Tag Archives: wye valley

Cycling Weekly Welsh Raider 2015

Apologies for the delay…usual excuses…etc. But hey, better late than never so here goes…

Most of my sportives are only a couple of hours away. It means they’re within driving distance and I can get there and back in a day. And the Welsh Raider was no different. But what with the nights drawing in and not feeling great these days, I figured I could use a couple of extra hours sleep the night before, and booked myself into the nearest Travelodge. Presumably that’s travelodgical…*groan*.

So on Friday night, off I went. Yes, Friday. The Welsh Raider was on a Saturday. I always like that, it means you have Sunday to recover and relax, and you don’t lose your entire weekend to one sportive. It was getting dark as I set off, and and proper dark when I arrived, having spent a couple of hours blindly following my satnav along a whole range of pitch black country roads. with no idea of what the scenery was like. Mind you, at least that kind of road means I stay awake – motorways + medication tend to send me to sleep, which ain’t great. Anway, I may have had no idea where I was when I got there, but I was pretty sure I was in the right place, as I parked up next to the UK Cycling Events van!

Having checked in I took myself off to the pub next door, The Squirrel, for some food. Scampi and chips, in case you’re interested. Having ordered, and whilst looking for somewhere to sit, I spotted a group who looked a lot like fellow cyclists to me, and as we chatted, they kindly asked me to join them. Apparently they were from the Grench cycling club – which is something to do with concatenating two village names, and nothing to do with Dr Seuss. I’m not good with names, but I think they were Mark, Nigel, Neil and Owen. Hi guys! It turned out to be a very amusing and enjoyable evening – which made a nice change from my usual pre-sportive nights. Sometimes doing these things on your own is actually good – you get to meet new people 🙂

I got a reasonably early night, and then predictably slept like something not at all resembling a baby. Why do hotels not have plug sockets next to the bed? My phone is my alarm clock. My phone needs charging overnight. So my phone is now not next to my bed. I must therefore now wake up at least every hour to check the time on my watch (old skool!) just in case something has happened to the phone and I have missed the alarm I’m not sure why this would be improved by the phone being next to the bed, but I just know it would! *grrr*.

Right then. Time to get up. Outside the window was…well, who knows? The sun wasn’t properly up but there was enough light around to reveal that last night’s meteorological fog warnings had come to fruition. It also looked pretty chilly out there. Marvellous. I made some guesses as to which layers of what kit was going to work for this, and with minimal faffing was on my way down the road to HQ at Ludlow Racecourse, all of 10 minutes away. I was there around 7:30am, when registration opened, and I was amongst the first arriving. It was cold, darkish, and still very foggy, which also meant it was damp. Lovely…

On my way to register I was quite impressed to see that each of the bike racks outside came with a track pump attached, which struck me as a really good idea, even if I didn’t need one. Mine was in my boot if I did. I headed inside, and after a brief spell in my queue, was given my map, cable ties, bike number (3713) and helmet timing chip. After nipping in to use the facilities I headed back outside to the car to faff for a bit. It wasn’t exactly inspiring weather for a sportive but I was here, and it was there to be done, so I could only put off the inevitable for so long! It was time to head for the start…

Today’s rider briefing was short and to the point which, as it was freezing standing around, was a good thing. Around 8:00am I, and a small group of other riders, headed off for the day ahead.

Right, once again, like the Bristol Belter, I need to explain the route set up. Think uneven figure of eight, with HQ in the off-centre middle. The right/east loop is sort of 40 miles, the left/west loop is sort of 65. The Short route does the 40. The Standard route does the 65. The Epic route does the Short route and then the Standard route – making up 105 miles. Which pretty much means you have to make a call between Epic and Standard within about 2 miles of setting off. I was here to do the Epic one so I duly turned right when the option arose, whilst almost everyone else didn’t! Too late now…

About 2 miles after that, whilst still freezing and not at all ready for it, came the first hill of the day. A pretty steep one has it happens! I may not have enjoyed it much but actually it proved fairly motivational as it didn’t feel as bad as I’d thought it might, thus leading me to think that today might be going to go ok. Mind you I’ve have been even happier about it if the roads across the top and back down again hadn’t been so sh*tty. And to the four riders who hurtled past me downhill one by one with absolutely no warning, while I was trying to avoid potholes, mud and gravel…? No, I won’t say it, but I did then, albeit probably under my breath. Probably. It didn’t amuse me at all when one of them undercooked the following corner and ended up in the hedge. Much. And before you tut at me for my black heart, he was absolutely fine, not even his ego was dented.

