BIMBLING ABOUT 2007

 

Trevithick Trail Opening 07
(Pentrebach Co-op to Ponty Park)

Who said councillor's can't ride a bike? We had two on this trip! Leading from the front was Mike Powell (Trallwng ward and new bimbler) but coming up his rear was WAG member and Ponty AM Jane Davidson.

"Who said it wasn't a race?" said Mike.

Anyway, nice day and a lovely short trail to ease yourself into some mountain biking as we coast along in the footsteps of Cornishman Trevithick.

 

Might not have had much festive cheer awaiting us and wasn't very well organised (unlike the Ty Hafan ride for example) but a good day out and some nice tarmac for the wimpy riders (like me). Quick train ride up the valley (£1.80 including bike - can't fault it Arriva) and a leisurely stroll down the new Connect2 Trevithick Trail to Ponty, stopping off en route for a stretch of the legs and a pint in the Quakers. Derek (fresh from his Polish jaunt) joined us en route on his "see if I can freeze to death on the Rhigos early one morning ride" and easily slotted into the pace. Nice day out but I feel a biggie coming on... Ninja get those maps ready!

External links:
Sustrans

 

Trans Poland 07

Having completed the Lands End to John O’Groats ride a couple of years ago I was looking for a new cycling challenge. Early in 2007 I decided to cycle across Poland and the route was to be from the Slovakian border in the Tatras Mountains to Hel on the Baltic coast in the north. The route was to follow minor roads where possible and to avoid major cities apart from overnight stays in Krakow, Torun and Gdansk. And so was born Zakopane to Hel and back. All I needed now was someone to come with me...
 

I knew that avoiding the main roads the traffic would be quieter but the downside might be the quality of the roads. After a few practice rides around South Wales my son David decided he was ready to join me and his cousin Lukasz made up our trio of riders. Planning completed, David and I set off on the 18th July 2007 in anticipation. Thanks to the very nice EasyJet lady at Bristol airport the check in is quick and painless as she personally walks us to the front of the very large queue with our bike boxes. In Krakow the taxi driver is on time to take us to the lovely town of Zakopane in the Tatras Mountains. We quickly settle into the Hotel Jurek which is nice place, with friendly staff and near to the town centre,

The Prologue - Rysy – The Mountain Climb – Thursday 19th July 2007

We have a couple of days before Lukasz joins us from Gdansk. As a “gentle” warm up for the bike ride David and I decide to climb the highest mountain in Poland which is Rysy near Zakopane.

Web link - Zakopane

At 2499 metres (or 8199 feet) this is much higher than anything in the UK and more than twice the height of Snowdon. So much for “gentle”

In addition to the actual climb there is a 2 hour (9km) walk uphill from Lysa Polana, just to get to the base of the mountain. We set off at 7.00am from Zakopane to miss the worst of the crowds I had experienced the last time I came to Morskie Oko. We enjoy our meal of schabowy and salad at the Hostel which has great views across the lake. The walk up to Rysy is steep and a good 4 -5 hours to the top. We are very lucky to have excellent weather and and superb views most of the day.

Web link - Rysy

The climb to the top is hard, in fact I can say that this is one of the hardest things I have ever done. The temperature even at this high altitude is very hot and we dip our hats in the cool water of Czarny Staw and the large patches snow on the climb. A snowball fight in 30 degree temperatures is strange but true and we are glad of the 4 litres of water we buy at the hostel. I had done some training for the bike ride, but in hindsight a bit of hill walking around Brecon would have useful. The final 300m is particularly steep and requires the use of chains but there is no way we are going to give up now. We both get to the top and enjoy the spectacular views across Poland and Slovakia and the sheer drops to all sides. At the top David gulps down the Cola he buys from the boy with a beer barrel full of the stuff. Not bad at 7 zl (£1.20) a pint considering they had to carry it up there. David really enjoys the descent, particularly the first section on the chains, but this is not so pleasant for me with blisters and cramp and if anyone finds my cap please let me have it back! A really great days walking and we feel we have done enough to justify the horse and cart ride back down to Lysa Polana. David still wants to know why the swarm of flies were following him and nobody else.

