (I remain, to this day, a serious-minded individual dedicated to strictly vocational pursuits). I had thought until yesterday that such summers were gone forever. A little earlier, we had wobbled slowly and precariously home from our perfect drinking spot above Bracelet Bay, splendidly oblivious to the possible irritations of drivers kept at bay by DZ's imperious glance as he protected our little convoy and its glacial progress. Agent H assures us solemnly (and perhaps a little reproachfully) that she nearly died (for the second time that weekend) as a result of almost cycling into the back of a mini whilst contemplating the deficiencies of her shoes in comparison to a pair she had admired on another rider in the night. Despite being a real-ale nerd, I hadn't shared the dissatisfaction with fizzy yellow beer that some had expressed that morning, and, just as the ride itself so often elevates ordinary places into special ones, it seemed to me that the company, the situation, the sunshine, and the memories of the night had transformed some mediocre lager or other into the finest drink imaginable. DZ even garnished his first pint with a nonchalant slice of lemon, in a nod to the exotic delights of the Welsh Riviera.
I'm sorry about the hills and the bogs. Well, I'm not so much sorry about the hills and bogs themselves as about the failure to persuade everyone of their charms. I love the Bog Road, despite its shocking state of repair. It is undeniably a challenge for tired riders on skinny tyres, but I love its swoops and surprises, its sinuous secrets, its sinister spiders. Apart from a few folk from Bon Y Maen who ride horse-drawn carriages down it, and a handful of ratrunners from Port Tennant, the FNRttCers are the only people in the world who know it exists. Meg, whose bike had been a comparative disadvantage for the rest of the ride, became queen of the road, and I hung on to her wheel as we pinged pieces of gravel away and surprised a handsome hare. The hare is a bit of a sore point, and I promise to buy breakfast and beer for anyone who can conjure up for Agent Hilda the sight of a hare that her heart desires (n.b. it has to be alive). I may devote some energy this year to pestering for some improvements to the surface.
Some folk might have noticed that there is a bit of a blame game afoot when it comes to the (admittedly tough) climb from Pontrhydyfen to Cimla. It goes roughly like this:
FNRttCer to TC: So... whose idea was it to put this hill in the ride, then?
TC to FNRttCer: DZ's.
FNRttCer to DZ: So... whose idea was it to put this hill in the ride, then?
DZ to FNRttCer: TC's
And so on. This has been going on sufficiently long that, if I ever knew the truth, I have now forgotten it. I'm not even sure there is one. But I do know that Fabian Way, the dual carriageway alluded to above, is a disgraceful and unworthy gateway to a city of considerable charm, and that if it wants to woo the ride back, it will need to offer something a little more captivating than flatness and a central reservation. Those who are unconvinced are invited to study the map at leisure and let us know if there's something we've missed...
I won't try to cover everything. The wonderful sensation of cold pockets of mist followed by sudden blasts of warm air has been mentioned, and the night wanted for nothing except a moon, a few much-missed friends, and the restoration to full riding-and-drinking strength of @User, who was obliged to settle for beer of the Ginger kind. Thank you, Fridayspeeps, for taking the trouble to come all the way out here and making it another magical ride. Our balmy Mediterranean climate helps, of course, but it's riding with you lot that really makes it.
Great reading all.
Damn, I really should do the Welshire FNR, But it means I have no excuse not to see the relations. And I don't really want to do that if I can really help it.
Epic stuff @StuAff. Did you get lost at all?
Sorry mate.. couldn't help myself. You wouldn't be Stu without getting lost at least once on a ride.
You seem to have a lot of Garmin problems. What Garmin is it?
Damn, I really should do the Welshire FNR, But it means I have no excuse not to see the relations. And I don't really want to do that if I can really help it.
Epic stuff @StuAff. Did you get lost at all?
Sorry mate.. couldn't help myself. You wouldn't be Stu without getting lost at least once on a ride.
You seem to have a lot of Garmin problems. What Garmin is it?
StuAff
Silencing his legs regularly
- Location
- Portsmouth
I think you'll find I was subconciously ensuring that I exceeded my previous mileage by the nice round sum of fifty milesGreat reading all.
Damn, I really should do the Welshire FNR, But it means I have no excuse not to see the relations. And I don't really want to do that if I can really help it.