There was another bigger, or make that longer, hill a few miles on, and then after that the route settled into rolling. I’d looked at the profile before and had presumed it only looked relatively flat between hills due to scale. But it really was like that. It was also still foggy, freezing cold, and without views to look at or any sense of anything, it was a bit depressing. Life picked up at one point though, when a gentleman called Ray (I think) pulled alongside me and asked if I was me, which of course I was, and it turned out he reads my blog! How cool is that? Hi there! That definitely cheered me up a bit, and he also rode with me for a while which also helped, even though it would turn out to be the longest conversation I had all day. After a while, and another small up splitting us up, he headed off with my blessing, and I carried on my own without having to keep up 😉

The first food stop came at around 27 miles in and though I wasn’t feeling too bad it was nice to have a brief break. The fog meant that I was proper damp and although it wasn’t windy, the air temperature of the air going past me made for a significant wind chill factor – I was frozen right through! Remind me to not use that base-layer again – bamboo doesn’t seem to wick, and once that layer was cold and damp it just sat there keeping you that way! It was actually warmer being stopped, but I still didn’t hang around for too long. Places to be, many miles ahead, etc.

The route split came another rolling 13 miles later. I had been mulling my route choice over, since I wasn’t having a whole heap of fun out there, but having driven there, paid for a Travelodge, etc…well, that ain’t worth it just to ride 45 miles right? With a quick “you can do this” to myself, I didn’t go left, I carried on in to the foggy grey yonder on the Standard route, with another 65 miles ahead of me. Most of which I spent not just on my own but without another rider in sight – another side effect of the route set-up. The official times show just 96 riders doing the Epic route and judging by the times some of them recorded, some of them definitely didn’t! That means that there weren’t a lot of Epic riders out there and we few were also a long way behind the Standard route riders.

The route carried on rolling through the fog, with the odd actual up and down but nothing too noteworthy. None of it was making me any warmer or drier. I was breaking the time and miles left down into blocks to deal with, mentally & physically. I broke things up further with breaks for food, drink, and occasional photo ops as taking pics with the gloves on was tricky. I was really looking forward to the halfway mark since that’s always a bit of a mental attitude tipping point…and it even came with a church to photograph at precisely the opportune moment. There wasn’t a lot of scenery out there to admire, as I mentioned earlier and even the villages and towns seemed a bit unremarkable to me, so a pretty church was a sight to behold.

Time for another foodstop then, which I think was around the 56 mile mark. The ‘staff’ were lovely and friendly, and there may even have been a bit of banter 🙂 And there were fig rolls! At this point I was feeling ok. Just ok, but ok is ok. Ok and over halfway. The terrain was proving to be doable even if I wasn’t doing it as fast as I felt I ought to be given the lack of big hills. What’s new? And I was bound to warm up sooner or later as the forecast had better things in store for the afternoon, right? Time to go and get the rest of it done then. Off I set, up through the town, up something that I guess was a small hill but really wasn’t anything special. However… Halfway up it my left knee “went”. I can’t describe that really. I wasn’t doing anything different to usual, I was just pedalling, which I’m fairly sure I’ve done before! But something failed/scrunched/popped…and it started hurting. Now I’ve had a niggling knee problem since my L2P in 2009 but that’s sort of background. This wasn’t that. Well ok, it kind of was, in that it was in the same sort of place, but it was most definitely foreground! And for the next 49 miles every left pedal stroke hurt a bit. Nice, no? No! I have to say it did very little for my joie de vivre…

