Penmachno is just south of Bettws-y-coed in the heart of the Snowdonia National Park in North Wales; Llyn - it should have a circumflex over the y - is the peninsula at the north-west of Wales.
I was looking forward to the ride, as it's an area I know fairly well but where I've never cycled; for years we spent our family holidays on a farm on the Llyn.
It was bright and sunny as organiser Anne Learmonth - familiar to randon subscribers from Alan Vance's ride reports - handed out our cards on the banks of Afon Machno. 36 riders started, including a large contingent from West Bromwich and a few riders from Merseyside clubs.
Sandra Shaw and Andy Seviour set a steady but sensible pace at the front; as we started to descend through the woods, glimpsing the Conwy Falls down below through the trees, Andy accelerated smoothly on his new fixed-wheel bike to applause from the peleton. Soon Mark Houlford and I took a turn on the front, and the pack was still together; being in front is an unusual experience for me, particularly as most of the rides I enter start with a mad rush to get to the first control. Mark thought the lack of a mad rush was probably due to the fact that the first control was at nearly 60km.
The first gradual ascent out of Bettws-y-coed soon split things up, as the faster riders went for it; Mark disappeared into the distance towards Capel Curig. I stayed with a largish group, including Sandra, Andy and Anne (who was riding with loads of gears again). We rode steadily up the valley towards Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon, the highest mountain in Wales) and then suddenly the road was heading down what looked like a real descent. Two riders went off the front; I passed most of the bunch, and enjoyed a glorious four kilometres freewheeling - fast enough and with enough curves to be interesting, but wide enough to be safe. At the bottom of the descent the two ahead rode off into the distance; I settled into a steady rhythm along the shore of Llyn Dinas and wondered if I could stay ahead of the bunch until the first control.
Well, the bunch caught me pretty quickly, and we rode through Beddgelert and started climbing along the western edge of Yr Wyddfa. I made an effort to ride reasonably fast up this fairly gentle ascent, dropped a couple of riders but got dropped myself by Anne, Andy, Sandra and a few others. The road turned off to descend towards Nantlle, which got me back with the group. A short digression on a minor road through woods (it's good riding in the same group as the organiser - at least you know you're not going to get lost!) took us into Llanllyfni. We then diverted onto a narrow grassy footpath and carried our bikes up an embankment onto an old railway which was now a gravel cycle path.
We were out of the mountains now, speeding along towards the first control, run by Anne's parents with plenty of cakes. Time for suntan lotion, and I was off with Andy, Sandra, and two other riders, one from Birkenhead. Up a sharp slope, and then we were riding over open hills towards Y Ffor. I was going pretty well until I got dropped on a short climb before Morfa Nefyn. Though it was sunny, there was a cold breeze.
To get to the control, we had to ride along a rocky track through a golf course towards the headland, and then down to the pub which is on the beach. A large baked potato and a much longer stop than planned went a long way to making me feel better, though the rest of the group had gone on ahead. The next stretch - along the northern edge of the peninsula - followed quiet roads and I rolled along at a good speed. As I approached Uwchmynydd at the end of the peninsula, Mark Houlford - followed soon after by another rider and Dave Lewis - sped in the opposite direction; they'd started their return leg. Knowing that I wasn't that far behind them gave my legs a boost, which they needed for the twisting concrete road up to the coastguard station right on the top of the hill at the end of the peninsula. Ynys Enlli (Bardsey), the island of a thousand saints, lay under a clear blue sky to the west. Andy, Sandra and the others were still at the control, so I only stopped briefly and joined them as they rode down into the village of Aberdaron to start the return leg along the south side of the peninsula.
There's a steep hill out of Aberdaron; Andy didn't seem to have any trouble getting up it on fixed, and I managed it OK on my ridiculously low gears. The road from there to Rhiw doesn't look too hard on the map, but it felt it. I think it's because I could see Rhiw on the top of the hill for several kilometres away, and the road ascends and descends several times, with little shelter from the sun, on the way. I was soon riding alone again. A quick plummet down from Rhiw, with the long but dangerous sandy beach of Porth Neigwl or Hell's Mouth stretching out below, a cut across country and I was on the main road to the holiday town of Pwllheli. A couple of miles beyond the town I was back in the lanes again. It was around this point that I got my first dose of cramp, which I've never had before on a ride; I think it's because I'd been trying to go easy on the Isostar, as it gives me a dodgy stomach for a few days after a ride. A glug of Isostar and a stretch and it passed, and the course followed wooded, shady lanes towards Llanystumdwy.
I arrived at the Dwyfor Cafe just before Andy and Sandra left. I couldn't resist rhubarb crumble and custard; sitting in the sun, it was a good place to rest and refuel. Anne Learmonth arrived - she'd been taking her time, checking that things were all right at the controls. She ordered a full Welsh tea: pot of tea, Welsh cake, chocolate cake, cream...I left her tucking in. The rhubarb crumble slowed me down considerably over the next few miles, and I wondered what the Welsh tea was doing to Anne. The route here turned into gated lanes inland to avoid main roads. The mountains were approaching, and I'd soon be leaving the relative flatness of Llyn. A quick freewheel down the main road to Tremadog, rugged hills spreading ahead and around; I saw climbers far above on a rockface, with the green fields of the drained estuary to the right. I knew there were two serious climbs coming up, but the rhubarb crumble had settled down by now. Two kilometres of climbing followed; a short steep section throught the woods, and then a steadier rise - fortunately shaded in woods - brought me to the village of Rhyd, a short descent and ascent over the pass and a high-speed plummet towards Tan-y-bwlch.A good descent, but there's a bend just after the steepest bit and just before the junction with the main road - why does no-one make brown cycling shorts?
The next section was beautiful - a narrow lane along a level valley floor a few hundred metres wide, steep wooded hillside to the left, flat valley to the right, dry stone walls, mountains. Up to the main road, and a rider from Birkenhead caught me as I pondered the route. It was a long drag up towards the slate quarry town of Blaenau Ffestiniog where the last real climb of the route would start, but I was well into my second wind by now. We approached Bwlch y Gorddinan - the Crimea Pass - in the shadow of the mountain which loomed overhead. I was pacing myself for the climb, as I intended to have a good go at it and fancied beating the Birkenhead rider to the top. He started well, and I was just getting into my rhythm on the steepest section after the slate quarries when the cramp struck again and I had to stop. I cursed, stretched, drank some Isostar, and carried on, finding that the rest of the climb was a lot easier than I'd anticipated (perhaps the enforced rest helped).
Clouds to the west had hidden the sun as I began the long descent towards Dolwyddelan. Unfortunately the descent was hindered by construction traffic signals - a major new road was scarring the landscape. Anne caught me early on the descent, and I put my head down and my biggest gear in place. I think I was travelling at over 30mph as I scrawled the info control on my route sheet in Dolwyddelan, where we picked up the Birkenhead rider again. Back up the road through the woods which we'd descended in the morning, Anne climbed away ahead of us. A couple more kilometres and we were back in Penmachno and ready for a pint of Theakstons.
What a ride; as Sandra Shaw said, "it actually goes somewhere"; it follows wonderful quiet roads, it's got varied and spectacular scenery, and enough hills to be interesting (Dave Lewis' altimeter gave it half an AAA point); several people said it was the best route they'd ever ridden. I had a great day, and though I got dropped a few times I managed to avoid hitting a really bad patch. Good confidence builder for the Best of British, but that's another story.
Tom Barrance