Epic stuff @StuAff. Did you get lost at all?
Sorry mate.. couldn't help myself. You wouldn't be Stu without getting lost at least once on a ride.
You seem to have a lot of Garmin problems. What Garmin is it?
It's an Edge 705. Issues with mapping (as opposed to the device per se) are two-fold really...first off, problems can and do ensue if the map you do the routing on and the map loaded on the GPS don't correspond exactly- hence discrepancies on routing like it telling you to make an entirely non-existant turn, or a U-turn for no reason whatsoever. The thing with it suddenly deciding to not give directions may or may not be connected to that (certainly not an issue for me alone). The second problem is a human one- both user error (it's all too easy to inadvertently plot the wrong course, and when you do finding the correct way on isn't always clear), and mapping errors- the Sustrans habit of labelling 'bike paths' that are clearly not suitable for roadies, OSM routes that include bridle paths, etc. When it works out well- and it does, most of the time, it works very well- I've ridden all the way to the smoke and the routing, not that I really needed it, followed my intended course perfectly. When it doesn't....
Which is why I allowed so much time to get to Cardiff!
StuAff
Silencing his legs regularly
- Location
- Portsmouth
But I am. Though I lack opportunities to demonstrate it.
StuAff
Silencing his legs regularly
- Location
- Portsmouth
Spiders? Meh. Climbing? Bring it. Still f***ing hate gravel though. Even when I don't get brought down by it.
U
User10571
Guest
It all sounds extremely epic, enjoyable and, frankly, enviable.
I think I will have to, in the words of The Pet Shop Boys (to whom I am currently listening on BBC6 Music) go west, when this ride next happens.
My fondness for South Wales knows no bounds, sadly I spend nowhere near as much time there as I used to, nor anywhere near as much as I should.
I think I will have to, in the words of The Pet Shop Boys (to whom I am currently listening on BBC6 Music) go west, when this ride next happens.
My fondness for South Wales knows no bounds, sadly I spend nowhere near as much time there as I used to, nor anywhere near as much as I should.
swansonj
Guru
I didn't say to the nice ladies serving us that I had, as I usually do for Fridays, baked myself a batch of welsh cakes to keep my energy levels topped up, and at that point in the night, I was four down and three still in the pannier. I just had some of their chocolate cake instead.
Flying Dodo
It'll soon be summer
Well, yet another fandabbydosey FNRttC. This was a day & night of two halves. As mentioned above, this entailed cycling to the start. I'm not 100% sure why - possibly to try and complete the last time I did this ride in 2011, we were getting later and later and had to bail in Chepstow due to issues with my tyres. This year, due to Mick's navigational issues making him around in circles in Berkshire and ending up having to go up Streatley Hill, unfortunately it was his turn to have issues with being tired. In addition, after switching on my GPS shortly before arriving in Wantage, I discovered that it wasn't actually picking up any satellites so could only us it as a map, manually moving the display along. My delightful route westwards from Wantage was mainly on very minor back roads:-
However, as this meant few road signs, at times we had to stop and work out exactly which junction we were at, which all added to the time ticking away.
Therefore by Malmesbury, I was happy we'd have plenty of time to get a train, as by the time we reached the Severn Bridge, if we cycled to Cardiff, we'd only get there just before midnight, so it was far more sensible to get the train again from Chepstow (and meet Andrew).
Arriving at Cardiff, we met the usual suspects in Pizza Express.
After some food, I went and changed into clean kit in the disabled toilets, and felt 100% again, despite having done around 122 miles. So then it was time to set off. The stunning Millenium Centre beats Hyde Park Corner, and the fact we're so quickly out of suburbia is another plus.
Once we turned off the A48, I was surprised at the pace, as we were swooping through the back roads. At times we seemed to be freewheeling uphill - how does that work?
Sitting at the back in the darkness gave me plenty of time to admire the stars and enjoy the sensations of different pockets of air. Sometime as we climbed it might get warmer, or it might get cooler. Other times, going downhill brought both warm and cool spots - weird!
Arriving at the re-groups, I noticed the moths bouncing around on the ground, stupefied into a drunken orgy of optical overload, as they were clearly stunned by the mega-watts of power being pumped out by everyone's front lights. The bad news was that those also attracted the midges - and I though they were only in Scotland. I'm reliably informed by DZ that midges can't fly faster than 12 mph, so that must be why we arrived at the cafe so early, in order to outpace the biting midges. Still, it was very nice that they were able to feed and water us so quickly.