Rest Day - Friday 20th July

Friday is a rest day to recover from the climb and we lunch in Zakopane with a delicious mushroom soup, mixed grill and a few Warka Strong beers. Lukasz arrives late afternoon, just after his bike is delivered by parcel post. In the evening we eat out with cousin Lech and have a few more beers. A thunderstorm and torrential rain means we are stuck in the pub for a couple more beers. Not sure this amount of alcohol is a good idea with what is coming tomorrow. David and Lukasz stay out until 3.00am and tell me they were back from the club at 12.30 to find that our hotel receptionist locked the front door and fell asleep. Despite “gently” knocking and constant ringing, it takes till 3.00am for her to answer (likely story!).

Day 1 – Zakopane to Krakow – 21st July

After last night I take great pleasure in waking the boys up at 7.00am. To be fair we are all down at Gubalowka by 8.00am for photos and the first train up to the top of the hill for the start of the ride. The first half mile is great, a fast downhill on a small country lane with no traffic, but then the road disappears and it’s a rough stone strewn track. When the road decides to re-appear it does so flanked by mad Gorale dogs (ask David) but then we coast along 30 miles of good quality, mostly downhill road. In fact there was only one uphill section in the entire 30 miles to Rabka. A word of thanks here to the unfortunate driver who came around a sharp corner at Pieniazkowice, only to find David coming straight at him on the wrong side of the road. Excellent evasive manoeuvre! David learns that panniers tend to affect the handling of your bike when cornering at speed. A great mornings cycling rewarded by the largest Pizza you have ever seen.

By lunchtime it is a hot 34 degrees and we have to drink constantly. In fact by the end of the day we reckon to each have drunk more than 12 pints of various drinks and that excludes the two Zywiec beers we have in Krakow.

After Rabka we have 50+ miles to go but are still relatively fresh. The road gets busier but is still not too bad and a word of thanks here to Marcin Hyla for his advice on routes in and out of Krakow and his excellent website which was very useful.

Web link - Marcin Hyla

At Rabka Nizna we hit the first big uphill and many miles of up and down follow all the way to Krakow. This is the Polish Foothills (Podhale) and looks a bit like the Brecon Beacons. It is also the land of the villages ending with owka (pronounced oofka). There are in fact 34 consecutive towns and villages ending with this. We couldn’t find the flat route into Krakow city via Wielicka recommended by Marcin but we do find a quiet but extremely hilly route instead. Arrive in Krakow at 7.50pm tired and hungry with a large road display telling us the air temperature is still 28 degrees and road temperature 36 degrees. It had been a very hot, long but satisfying day. After booking into the Art Mont Guest House we head out into Krakow where the nightlife is buzzing and its a shame that we are all too tired to really enjoy its delights. After a good kebab we fall asleep over a few beers in the main square where 20 British “Stags” dressed as Tom Cruise in Top Gun uniforms serenade a couple of unfortunate local girls. It’s already about 11.00pm and we decide to sleep.

Day 2 - Krakow to Klomnice – 22nd July

On paper today is the longest day with a bit of sightseeing thrown in at the Ojcow National Park. No breakfast is provided so we quickly find a shop and stock up on goodies and drinks. Its only 8.00am, but already 25 degrees and rising. It’s a pleasant Sunday ride to Korkiew, but by the time we find the Ocjow National Park we are glad to find some shade as its even hotter than yesterday. They are forecasting thunderstorms today across the whole of Poland but somehow they completely miss us.

Ocjow National Park is great and I tell myself that one day I must go back for a proper look. The little holiday cottages dotted around are idyllic and the trails and lack of traffic make it great for cycling. A tip though, the blue trail has some off road stuff and its surprising our road tyres don’t puncture.

The plascki ziemiacki and burger lunches at Pieska Sklala are good and we ponder on how David bent his pedal on a kerb without falling off. He says he was distracted by the sight of Hercules Club but we know it was a pretty Polish girl. (sorry Katie). We expect the road from Wielmoza to Wolbrom to be hilly and it is and the ice cream lady in Wolbrom thinks we are mad. Unexpectedly the hills continue on and on after Wolbrom and only really flatten out around Swieta Anna. Pilica turns out to be the Polish capital of Boy Racers with modified Fiat 126 and Polonez cars so we quickly escape. The hills combined with the wind from the distant storms do their best to slow us down, but with a bit of team work we keep up a good pace. The last 10 miles are completely flat but seem to drag on forever until finally after 83 miles we get to Klomnice.

