400k was twice as far as I'd ridden before. "Take your time, ride at your own pace", everyone said. "Ride at your own pace" I told myself. For the first time ever, I managed to actually take this advice: at least half the field passed me in the first few kilometres. I wasn't going to blow it in the first 75k - particularly after 'going for it' a fortnight before on the British and having to pack two-thirds of the way round.
But it was taking me a while to get going, and even beyond Llandeilo, riding between hills and woods along the Dulais valley towards Crugybar, my average speed remained ominously slow. I wasn't going for a time, but I didn't want to be lanterne rouge either.
It soon warmed up, and when I stopped to take off a layer the redoubtable Jack Eason (71-year old veteran of numerous randonnées including Edinburgh-London) and another rider rode past. I followed narrow lanes and then started the ascent of Craig Twrch. I could see Jack and the other rider ahead of me on the climb; I passed them near the top, looking back down into the deep green valley of the Twrch. I wasn't discouraged by the mist which confronted me at the top: the climb had woken me up, and I was starting to enjoy myself. A long and largely straight descent on Sarn Helen, a Roman road, led down into the Teifi valley. I found Anne Learmonth and Andy Seviour having a leisurely breakfast in the Tregaron stop. "Ride at your own pace", Anne said.
From Tregaron I followed the familiar road north past the raised bog, but this time went west rather than north at Pontrhydfendigaid. The road towards Aberystwyth was fast but quiet and pleasant, with only one steepish hill.
The next stretch, inland towards Machynlleth, was a main road and busy with tourists in caravans and cars, though the traffic thinned out futher on. A veggieburger for lunch, and then west towards Tywyn. The first part of this road was great; gentle climbs and descents, and then following the coast, looking down through the trees across the wide, sunlit sands of the Dyfi estuary to the hills I'd skirted on the previous section. A herd of cattle stood at the end of one of the sandbars.
Aberdyfi and Tywyn were full of tourists, but the road then went inland - revealing a view of Cadair Idris - and climbed into wilder country and back to the coast. A gentle breeze from the north cooled me from the sun. This stretch was glorious: hills to the right, fields divided by dry stone walls separating the road from the railway below, and beyond that a calm sea. To the north-west, the hills of the Llyn peninsula lined the horizon, and further ahead along the coast were the Rhinogs and Snowdonia. The road climbed high above the sea and turned inland towards Dolgellau. Usually, the average speed on my computer starts high and gradually creeps down; today, it was actually a good kilometre an hour faster in Dolgellau than it had been in Tregaron. In fact, my time at the turn was over an hour faster than my previous best for 200k. Obviously the advice about pacing was working.
I couldn't resist a second helping of teacakes in Dolgellau, before starting the long and stiflingly hot ascent towards the pass. The sun was blazing and there was no breeze; I was even welcoming the traffic for the air which passing cars wafted over me. The final climb to the rugged and treeless mountains around Bwlch yr Oerddrws, though steeper, seemed a relief after the long approach. The descent - or perhaps 'plummet' is a better word - was something else: long and steep, with only a couple of bends. I'd been looking forward to it all day and I think I discovered my bike's terminal velocity (82kph). I was beaming as I headed for Dinas Mawddwy.
Although the route follows the A470 for a few miles here, it's a pleasant route along green valleys without too much traffic. In Llanbrynmair it diverts onto the B4518 for the hardest section of the route: climbing steadily up to Staylittle, then steep ascents and descents around Llyn Clywedog, with spectacular views in all directions. On the first steep section, I passed a couple of German tourists pushing grossly overloaded bikes; the second one had me grovelling.
The descent towards Llanidloes - three manic kilometres - was another stunner. I must have been feeling good, because I had vegetable curry and treacle pudding outside the Elephant. A couple of riders from the South-west of England (who'd passed me a couple of times earlier in the day) soon arrived, followed shortly after by Jack who'd dropped his riding companion.
Jack rode with me to the A470. I was still going well, got my head down and set a fast pace down the Wye Valley as darkness fell. My shoulder gradually got more and more painful from riding on a gentle downhill, and when an incline came it was a relief to get out of the saddle and go for it.
Mid Wales on a warm Saturday night is swarming with drunken youths. At Builth Wells they were spilling out across the pavement and into the road outside every pub, though they seemed good-humoured enough. It was good to get out of town and head towards Llanwrtyd. As I approached the final control I was debating with myself whether I'd need to sleep, but when I got off the bike at the Victoria Hall the answer was obvious: I was swaying. Dai Harries, the organiser, and John Spooner handed out perfect control food - home-made vegetable soup, bread and banana cake. John directed me towards a foam mattress and I asked him to wake me in two hours time.
I lay down for about three quarters of an hour. Though I probably only slept for ten minutes, it was enough to refresh me. Another rider left the control just before me. As I caught him I could see that he was riding erratically, but he managed to latch onto my wheel. Gentle climbs, and then it was time to put my lighting system to a proper test for a fast descent along the edge of the Crychan forest. This was fun: 3w dynamo headlamp, and a Petzl headtorch zoomed in to its narrowest setting to seek out the catseyes and road edges in the distance. The rider behind thought better of trying to follow this lunatic, and I was soon riding on my own again. I had to brake to avoid a rabbit which ran out and zigzagged to try to escape: a good evolutionary adaptation for avoiding foxes, but useless for avoiding bicycles.
I found the turning in Llangadog, and then the road was full of drunken youths walking or running in the road. I gave them a very wide berth until I saw a group blocking the road. I wasn't going to stop to argue and risk being attacked: relying on the element of surprise, I rode straight at them. A gap formed, a girl moved across to block me and I bellowed at her to get out of the way: she moved aside and I was past before her companions had time to react. After this, I enjoyed the empty minor road through Bethlehem, and then rode on mostly lit roads towards Ammanford.
Here, the route follows a minor road along the escarpment I'd seen in the early morning. It's a nice road in daylight, but it took all my concentration in the dark and the combination of short climbs, bends and poor visibility made it impossible to keep my rhythm going. It was a relief to get back on main roads again, and it wasn't long before I was crossing the bridge to Bynea.
The most satisfying thing about the ride was realising that experience, advice and miles are paying off. I averaged a faster average speed than I've ever managed for a 200, and didn't suffer any extended bad patches. The only real problem I had was with my shoulder, which is still painful from riding long sections without any hills (which we're not used to in Wales). Does anyone know if Spinacis are going to be legal for PBP?
Tom Barrance