Like some demonic concertina, the topography of the Welsh landscape is bumpy, jagged and in some places very unforgiving. You can't really ride, walk or drive anywhere without encountering some sort of hill. So given that I'm not very good at climbing up hills on my bike, I found it hilarious that I had entered the "Wild Wales Challenge".
This was being sold as "a sportive and an Audax" and it turned out that it was more of an institution than a ride. A few friends from the North Cheshire Clarion announced on the forum that they were entering so I thought "Yeah...I'll have a go". I'd read many blogs from many riders who had ridden this throughout the years and found it interesting that each year the course was different. No signage, no stupid marshals asleep at key junctions , just you, your bike, a map and some stunning scenery. I remember clicking on the "PAY" button and wondering "What have I just done?".
D-Day
So the Sunday of the ride arrived. My alarm woke me at around 6am and I have to say that on good days I'm not a people person. That morning I was grouchy and I sat there drinking my Coffee and eating my porridge thinking "What the fuck have I just entered".
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| Wet Carpark |
Tony arrived, all smiles, and helped me stow my bike on his bike rack. I got in the back, said hello to Dave and fell asleep. Over an hour later we arrived at a cold, drizzly and dull Bala. Into a carpark filled with similar glum looking cyclists all setting up their bikes and all wondering whether or not it would stop spitting with rain.
After 10 minutes we had managed to unstow everything from the car and setup our bikes, checking our tyres and booting up our GPS units, all except Dave that is who, on his Thorn touring bike, was unfurling a battered map of the route. We cycled from the carpark and headed into town to the sports pavilion and the registration HQ.
It only took about 20 minutes to register thanks to a new system they were using. After we had swiped our card over the card reader we left the HQ, saddled up and set off. It was here that we met up with Gary. The Four of us activated our GPS units and began our Wild Wales Challenge.
Rolling start
The initial sections of the route took us out of Bala along the B4391, over the river Dee and then out due East, leaving the sleepy town (which was saturated with about 600 + cyclists) behind. The road surface was very very good and Tony, Dave, Gary and myself all formed a group which was quickly joined by another 20 or so riders. The pace was pretty good for that time in the morning. Our legs were cold and stiff and no one was really sprinting ahead, which is what you usually get in sportives. A light rain fell from a grey sky onto our perfect peloton. Soon a right turn on an deserted road and we said goodbye to the wet and quiet B road as we began our first climb of the day up to Rhos-y-gwaliau.
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| One of the easier climbs |
This wasn't a terrible climb but enough to get you puffing. Groans abounded as gears were shifted. To early for a hill....the peloton instantly fragmented as we all huffed and puffed up. Not a major climb but one to get the heart rate up. I instantly began to feel warmer in the cool air.
Hitting the Wall
It wasn't long before we entered a beautifully tree lined track that continued it's slow climb up. Again, not really a hill but just a drag. The track continued through some stunning forest and the peloton I was part of was now scattered to the four winds. Tony was ahead together with Dave, Gary had vanished. To the right I could see the river Hirnant churning away below. For the next few miles the long drag got flatter and flatter until we were just riding along an elevated track above a stunning valley Hidden farms passed us by together with fields filled with sleepy sheep. By now the rain had stopped, replaced by a sun that was pushing it's way through the grey clouds.
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| Road to the pass |
Soon the track veered right and again another long drag. This time it began to get harder to pedal than before. Thanks to the way the trees lined the track, there was no visible indication that the tarmac we were on was actually rising. Instead it just fell harder and harder to pedal. I clicked into an easier gear I had been saving up and then looked down behind to make sure I wasn't riding on a flat tyre.
Then the road flattened out and the forest dissappeared to be replaced with a very large glacial valley, the track we were on snaking into the distance and climbing up what appeared to the side of a mountain. The Hirnant pass. The first of two major climbs on this challenge ride and a decent 7/10 awarded to it in the book "Another 100 Greatest Cycling Climbs". It looked intimidating to say the least. And as I started shifting into easier and easier gears I knew this was something special.