Day 3 - Klomnice to Sieradz – 23rd July

Dziekuje Bardzo do Krzysztof (Magda’s Tato) za obiad, piwo I za goscinnosc. Krys tells us that two days ago the sleepy village of Klomnice had been put on the world map by a Tornado that had destroyed a part of it.
Web link - Tornado

After a sad farewell to Krzysztof we set off west and then north along mostly quiet and flat roads passing through sleepy villages and countryside. The swifts fly alongside us waiting for a free meal of road kill flies. After swallowing a particularly large bug I know what their diet tastes like (yuk). We turn north onto a busier road but find the wind and quality road surfaces are helping and by slip streaming each other get up to 22-23 mph for 10 miles or more. I am enjoying things so much that I turn around to talk to David and steer off the side of the road and nearly crash off into a deep ditch.

We are now out in the countryside with nothing but little villages and it gives a real insight into the way of life in these rural areas. There are storks on the telegraph poles and chimneys in every village and we give up counting them which is probably a good thing as someone tells us there are over 80,000 in Poland. We see a pine martin, quite rare in the UK but it is unfortunately dead at the side of the road. A stray cow tries to play chicken with a very large lorry but heeds the horn to jump into a field at the last moment. Combine harvesters use the main roads oblivious to other users and roadside sign posts. One driver of a Fiat 126 was seen towing a small trainer with “half a car” inside it. With all this going on you would have thought we could slip past unnoticed but we find we are getting strange looks from people in the little villages. We hope it’s just our cycle helmets and not our lycra shorts neither of which have ever been seen around here before.

The afternoon is very warm again and by the time we get to our destination we are hot and flustered. We are struggling to find a place to stay in Sieradz when Lukasz stops to chat up some local girls who tell him the location of a local hostel. Then disaster! I hit a large pothole at speed which seriously damages my rear wheel. Thanks to the staff at the Hotel Trax who lend us a hammer and pliers. I use these to try to “reshape” my wheel nearly its original roundness. A bit of sandpaper and a spoke spanner to take the considerable buckle and dent (6 spokes had to be removed to carry out the work) and it is nearly as good as new. The “lump” in the rim that’s left will probably wear my brakes down very quickly but we decide to carry on tomorrow as there shouldn’t be too many hills. It’s an interesting place to stay full of sports people on training secondments and it’s a pity we don’t have time to stay a while.

The night is a non event as we can’t find anywhere to eat and order a pizza from a neighbouring town. The beer and pubs are good but very quiet as its midweek.

Day 4 – Sieradz to Kolo (aptly translated Kolo means wheel!) 24th July

In the morning I find a friendly bike shop in the town who tell me my bike is ok and that they cannot really improve on my repairs to the wheel. We have a chat whilst they fix David’s pedal before setting off at 10.30. As we cycle out of the town we ponder as to why there are dozens of learner drivers “milling” around town. Do all Polish people come here to learn to drive? The weather has taken a turn for the worse and the wind and rain hit us as we leave on an extremely poor road out of Sieradz towards Warta. The rain stops at Warta but we are very wet and glad when the sun comes out when we get to the large lake. From Dobra through Psary to Kolo the roads are great with quality tarmac, flat, little traffic and pleasant to ride. We cross a major motorway at Janow which isn’t on our map (must be a recent EU funded road) and pass a strange “space ship” looking structure. We “roll” into Kolo still fairly fresh. We wanted to get closer to Torun today but decide to stop as it looks a nice place to stay. David and Lukasz look forward to a good night out but after an excellent spaghetti Bolognese and Pizza, life in the town dies very quickly to nothing. A group of local girls tell Lukasz that they normally sit outside Biedronka (Polish equivalent of a SPAR shop) for entertainment. I retire to my very nice room in the 2 Star Hotel Sara, which is more like a UK 3 or 4 star and only £15 a night with a couple of beers (minus the one I drop in the corridor).

