Cyclokairos

That’s The Black Bike just shy of Bwlch y Groes (Pass of the Cross), second only to Gospel Pass in the terms of highest Welsh mountain pass that’s a sealed road. The view is back down the valley through which the River Rhiwlech flows before it joins the Dyfi. The source of that river is somewhere off to the right on the slopes of Aran Fawddwy. I was towards the end of a two day trundle through Mid-Wales.

The Black Bike required some modifications for the trip. The Rene Herse Tyres were showing their age and were replaced with Panaracer Gravel Kings. The Rene Herse side-walls may be more supple, making for a faster tyre, although probably not on a bike ridden by me, but they’re expensive. The Gravel Kings are cheaper but roll well enough for my style of riding and have done the job on The Green Bike and The Purple Bike (that is also white), albeit in a different size. The front end had a Hyacinth Wild Child rack attached a few weeks back, to support the Velo Orange Randonneur Bag I’ve used on various bikes for the past few years.

The back end also needed addressing. The two day trip involved a stay at a B&B, so no camping kit was required, but I needed extra capacity over my set up for a day ride. My Wizard Works Shazam saddlebag with a Carradice Bagman Support was put to use, and to ensure stability, struts were added.

I’m not sure about the aesthetics of the high position of the saddlebag, but the set up proved to be very stable, and I didn’t notice having the weight up high. The randonneur bag, when on The Purple Bike (that is also white), has a decaleur attached to its back that slots into a Velo Orange Randonneur front rack. I had to remove the decaleur for the bag to work with the Hyacinth rack. This gave the bag something of a slumped look when loaded, although it was perfectly stable with straps attaching it to the tombstone and base of the rack – perhaps reattaching the decaleur and using a fork-steerer-tube-mounted receiver is the way to go?

As per usual, overthinking the trip almost scuppered it. Overthinking to point of talking myself out of going on the trip. I can do that even for a day trip on my bike. I may tell myself there’s a life to be lived and you’ve just got to crack on, but the barrier to get started often gets nailed in place in my head. Gloomy weather in the run up didn’t help, and further gloom was forecast for the first day of riding. I scratched the plan of camping the first night and opted for something with a roof and solid walls. Still, the dark skies and rain as I arrived at Lake Vyrnwy did nothing to whet the appetite. Waking the next day – rain. On and off rain throughout the first day, a constant frustration – jacket on, jacket off. Leaving it off too long, I was wet from precipitation, leaving it on too long, I was wet from condensation. The terrain was rolling, lots of up and down, the chain dancing up and down the cassette. Finding a rhythm was difficult, my frustration further fed. The legs were good though, it was the head that was the problem.

From Lake Vyrnwy I headed to Llanfair Caereinion, ignoring the initially planned lanes (potentially too many sharp and sapping ups and downs) and took the B4382. I had intended to avoid B roads, the busyness of those close to home the deterrent, but this is Wales. The road was pretty much empty – half a dozen cars encountered in 15 miles? The heritage railway station in Llanfair Caereinion provided a chance for a caffeine top up and then it was time to get out of the valley. My route a river-to-river roam: Vyrnwy-Banwy-Rhiw-Severn (I’ve done a Welsh and English mix of names there, haven’t I?). The climb was not some gentle strand of switchbacks. Rather one of those let’s-take-the-quickest-route-and-go-straight-up climbs. To rub it in, “Sixteen sodding percent!”, a sign screamed.

More rolling hills, more gear changes up, more gear changes down. I still wasn’t getting it, the head refusing to play ball. Caersws was reached and lunch taken. More caffeine, but still, that barrier remained. Llanidloes next, and there things began to change. Was it the cortado at The Wild Oak Cafe? Was it the thought that with only 10 miles to go, I was almost done for the day? I cycled away from town, towards The Hafren Forest, the barrier had been demolished. But what’s this? The steering felt vague, the weight of randonneur bag immense – front tyre puncture. How’s the opening line of ‘This Charming Man’ go again? Puncture, hillside, but not so desolate (plenty of trees). Was nature to make a man of me? Well, nature wasn’t the culprit – a shard of metal wire was the cause. Inner-tube replaced, I pressed on up through the trees, reaching the shallow basin that sits close to Staylittle. My refuge for the night was found: Hafren Forest Hideaway. If you’re ever in these parts, stay there. The owners, Darren and Sarah, are very hospitable. You’ll be well fed and despite the remote location, it has all mod cons.

Day Two: much better. Better weather, better route, better things going on in the head (the third no doubt in part due to the first and second). Although I soon discovered I had not switched my camera off the previous evening. A flat battery meaning the phone would have to be used – so not just my usual badly framed photos, but badly framed photos of lower resolution. It was climbing at first as I passed through Staylittle. A left a little up the road took me round Rhiw Dyfeity Fawr and on to Dylife. The reward for these initial efforts – the descent to Machynlleth. Five or six miles of it – steep and thrilling. I passed two cyclists on fully laden touring bikes heading up. Down on this road is definitely my preference – up looks a real toil.

The plan had been to stop in Machynlleth for a caffeine fix, but it felt busy, noisy – being at the junction of two A roads there was a lot of traffic. I pressed on and was soon headed up the Dyfi Valley, ignoring the A road and taking the deserted lane that runs parallel to it. Quiet, untaxing undulations, sunshine (well, some), the prevailing wind behind – good riding – yesterday’s travails banished. The miles were passing far quicker on the second day – legs still good, the head in an equally sound state.

I had The Red Lion at Dinas Mawddwy in mind for some lunch – no, not open until 5. If it had been yesterday, I would have been disappointed, but feeling good and still having snacks to hand, I rode on up the Dyfi Valley – closer to its start, closer to the climb up to Bwlch y Groes. Despite the odd house and the small village of Llanymawddwy, it was deserted. I saw no one, it was just me and the bike. Little thinking beyond reading the road, deciding where to steer, deciding which gear to select. Some kind of mindlessness – an emptying, a freedom – joy. Occasional thoughts of what was to come – the climb out of the valley. A chevron-festooned ascent according to the Ordnance Survey map (three at the very start – I don’t think I’ve ever ridden a three-chevron incline). An average of 12% over two miles with sections of 20% – Hellfire Pass another name for Bwlch y Groes. It wasn’t that bad (granted I took a breather at the bit that flattens and has a cattle grid). That three-chevron start was fine, despite the weight of full-to-the-brim bags. The worst bit was a two-chevron affair near the end – I imagine because it was near the end. But it was no Asterton Bank – that’s a ridiculous climb. Shorter than Bwlch y Groes but it touches 23% at times, and is just goes straight up the side of Lond Mynd, and being straight, the pain is all too plain to see. The climb to Bwlch y Groes curves, teasing out the challenge, and the views, well, they’re why I seek out such places to cycle. A cross at the top, signalling an old pilgrimage route. I sat and stared – a sublime view back down the valley. One of those moments to get lost in.

It kept coming, the wave that Jean Bobet calls ‘la volupte’: the voluptuous pleasure that cycling can give you is delicate, initimate and ephemeral. It arrives, it takes hold of you, sweeps you up and then leaves you again. It is for you alone. It is a combination of speed and ease, force and grace. It is pure happiness. From Bwlch y Groes, a twisty descent across heathland before using the River Eunant as a guide to the end, the shores of Lake Vyrnwy.