Sometimes the long distance adventure cyclist is faced with big decisions brought on by circumstances not entirely within one’s own control. Thus it transpired when I made it home from my trip to Skegness, all expecting to take a train early the next morning to North Wales. I had planned to cycle from where the rail line ends, in the hills at Blaenau Ffestiniog, down to the coast to Porthmadog, more or less following the route of the famous little train. I could then cycle on into the Lleyn Peninsula where I was booked at a hotel in Nefyn, half way along its north coast. That was the plan. I had only a small amount of time to prepare for this and a whole month of cycling! So it was almost an afterthought to check the weather forecast.
I am so glad I did. Friday was horrendous. In the Welsh mountains the forecast was for winds of 50 mph and heavy rain. All day. Oh, and lightning, too. Not only did I not fancy cycling in those conditions; but it would be positively dangerous. But what to do instead? I couldn’t see a way forward and the trip appeared to be unravelling before my eyes. Until, bless her, my lovely and very supportive wife stepped in and offered to drive me there. The trouble was she already had a commitment; but we came up with a compromise, which involved upgrading my hotel room to a double and driving the 3 hours from our house in the evening when the foul weather, which was everywhere, had abated. And I would do the driving. All the way there, at least, in the dark. Deal. Trip back on!
Of course, with such a long and mountainous cycle ahead of me today from Nefyn, I needed an early start. Which I failed to get. First, the hotel only started serving breakfast at 8.30am and then when I took my bike out of the car I discovered that my back tyre was flat. This should have been a quick change of inner tube; but a combination of a faulty valve and a screw on pump led to additional angst. A major incident was luckily averted thanks to a small but handily placed and well stocked hardware shop called Sied DIY (that’s Welsh for shed, btw). And so the ride began well after 10am, albeit from the stunning beach at Morfa Nefyn, where I intend to return.
It was a lovely warm, breezy day and the wind was in my favour. I rode across the peninsula to Pwllheli, where the bike shop was closed; so I pushed on along the main road to the cheery little resort of Criccieth, with its ruined castle. I did later succeed in replacing the all important inner tube in Porthmadog, but only at the third attempt. More time wasted. Porthmadog is a busy little town and home to the Welsh Highland Railway, which my late step father Keith helped to restore. He would come for weekends to Wales and help lay track. So I felt I had to make a brief coffee stop at the quaint station cafe, in his honour. After 20 miles it was getting due and as it turned out there was very little ahead of me for more than two hours more. Good call.
There was a few miles of riding to go before the hills kicked in: first along the Cob, the long, stone barrage that separates the sea from the Glaslyn Estuary, which carries the steam railway as well as cars and pedestrians; and then inland along a river valley on a tiny lane. But then there was a big climb up to and well beyond the village of Ffestiniog and into lonely but uplifting hill country, with big views of mountains near and far, on roads that were now much quieter.
A good hour or more later, after crossing a watershed and enjoying some speedy downhill miles, I arrived at the small and very Welsh town of Bala, at the head of the beautiful Llyn Tegid, a natural lake several miles long, lying quite high up in Snowdonia, ringed with peaks.
After lunch in Bala, it was another long, stiff climb over the Berwyn mountains. This was all new to me. The climb up was interesting; but not unlike the open. moorland country I have seen in other places this trip. But when the lonely road finally reached the top of the pass and started to descend, I was blown away but the change in scenery. I found myself dropping into a green, steep sided and very deep valley, almost a lost world, and making one the the most memorable descents I can think of on a bike, at least in this country. It is called the Tanat Valley and it was breathtaking. It was also very windy and a couple of times I really was nearly blow away!
This part of mid Wales is truly lovely and yet it seems to be a well kept secret. You must see it yourself. But don’t tell anyone. From here all the way to Chirk, at the end of the journey, I passed through gorgeous rolling green hills and sheltered valleys. Small villages offered tempting pubs (I succumbed once, in Llanrhaeadr-yn-Mochnant, when I knew I would finish in the light), and the last 10 miles was almost continuously downhill as I followed the River Ceiriog all the way from tiny Llanarmon Dyffryn Ceiriog, tucked into the Berwyn hills, to Chirk, on the English border. I saw barely a car in the last two hours of riding. What a treat.
