Carrying on from my week of adventures, Thursday morning saw me in Cardiff bright and early for the start of the Au Pied De Cochon - Fruits De Mer 600 Km Audax, and when I say early, an 06:00 start is pretty early, even when all you've got to do is drag yourself out of bed, turn your bike up the right way and roll the 100 meters to the start.
600Km is also a surprisingly long way, but more surprising was the fact that I wasn't the only idiot stood on the start line, with there being a reasonable turn out for such an epic undertaking. Brevet card collected, first control point noted, GPS track loaded and on the stoke of 06:00 we were off, heading through the still quiet streets of Cardiff, bound for Sennybridge, via the Taff Valley and Brecon Beacons. With the sun shining from a cloudless sky, it wasn't long before the day started warming up and that coupled with the generally uphill gradient, as we climbed towards the Brecon Beacons, saw me stopped a couple of times shedding layers, whilst getting into the swing of things. Through the old mining villages that line the edge of the Taff, now redeveloped into technology parks and shopping centres we climbed, until the industrial scenery of our past gave way to the open moor land and dramatic hills of the Brecon beacons. The climb up to the Devils Elbow gave the old legs the first of what would be many good workouts, as the day progressed, resulting in a pause at the top of the climb to take in the scenery and catch my breath, again a theme that would be repeated throughout the day, as the climbs got steadily steeper, the views more dramatic and my legs more weary!
The briefest of stops at a roadside garage in Sennybridge provided the required Proof of Passage receipt, and then onwards, steadily climbing and descending through mile after mile of beautiful Welsh countryside, along smooth, traffic free (ish) roads, in the late spring sunshine. If there was a better way to spend your bank holiday weekend, I wasn't aware of it at the time and I was fully enjoying myself.
A long steady climb, followed by a longer, faster descent, saw Lampeter come and go, with just a quick stop to grab the first of what would be many, supermarket sandwiches, before the climbing started again as we headed for the coast and the first turn around point at Aberaeron. An ice cream sat in the sun at the coast with the tourists on a bank holiday, does an adventure get any more British than that? All I needed to do was replace my cycling helmet with a knotted hankie and I'd have been in full on tourist mode. There's not much time to take in the sights of this pretty little coastal village today though, as I'm only a ¼ of the way through this adventure and there's still the small matter of an awful lot of climbing to be dispatched before I can start to relax.
Having reached the Sea and gone as far as we can in one direction, it's a case of turn around and start heading in the other. The long steady gradients and flowing descents of the route up are replaced with shorter, sharper, leg sapping, hilly roads, as we cross the picturesque valleys, going against the grain of the land for the next couple of hours as I make my way steadily towards the next checkpoint at Llanybydder, where another brief pause sees that chance to refill empty water bottles and stretch tired muscles, before pushing on again into the afternoon sun.
As the afternoon wears on, so the miles continue to build. A short detour through a farmers field and across a style to avoid a road closure, due to what looks like a serious traffic accident on a fast bit of road, provides an unwelcome distraction and a reminder of the need for care on these roads. Roads that weren't designed for motor cars, let alone the speed we all insist on traveling at. Whilst all the while, the ongoing climbing and descending continues too keep my legs and lungs occupied. Eventually though Ammanford rolls into view and the chance for yet more supermarket sandwiches. This time augmented with a Danish pastry, in an attempt to get a few more calories into my now rapidly tiring legs. Whilst eating I exchange a few quick words with a couple of other riders, both in front and slightly behind, as we each replenish supplies and obtain the required proof of passage receipts, before heading on our own way, each riding our own adventures at our own pace. It's surprising though how closely grouped we still are after all this time!
Onward then, next stop Aberdare where we will re-join the route out for the final few miles back into Cardiff and the half way point. But first there's the small matter of re-crossing the edge of the Brecon Beacons again! Yet more miles of long climbs reduce my forward momentum to a crawl at times, as the days fatigue (not helped by an ultra marathon 3 days before), starts to tell it's toll. Tired legs, seemingly endless climbing and the days heat are telling on me and my morale takes a bit of a nose dive for a while.
Try as I might I'm finding it hard to stay focused and the last hour or so into Aberdare turns into a real mental battle and a horrible slog, gone are the joys of being outside and feeling the road under my wheels, to be replaced by a dread of the miles still to go, and a desire to get this over with. Eventually though Aberdare arrives and I find a Subway as I make my way through town. A 12” chicken sub with extra cheese and all the trimmings washed down with a chocolate cookie and bottle of pop works wonders for my well being, and I roll out of Aberdare shortly after arriving with a totally different frame of mind. Having got off the bike a shaking wreck just minutes before, drained, fatigued, tired and ready to quit, here I am 20 minutes later feeling, strong, refreshed and ready for the challenges ahead again. It's amazing the difference getting a few decent calories on board makes!