Day 5 – Kolo to Torun – 25th July

The forecast for the day is not too good as we set off in light rain. It clears after an hour or so but wind is strong and partly against us (N/NW). Roads are fairly good and very quiet and flat but then end abruptly with only a dirt track ahead, so much for the map. A farmer says its okay ahead and eventually the road does return. Sompolno has an excellent by pass but it takes us East with the wind and then West against it. Then we encounter one of the longest and straight roads ever (17km without a bend) to Piotr Kujawski. The wind helps us to Radiejow where I cause a disturbance amongst the local drunks outside the cake shop over the best route to Gdansk. It then gets very hard against the strong wind and we are also pelted by loose chippings on a “new improved” section of road which makes us think about catching a train at Serocki until we see the line goes through a sweetcorn field.

At Sluzewo a “nice” local tells us the road through the forest south of Torun is okay and its only 17km to the city. Oh what a laugh he must have had sending a bunch of cyclists through Poland’s largest military firing range. The driver of the stolen Fiat 126 with the beer bottle in his lap also tells us its okay! Seven miles into the forest and numerous bomb and tank signs we spot the first military lorry carrying lots of armed soldiers. We pretend to ignore them, already planning in our minds our “I don’t understand I am a foreigner” excuses. Then we see the muddy tank trails crossing our path and really start to worry that the signs which translated means “enter at your own risk and you may die” may have some truth. I hope the craters in the road are nothing more sinister than the regulation Polish road potholes. David is riding up front for a change in his red coat so we should find out soon!

Luckily we don’t encounter any serious hostilities or get arrested and we arrive safely at the outskirts of Torun. As usual Lukasz is 15 minutes negotiating a “good deal” with the pretty hotel receptionist whilst me and David sit outside with the bikes. We eat a good chicken shoarma meal at the Spinks restaurant but encounter the grumpiest waiter in Poland. The normally mild mannered Lukasz puts him suitably in his place. Try a few bars and clubs and have a late one on the beer, absinthe and whisky.

Day 6 – Torun to Kwidzyn - 26th July 2007

After Lukasz washes the pink rash off his arm (apparently the lipstick left from the telephone number of a female acquaintance last night) and recovers from the shock of the weather forecast map, we set off to try to find a quiet route out of Torun. However, after more than half an hour and only half a mile we fail miserably and take the polish equivalent of the M1 out of town. It really is traffic hell and dangerous but it is also very fast and we get to Chelmza in double quick time, partly because of the terror induced adrenalin in our blood.

Taking a more direct route than planned to Grudziadz turns out to be a good thing as the roads from Chelmza are quiet and mostly good quality where we can average 15 – 20mph all the way to Debieniec. At a toilet stop in a field I loose David & Lukasz who continue on ahead. I change in the big gears and really pedal flat out trying to catch them up. Having stopped to wait for me at a shop, David sees me fly past them without stopping, and by the time they realise it was me and shout I am past them and out of earshot (oops) and its 5 miles before they catch me up. I set an excellent pace and after 2 or 3 miles start to wonder why I am not catching them. Eventually I glance behind to see them frantically trying to catch me up. I continue to pretend I hadn’t seen them until the next junction as I have all the maps. Together again, we descend a big downhill at Piaski where the roads deteriorate but are no-where as bad as those to come.

We have an excellent lunch of schabowy and chips at Grudziadz before we push on to Kwidzyn. The A55 is an excellent quality fast road but too narrow for both us and the bloody large lorries. Decide to take the minor road to Wlk Welcz but at Mokry a crap road becomes really really crap and slows us down to 5pm! After a big hill (“that one wasn’t on the map was it Dad!”) the road gets better but then disappears completely to be replaced by a black dirt track at Okragla. Asphalt roads return after a couple of miles and the weather is good, we feel fit and David puts his IPOD on speaker and “under my Umbrella” propels us along at 20mph and we even have a few races along the deserted roads. The final few miles are a bit of a drag as we run out of drink and it gets very hot. The final hill into Kwidzyn isn’t too bad and we settle into a large old hotel called Kaskada near the station having been given a full run down of the town by a friendly local. As usual Lukasz chats up the receptionist but when he returns after his shower she has been replaced by the bosses son. For once I replace David on the night out as he decides on an early night. Just a pity Kwidzyn is closed.

