Today was another of those days. The ones where I’m concerned about how hard the ride will be. I shouldn’t get like this. I’ve covered more than 23,000 kilometres and nothing so far has been insurmountable. The ride was a short 60kms but included the climb of Gospel Pass which looked a bit ominous on the Komoot map.
I took my time over breakfast and sat back and enjoyed the views and the beautiful weather while finishing my coffee. I had everything I needed for the day in terms of food, so I packed, applied my sunscreen and set off. After five strenuous kilometres (180m of climbing), I realised that I didn’t have my watch. I’d lost my beloved seiko diver watch in March last year and had replaced it with a newer model, but it’s still not the same. So the thought of loosing this one was too much.
I checked all of the possible places it could be before remembering that I’d put it on my backpack when putting the sunscreen on. It must have fallen off at some point in between here and where I camped. So, I rang the camping ground and the manager, Jim went looking for it and found it at the campsite. That was great news and very welcome. The trouble was that I had to go back down those hills and ride them all over again.
I went back a different way, hoping to find an easier way up the hills on my return. I didn’t, and in doing so, made the journey more difficult. With watch on wrist, I set off an hour later than last time and with 250 metres of climbing already under my belt. Ok, it is what it is. I rode back along the designated route but baulked at the difficult part and decided to go up the B road and cut across later. What could possibly go wrong. It was still Sunday morning and there wasn’t much traffic.
The B road then joined an A road, complete with trucks, traffic and no shoulder. That’s not for me, but instead of going back, I foolishly continued across the A road and along another designated bike route. Suffice to say that it climbed way to high and the road I intended to take, turned out to be a private road with a locked gate. So much for maps. In for a Penny, I for a pound, I continued climbing as the road veered away from my intended direction before I could finally make my way back.
Already, I had turned a difficult 60km ride into what would become a 78km ride. Sometimes Komoot knows best. The one ray of sunshine was the corner store that I passed. I bought the most fantastic and huge piece of carrot cake that I’ve ever had.
One more wrong turn later, I was back on track and riding along the narrowest of lanes surrounded but 2-3 metre hedges. The scenery was stunning, breathtaking, amazing but more often than not, I couldn’t see it for the hedges. It was Sunday afternoon and there were loads of sightseers in cars out enjoying the day. This meant a lot of stopping and pulling off to the side of the road. There were loads of stinging nettles where I’d get off the road, but they don’t seem to sting as much as earlier in the year.
I had lunch in a lay-by near a creek as there were very few places to stop along the way. The feta and honey in pita bread was followed by the remaining carrot cake and a relaxing 10 minutes sitting in that chair. Ok, I’ll stop talking about how good it is.
Back on the road, it started to get steeper and steeper until what I thought was the final push to the top of the pass. The 15-16% incline was about as steep as I could go after the efforts of the day so far and as I got over the ridge, I realised that there was more to go. Still, I got a ‘well done’ and a thumbs up from a mother and son in a car behind me which took a little of the pain away. The next part looked much flatter but was still 10%. I couldn’t wait for the view and the downhill.
I stopped overlooking the downhill and the amazing landscape before me. After a few minutes and a few photos, I started the downhill. After no more than 50 metres, my GPS beeped at me that I was off course. Unbelievable. There are no other roads. Upon looking closely at the route, Komoot wanted me to take a walking trail along the ridge followed by a steep downhill on the same walking trail. I figured that I’d be too intent on concentrating on the trail to see the view, so I opted for the easier sealed road for the first part of the descent.
It was wonderful. The warm weather and weekend, had brought everyone out to enjoy the mountains.The further I went, the steeper the descent became until I was back in hedged narrow lanes hurtling downhill the 18% hill. There’s nothing better, but as always with these hedges, you can’t always see oncoming traffic until it’s too late, and some of the bumps which are comfortable at 25km/hr are decidedly uncomfortable at 45km/hr. At the bottom, I could easily smell my brake pads and the disks were piping hot.
That fun never lasts long enough and pretty soon, it was back to narrow lanes for the few kilometres into the town of Glasbury. I didn’t stop, as I simply wanted to get to Builth Wells as soon as I could. In the middle of the day, I’d booked a room as the campground was a fair way out of town. As well, I felt like I was about to come down with a cold or flu, and as I neared Builth Wells, that feeling got worse, along with some general exhaustion. A rest day was necessary.
What was left of the ride, turned out to be quite pleasant on quiet roads beside the river Wye – except for the last bit. The map indicated nothing about the short sharp rises that I had to get over before the end of my day. I was lucky they were short. I’d had enough.
I stayed at the Owls B&B which is a quirky old building run by a loved couple Ian and and Jo, from Kent. Luckily they had a vacancy tomorrow, so my rest day was assured but the issue was getting food tonight (Sunday). Sunday lunch is a big thing around here and Sunday evening meals aren’t. I managed to find one pub serving meals and I had a really average burger before retiring after a very big day.