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| Ride through beautiful Wales |
With each revolution the my bike got harder and harder to propel forward. I could see what looked like a multi coloured catepillar, snaking into the distance and becoming almost vertical. I then realised that this was the route I was gonna be climbing up.
Tightly formed pelotons that had passed us were now fragmenting as riders found they didn't have enough cogs to get up it. The surface was fantastic, the best tarmac I had ever ridden on but even the smoothness couldn't help me.
I saved my largest cog - which I now call my emergency climb gear- for when the going got really tough...and it didn't take long for me to select it. My lungs were bursting, unable to supply the air I wanted. My Legs burning and by the time I had hit the summit I was literally on fire.
I stopped at the top and looked behind...wow what a view. Ahead I could see the next destination, lake Vrynwy, in the distance. Amazing.
Chippings
The local council had been resurfacing the tracks around where we were all cycling, with that loose chipping shit that is "Cost effective" etc. We encountered such a section on the downhill from this climb. A fast right hand bend and then a sign warning of "Loose chippings". Then, whilst doing 40mph we hit it. A loose surface. I modulated my brakes to slow me down, otherwise I was going to be off into the woods. Scary stuff. You didn't know whether or not your front wheel was going to lock up. I was in a line of riders all zooming down this small track at some amazing speeds. My arse was twitching all the way down and I was just anticipating us coming across and idiot family out walking up the hill. They didn't come thankfully.
The road flattened out and our speed gradually diminished. At a T junction we all turned left and began our approach to the banks of the lake.
Lakes
The road was perfectly tarmaced and mottled with sunlight..stunning. The grey clouds had now gone, replaced by a blue sky. The sun, mottling the road through trees. This is what cycling was made for.
The route snaked its way past the lake, following a quiet B4394. The avenue I was on was populated by nature and bikes. There were no cars. Lovely. I passed the imposing victorian reservoir tower and the overflowing weir, it was soon time to leave this beast of a lake behind.
Alone
At the small hamlet of Abertridwr, the road turned South and started climbing again out of the valley. By now I was alone. Following my GPS route and just enjoying the glorious scenery. No cars at all. I passed a few riders but nothing else. Peace. Soon the route split off right, leaving the B4393 and joining a narrow track. Then a lovely down hill before another climb up through sunlight saturated trees.
The track climbed up and up and turned into another tough climb up. I selected my emergency cog again as I tackled a single track grind up through a magical wood. After 20 minutes or so I arrived at the B4395 and another climb, this time not short and sharp, instead long and protracted. The kind of climbing that you want to end because it appears that it will never end. I switched from being seated to getting out of the saddle, which seemed to work and allowed overworked muscled a rest.
This got progressively steeper and steeper the further I rode and continued its evil gradient till I arrived at tha A458. Then a fast downhill to Llanerfyl and our first control point. Time for Cake.
Queues.
I had never ever seen a queue like it. But as I pulled into the carpark at the village hall I could see hundreds of riders in a long, snaking queue. Great!!!. I also found Dave and Tony waiting for me on the grass verge. Then a few minutes later Gary rolled in.
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| Snake...for cake |
We queued for our cake and to swipe our entry card to proove we had been there. It took about 15 minutes to get our plate of cake and a cup of coffee. But it was worth it. We all sat down and munched on our well earned food.
A group of riders from Saddleworth clarion commented that we should just give up given that these were proper hills. One of them said that he had "Taken one of his pedals off to make it more of a challenge" to which I replied that North Cheshire don't use pedals and instead use pure willpower to turn the cranks.
It was good to talk to other Clarion members and there was a sort competitiveness going on between North Cheshire and Saddleworth.
After about 20 mins we saddled up and left the control point
On the Grid
The road twisted and turned and again began climbing. By now my legs felt pretty strong and the sugary goodness from the cake at Llanerfyl was feeding my muscles with the energy they needed.
We were essentially on a single lane track now which snaked itsway through a low valley plain. Farms, sheepfolds and woods zipped by as we chatted and enjoyed the slight incline in the road. Then we emerged from a copse of trees in a flat open space, split in two by the track. Then a nice downhill section and the first of many many cattle grids.