Reconnecting with the Taff valley for the run back to Cardiff makes for some fast, easy miles, as the route follows the flow of the river on it's gradual descent to the sea. By 21:00 I'm picking my way back through the streets of Cardiff, taking care to avoid the bank holiday party goers, as they make their way from one beer garden to the next party, enjoying their own bank holiday's, and making use, as I am, of the light evenings and warmer temperatures.
Half way then, and only slightly behind what I had as a rough schedule in my mind. I've got a choice now though. I can either take advantage of being back at the van and grab a couple of hours sleep, or push on, see how I feel later, and if need be, grab an hour in my bivvy bag at the roadside somewhere along the route. More food, whilst I get dressed into some warmer kit for the night section, replenish my water and weigh up my options. It's only 22:00 now and whilst I'm tied, (a really bad nights sleep Wednesday night, isn't helping matters) it's really too early to stop now, so I decide to push on for a couple of hours and see how things go.
By 22:30 I'm back on the road, joining the endless stream of taxi's transporting their cargos of tired party goers between Cardiff and Newport, as I in turn, head for Chepstow and the Seven bridge to take us back into England and more familiar territory for me.
My legs are feeling surprisingly good considering the days efforts so far, but the leg to the bridge seems much longer than I imagined it would be, and that starts playing tricks with my mind. Eventually though the bridge arrives and I make my way across the cycle path, with it's precipitous drop, into the invisible, fast flowing river hidden by the darkness far below. A quick check of the water situation shows that I've probably got enough without stopping at the services on the M48, and I push on, into the darkness, heading for Yate. By now it's coming up for 02:00 and I've covered another 40 miles since leaving Cardiff for the second time, bringing the days total up to approximately 220 miles. Coming to a grinding halt up a hill that isn't actually steep enough to normally cause me any problems forces my hand, and I decide I need to stop and get an hours sleep. A small patch of waste land just off the road, yields enough space to roll out my Bivvy bag between the nettles and brambles, and I slip on my down jacket, take of my shoes and wiggle myself into my sleeping bag, threading myself around the lumps in the ground! A couple of hours later I wake with a start and realise that it's light already. Crikey, I must have been tireder than I thought, as I've been out cold for 2 and a half hours and I don't think I've moved in all that time. Dragging myself back out of my warm Bivvy bag, into the cold dawn air, takes some will power. But I'm quickly packed up and back on the road again. Mind you that's not exactly hard when all you've got to do is put your shoes on, roll up your Bivvy bag and go! A supermarket cash point provides the required proof of passage just before 05:00, well ahead of the 06:30 control back stop time, and I push on, next planned stop Faringdon, to the West of Oxford.
I'll happily admit that this next leg very nearly broke me and took me to some pretty dark places in the never ending battle of mind over fatigue. I don't know why, but I was just so tired for the next couple of hours. So tired that it became a constant battle to keep my eyes open. As soon as I relaxed even slightly I could feel my eyes closing, and all I wanted to do was crawl off the bike and sleep. In fact I'm pretty certain that there were actually moments whilst I was still peddling that I was asleep!
Despite the pretty countryside villages, all decked in bunting ready for the Queens Jubilee celebrations, the beautiful early morning light, the birds flitting around ahead of me, as I passed slowly along the little country lanes that the route was following, I just couldn't shake the feeling of despondency, tiredness and overall fatigue that was dragging me down. Eventually at around 07:30 I found an open shop in a small village which yielded a bottle of water and a couple of warm pastry's, which I hungrily devoured sat on a bench on the village green, whilst considering my next move. I only had 2 options though, push on and finish this ride, or work out a way to slink back to Cardiff and the sanctity of the van, having not finished what I'd set out to achieve. There was 2 problems with option B, firstly that would involve quitting, and secondly, I was in the middle of nowhere and I'd guess that the closest train station was Swindon or Oxford, both of which were probably further away than Faringdon, so I might as well just push on! --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As I finally approached Faringdon the sun started to work it's magic and warm up my tired body. Arriving just after 09:00 (26 hours after leaving Cardiff for the first time) I grabbed a sandwich and a can of pop, and slumped dejectedly on the floor to eat and lick my wounds. 