What’s this all about then? 3 Bank holiday weekends in one month, surely they could have arranged the Coronation for June or July and spread the love out a bit couldn’t they? I guess there must be a reason for it and I suppose that I could look it up if I was really bothered. In fact I’m only annoyed about it because I’ve had to cancel a running event that I was supposed to be doing next weekend (06 May), because my Knees still not better, so now I’m hunting around for something else to do instead. If I was running I’d be saying, 3 bank holidays in May, brilliant. But it’s not, so I’m not! Really, I suppose I should get the first bank holiday weekend out of the way before I start worrying about next weekend though, so to that end, what have I been up to? Well, the main focus of attention, which if I’m honest took up most of the weekend, was Brevet Cymru. Not content with knocking out a 400Km Audax last weekend, I thought I’d really kick the backside out of it by doing another one. Yes that’s right, I didn’t learn my lesson last weekend, so I’ve had another go at punishing my legs. I’d been looking forward to this one for a while (Sssh at the back, cycling 250 miles in under 27 hours is perfectly normal behavior, so why wouldn't I be looking forward to it?). Bonkers or not, it looked like a good route, Chepstow, Hay-on-Wye, Llandovery, Tregaron, New Quay, Back to Llandovery and home via Brecon and Abergavenny. Now what’s not to like about that? 250 Miles through some of the finest countryside our great country has to offer, and at one of the best times to do it too, just as all the trees are starting to get their leaves, the fields are full of Lambs frolicking in the sun and the worst of the winter weather is hopefully behind us. With an 06:00 start I took the van down to Chepstow on Friday night and had a comfortable night in a quiet little spot that I’ve used a few times before, before being unceremoniously woken by the alarm at 04:15. I say, unceremoniously woken, but if I’m honest I was actually awake before the alarm went off, so it wasn’t actually that much of a hardship. A brew and a bit of breakfast set me up nicely for the day and with the first light of day brightening the sky I rolled down the hill through a sleeping Chepstow to the start at Chepstow Castle, where plenty of other early morning enthusiasts were already gathering ready for a long day out. Brevet card collected and safely stowed in readiness for documenting the day's passage, all that remained was to loiter with intent as the time ticked down towards 06:00. The pre-race briefing was short and sweet, with only a single pothole worthy of mention, and as the clock ticked down towards the magic hour we made ready to depart. There appears to be a tradition in the Audax community that departures have to be as low key as possible, the ideal being to not even acknowledge it, and today was no different. Whilst the orgaiser may have been releasing 100+ riders off on an epic adventure, he stuck to the traditional format of “Well, off you go then” as if to say “What are you lot still doing here”. And so it was, that in the typically low key manner we were off, straight back through Chepstow and straight back up the hill that I’d rolled down half an hour earlier on my way to the start! It always takes a little while for everyone to find their place in the day's proceedings, faster riders coming up from behind, slower riders dropping back from the front and bigger groups gradually breaking down into smaller groups and lone riders, as the pace settles down, and today was no different. But, with a few miles under our wheels, a couple of short climbs dispatched and onto the flatter roads as we followed the Wye Valley up towards Tintern Abbey things soon settled down and the miles started rolling past at a fast rate on the flat, empty roads. The River Wye proved an amiable companion, with the early morning mist slowly rising from the river in the still, cool, early morning air, as we made our way towards Monmouth, where a change of direction saw us shadowing the England / Wales border as we started to make our way towards the coast. The Black Mountains off to our Left, the scene of some epic running adventures, replacing the river as our companion as we made our way towards the day's first checkpoint at Hay-on-Wye. Tempting as it was to make use of the hospitality being provided by Drover Cycles at the first checkpoint, sitting in the sun, drinking tea and eating cake, wasn’t going to get the days miles done, and besides, courtesy of some fast group riding and the flatter miles up through the Wye Valley it was still too early to be wasting precious time. So, Brevet card stamped, a refill of my water bottles, and with the day quickly warming up as the sun started to work its magic, thick gloves replaced with a thinner pair and I’m off again, next stop Llandovery. Spotting a handily positioned seat a few miles later on I stopped briefly to take my leg warmers off. If there’s one thing that you can almost guarantee, it’s if you spot a seat in the middle of nowhere it’s probably worth stopping to sit on it. You don’t go to all the trouble of putting a seat in the middle of nowhere for no reason, and today's brief stop proved just that with a stunning view back along the Wye Valley. If there’s a better place to take your leg warmers off then I don’t know where it is, but that little seat on the way to Erwood is worth stopping for, if you're ever that way. Back on the road again I was in my element, the sun warmed my legs, the fields alongside the route were lush, green, and full of spring Lambs, the hedgerows, green with new growth, were alive with birds busily nest building and the wooded areas were bright with Daffodils and early Bluebells, whilst off to the side the River Wye sparkled as it wound its way through the landscape. Llandovery and the second checkpoint of the day arrived just before lunchtime, where a pasty and a chocolate bar stood in the sun with the motorbikers, provided some sustenance, and