Day 7 – Kwidzyn – Gdansk – 27th July

Following the directions from yesterdays “tourist guide” its good riding for many miles and David leads the way at 20mph+. We are flying along, and all is well when ……..you guessed it we hit a more crap roads this time it’s cobblestones – which is a new one! Over 5km later our average drops to 13mph but spirits are still high as the weather is good and we should get to Gdansk today. Roads vary from excellent to hell at regular intervals but are always quiet of traffic. We arrive at the Wisla which is the third time we will have crossed this mighty river since Krakow.

We cross the main road south of Tczew hoping that the large old bridge across the Wisla in the distance is still open. It is open although a little worse for wear and roads north of Tczew are good and we are really going well with our average rising up to near 15mph. Then at Mokry Dwor, fearing the traffic on the busy main road we choose a quiet back road into Gdansk. BIG MISTAKE as its the worst of the ride – 10km of concrete blocks 6 foot wide, lined up side by side with a 2 inch gap between each one and 2 inch holes for traction. It’s like riding over a train track. By the time we arrive in Orunia our arms and hands are numb and Lukasz is ready to fight anyone who tries to nick our wheels. A torrential downpour fails to dispirit us and photos in Dluga Street are taken by the prettiest girl Lukasz could find. I ask Lukasz what a round road sign with a cyclist and a thick red line across it means, but he just smiles before we race up the Armi Krajewska dual carriageway to Irena’s house.

Day 8 – Gdansk to Hel – 9th August

After a weeks rest in Kopalino, we set of from Gdansk (minus Lukasz) for the last lap of our ride across Poland. The ride through Gdansk is good for a large city as the cycle tracks are very good.

Web link - Ride through Gdansk

 

British planners please take notice. Once at the Baltic it’s a bike trail all the way to Sopot where David gets our first puncture of the trip outside the Grand Hotel…incredible really that it took so long considering some of the roads we encountered. Puncture fixed the bike trail comes to a dead end at the sea and we have to climb up a steep embankment before joining a main road into Gdynia. Lost in the Chylonia shipyard area David gets his second puncture and we stop in Pogorze for a Pizza and repairs. So much for the bad weather that was forecast as it’s hot and dry all day.

The route today has a few decent sized hills but we get to Wladyslawowo early and then really enjoy the flat road to Hel. A couple of local girls decide to flash their “tattoos” to David and the flies have followed him up from Zakopane. The new cycle track is great and by slipstreaming each other at intervals we fly along averaging 20mph for over 10 miles between two towns on the long peninsula. Then we see it… the sign for Hel. Unfortunately the actual town is another 9km further on which is immensely disappointing to David who takes out his frustration on a particularly rude motorist. I really enjoy the last few miles into the town on a good road and we quickly book onto the 8.00pm ferry to Gdansk. We then enjoy a great cod and chips at the chippie overlooking the fishing harbour and watch the town’s festivities of the war re-enactment entitled Medal of Honour. The Polish appear to be giving the Germans a good beating and enjoying it but I don’t know what the German tourists make of it.

We wave goodbye to Hel and sail to Gdansk where the shipyard sky is lit up by the night shift welders at work on the ships. In Gdansk the city is bustling with tourists and the walk up Dluga street is alive with the summers festivities.

Another bimble is over – it’s a pity you couldn’t make it Dave.

Derek Goode

 

Accommodation:

Overall, places to stay in Poland are very good quality and exceptional value for money compared to the UK. Most rooms are en suite and with B&B only around £12 per person per night. We had no problems anywhere we stayed, and the only issue turned out to be where we could keep the bikes. Some were happy to let us take it to the room whilst others kept them in a locked room near reception. (Stats to follow later...)

 

Taff Trail Challenge 07

Never before has an event attracted so many sober Ponty Wobblers. Call it old age, call it learning from past mistakes. Either way, an early to bed Saturday night did wonders for the overall stamina, pre-event retching and awareness of that 7am alarm clock on the morrow of the Ty Hafan sponsored Taff Trail Challenge. Now if only every trip was this well organised. Eh Gordon?

