Where to start? First – credit where credit is due. TheClaude had the idea and made it happen. She found the cafes at Ewenny and Mumbles. She sorted out the route, which wasn’t as straightforward a business as it usually is. She persuaded me that it was a goer. She then persuaded half of South Wales’ cyclists that it was a goer. She’d already run the route more than once by the time we did the recce rides together, and sorted out the meteorology; there really wasn’t much for me to worry about...
Other than those loons streaking across southern England, but that’s a story on its own. Suffice to say that the whole tyre at WHSmith story is what cycling legends are made of – in decades to come, when WHSmiths has given up trying to sell us ‘blockbuster’ paperbacks and become the cyclists answer to QuickFit, the User482/Flying Dodo Manoeuvre will be on page 1 of the company history.
Susie, Marylin, Clive, Charlie and I took the 20.15 from Paddington. Just. Some booking glitch had given the young man charged with dispatching the train about twenty bikes to deal with. We laced bungees and locks around and about in contravention of FGW’s safety rules, and he looked the other way. Once on the train the texts started flying about – Team McWobble came in from the North, picking up Flying Dodo and Mistral en route, Team Stu/PPP/TMN/Mark racing across country from the south, the PreFNRttCers and RichP pedalling from the east, and Team Claude making their way up from the West. We’d been joined by Jonesy, who, I fancy, was a tad impressed that Team McWobble alighted from their train at the very second we were passing by on the platform 3 at Cardiff Central. That, my friends, takes months of practice....
Down to the Bay, where the SouthWalespeeps were gathering in numbers. Introductions, a safety talk of sorts and then we were on our way.....through streets not quite as deserted as the previous Monday, but, by Great Wen standards, pretty much deserted. The long drag out of Cardiff on the main road didn’t seem to worry people, and we made our ‘splash and dash’ stop at Tescos in decent shape – the Tesco staff taking to the idea with some enthusiasm.
Onward, then, to Bonvilston, and another catch up stop before what was probably the most testing bit of road the FNRttC has ever had to deal with.....and deal with it we did. People took their time, and yelled ‘hole’ with a will. Adrian covered the gravelly section. The ride stayed pretty much together, the tail-enders being helped greatly by FD’s mega front lights. With the scary tarmac out of the way we rolled along in a relaxed fashion through Llantwit Major and St. Donats; I hope that nobody missed the view of the moon over the sea, because it was all that ‘Teef’s picture says it was, and then some.
The stillness of the air threw up some wild temperature variations. At one point Andrij and I were at the front, and, all of a sudden, the air temperature whooshed up by about three or four degrees – and, by all of a sudden I mean in yards, not hundreds of yards. It dropped again after that, and then, once more, whooshed up again. We get some cold spots on the way down to Brighton, but I’ve never felt anything quite like this.
About halfway between Monknash and Ewenny I got a phone call from McWobble. The FNRttC system had failed. He’d been Wayfinding at Llantwit, and the TECs had passed him by. The main ride went on to the cafe and I raced south to meet up with him, joined by John P, a superspeedy GP (I’m used to policemen looking as if they should be in short trousers, but doctors aren’t supposed to be that youthful), me attempting to call McW on the move because of the patchy mobile coverage. After some faffing around on my part we were re-united with a westward speeding McW at Monknash and turning north, broke some records but, mercifully, no spokes, zipping back to Ewenny. Those of you who found my cautious ride leader’s approach to the downhills beyond Wig a bit of a trial would have been taken with the 40mph side by side descent second time around.
It all went pretty well at Ewenny. John and his helpers had prepped the sandwiches, and the flow of tea, aided in the latter stages by some Supreme Management, was steady if not speedy. Most importantly they were happy to see us, and that counts for quite a bit.
Out in to the night air again, we had a bit of a mishap. Stu came off and, rather than simply despatch him to the hereafter, ‘Teef bandaged his wounds with an almost Florence Nightingale-like concern and attention to detail. We resumed, did the last rise of note, and then wandered across the dunes to the M4 crossing, where we entertained the drivers with a bit of hand-jiving – and they entertained us by hand-jiving back, which the FNRttCers cheered. Thus a happy fifteen minutes waiting for the back of the ride, which had slowed as one rider in particular had pretty much run out of puff.
From then on it was pretty flat. TC’s Aberavon beach tour went well, and the horrible dual carriageway toward Swansea wasn’t that horrible at six in the morning. I’d joined the TECs, and we rolled in to Swansea twenty minutes or so after the front end of the ride, which had already set off for Mumbles. They got to the Pavilion Cafe just after seven, and were well set in by the time FD and I rolled in with the backmarkers at about twenty to eight. I’m going to have to say this at some point, so I might as well say it now...
http://fnrttc.blogspot.com/p/its-most-definitely-about-bike.html tells no lies - if you’re a toughie you can carry all you want, but if you’re going to find the distance a stretch get rid of every extra ounce of weight.
I think that the last five miles is as good as any we’ve done – having the end of the ride in plain sight across the bay is just wonderful.
Breakfast, some press photographs, goodbyes and then up the cliff face for a beer or several. It’s at this point in the proceedings that it all starts to get a bit hazy.......I do remember being told I was gorgeous, and the story of Gareth and Marega’s wedding is one to cherish. Mistral sat at the head of the table, beaming quietly, while the rest of us were a bit more agitated... it was all a bit Last Supper at Emmaus. More goodbyes, and TC gathered Susie, Frank and I up and we went along the spine of the peninsular, Frank to a guest house on the beach, and Susie and I to TC’s place for a glass of fizz, and then to sleep the happiest of sleeps........interrupted around midnight by an almighty downpour. Yes, once again, proof, if proof were needed, that a life of virtue brings it’s just rewards.
I think it was all a bit of a success. I’ve got some nice e-mails from some of the first-times, and people looked happy enough at the end. I can’t see us not doing it again in 2012.
