WRT 23 and April BAM 4 of 4, 16 0f 16
Dave and I opted for Stuart's Long Route, but the anti-clockwise way.
Rumours from those in the know suggested a mudfest and brutal climbs!
My theory, to pick up Penhros Isaf bothy (shoehorned into the route) at the end of Day 1. How easily 30 or so miles rolls off the tongue!

As it happened we experienced said brutal climbs, a not so magical forest section offering little in the way of good progress, my demise from lack of pre-ride fuelling, and a yearning for Dolgellau as our supply station. On arrival we fell from grace, like victorious warriors with entitlement above their station, we blazonly cycled the wrong direction along the one way system looking for food/fast food establishments. Much to the chagrin of one lady driver who took severe umbrage at our transgression!
We found a chippy and took a meagre snack plus sugary drink, so as not to ruin our cooked meal later. Following a shop for supplies and offerings to the Bothy, we set off in the dark in search of home for the night.
Dave navigated us there superbly using Komoot.
All rooms and space at the bothy were taken (predictable).
Found a nice pitch in the forest close by.
Dave cooked a pot noodle.
I was so full from over absorption of sugar, my planned packet meal was ditched in favour of a few snacks. Learnt from last year how valuable a bag of peanuts can be. And my new addition. Cheese. Perfect replenishment after a mainly carb existence. Enjoyed one of the beers I won at Stuart's raffle for possessing a 26" wheeled bike. Get in sleep bag for the ritual chocolate and a whisky.
It was late. We slept well.

Incidentally this is Dave's first WRT, but by a cruel twist of fate, his rear tyre had deflated in the Bike Park, so he rectified that while Stuart's infamous draw captivated the assembled majority. And lo, Dave's name comes out of the draw bag. For a Rab jacket no less. I put in a good word for him, 'he's mending a puncture'. But not being present, meant no prize!

Awoke on Sunday to heavy rain. And my April BAM completed werhoo.
When the downpour abated I dashed for the wood cutting outhouse.
Dry and spacious, perfect for drying kit and partaking in a large and varied fuel replenishing breakfast with numerous cups of tea. Heaven.
Dave surfaced late.
But then the morning was heavy rain, so not such a bad thing.
I offered our contribution to the Bothy.
Both breakfasted, we left middayish for what we had planned.
Back to Dolgellau for more fuel, a massive sausage and bacon roll and so facking cheap, from DD's Sandwich & Bakery Bar. vaguely exciting.
Our ride started.
Mac a theoretical destination, then day three would be a reasonable run in to Pennant.
More brutal ups, some magnificent views, looking down on Barmouth (given an earlier start we might have ventured there), Snowdonia type scenery, a massive down hill ( this may have been when Dave hit 46mph (nutter)), pub stop at Peniarth Arms, Bryncrug, full of very happy sensible people, Liverpool v Spurs on big screen, and we indulge in soft drinks wtf!
My choice of tonic water and orange juice resulted in an unrivalled hour long sugar trip, weird and distressing as we took a mammoth off road uphill.
Then of course a downhill, rocky as it gets(not the first of the day).
Miles later and we hit Mac. Here we are, more for supplies etc than a perfect idyllic wild camp A similar recce of the town for a pub/food outlet led us to a centre of revellers, food outlets and music.
A quick pint then off to the chippie which was closed when we got there. In getting there we went through a car park adjoining an area of bushes and trees we'd scoped as a camp spot. Unfortunately, although not evident while in the bushes, the car park lighting totally illuminated our supposed discrete spot!!
Then we cycled to an area in the town with potential for camping which proved unacceptable. Now getting late, back to town for a fast food takeaway scoffed while sheltering from a massive downpour under a shop front canopy. Necessity forged a plan to hit some woodland just out of town but on arrival this wasn't private enough.
So back to the edge of town. A cheeky intrusion on the car park/camp spot of paying customers of the Festival of Comedy (sussed while travelling up to the woodland). We sidled in through a gate up the top end, setting up with all the VW's and enjoyed another good night. Not exactly wild but hey ho!. And setting up after midnight couldnt even satisfy an April BAM!!
Another great sleep.
While making a brew we acted like paying customers, or should I say happy freeloaders, while several punters exchanged niceties with us.
Back to Mac town for big brekkie at The White Lion Hotel, there I saw a familiar face, Craig serving behind the bar, a friend from the music festivals we both favour. Oh and yes I had the honour of meeting Reg in the toilet, we shared niceties as to who should use the wash basin first!
More supplies purchased from town, Dave armed himself with four lucozades and several packets of cough sweets!!!
Then onwards, inevitably its an uphill struggle.
Todays ride was most magnificent and tougher than we both expected. None more so than some five miles from home. Expecting an easy run in we endured a 1000' push bike uphill! Previously we'd met a group of riders tackling the Trans Cambrian Way who'd warned us of our fate.
A great view from the top, and some meaningful downhills to land back at the start for tea, cake and conversation with Stuart and Dee.
Thank you so much for organising this cracking event which means so much to so many .