There was nothing to be done about it, I just had to keep going. The only way I was getting back was to get myself back. So I rolled on. I knew it wasn’t going to stay rolling…there was at least one proper big hill between me and HQ, in fact between me and the next food stop, which had me a little worried. In the meantime it brightened up a bit, and the fog cleared, but I still didn’t get as far as needing to remove layers, I just carried on and counted down the miles to that hill… At a couple of points I even saw a couple of other riders! There was also some scenic stuff to admire too; I vaguely recall a nice bit along a tree covered river, which reminded me of similar in the Pyrenees last year. However I figured I must be in Wales when I saw my favourite road markings 🙂 And there was even a level-crossing. Train tracks have been known to be the bane of my life but I made it over these at the recommended 90 degree angle and stayed on the bike…

I was getting increasingly tired and less with it. Being cold, the knee hurting, the relentless rolling, I think it was all just getting to me. And my performance up that very big long hill was abysmal! I mean I made it up, hairpins and all, but there really wasn’t anything in the tank. There was a sign by the road calling it “Ceri” at some point but I’ve no idea if that’s the name of the hill or the nature reserve on it, or what. I just know that it went on and on forever…most unusual for English hills. Which is probably because it was Welsh 😉

Still, just briefly there, on the way up, there was sunshine, and views, and hey, after this hill it was going to be essentially downhill all the way back. It wasn’t that bad, right? These are the things you keep telling yourself to keep you going… A little sign at the top told me I should cheer up, because I could be mowing the lawn. Actually mowing the lawn sounded like a perfectly acceptable alternative to me… 😉 But it did mean the hill was finally behind me, and it was time for the third and final food stop.

There were other riders here, the same faces as I’d seen before at food stops and occasionally on the road. There weren’t many of us though! We chatted briefly, and I wasn’t the only one not feeling it, or not feeling my feet for that matter. But chatting wasn’t going to get me home. I set off on my own again and the last 20 miles were, yes, you guessed it, rolling, although with a downwards trend overall. And those miles were also pretty much purgatory. It clouded over again and got colder. I got tireder, my lower back started hurting, the knee got worse, and even with gels and eating and drinking I was definitely running on empty. I can’t tell you much more about that last section other than it seemed to take a very long time! I’d assumed that defeated, head sunk between shoulder blades drooping, position and the world had shrunk down to just me, the road ahead of me, and my need to get back. Then 105 miles turned out to be 106.4 which isn’t a big deal really, but did mean I spent the last mile or so wondering if I was lost on top of feeling out of it! Luckily, as with all UK Cycling Events, the plentiful signage kept reassuring me I wasn’t. I kept following the arrows, kept pedalling, and finally I was back at the race course and limping under the Finish arch.

Cycling time: 7:13
Distance: 106.4 miles
Avg: 14.7 mph
ODO: 11326.3 miles

There weren’t many people left around, unsurprisingly. The timing team handed me my medal and various goodies – a Power Bar recovery drink, a magazine, Craisins, & pistachios – and I parked up on one of the racks I’d seen so many hours before. There was no sign of the tea/coffee on offer, and the masseur was busy, so I gave up looking, retrieved my bike and headed for the car. It took me a while to figure out how to get into the car however…my brain had so gone elsewhere. I’d gone so far beyond, that I couldn’t think straight. Everything hurt, nothing wanted to move anymore, and I was wiped out! Looking back later, I realised that it was my longest ride this year, and my first century since May, so maybe it’s no surprise that it was hard work? After a while sitting in the boot of my car, I got it back together enough to get changed, load up, and nip into HQ for a quick freshen up before heading off.

Not that I got far! A couple of miles down the road I realised that there was no way I was going to get home in one piece in that state, so I pulled into the next available lay-by, locked the doors drank a can of Red Bull, closed my eyes, and was out like a light. It’s a good thing I set an alarm, otherwise I might have still been there the next morning! As it was, 45 minutes later, I was up, feeling much better, and had a lovely drive home down through the Wye Valley and over the new Severn Crossing which, as you should know by now, I love 🙂

So. I guess it’s a nice enough event. I’m sure on a good day it’s much nicer. It’s well run – let’s face it UK Cycling Events know what they’re doing by now. But 2 average hills, 1 big one, and a lot of rolling means that the only real challenge to it is the distance. The way the route is set up reduces your options on the day and leaves long route riders lonesome. There are also prettier parts of the country, in my opinion anyway. So of all the events they run, for whomever, I’m not sure why you’d do this one, and I don’t think I’d do it again. Having said that I am still perversely pleased that I did what I set out to do. Goal achieved. My knee was not and is not… But I do feel like I earned my little reward on Sunday, not that I ever need an excuse to drink fizz 😀