the chance to stretch my legs before pushing on. The next couple of legs held most of the day's hardest climbing and from Llandovery it was a long steady climb for a few miles as we made our way towards Tregaron. I wasn’t going to complain about this one though as we would be coming back this way in a few hours time and as we all know, what goes up must come back down again. Making my way towards Tregaron I had the first inclination that something wasn’t quite right with my Right calf. It felt tight, stiff and sore when pushing hard on the pedals, not right at all and I briefly debated whether I should carry on. I was just under half way by this point and if it was sore now, how would it feel when I got towards the coast and the real hard climbs started? By the time I got to Tregaron it was pretty painful, feeling almost like I’d torn the muscle high up on the outside of the calf. A good stretch whilst getting some much needed calories on board at Tregaron seemed to help and when I got back on the bike a few minutes later to pass through the halfway mark, it didn’t seem quite as bad as it had done earlier. Between Tregaron and New Quay things were pretty lumpy, the long slow gradual climbs that we had experienced up until this point replaced with the more familiar, vertical up, followed immediately by vertically down, real morale breaking and leg killing stuff and really not helping my sore leg which started to complain with a vengeance when I pushed hard on it. Whatever happened I needed to get to New Quay as there was no chance of stopping in the middle of nowhere, so I pushed on, making the best of the downhill sections and taking it as easy as I could on the uphills. As the coast approached the sun was obscured by a low lying, damp, mist, which obscured the landscape and brought a chill to the air which necessitated putting my jacket, which I had removed after Llandovery, back on again. Descending into New Quay a few minutes later the mist petered out and the first glimpses of the sea provided proof that I was over half way and had successfully crossed from one side of Wales to the other in less than a day. Pretty, pastel coloured houses provided a picturesque backdrop, as I got a brew and delicious slice of Pizza from the bakery on the seafront, and joined the daytrippers and holiday makers on the promenade staring out to sea. My leg was still sore, but it didn’t feel any worse than it did when I left Tregaron so I had 3 choices. Push on for the return leg, or find a way back to Chepstow via public transport, or find somewhere to spend the night and hope it was better by tomorrow and ride back then? Another good stretch as I finished my brew and I opted to push on. I knew that there was some steep climbing to come as I made my way back inland, but figured that I could always walk the worst bits and that might actually help to stretch it out. And either way, that was still better than trying to work out how to get home by other means! I was right about the climbing after of New Quay as the road went straight up for what seemed like forever. It did however give me an excuse to walk on the steepest bit’s which as I suspected helped to stretch off my calf. A couple of miles inland the sun came out again revealing a stunning landscape and beautiful early evening. Not so good for the daytrippers who had spent the day in the overcast and mist on the coast, but excellent for the morale of a tired cyclists! Up, Down, Up,Up,Up, Down, more up and very little down, set the scene for the next couple of hours as I made my way steadily back towards Llandovery. Although I was making steady progress through the hilly landscape my Right leg was getting more painful with every energy sapping climb. Arriving in Llanybydder I stopped at a handy shop to replenish my water bottles and grab something to eat and took the opportunity to get some Ibuprofen at the same time. Not an ideal solution to my sore leg and not something I’d ever advocate and in fact normally actively avoid doing, but if it helped relax the tight and sore muscle enough to get me back to the finish, I thought it was a risk worth taking on this occasion. A couple more stiff climbs after Llanybydder saw the worst of the day's climbing dispatched and the more benign route, coupled with the painkillers that I’d taken earlier allowed my sore leg to stop complaining quite as much as it had been and settle down a bit. If things stayed like this then I thought I’d be able to get back to the finish under my own steam. In fact shortly after, things really looked up as we rejoined the route from Llandovery at the top of that hill I’d slogged up in the afternoon sun earlier in the day, for a long, fast, run back down again. Picking up the A40 at the bottom of the descent, a group of hot air balloons launching from a roadside field provided a welcome distraction, and reminded me of some happy times camping with “The Boy” when he was little. Thoughts which occupied my mind and accompanied me to the next checkpoint. A sausage roll and a brew from the Cafe which was staying open specially to cater for us cyclists, provided an opportunity to relax for a few minutes and stretch aching muscles whilst sitting in the evening sun, and I took the opportunity to prepare for the coming darkness at the same time. Leg warmers back on, headtorch attached to helmet, new batteries in my rear light, and off again, the sun setting behind me as I pushed on towards Brecon for the final 100KM. The A40 would be my companion all the way to Brecon and beyond, and although a busy road by day, by the time I left Llandovery, just a dusk was descending, it was deserted, just mile after mile of smooth, flat, easily navigable road. Lights on, head down and go, no need to think, no need to watch out for pot holes, no need to navigate, just let your mind wander and enjoy the peace and solitude of long distance cycling as darkness descends. Owl’s call from the darkness, Bats flit silently around in search of their tea, visible only as fleeting