As we all set off again, the 2 ladies were setting up garden chairs in order to sleep in, before opening up the cafe again at their normal time.
Slowly the sky started getting brighter and brighter - it's such a subtle thing that no matter how many night rides I do, it always makes me appreciate the dawn, as you gradually realise that you start to see things in blurry technicolour. There was a low mist hanging around on the ground which added to the ambience.
Of course, some people do have other ideas about how best to spend their time:-
After moving swiftly on, we reached probably the most spectacular part of the ride, the loop out through Cwmafan and Pontrhydyfen.
It was almost like being in the Alps - except I don't think the Alps have got hills as steep as they've got in South Wales!
Anyway, all too soon we were heading back towards civilisation - well as far as you can call Bog Road civilised! Although Gordon said above my senses hadn't bee dulled by my mileage, in getting his tyre fixed, I must have been a bit dopey to have blown the first replacement inner tube, by trying to patch the slit in his tyre side wall with an instant patch, and only thinking of using some cardboard for the second one. Anyway, once we got going again, it was just a case of rolling along the sea front to the lovely cafe on the pier.
And then after a while, it was beer o'clock.
Despite not managing yet again to cycle all the way to Cardiff, I did 190 miles overall and once again, it was a brilliant night.
Thanks all.
The rest of the photos can be seen here.
However, as this meant few road signs, at times we had to stop and work out exactly which junction we were at, which all added to the time ticking away.
Therefore by Malmesbury, I was happy we'd have plenty of time to get a train, as by the time we reached the Severn Bridge, if we cycled to Cardiff, we'd only get there just before midnight, so it was far more sensible to get the train again from Chepstow (and meet Andrew).
Arriving at Cardiff, we met the usual suspects in Pizza Express.
After some food, I went and changed into clean kit in the disabled toilets, and felt 100% again, despite having done around 122 miles. So then it was time to set off. The stunning Millenium Centre beats Hyde Park Corner, and the fact we're so quickly out of suburbia is another plus.
Once we turned off the A48, I was surprised at the pace, as we were swooping through the back roads. At times we seemed to be freewheeling uphill - how does that work?
Sitting at the back in the darkness gave me plenty of time to admire the stars and enjoy the sensations of different pockets of air. Sometime as we climbed it might get warmer, or it might get cooler. Other times, going downhill brought both warm and cool spots - weird!
Arriving at the re-groups, I noticed the moths bouncing around on the ground, stupefied into a drunken orgy of optical overload, as they were clearly stunned by the mega-watts of power being pumped out by everyone's front lights. The bad news was that those also attracted the midges - and I though they were only in Scotland. I'm reliably informed by DZ that midges can't fly faster than 12 mph, so that must be why we arrived at the cafe so early, in order to outpace the biting midges. Still, it was very nice that they were able to feed and water us so quickly.
As we all set off again, the 2 ladies were setting up garden chairs in order to sleep in, before opening up the cafe again at their normal time.
Slowly the sky started getting brighter and brighter - it's such a subtle thing that no matter how many night rides I do, it always makes me appreciate the dawn, as you gradually realise that you start to see things in blurry technicolour. There was a low mist hanging around on the ground which added to the ambience.
Of course, some people do have other ideas about how best to spend their time:-
After moving swiftly on, we reached probably the most spectacular part of the ride, the loop out through Cwmafan and Pontrhydyfen.
It was almost like being in the Alps - except I don't think the Alps have got hills as steep as they've got in South Wales!
Anyway, all too soon we were heading back towards civilisation - well as far as you can call Bog Road civilised! Although Gordon said above my senses hadn't bee dulled by my mileage, in getting his tyre fixed, I must have been a bit dopey to have blown the first replacement inner tube, by trying to patch the slit in his tyre side wall with an instant patch, and only thinking of using some cardboard for the second one. Anyway, once we got going again, it was just a case of rolling along the sea front to the lovely cafe on the pier.
And then after a while, it was beer o'clock.
Despite not managing yet again to cycle all the way to Cardiff, I did 190 miles overall and once again, it was a brilliant night.
Thanks all.
The rest of the photos can be seen here.