90 ish miles completed and over 11000' of ascent. A remarkable, and thoroughly enjoyable trip (don't mention the brutal uphills and some downhills) to rival any long distance route I have endured/enjoyed.

Pros:
Dave and I are a great team. He loved the trip.
Trekmaster Squall Bivi- purchased as new for £40 from Leigh (a WRT vet), a serious piece of kit, ticked all the boxes for me, will fashion a tarp to cover the entrance for cooking etc
Sonder Confucius loop handlebar allied with Alpkit 20 Litre Deluge handlebar bag- got my cockpit sorted now
Alpkit Drift pillow- perfect space saver as previously used two pillows!
Not carrying too many clothes and just in case items!
Both our bikes and luggage systems performed admirably on the real rock garden tracks
Looking forward to a long route next year

Cons:
Not using up all the beers I won!! Coming home with some 4lb of packet meals which should have been used up as time progressed.
Two sugar trips, not nice!
Mac- weird trying to find a camp spot in a town so full of revellers!
My fuelling issue
Must take more pics

Dave sorting his puncture








Penhros Isaf Bothy



Breakfast in Dolgellau, Dave sussing route





Barmouth below


Bird Rock


Jokers at the Festival of Comedy

White Lion Hotel brekkie

The final ascent in process!



The top! Dave well pleased the hike a bike is over

Ah sorry Neil, hadn't realised it was your good self abluting in the White Lion! Didn't want to disturb your toilette hence not being as chatty as I should have been, apologies.

Nice route that, although going up the scree track to Foel Fadian at the end takes some chutzpah .

Still not managed to read all the WRT stories, let alone add my thanks to Dee and Stu and everyone for an absolutely brilliant weekend

Will try and sneak a bit of time somewhere...

Buckle up, here is Part 2 of 3…

I woke at five o’clock, groaned, turned over and dozed for a further hour. I pretty much instantly regretted letting the air out of my mat at six o’clock, due to the continual sound of rain on the outside of the tent. It stopped after a while, so I popped out to dig a hole and managed to make it back to the tent just before it started up again. With everything packed away, I sat in the tent as the rain fell, waiting for the next break in the weather.



Break it did, so after giving the tent a brief shake, it was packed away and we were off. I wasn’t riding for long, as the climb up Sarn Helen was wet, slidey and just too steep for my legs. While they felt much better than the previous evening, it was obvious they still weren’t right so it was off and pushing at every opportunity. I was thankful for my new waterproof too, as it did a great job of keeping the worst of the weather out; shame the “goes over your helmet hood”, didn’t quite go over one of the same brand’s helmets.



After filling up my water from a stream feeding the Afon Gain, it was time for another long climb, this time of tarmac. So I settled into a pattern which pretty much continued for the rest of the day, anything over 8 - 9% I was off and walking, anything below I tried to ride for as long as I could. At the top I should’ve turned right, but I completely missed it. In my defence, it was pissing it down, I couldn’t see anything and was just concentrating on not crashing. By the time I realised my mistake, I was at the bottom and I had no intention of climbing back up; so I figured I should just continue along, where I’d be able to turn right at some point and head for the SPAR in Dolgellau and resupply.



I stopped in a bus shelter in Llanuwchllyn to check Google Maps and find out how long I’d have to be on the main road for, fifty nine minutes was the answer. So the SPAR and Dolgellau went out the window and I started to look for alternatives. Shame really, as it sounds like loads of people went through Dolgellau, at the end of the day, I’d interacted with exactly three people; one a lady out on a bikepacking trip of her own, and two people who I bought supplies off. It might have been nice to bump into a few others, but as I like my own company, I wasn’t too fussed.