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| More ups than downs |
Infact, for the next 20 or so miles we rode along this desolate track and rumbled over many many grids. We had caught up with quite a few riders now and Dave, Tony, Gary and myself all singled filed, zoomed past them all right up until we hit another climb. The road now rose ahead and turned right towards a small copse of firs.
I had got into a nice climbing rhythm and had managed to find a cog just kind enough , Dave turned his gear selector and I heard hi high pitched whir come from his hub. His legs started spinning pretty damn fast and began to inch forward.
Behind I heard the call of "Car", surely there couldn't be a car here. This was repeated behind about five times, to which I relayed on. Then it passed me...a tiny little Austin with no roof. Driven by a shrivelled old man and his wife. Then another...and another.... cars that were once state of the art in the 50s but were now collectors items. And cars that were passing us up a hill, their paper clutches burning and their engines spunking out oil onto the road ahead.
Then another cattle grid and another downhill. I felt like I was on a rollercoaster.
The track soon ended at the A470, which given it was an A road was virtually deserted of cars. Then a short time on this before a right turn, past a busy farm to join another narrow track. Some more climbing and more downhills followed, all through some really glorious countryside.
Grind up...fall down
The track crossed another grid before turning left and then another hill. The road bordering a steep cliff covered in trees. This climb was very similar in elevation to the one through the Goyt valley...infact it felt very much like it. Well, my legs were screaming in the same way.
In the distance I could see Dave and Tony.
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| Peloton |
This was another killer climb up through trees, and then at the top desolation, a raw Welsh countryside experience. No general public, no shops nothing but us and the road. Another downhill followed the grind up this hellish climb and my speed quickly increased. This was exhillerating and at one point I had nothing left in my gears to propel me down the hill. I inched towards 45mph and the wind whipped over me. Glorious .
This dowhill went on for miles and miles before crossing another cattle grid, which at 40mph you don't actually feel. We now crossed what appeared to be a golf course, A large sign guarding the green announced that we were now entering Machynlleth. A dead straight downhill, passing some badly dressed Welsh golfers on the way, then a little chicane and then...the main high street.
Quaint.
We had arrived, the main drag into the town was by now heaving with cyclists. Local cafes resembling photos of Russians queueing for bread outside a shop during a famine, all wearing lycra in many colours. There were riders everywhere and it was like some sort of cyclists hells angels meet...except Welsh. Dave had rode on to find us all a place to eat whilst Tony and myself waited for Gary to arrive. The denizens of Mach walked past us, eyeing us up and then our bikes. If I was parked up in Warrington and this was happening I would be worried, but here, amongst the valleys and sheep it all felt friendly. Gary finally rolled in and we set off to find Dave.
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| Y Plas Mach |
It wasn't long before we saw him , we quickly sprinted after him as he took a left turn towards a leisure centre, then a quick right towards what looked like a stately home. We parked our bikes and walked inside. Dave obviously knew something we didn't and as we entered the lavish cafe, walls adorned with expensive wallpaper and portraits of long dead lords of the manor we realised that this was something special. In fact I have to say that "Y Plas Machynlleth " is probably one of the nicest cafe stops I had ever had the pleasure of eating in.
"Would you like with Cream or Without" asked the spectacle wearing waitress.
Actually she didn't look like a waitress, instead she looked more like a council librarian, wearing the garb of a piano teacher with a face like someone who had drawn the short straw to serve the general public cakes and tea.
Cheap
It only cost £2.20 for a slice of Vicky sponge cake and large mug of coffee. I had to ask the server if she had added the cake, but it was indeed correct. So cheap and as all four of us sat outside we decided that this would get the North Cheshire Clarion cake score of 5. By now the sun was shining down on us and we kicked back and relaxed. A blind woman was sat on the table behind us, talking to her guide dog, or maybe she was talking to someone who had left recently and she didn't know they had left? Her milky sightless eyes appeared transfixed on Tony.