Black Rat Cyclosportive 2015

I’ve done the Black Rat Cyclosportive before, and this was to be my third time. However it’s been different every time. It was based in Portishead for my first in 2012, when it went around Somerset and also for my second, in its “Three Bridges” incarnation in 2014. This time The Black Rat had relocated to Clifton Rugby Club for a route that wouldn’t be dissimilar to last year but with less bridges and no Avonmouth to negotiate – so I was definitely up for doing it again.

Clifton Rugby Club is, however, not that easy to find. The satnav was convinced it was a car showroom. The entrance on the other side of the uncrossable dual carriageway wasn’t open, so clearly wasn’t the right one. Hm. So, I drove around circuitously a bit in the hope that I would find inspiration…which, when a black arrow hove into view I did. I followed it and found the entrance lurking on the side of the one way road that I couldn’t have gone done coming from the direction I’d arrived anyway. I gather there was a different postcode to use somewhere but clearly that had passed me and many others by. Some sort of signage would definitely have been helpful, and if it wasn’t for the marshals at the entrance I could use when I found it, it still wouldn’t have been obvious that I was in the right place!

Still, here I was, marshalled to park on a grassy field in the sun, where I would later be joined by both my Dad and Alan. In the meantime I headed off to register in the club building. Being early the event was still sort of setting up around me and there certainly weren’t any queues for anything. I’d remembered my 613 number so found the right place on the table to be given all the usual, and also a free High5 gel. With at least an hour in hand I had plenty of time to use the facilities and grab a cup of free coffee too.

The forecast was for pretty much the same as my last ride, sunny/cloudy/breezy/mildish, so I’d figured out what to wear already. Lightweight longs, toe covers, bamboo s/s base layer, merino s/s jersey, arm warmers, and gilet. Which made for a whole heap less faffing than sometimes. Well, apart from trying to get the bl**dy seat post timing tag on – not easy with my huge saddle bag! As I was sitting in the car wondering what to do next Dad walked past looking for me. And shortly afterwards Alan walked past on his way to register. And then there were three. Not three to ride together, as Dad was doing the short route, with some of his club members around. But Alan and I were both down for the 100 mile route, aka the Granfondo, his first in quite some time, and we were going to be sticking together for the duration. ‘Rah – company!

Having said that, I then managed to misplace Alan until just before they started sending riders off…I was starting to worry I’d be riding on my own after all! So with no time to waste, we joined the queue, and waited for our turn to be briefed and sent on our way. The rider briefing was a tad rambling but covered the usual bases, and we were on our way at 8:37am, up that one way road, and up the dual carriageway. Not for long though, very shortly we turned left into country lanes, at which point I found myself wishing we’d been let go in smaller groups as things got a bit clogged up. Still at least the rider traffic stopped us hurtling off too fast too soon right?

I’m often a bit blasé about sportives this days but knowing that I was doing it with Alan who’s done less of ’em than me, I’d paid more attention to the elevation of the route than usual so that I knew that with the exception of one lump, we were in for pretty flat times all the way until the Severn Bridge. I figured that lump would be a good test of my insides anyway, although since I was back to popping pills like smarties, I was already dosed up and not too concerned. So we bimbled our way around the country lanes, doing a reasonable speed but not pushing it, and that lump, whilst a bit testing on early legs, went fine albeit predictably slowly. Good start 🙂

Right, off to the (old) Severn Bridge. Which I love riding across. And today was no exception. You can see it shining white like a beacon from quite a way off, and it always cheers me up. After the wiggly cycle path to get to the bridge proper, we stopped for selfies and the like to immortalise the moment, before enjoying the scenic if slightly windy ride across to Wales. It sure was pwerty 🙂 Unlike the housing estates of Chepstow that followed, but they passed by soon enough. We then bunched up for a while at the traffic lights in the centre where the route split was last year, which have possibly the shortest “go” phase anywhere, though I’m pleased to say no-one was jumping them!