 

The day began with Aled Jones (whose no singer) dismantling a spare bike for Scunthorpe Dave and sticking it in the boot, before loading the other 3 bikes onto the rack eagerly watched by Mark “always time for a cuppa” Davies. I would have helped but I was busy eating a full Welsh breakie of sausages, bacon, two eggs, beans, bread and juice (cue drunk Ken, Ynysybwl RFC, pre RWC a few years ago, in Sarah and Keith's house before they went to Australia to live) in order that at least one of the team of 9 ish had some calories en route.

Anyway, to Brecon we went. Arriving at the Theatre starting point we were informed by Sian that the Bobinogs played here once… hmm? The big time it was then! Suitably signed in and no-one laughing at my jokes we set off, tee-shirt on and £8 down.

Setting a lightning pace we soon reached Llanfrynach, where I used to work at the Salmon Hatcheries, and realised we were, to coin a phrase, “too old for this shit!” Only 50 miles to go…

Already miles behind, me and Mark were in need of a Lucozade and a Wagon Wheel to spur us on up the 4 or 5 mile long hill by Tal-y-Bont and this we got courtesy of our first pit stop Marshalls who didn’t like my non-pc joke about sweating... But at least the weather was better than the Abergavenny trip though – where cycling up this hill was easier than cycling down it last time!

Next Marshall point and Derek (known to one and all Pythons as “Bicycle Repair Man”) stopped to help some other teams fix a puncture and mend a chain which gave me and Mark a head start to the next stage. Then disaster struck as Aled’s brand new £1000+ Giant super-duper bike (that’s a technical term in case any non-mountain biking people are reading this) exploded. Ok, it didn’t exactly explode but it was dead (another techie term). Not even young David’s grandfather with his oxy-acetylene welding kit could fix the snapped frame and gears on AJ’s silver machine. Suitably disheartened it was a long push to the Red Cow and mobile phone reception before Sian could be woken from her Sunday slumber to drive back to Brecon to pick up poor Aled and his piece of £1000 scrap.

After this setback onwards we pedalled past banjo country to Cefn and the Station Inn where Derek’s sandwiches came in handy but not his Polish, as the barmaid from the last trip was gone.

Pushing on towards Aberfan, Scunthorpe Dave came a cropper and left his knee behind on a barrier. And then we had the toughest part of the trip psychologically as we had to cycle past Ponty! Funny to torture yourself for so long only to see your nice warm house and even warmer shower disappear as fast as it appeared. Anyway, past Tesco and on to Nantgarw for a welcome Lucozade, a Wagon Wheel and a Club this time (well worth the £8 now as glucose depletion became limiting).

Onwards, downhill to the big city, no silly Castell Coch hills (phew) and only the leisurely winding lanes of South Glamorgan, our third county in a day, to endure now. Reaching the Bay amid a ticker tape parade we passed up the chance of a massage (for obvious reasons of a hardened nature) and headed to the Terra Nova pub for a couple of Brains Smooths in the drizzle. Ah, heaven. Until next year as they say. Lets hope my piles are better and there’s a curtain around the massage table.

 

P.S. Disappointed that no-one asked us why we were called the Ponty Wobblers... it's the cycling shorts mun!!!

External links:

Taff Trail website

Sustrans

Ponty to Abergavenny...
... and back again.

It sounded like a bit of fun. A short cycle from the hangover of a Full Ponty festival to the small market town of Brecon along the picturesque Taff Trail over the Whitsun break, but unfortunately for us someone had booked all the B&B’s in Brecon.

 

Ok, no problem we thought, we’ll just go that extra couple of miles to Abergavenny, weather should be nice anyway, especially with global warming and everything…so after a glorious month of above average temperatures and plenty of sunshine in May we phoned Jenny’s place to put us up.

 

Little did we know it was the steam tractor festival in town and there was no room at the Inn’s which served nice warm ale. We also failed to appreciate just how cold the top of the pass above Tal-y-Bont could be in May! And as pp planning and preparation goes, an extra 15+ miles along the bumpy canal does not do wonders for the piles – opps.