We sat there for what seemed ages. God it would have been so easy to just sit there for the rest of the day. but we all knew we still had about 35 odd miles left to grind, all of it up hill. So, after refilling my bottles in the toilet - I couldn't get a refill in the cafe for some reason and the lady seemed panicky when I asked her to refill them
"Sorry I can't . Heath and saftey...etc" blurted the librarian
Joy. There is nothing like refilling a bottle you are going to drink from where people piss and shit in.
More of the same
We left the sleepy town of Machynlleth behind and headed North for a short bit up the A407, then a fork right onto the B4404 and back into climbing mode. The road now bordered a steep escarpment and snaked its way around the river Dulas. We began to climb up steeper and steeper now and with every mile the road got narrower and narrower until it again became a track.
Small front ring again and a hunt for a cog that didn't make my legs explode. More climbing up and up through the small hamlet of Corris and then a right up and up again. It felt like we were in the middle of nowhere, cycling through endless tracks, all criss-crossing and leading to hidden farms where, no doubt, murderers and villians lived all waiting to kidnap a cyclist.
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| More Pain |
Then the terrain changed dramatically, leaving the valley type areas behind and entering what looked like an overgrown abandoned forest covered quarry. A sign on the left indicated a 17% climb...brutal.. after which another sign with 17%.....painfull. Then a small downhill and a sign telling us 20%..This was really really .Horrible...really really horrible. I was in the wrong gear as well but thankfully had enough inertia to change into my climbing gears before I fell off.
I wobbled up it the road and used the tacking technique, this seemed to work until a guy on a bike covered in panniers shouted at me.
"Get out of the fucking way....coming down". I had no time to react before he zipped past me. The shockwave behind him almost knocking me down. He vanished below and I could hear cyclists at the bottom shouting abuse at him
"Fucking moron"...."Learn to ride you prick"... there were more but pretty bad
What I thought was his wife or girlfriend followed a few seconds after. A loud hormonal scream spilling from her open mouth
"Out of the fucking way cockends!" ....... She zipped past and enjoyed the barrage of abuse her husband/friend enjoyed.
Slaves
Soon the track flattened out and entered a forestry control area. The faint drone of traffic from the A road was now gone. Replaced by my heavy breathing and mechanical noises from my bike. Again we climbed up and up...this seemed endless. Surely we would come to the summit soon?
Out of the forest and bordering a beautiful valley.... back into the forest and more climbing... then..finally a downhill. Soon we joined the A470..which for an A road was eerily quiet. Then a right and a fast downhill to our final control point at Dinas Mawddyd. Here we re-grouped and stocked up on carbs...well...cakes.
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| Final Control |
The helpers serving the hungry cyclists all resembled zombie slaves. They really didn't want to be there and had no sense of humour. We stood outside and as I shoved a whole egg custard into my mouth a local woman - who resembled that woman from total recall whom Quaid, the lead character was masquerading as before it went horribly wrong - approached us.
"Going up the Bwlch are you" she asked in a rich mid-walian accent. We nodded a reply unable to speak because of the cake.
"Tough one that....some cyclists died going up it last time". I choked on my fig roll.
She laughed and smiled at us, revealing a set of teeth which would make a set of Welsh druids cum in their gowns. ..... "Only joking lads...good luck".
Up Up and Away.
We left Dinas behind and what followed was a gentle climb up onto another narrow track, past more and more farms and holiday cottages and constantly following the River Dovey. Here the road zig zagged through some beautiful countryside and never really rising too much, constantly in a valley. In the distance I could see two peaks of what looked like a mountain....we were heading towards it.
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| The longest and steepest I have ever climbed up |
Now a bend to the left and through a forest, the sunlight streaming through the leaves. It was cool but warm at the same time...excellent weather for attempting to climb up the highest pass road in Wales.
I had read about this climb in the 100 best climbs books and it gave it a 10/10. I knew where it started and as I rode along with Dave and Tony I could see, in the distance the road rising up and over what looked like a wall of gorse and stone. The road was dead flat and our speed was pretty damn fast.