Wales is where the hills are. And oddly I like Welsh hills. They’re, mostly, long but not too steep. We climbed out of Chepstow past the racecourse and beyond and then flew back down to the Wye Valley to once more immortalise Tintern Abbey. By now I was having a serious case of déja-vù but hey, the abbey looks much nicer in sunshine, no? Shortly after the abbey came the route split. Which didn’t seem to be marked, and the marshal who was occasionally shouting out which way was which was more interested in his mobile phone than whether or not we were going the right way. Luckily I caught the tail end of his last holler and we went straight on whilst the other two routes went left. Suddenly where there had been lots of riders around us, there weren’t! And then we passed some signs marking another route split…curiouser and curiouser! We carried on our merry Granfondo way as indicated…

Today’s event turned out to be awfully like the Wiggle Wye Valley Warrior, with the addition of the Bridge, and the subtraction of Symonds Yat. Sounds good to me! I hadn’t realised quite how identical it would be but then even if I had, having liked that route, I’d probably still have done it 🙂 When I met an up I knew I knew I could do it, and when I met a down I knew I could properly get in to it. Lovely 🙂 It was however all new to Alan!

As we carried on, the Wye Valley was just as beautiful as ever, though the bluebells were a little past their best by now. It really is pretty around there. Of course you have to climb out of the valley eventually, which was a new climb to me I think, up to St Briavel’s Castle. It has a Moat Society and everything, who knew?! The first food stop came at the 50km mark shortly afterwards, where we were marshalled over a timing mat, so they’d know who’d really done which route presumably. The stop was in a pub car park, a pub which had very salubrious toilets, and outside there was plenty of food on offer, both sweet and savoury. Although being me I just had half a banana *grin*.

Off we went again, with more familiar roads. The next big up. The church at Staunton. Monmouth. And once again, espied from a distance, Lydart or Trelleck Hill. Again! But I was doing well on hills today. Well full stop actually. I was feeling really strong, which was…unprecedented? I actually left Alan behind going up and he didn’t catch me until near the top when things were easing off. My best time up there ever I’ll have you know. Two minutes faster than two weeks ago! 🙂

Time for the second food stop, at 80km in, at another pub, in Trelleck. They were waiting on a delivery of more food but there was still a range and enough to go around. And they still had bananas 🙂 I was keeping my bottles well topped up today, but with the food stops so well spaced out it probably wasn’t essential. We had a bit of a chat with one of the organisers, and checked up on the rest of the route with him. I thought we’d done the four hills that I was expecting so far, so there was due to be a flattish/rolling section before one last big one, which he confirmed. Always good to know. And, for a change, I wasn’t asking because I was hating the going up bits, I just wanted to be prepared 🙂

We headed off once more, but Alan seemed to be flagging a bit, although he reckoned I was just haring off a bit. Yep, I was still feeling strong 🙂 I did suggest he took another gel though, and I reined it in a bit and tried to make sure he was always on my wheel – it’s always easier to follow a wheel, right? Shortly after the stop and a bit more up came the next route split, a very sharp right turn, a bit out of the blue, and again not that well signposted. We had to retrace a little bit and locate/check the signs so as to take our right turn rather than head straight back to Chepstow. Which also took us down possibly the best descent of the day. Fab views but steep and fast and not technical so no photos I’m afraid! So much fun 🙂

As promised the next section was indeed more on the flat side, with views, windmills and bridges – I do like having something definite to photograph 🙂 Again I was riding within myself, with Alan behind me. All of which took us to the third and final foodstop, once again at a pub, with the same selection of food. Alan was feeling it, and my left knee was playing up. Knowing there was a final big hill coming up even I thought a gel might be a good idea, not to mention it making a change from bananas 😉 And that final hill, the long slow interminable climb up from Usk towards Chepstow was just as tedious as it always is! Although better in the dry and sort of bright than in the rain to be sure. Knowing it was the last climb of the day and that the rest of the route would be down or flat was motivational too.