The weather forecast wasn’t good. We knew the BBC gets it completely wrong every day but somehow even a little bit wrong might still mean a lot of rain and headwinds for us. They did and we did too. Setting off after a full breakie and small bacon buttie for late arrivals Warren and Andy we could only imagine how cold it would get. Things started well with a good pace for 4 miles before we stopped to admire Alun’s new decking and have a well deserved cuppa. Only 46 miles to go then.

The rain wasn’t heavy at this stage and we plodded on to Merthyr with our Lucozades and chocolate bars making light work of topping up the glycogen stores. Through Cefn Coed, lost and found Derek and David, and uphill through some heavy rain we decided to stop for a beer and some hot chips at the Abermorlais pub where we were met in addition to service with a snarl (probably ‘cos we weren’t from Royston Vaisey) two local gentlemen who offered to sell us some brand new authentic genuine honest gov’ polo shirts with Diesel or Ralph Lauren labels biro’d on. We declined their offer telling them we were all members of Glamorgan Trading Standards on a charity cycle ride and settled for a ham roll for a very unacceptable £1.50. Andy did ask what real ales were available to the weary traveller and was told by the barmaid to go and have a look himself – such friendly service in these here parts!

Ah, well, ale’d up off we set off into the wind and rain and on past reservoir and railway before pushing up the steep hill which froze my testicles to my thin shorts. Luckily I’d now lost the feeling in my hands and so couldn’t have done much to revive them if indeed the need or opportunity had arisen on top of the mountain (no sheep jokes please) and so on we pushed down the bumpy off road track high above Tal-y-Bont lake. I did stop to urinate at one point and even contemplated wee’ing over my hands to try to warm them up but ignored the thought as the prospect of a nice cold pint of lumpy Scrumpie in The Star spurred me on.

Miles of ball bouncing fun later Warren, Andy, Aled and myself (Mountain bikes) met up again with Derek and David (Road bikes) who were busy eating a choc ice and chatting up the ice-cream lady. Ok, I’m kidding it wasn’t choc ices but hot chocolate but seeing as I couldn’t feel most of my body now nor matter my extremities I thought it prudent to push on to the warmth of a country pub.

Hot coffee and whisky chasers were just the order of the day now, although they’d stopped doing food as all great British pubs seem to do just when you need food most - in order to not die of exposure on a mountain. They’d even let the fire go out! Crisps for calories it was then, followed by half an hour with my hands under hot water and the hot air dryer. There was no such relief for our sodden socks and freezing feet though. Bloody Ranulph Fiennes has it easy I reckon.

Next up was the knowledge that a lovely smooth 7 miles into a nice cosy warm Brecon hostelry had now been replaced by God knows what or how far to Abergavenny. It was also at this point that Warren enquired as to where exactly our digs were to which I replied “I’m sure I had a map somewhere in the house”.

“No surprises here then” said Andy.

So onward we bimbled, along a beautiful canal bank through the cold rain and now even colder wind, although it must be said the trees did offer some protection.

Guesses at our distance travelled varied wildly as Derek’s odometer got misted up by the rain and Warren’s PMA was working overtime. “It can’t be more than a few hundred yards now!” he said.

Andy’s knee decided to leave his otherwise perfect working body and catch the last taxi home without telling him. Meanwhile I kept a sober head and decided it was about 16 miles to go. Aled pee’d in the hedge and got arrested by the British Waterways police. Ok, I lied about that last bit.

Eventually we past Llangattock and Gilwern before leaving the safety of the canal towpath and venturing onto the main road at Llanfoist. A couple of miles downhill and we were heading up into the town centre and asking directions to “The Guesthouse” in a local pub. Luckily the mad women in there didn’t deter a great old bloke who did manage to give me directions. Thinking the others had also heard it was past the pub on the corner and assuming they were right behind me and Aled set off like men possessed in search of a hot shower and warm welcome in our pre-booked B&B.

The door opened and there was lovely Jenny who welcomed us with the traditional British greeting when faced with a 6ft soaking wet bloke in a cycling helmet “Jesus f***** Christ, you poor b*******!!!”

“Don’t drip on my floor” was followed by “You must be f***** mad” but at least we got our clothes dried on the radiators overnight.