glimpses caught in the light of my headlight as they pursue their prey, a barn owl swoops in from the Left, veering off from a collision at the last minute to follow the road for a few meters, isolated farm houses are visible amongst the surrounding hills, their curtains drawn against the dark night, the warm glow from their windows the only clue as to their existence, and a million stars light the night sky as they have since the existence of man, whilst I in turn continue endlessly turning the pedals, slowly ticking off the miles. Sennybridge and Brecon pass unseen in the darkness and then I make the first mistake of the day as I miss a turn in the dark. I stay on the A40 when I should have turned off shortly after Brecon and unfortunately I don’t notice as the two roads mirror each other for a while on opposite sides of the River Usk and with my GPS zoomed out it doesn't stand out as being wrong. In fact I only notice, as lost in my daydreams I slog up a steep hill on the way into Bwlch, and suddenly realise that Bwlch isn’t on the route! By the time I realise my mistake I’ve probably gone 5 or 6 miles the wrong way. Bugger! Stopping to check my options I discover that it’s not as bad as I first thought and although I’ve added some additional climbing and a couple of extra miles to the days total (something I could have done without) I can actually just head to Crickhowell on the A40 and pick up the correct route from there - Result! My short diversion does no real harm and by 22:00 I’m at the final checkpoint for the day at Llangattock where a brightly lit school hall provides a temporary refuge from the darkness, and some lovely volunteers who have given up their saturday night to cater to the every need of a group of tired cyclists, pamper me with a much needed brew, a bowl of pasta and a slice of cake. Bliss! One last push then, just 30 short miles left to go. Allegedly it’s all downhill to Abergavenny, although no one’s mentioned what’s to come after that! They’re not far wrong either, and although it’s not all downhill, it is pretty benign, and I find myself rolling through Abergavenny just as the pubs have started kicking out, a loan cyclist amongst the tired and emotional drinkers, each making their way unsteadily home, kebab in hand, hangover pending! Usk comes shortly after Abergavenny where more late night drinkers litter the roads and loiter outside takeaways trying to prolong their night out. Shortly after Usk I make the turn onto the B4235 which will take us back to Chepstow, and the fast, easy miles come to an abrupt end, as one last brute of a climb looms large in front, a black stain across the lighter night sky, the lights of remote farms high in the sky ahead, the lights of a solitary car, shining like pinpricks high on the hillside above, clearly showing the extent of the climb ahead. It’s almost another Audax tradition, one last beast of a climb to test your mental fortitude and legs, when you're in sight of the finish line. But in this case there appears to be no alternative, whichever way you go, Chepstow is uphill! And a brute of a climb it is too. It’s long, it’s steep and on legs which have already done 230 miles it’s brutal. On a normal day I could get up here with no problems, but today it defeats me, and I end up walking the steepest parts. Eventually though, after what feels like a lifetime of toil, the top comes and I stop to put on my down jacket as extra protection against the cold which is surely going to bite into my tired body as I start the long descent into Chepstow and the end of my day. The cold night air does indeed try to penetrate every nook and cranny and I pull my jacket zip up tight and adjust my neck warmer as I descend steadily towards the day's end. And then, unexpectedly, I’m back where I started, on the edge of Chepstow, and I’m faced with a dilemma. I need a proof of passage receipt for my Brevet card, but I’ve got 2 choices. The 24 hour services on the far side of town, or a cashpoint receipt from the middle of town which is significantly closer to where I left the van. Surely this is a no brainer. Go to the services to buy something I don’t want, or roll down the hill, pick up an ATM receipt and be tucked up safely in the van in 10 minutes. Rolling through town it’s just gone 02:00 and the next wave of human detritus litters the streets as the late night pubs and clubs kick out and I pick my way slowly through, making my way carefully towards that final receipt and the end of my day. Aaarrrrgggghhhhh, the sodding ATM’s not working, Boll***s! I head deeper into town in search of another option but can’t find anything. Double Boll***s! Eventually I concede defeat and begin picking my way back through the late night drunks as I retrace my steps back up the stupidly steep hill, heading for the other option at the 24 Hour services! I should have just done that in the first place instead of trying to take the easy option, that’ll teach me! 250 Miles, 20 hours and a far better day out than the previous week's adventure at the Tour of the Southern Shires. I suspect though that I’m being unfair there and tiredness played a significant part in my problems the previous week and at some point I’m going to do the Southern Shires route again just to confirm that it is indeed brilliant!
But, Brevet Cymru, well that was just brilliant. The sun shone, the views were outstanding, the roads smooth and pothole free, the climbs hard, the descents fast, the motorists kind and considerate, the organisation superb and I really can't wait to come back and do this one again. It’s what long distance cycling is all about!
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Paul PerrattOld enough to know better, young enough to still feel invincible, stupid enough to keep on trying the same thing again and again. Cyclist, Gardener, Runner, Hiker, Cook, Woodworker, Engineer, Jack of all trades and master of none, Anti social old git and all round miserable bugger. Archives
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