It was as billed. There was a long, long, long, enjoyable downhill and then we had to deal with Chepstow before we could go over the lovely bridge again. There was some confusion regarding signs and directions around the racecourse and also at the beginning of the bridge, but after some debate with other riders we all took the right path and crossed the by now distinctly windier bridge, but on t’other side this time. Which was still fun, even if Alan doesn’t look like it was. This left us with around 16 flat miles to do. Into a killer headwind. It has to be said, this was not fun. Alan was on my wheel with little left in the tank, my head was down, and yes, we were dragging our average speed up nicely, but man, it was hard work! And when we missed a right hand turn sign somehow, it being small and not that obvious on the pole on the RHS under a tree where it was, and we had to stop, deliberate, and retrace again? I did have a minor sense of humour failure. Still, it did mean, whilst stopped and trying to check GPS maps, that I took the final dose of pills that I’d been putting off taking since we were so nearly back, so it probably had a silver lining. Head down again, route relocated, we continued to eat up the final few miles until finally we were over, or under, the Finish line and sitting in the sun with a well earned pasty and some cider. Result 🙂 Black Rat done!

Cycling time: 6:44
Distance: 100.7 miles
Avg: 14.9 mph
ODO: 9442.6 miles

I was so pleased with how strong I felt out there. Really, I was on one, which is very rare. I’m really pleased we both did the 100 miles as planned, and company made the whole thing practically pleasant. In fact time/speed wise it’s one of my best centuries in quite a while. Go us! As events go I like it. I like the route, I like the hills, I like the organisers, I like the foodstops, and I loved the free cider afterwards – especially when they had too much and we were encouraged to fill up bottles and take it home with us! But I think the signage needs some work. One sign per junction just ain’t enough, and although there were some repeater ribbons, more would have been good. Let’s face it, it’s very rare that I go off course on a sportive…and I’ve had some experience of these things *grin*. I’d still do it again though – and I’d also recommend it 🙂

Wiggle Wye Valley Warrior 2015

For the fifth weekend in a row, and the last one for a little while, this Sunday was predictably time for another sportive. Welcome to the Wiggle Wye Valley Warrior. My son, also predictably, asked me “wye” I was doing it, given the ‘orrible weather forecast…*groan*.

This was a question I asked myself when the alarm went off at 6:00am, and I didn’t need to draw back the curtains to know it was raining, I could hear it! What with that and pills and pain I came much closer than usual to bailing altogether, and just rolling over and going back to sleep. But, well, clearly I didn’t, otherwise this (rather long!) blog wouldn’t be here. And besides, I don’t, do I?

So, coffee, pills, breakfast, and time to go. On the upside, Chepstow is only 45 minutes from here, hence the later than usual start, and I got to go across the old Severn Bridge which I always like. OK, so I prefer riding across it, but I’ll be doing that on two different sportives later this year, and it wouldn’t have been much fun in the cold and damp and windy anyway!

HQ was at Chepstow Racecourse, with parking being opposite on a large muddy gravelly sodden car park. Nice. I was not looking forward to negotiating that with the bike and cleats…but for the time being I was wearing boots and it was time to walk to registration in the racecourse building. Same old routine as ever, find your desk, get a timing chip stuck on your helmet, get a Powerbar bottle/goodies (unless you’re on a press place), grab a map, number and cable ties. Easy. Oh, and I loved my number by the way – 1234! Even I can’t forget that. I remember being 501 once… Right, just time to nip to one of the many toilets and head back to the bike.

So. Hm. Well yes it was damp. Drizzly. And with more damp forecast. But it wasn’t very cold. And warmer was forecast. But wet plus wind can make you very cold. And what’s in a forecast anyway? Oh, fiddlesticks. I hate wearing the waterproof so stashed it in the saddlebag in case damp became proper wet later. But this would mean precious little space for stashing layers later if I needed to so… Toe covers, lightweight shoe covers, winter bib tights, bamboo s/s base layer, summer s/s jersey and my winter jacket. With mitts, winter collar, and with the over gloves stashed in a pocket. Well the winter jacket has vents, and zips, and I can push the sleeves up quite a bit. At a pinch one of the s/s layers could come off laters and probably fit in the saddle bag too. I thought, or hoped at least, that I had every eventuality covered!

