Maps 145, 146, 147 – Mid Wales revisited

After many hours on five different trains yesterday, a stopover in Cambridge, and a memorable ride through the iconic heart of London on very impressive cycle routes, I landed late in the evening in the very quiet, dark and (tonight) wet surroundings of Goodwick, a village situated on Fishguard Harbour at the end of the rail line.

My first job this morning was to cycle east along the coast road from this closest rail head to the small town of Newport, in map 145, where I turned off to reach the beach and harbour. This was my official start point for my next long crossing of the country, all the way to map 156 in Aldeburgh, Suffolk. That is 12 maps. I would be looking to do it in four and a half days of cycling. No small task. But the weather was glorious and the scenery was magnificent, so bring it on!

The lady running the cafe at Newport beach was lovely and very excited about my exploits. She was kind enough to treat me to a free latte, which made my morning! Heading inland for the first time, I found the roads delightfully wide, smooth and quiet. With the Prescelli Mountains to my right, I ventured inland up the Teifi valley. After an hour or so, I reached the unexpected treat of the Cenarth Falls, just above an old stone bridge. According to a couple I spoke to there, it is often a good spot to see salmon leaping. After last night’s rain, the falls were lively, and we saw no fish leaping today. But the waterfall was an impressive sight.

A little further on brought me to the small town of Newcastle Emlyn, whose castle ruins stand within a huge meander in the Teifi, making a natural moat. It is a cheerful little town and I stopped for lunch, listening to the conversation in Welsh on the table next to me. From there it was more wide, quiet roads until, eventually I had a serious climb, all alone, over the bare, rounded summit of Mynydd Llanybyther. Up here, the trees gave way to open rough pasture without a single field boundary of any kind. At the top, several wild ponies were grazing. Someone possibly owns them; but they appear to live out here doing as they please, like you see on Dartmoor or in the Black Mountains. They stood and stared at me through straggly manes and I stared back and took pictures.

In the skies above me were red kites, wheeling in the thermals without flapping their wings. They are a commanding presence. One big bird glided right above my head over the road, close enough for me to instinctively duck! I was actually glad to remember that I was wearing my helmet, although I don’t know how well it would withstand the sharp talons of a large raptor.

From up here you could see for a very long way. There were no special landmarks that stood out, but it was all beautiful in every direction. And then I went down again on a long, steep descent into more miles of empty roads that followed rural valleys through fields of grazing animals, with the occasional very quiet village. It felt as removed from the hustle and bustle of modern life as anywhere I can think of in the many miles of this trip. Mid Wales continues to thrill with its green hills and valleys, and its mostly empty spaces. I could happily explore it further.

There was a lot of climbing still ahead, which I hadn’t banked on. Eventually I emerged from the tiniest of lanes onto an A road, albeit a pretty quiet one, and followed it as it wound its way right up to the prominent hill on the horizon, which I worked out was called Sugarloaf. It even has its own eponymous train station! Then a long, fast descent in the much cooler evening air, as the sun disappeared behind the hills just as I reached Britain’s smallest town, Llanwrtyd Wells, infamous in certain circles as the host of the world bog snorkelling championships. Really.

I pushed on through the final hour as the gloom gathered and reached the slightly larger Builth Wells with my lights on. It took a bit of searching to find my airbnb, but it was a cosy place and after a trip to the pub for dinner I was ready to settle in for the night, knowing that all too soon I would be up and back on the bike again. I always enjoy it once it begins, but the alarm is always a jolt from a deep and rewarding sleep. So I remind myself that this is all entirely self-inflicted and if I ever stop enjoying it, I can opt out. So far, it has always been worth the effort. And indeed today was a significant effort: 86 miles with a whopping 7,765 feet of climbing! I am pretty sure that is the most I have done yet in a single day of this trip.