Then it began, rising slowly at first, through some trees and then a sharp right and some pretty steep elevation. This was the 16% the book went on about...then a gentle up hill and a left turn to the main drag. This time a 25% and bloody steep. I quickly shifted to my climbing gear
Torture
Ahead lay a tarmac snake. Adorned with the many colours of lyca and all moving at a snail pace. Now at about 16% the road climbed ahead and my legs began their all too familar burn. I switched pages on my Garmin and looked at the elevation. 200ft........300ft..... it went up and up and up. Then a left turn and the elevation increased, I selected my emergency cog and got out of the saddle to attempt to give my legs a change. The pain kept coming and coming. This would be what purgatory is like for a dead cyclist....endless climbing..
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| Higher still |
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| Steep? |
My speed...well, that was 3mph if that and I was sort of glad I had chosen not to wear my heart strap. I would have been fixated on my heart rate as it was probably buried into the 200's by now. The heat being generated from my body was unbelieveable. PAIN!!!!!!
At 1500 feet I had to stop. I couldn't go any more and I was still only half way up - well, it seemed that way to me. I got to a flatish plateau and unclipped. Bloody hell this was crazy. It was then I saw Dave zipp past, his roholff hum eminating a faint hum as he span past. A determined tooth gritting look on his face.....
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| Time to catch my breath |
I got back onto my bike and attempted to rejoin the climb again, this meant a sideways swipe to get the momentum again. I ground it out, my bike and everything else all covered in my sweat.
Soon the road rose again and a nasty left hander. The road was now in desolate moorland and still climbing. How the hell was it still climbing...I was at the top..wasn't I. I could see people in the distance getting out of their seats...this wasn't fair. Soon we reached a junction and more worringly, a metal cross stuck in the ground. It wasn't until after the ride I learnt that this was the Pilgrims way and the cross marked it. I just thought that it was where they buried the cyclists. I felt like Sisyphus as the road kept on climbing...I was stuck on an endless climb...forever doomed to repeat it..
Taking the left hand track I climbed up again and again. I was seriously exhausted now and my legs felt raped. This track seemed to go on for miles and it was still going up however it felt like the elevation was getting less and less with each turn of the crank. Infact it was...very gently...was this the top?
What goes up....
A left hander approached and the road climbed up steep. A final sting in the tail, I got out of the saddle and pushed it up and over the brow of this final hill and rolled into the carpark where Tony, Gary and Dave were waiting. I had done it... I had climbed a 10/10 hill. My God I was fucked but bloody happy. The View from the top was just amazing and I looked back at the road I had just climbed up. I had come a long long way....amazing.
I met up with the Weaver Valley cyclist again and Tony, Dave, Gary and the Weaver Valley guy began our descent. All I can say about this is that it was very very fast. Unbelievably so. The last 30 or so minutes a worth while investment....
This amazing ramp soon flattened out, allowing for a nice freewheel before we joined the B4403. Overtaking a huge group from Port Sunlight we accelerated down the narrow road encountering a few cars coming the otherway. Soon we hit the welcoming sight of the southern side of Bala lake and after after about 20 minutes we decelerated to join the B4391 and followed this to Bala itself.
Plaque
We cycled through the busy tourist town of Bala and back to the SportPavilion where we had started our challenge about 8 hours previous. Stowing our bikes we queued up and, after a short wait, we scanned our tag for the final time and collected our Welsh slate plate. On it, a design depicting the clock tower at Mach. Very nice. We then visited the cake table which was also very very nice.
What a great ride. I think everyone agreed that this was one of the most enjoyable and challenging sportives I had ever ridden. Just great and the route was near perfect with what it threw at you. My legs were battered and thanks to my rock hard seat I felt....violated.
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| The End. |
I will be entering next year that's for sure mainly to get another plate which apparrently has a different design each year. Also they ran a competition for the club with the most entrants. Suffice to say ...we didn't win, however this would be something to aim for maybe next time.
Oh and Thanks to Gary for some of the Photos.
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