Which brings me to time to get going. Time to gingerly negotiate the muddy car park, clog the cleats up with gunge, and somewhat ruefully reflect that at least the rain would wash the mud off the bike once I got going… Over the road, and down to the start line where I was luckily straight into the next bunch being prepared to go. I couldn’t really hear the briefing, though I doubt they had much to say that I haven’t heard before, and I could see the board with the signage on, and heard the bit about route splits. Having made it here I was determined to ride some, but I still hadn’t decided which route I was going to do – the 101, the 79, or whatever the short one was. That would be determined by how the weather went and how I actually felt out there.

And off we go. To cycle along the very beautiful but very increasingly damp Wye Valley. There’s a reason it’s an AONB you know. And there were carpets of bluebells, fragrant wild garlic, vibrant yellow oil seed rape, and lots of green. Well wet is good for green and it was kinda raining. Although the kinda of stuff that gets you wet without you really noticing that it’s heavier than you think, if you see what I mean. It still didn’t feel like time to put the waterproof on though. Does it ever? 😉 At some point it occurred to me that things looked kind of familiar, and wasn’t Tintern Abbey on the route around here somewhere? I quickly looked around me, in the nick of time, to see it just about to fly by behind me on the right hand side. Whilst photos in the rain don’t usually happen, there have to be exceptions to the rule, and since this might be the only pretty thing I saw all day if things got properly head down and miserable, I retraced my tracks a little and, voilá, one damp Cistercian abbey captured for perpetuity.

Off we went again. As you do. That would be the royal we of course, since I was back to riding on my own as usual. And I’ll have to admit I was kind of bimbling today. I’ve not had a great week health-wise, and having had my insides sort of painfully implode on a couple of hills lately which, I can assure you, is a seriously weird and unpleasant feeling, I was keen to avoid making that happen again. And as it’s unpredictable, you can never tell if…when… So that was how today’s ride was going to be. Being more than a little terrified of my own insides, today was going to be a bimble. Still, as things started to go up, after one up there was one of those Wiggle signs saying “Well done”, I have to say I hadn’t really noticed it was a notable hill, so that was nice. Encouraging even 🙂

Things brightened up a little. Which meant that there were gaps in between the damp, and the waterproof could stay where it was. I swear I carry that thing more than I wear it! When there was a little sun it was also definitely warmer. But the weather was/is unpredictable, so would it stay nicer? Anyway, the first food stop came around 20 miles in which was maybe a little early, but I stopped anyway. I’d not drunk much yet, so didn’t bother topping up my bottles as I figured I could do that at the next one at that rate. I could eat half a banana and stash the winter collar though, before heading back out.

There were plenty of riders out there today. I never once couldn’t see another one, or felt like I might have gone off course because I’d been on my own for so long. Plus the signage was really good, so getting lost was probably unlikely. Well, all apart from one right turn at the bottom of a steep descent about 30 miles in which a lot of people missed. The rider in front of me pulled up having seen it, and I had to slow up a little too fast, but hey, at least I got the hint and went the right way. The riders swearing at him from behind me went past and disappeared into the distance…I wonder how far they got before they realised?

I’ll get on to the number of riders out there in a bit…bear with me. In the meantime, back to more valleys and hills. All very pretty. Goodrich Castle flew by on the right, there were pretty bridges and arty sculptures. I was doing ok, but I was still feeling too tentative on the pushing it front, and hey, it’s not a race right? To be honest, I’d known from the outset I wasn’t going to do the very long route. Nowt to prove these days, and I was almost tempted by the very short one! But that seemed a tad daft, even for me, so it was going to be the “Standard” route for me. Which I was hoping would have cut out Symonds Yat…no such bl**dy luck!

Which, with a minor detour, brings us to traffic. Wales was pretty busy today. Especially as the world woke up, realised the weather was improving, and that it was a Bank Holiday Sunday and they should be out. With lots of “them” on the road and lots of “us”, things weren’t always entirely civil, and there was some bad behaviour on both sides. And to add insult to injury, there was another cycling event running the same day, on a lot of the same roads, though frequently in the opposite direction. So that’s two way traffic of two sorts on narrow not always two way roads…oooh, we were NOT popular. I’m thinking cycling organisers should maybe communicate and stop this from happening? Especially as the other event, the Monmouthshire Challenge is part of a two day event which has the Forest of Dean Spring Classic, on the same roads, the following day. You know what, I did kind of feel sorry for the motorists, and that doesn’t happen often!

