The usual Friday night shenanigans at the Wynnstay were very pleasant, with all the usual suspicious characters, including a surprise guest appearance by Mbnut/Nige on his way from Edinburgh to Kent, and a late (well, very early for him

) appearance from Wotsits/Jase who, after an attempted room-gatecrash, eventually decided that a night in a cold van was preferable to a night with a hot Reg after all. There was an entertaining game of Nude Connect 4 at one point (I think I remember that rightly), and a confusing situation of my order of two bottles of Fursty Ferret with a glass which came with, er, one glass. It all got a bit hazy after that.
MuddyPete was somewhat baffled to see that my bedroom lampshade was covered with bird poo. I was less baffled because I’d seen the condition of the window and frame…
Next morning Barney, MuddyPete and meself toddled over to the school to talk rubbish, drink tea, eat toast, meet Froggy, and to look at the weather which was being playful.
We’d decided to head north towards Dinas Mawddwy, but everyone else seemed to be going south so at least that meant we’d have the pick of the luxury bivvy spots. Off we went down the main road, turning right straight onto the horrendous hill up to the plateau east of the Dyfi river. I’d spotted a lovely bridleway on the map which led north and then down to the river – no problem, we’d soon be sitting in Dinas Mawddwy café supping delicious beverages and munching choicest morsels. Amazingly, considering the forecast, the morning was actually quite dry and pleasant (of course I’m
desperately sorry to hear about the weather only a few miles away being “enjoyed” by other contestants!

).
Reality…. crossing the bog and stream to the gate that hadn’t been used for decades…
MuddyPete claimed he didn’t give a fig about the route issues, despite
literally giving a fig to Frog…
Onwards into the forest of doom, where Frog lost his glasses amongst all the brown undergrowth… colour of glasses: brown…. luckily a spare pair was available…
The relief at exiting the forest was shortlived as we battled across a torrent caused by the days of rain……
Followed by the obligatory ridiculous tussockfest…
Still, at least we had the café to look forward to eh? Oh, new owners and they’ve decided not to open on, er, the busiest day of the week. Sigh. Pub also closed. At least we had the opportunity to check out a couple of bivvy spots in the playground and graveyard, both of which would do at a pinch. We’d spotted a little garden centre on the way into the village, so we back tracked and lo and behold there was a café there! Sadly no food since they were closing the next day, but at least we enjoyed some coffee and a chat. Barney bought a lump of cheese - as you do - and we enjoyed a nibble of that with our coffees.
They also reminded us that the woollen mill down the road was open and served lunches, which amazingly they did albeit being completely empty apart from us four smelly bikepackers.
We now had a few hours until pub opening time so I convinced the lads to explore a few of the valleys up and around Dinas Mawddwy, so it was back north again to nose around Cwm Cywarch and its spectacular cliffs and waterfalls. On the way back the heavens opened and we got soaked in a nice soothing downpour. Returning past the playground, graveyard, garden centre (where we tried to blag the night in their polytunnel which was sadly declined) and mill yet again, we arrived at the Brigands Inn at Mallwyd well before beer time so we partook of afternoon tea instead. Well, we’re civilised like that, us bikepackers. Various pub games were enjoyed including a set of Christmas cracker-style “jokes” in a box…. and a convoluted variation on whist of Reg’s cunning devising….
A spot of bikepacking food? Yes, why not eh. We reminded ourselves that we’d sadly had to forego the Pleasures Of The Potnoodle currently being enjoyed by the bothy crowd…. Ah well, it’s a tough life…
By this time I’d started to indulge in the gentle and noble art (some would say it is a game, but it's far more lofty than that) of Blag-a-Bivvy with the landlord, who would have justifiably been a little lukewarm with our smelly presence amidst all the upmarket types enjoying their gourmet meals. Ease in gently with a bit of chat about the local gossip… and yes we’re just wandering about on bikes seeing what happens… and yes the weather is awful…. what a cracking boozer you have here… oh yes our kids love cycling and going camping.. etc…. we’re getting on like a house on fire by now, and I’m probing the chinks in his armour…. and finally “so where are you staying tonight then?”…
yee-e-e-s, I
thank you…. well, it’s like this….. A short while later the shelters are up, just in time for the hailstorm and another beer. By this time we’d started to attract the attention of the other punters looking for something to talk about and presumably look down their noses at, but I had the very pleasant surprise of a particularly elegant lady “feeling that I need to offer the floor of my room to you” to which I could only respond that I would find her kind offer very hard to refuse… but unfortunately my mates are insisting that I spend the night with them in a soaking wet car park in a howling gale. Maybe next time perhaps?
Anyway the food and staff were excellent, highly recommended, good value, and one of the few pit stops left in the area in January.
I remember several heavy downpours during the night but it’s surprising how resilient, and indeed cosy (honestly!), a humble 10’ x 8’ tarp can be, and I slept pretty soundly. Obviously we all had our porridge supplies and so on, but a parting shot to the landlord was worth a try the previous night… I don’t suppose we could possibly pop in for breakfast at all? Just a bit of toast and tea would be fine, honestly. We could if we were quick before The Normals? Lovely, thank you!
Yes it’s a hard life this bikepacking lark…. Eventually we had to drag our bloated carcases away and head out into the rain, Barney to sensibly take the quick way back, and the rest of us following the back lane down to Cemmaes Road and our single grid reference (the Dyfi bridge) which we’d carelessly avoided avoiding due to some miscalculation. The rain was still making its presence felt and even panda was taking shelter….
From there it was up the usual bridleway running next to the railway line up to Commins Coch, and the never ending climb up to the plateau above Llanbrynmair. Amazingly the guys never rumbled my game of “yes the top is just round this next corner”… I think I managed a total of five pronouncements during the climb which is a personal record.
Still, there are some cracking views from the top, including west to the coast, and east along the dodgy ledge towards Llanbrynmair….
The final descent was as sketchy as ever, slithering all over the wet grass and ploughing through rivers of cow slurry….
Unbelievably we arrived back after Peter S and Kev Raggedstone which is also some sort of record, but at least there was still time for more rubbish to be spoken with all the other BB illuminati sporting their various battle wounds and kit disasters.
Thanks to Lu, Pete and Barney for putting up with my many foibles and dodgy route “planning”, and obviously to Stu and Dee for their inimitable organisation as ever!