12 miles to Burford for the next leg seemed achievable even in my tired state, and knowing this bit of road I knew it was fairly flat. Lets just do this and see how we go? Leg warmers off, shedding the final layers from the night section, and push off again, climbing slowly up the short hill to take me out of town. Well what do you know? That feels better. Gone is the overwhelming tiredness and the all consuming fatigue. That can of pop and bit of food seems to have done the trick again. My legs feel strong again, my mind feels clear and I'm picking up speed on the flatter roads. Was the whole problem a lack of calories and early morning caffeine? Either way, who cares, I'm back in the game! I'm in Burford less than an hour later enjoying an ice cream and chatting briefly to a passing American Tourist, who asks if I'm having a good day out. I reply with “any day on your bikes a good day” to which she smiles and agrees. There's no point in elaborating and telling her that this is actually day 2 and I'm nearly 280 miles into my ride with another 90 still to go. I mean, who's going to believe that? -------------------------------------------- Just three more 30 mile legs to go then, and the next one to Malmesbury shouldn't be too taxing. Flat, fast county roads, in the sun, what's not to like about that? Nothing it would appear, and a couple of hours later I'm sat in the town centre watching the world go by, whilst continuing my diet of supermarket sandwiches and fizzy pop! Onward then, the ends in sight now, next stop the services back at the Severn bridge that I'd gone past late last night. Pushing slowly on I'm soon back on the route from this morning, passing my overnight Bivvy spot in the afternoon sunshine, which now transpires to be on a busy A road. So unbelievably different from last night and early this morning when I passed this way. Just as I start to drop into Olveston, which is in the middle of a massive tea party on the village green, I'm distracted by the sound of Rolls Royce Merlin Aero engines and look skywards just in time to see a fly past of the Battle Of Britain Memorial Flight Lancaster, accompanied by a Spitfire and Hurricane on each wing tip, something that's always guaranteed to bring a smile to my face. I'm further amused as I arrive at the M48 services for my final checkpoint, on the tail end of a vintage tractor convoy. Not what you ever expect at a motorway services (like a cyclist is) but this is the second time I've been in this situation at these services over the years, and it's not like I come here often. Strange! --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Right, just 30 miles more to push, and my legs are feeling it now, as I crawl up and over the hump of the Severn Bridge again and start the long slog back along the A48 to Cardiff. A road sign telling me that it's still 13 miles to Newport causes my heart to sink a little and I'll admit that this was another tough bit of riding. Not as tough as that early morning leg, but pretty hard going, along a busy A road with some fast traffic and not a great deal to take my mind of the slog. The miles slowly pass though and eventually Newport arrives where I make my way through the traffic laden streets, suffering the stench of exhaust fumes for the first time in 2 days, and putting up with shouted comments from a couple of idiots in their chav mobiles! Nothing out of the ordinary there though, and nothing to slow me down, just a last few miles to go and I'm home. Back on the A48 for the last stretch and the road surface is rough and unrelenting, as is the traffic speeding past on my right hand side. Spotting a petrol station ahead, I pull in for one final break and treat myself to a final chocolate bar (or maybe 2 just to see me though those last few miles) then push on. Back in Cardiff, I pick up the traffic again, as the shoppers start heading for home. No chance to relax now, as I thread my way along the busy streets, using every ounce of my limited road craft to keep myself safe amongst the distracted drivers, all busy chatting to their fellow car occupants, playing on their phones, or otherwise daydreaming, paying little attention to the tired cyclist making their way alongside them. But finally, 379 miles and 36 and a half hours since setting off from this very spot, the van looms into view, still sat patiently waiting for my return, exactly where I left it (I was a bit worried about that as it wasn't exactly a safe parking location!). Triumph, jubilation, a victory of perseverance, despite some pretty bleak moments, and most importantly the chance to have a brew and take my shoes off. Job done!
Having had a chance to sit down, get some much deserved sleep, generally sort my life out, and reflect on this weeks ride, I can only really say, BRILLIANT! It was fantastic route, across some testing terrain (especially the first half) which, without a doubt, tested me to my limits. A situation which probably wasn't helped by my little run on the Monday. But most importantly, I came out on top, having learned a little bit more about what I'm capable of and what can be achieved with a little bit of perseverance and mind over matter.
More surprisingly, I felt pretty good after a good nights sleep, certainly capable of getting back on the bike and pushing out a few more miles if I needed to, which is a promising sign and proof that if you look after your body correctly and take care, you can do some pretty amazing feats of endurance. I think my text to “The Emma” to let her know I was safe at the end sums it up pretty well; “Safe. Today was hard and yesterday just plain brutal, totally knackered. -------- When's the next one”?
1 Comment
Jeff Ellingham
6/6/2022 14:14:17
Well worth the wait 👍. Although I was getting withdrawal symptoms, as The Guardian, Telegraph, AW and Cycling Weekly etc Do not quite hit the spot as much as your blog does. Keep up with your adventures. I started as a Runner, switched to enjoying LDWA 100s as a Walker then switched to Cycling. Combining all 3 would be the ultimate dream for me. So reading your exploits satisfies my dreams, despite my lack of ability to actually achieve them. So thank you Paul. I look forward to meeting you “up the road” again, now that I seem to have got over Long Covid
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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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