“Now it’s two twins and a single luv’” said Jenny.
“Nope, it’s three twins” I said.
“For f**** sake, I’ve had a f***** guts full this weekend” came the friendly reply.

But before we could jump into a hot shower we had to find the boys. We thought they were just behind us but after 20 minutes realised that Derek had taken too long taking a photo of a Chinese takeaway sign that looked Polish and they were lost. We tried to phone but he wasn’t answering it even though he’d phoned us 6 times! Eventually they found us and Jenny announced “You can’t get the f***** guests these days”.

I wondered what all the fuss was about really. I did say it was called “The Guesthouse”. They thought I was just saying the guesthouse though… ah confusion – the essence of Min-ex past.

Anyway, with a hot shower and camp bed between Derek and Warren it was glad rags on and a kindly lift into town for the six of us, all set for the big nosh, beer, nightclub, drugs, oodles of naked Scandinavian women in the Jacuzzi and all night orgies that has become the norm on our bimbling trips…

“He can’t come in” said the bouncer to David (aged 17) on the door of Wetherspoons. Ah well, curry house early then.

At this point the group split – one section heading for the kebab house and another for the very expensive Balti at the bottom of the hill – lovely Cobra on draught and lovely half eaten curry came to £63 for three!!! We were also a bit slow when they came to take away the dishes as no one thought to keep the Nan bread to use as a hat for it was still raining persistently outside.

Limping to the Hen and Chickens we arrived just in time to meet the boys and stop tap. Mmm.

Derek took baby David to bed while us real men went back to Wetherspoons. Two pints later it shut.
“What a shit hole” said Warren. But I think he was being a bit unkind. It was Sunday after all and we were knackered and it was raining on a Bank Holiday and we were wet again and the steam engine enthusiasts had probably all left by now and compared to a night in Swansea it was always asking a lot…
“Who organised this trip?” someone said.

Sleep.

Early riser and weather enthusiast Derek was greeted over breakie with “Before you ask, you’ll have what your f***** well given!” by Jenny. It was an excellent breakfast I must say though – plenty of calories for the return journey even if we were to be one less as Andy’s knee had not returned.

So off we rode, stocking up on chocolate at the garage on a nice sunny morning. The BBC weather had said showers and a Northerly wind of 20 mph. But as usual they were wrong and we had a headwind for most of the day (that was a Southerly in case you wondered). The canal was lovely, bumps aside, and the views good. Warren managed to chuck up some egg but me and Aled kept ours down.

Splitting up again and then meeting up at The White Hart (we like to spread our patronage around) we forgo a beer and opt for the sugar of Coca Cola. A brief hot pastie at the Spar (where the guy serving even waited for a penny so times must be tough in rural villages) and on we went.

‘99’s all round at the ice cream van and Derek’s girlfriend took a nice picture of us all (minus Andy) although she didn’t want the favour returned unless we could Photoshop Pamela Anderson’s body on her.

Severe glycogen depletion and dehydration was the order of the day now as my liver tried to tell me to glucose up. Eventually we reached the big hill and zoomed down to Mrs Miggins OK Tea rooms with spooky ethereal music for a lovely snack of Carrot & Parsnip soup and beans on toast washed down by a pot of hot tea – just what the doctor ordered. Warren was scared we were in a scene from Dusk ‘till Dawn when he heard Lord of the Rings come on but we managed to escape in time for a sweep around Pontsticill and coast downhill to the Station Hotel and a pint of Whoosh served up by a Polish waitress in Cefn – weird.

 

Raining.

Suitably cold again we pushed on past Merthyr, bumped down steps under the A470 and on past Alun’s house before more rain came down.

Then the rain came down. I guess it was too much to ask to keep dry the whole day and literally on the last few hundred yards it emptied down with lovely hailstones too. We said our goodbyes to the Church Village contingent and headed for the shower.

Warren managed to stay awake all the way to Gower, Aled is still soaking in the bath two days later and me and Sue (fish feeder and dog walker on this trip) headed to the Chinkie for a very hot Singapore curry. Happy days. Until next time…

“No, he’s not going to Amsterdam!” said Sue.

Meanwhile Nicola was sorting out the sack. But that's another story.

External links:
The Guesthouse - "Jenny's place"

 

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