A lot of this came to a head on the aforementioned Symonds Yat. It’s a killer climb, up a narrow road that’s even narrower at the bottom, with precious few passing places. The other sportive may not have been here with us, but plenty of impatient motorists were trying to get down/up as we tried to go up. We all ended up stopped and stuck at one point waiting for things to clear, which led to that “will I ever be able to get back on again” worry. The lady in the car next to me was, very kindly and whilst chatting to me, waiting to let cyclists come up. Sadly she hadn’t realised that this was just backing up the traffic behind her and blocking the road even further up…and tempers back there were rising…

Still, the bottleneck cleared, I did get back into my cleats, and I did get up. Unlike most around me. Or any, actually. *grin* I hope the Mamil who failed to uncleat and rolled over onto the road in slow-motion almost comical fashion is ok, whilst being glad that he did it just far enough ahead of me that he didn’t take me down with him!

Yes, I made it up Symonds Yat again. That’s three for three 🙂 The footbridge over the road at the top marks the end of the worst, though it does keep going up for quite some time afterwards. It is, as a rider in red passing me commented, the hill that keeps on giving 😉 But there were pretty things to look at, and what comes up must come down, which is always good. Although that down brings you into a busy Monmouth. Very busy. With a bridge, lots of cars, traffic lights, some weird back streets to negotiate, and then the busy high street. Did I mention how popular we were?

Having gone down, and out, it was time to go back out into the countryside and as it opened out, a familiar looking climb loomed ahead. Ah, that one. *groan*. Lydart I think it’s called. I knew it was a long one and it was going to take a while. Having done it on the Forest of Dean Classic I knew I’d probably be ok with it though, and hey, with a hairpin, and being long and gradual really, it’s practically my kind of hill. Time to engage crawler gear and just get on with it. Which I did. Stunning views too, if you felt like looking over your shoulder that is.

By this point things had been tricky on the layer front for a while. Sun/hills meant I was a little too warm. When it clouded over, the wind blew, and the drizzle fell again, I was a little chilly. Should I stash a layer or not? More worryingly, because I was overall probably a little too warm, I was drinking more than usual. Having said that, the tramadol has that effect too. I was seriously starting to think I might run out of drink by the second food stop which didn’t come until somewhere around the 60 mile mark, which I think was too far from the first. I made it with mere mouthfuls to spare, and was very relieved to top up my bottles – riding when fretting is not great. Neither would riding dehydrated have been!

Having opted for the standard route as predicted, and not taken the right turn in Monmouth to do otherwise, this left me with only 19 miles or so to do. Which, if it wasn’t too hilly, wouldn’t take too long. And as it was much nicer out there by now, this left me feeling pretty positive. And I won’t say that changed too much but, after some more flat, and more pretty valley, there’s a very very long climb back to Chepstow. It just goes on and on and on. I wasn’t suffering particularly, but I did get pretty bored of the constant upness! Another amusing sign encouraged us to “Finish Strong”. Which hey, great, I’d love to, if you’d stop making me go up bl**dy hill! Still, even bad things come to an end, and the last 5 miles or so were pretty much down again, which just a little kicker of a hill to get us back up to the racecourse.

Ok, so today was a bimble. Maybe I hadn’t really earnt my Finishers medal and t-shirt. I always feel I should have done the long route to earn those. But as I drove back over the Severn Bridge and the heavens opened again, I reflected that if I hadn’t opted for the shorter route I’d probably be slogging up that long hill, or one similar, in the pouring rain and I decided I could live with it 😉 What I did do was have a pretty enjoyable ride, in some stunning scenery, with an awful lot of climbing that I managed just fine without pushing any painful limits. That’ll do me nicely 🙂

Cycling time: 5:47
Distance: 79.5 miles
Avg: 13.7 mph
ODO: 9233 miles