I noticed that there was a back road from Llanuwchllyn to Dinas Mawddwy and from there a short bit of back road to get back onto my planned route. So off we went, I didn’t quite realise just how long a climb there was going to be, it seemed to last forever, with the weather closing in the closer we got to the top. I’d say the descent was fun, but the driving rain and steepness meant I had the brake on most of the way; that section with the crash barriers didn’t inspire confidence when I couldn’t see what they were protecting me from.



The Mallwyd Service Station was a sight for sore eyes, especially as I had no idea where my next resupply was going to come from and I didn’t have enough to last the day. Flapjack and Welsh Cakes procured, we were soon off for the back road to Llanbrynmair and a date with a very steep gravel track. On the way, I caught up with the aforementioned young lady who was out on her own adventure, I slowed down, had a chat, wished her well and headed onwards.



I’d ridden down this forestry track on last year’s WRT and had made a mental note to make sure I rode up it at the earliest opportunity. I was cursing my past self, as I pushed and pushed all the way to the top; it was just too steep for my sore legs. Maybe next year, if I go lighter, or have slightly larger gearing, I’ll be able to ride it without having to get off. Once at the top and out of the trees on the other side, I stopped and scoffed a pasty, while taking in the view.



I do like cycling on forestry tracks, but they don’t last forever,this one included. My GPS was telling me to go straight on, but there was no track, it having been excavated and replaced by a drainage channel. A bit of hunting around, and clambering up piles of hardcore to get a better view, revealed that there was some sort of track on the other side. Dragging the bike over and around and up, we made it to what could only be loosely described as a track, but a track it was; it was also very squelchy and I could clearly see another couple of tyre tracks in places.



I made what looks like a navigation error at this point, according to the map I should have headed left, but I just followed the "track". The way ahead was totally blocked and unpassable though, with multiple large trees down, with no way around them. Rather than go back to the forestry roads and work my way down to the back roads, I backtracked a bit, jumped a fence into a field and started to walk in roughly the right direction. This would’ve been a great plan if the field hadn’t been a bog, which just seemed to get worse and worse.

Eventually I reached the end of the woods, turned a corner and started back to what looked like some actual double track. This bit of the field was even more of a bog, and I marvelled at how somewhere high up and on a slope could hold onto so much water, Shirley gravity should have spirited it all away. The double track wasn’t any better, being two ribbons of boggy water, rather than something decent to ride on.



Eventually we made it back to solid ground and I resolved to never ride that track ever again; unless it reappears on a BB200 route, natch. I decided to chop a bit out of my route at this point, as I knew it went over more fields, rather than tracks, so rather than heading through Llangadfan, we turned right and cut across to the road out of Llanerfyl. We were soon off and pushing up a steep hill and I resolved to stop at the top for a bit, and as it had stopped raining dry out the tent and have some flapjack.

As it turned out, the top featured a wee tarn that a couple of mad men were trying to windsurf in. I didn’t fancy stopping when there were people and dogs milling around, so decided to go a bit further down the track before stopping. The track promptly turned into a bog, so there was no point stopping and trying to dry out a wet tent on soaking wet ground, so we continued. The boggy bits came and went, with a corker in the middle of a field of sheep that nearly swallowed my front wheel; my feet were saturated by the time I made it back to a road.



I was running low on water, so I was looking out for a stream to refill, but unlike earlier in the day, where there appeared to be one every few hundred metres, I just couldn’t find one. Even on the way up the next monster climb, there was a dearth of water, especially water that you’d chance putting your filter into. I did eventually find a small trickle which was a relief. I was a bit gutted that I was doing so much pushing, as this kind of lumpy terrain is exactly what I was wanting to ride. So every time I stopped pushing to take a breather, I made sure to do a three sixty and take in the views, which were spectacular. Spots of sunlight highlighting various bits of sheep infested uplands, with various clumps of rain and cloud and the odd rainbow. I may have been tired, wet and my feet cold, but I was exactly where I wanted to be, or so I thought.





When I rolled into Clatter, I realised that I was further behind on my route that I’d let myself believe. I think I confused the bit I’d cut out with the crossing of the main road at Clatter and was now concerned that I was further away from resupply at the SPAR in Llanidloes than I thought. Checking remaining supplies, I was down to my last few items of food and starting to blow out of my arse. So I stopped for a bit and tried to dry the tent out, while pondering options.



The original plan had been a big resupply in Dolgellau to last the day, then breakfast in Llanidloes on the Monday morning. The route was supposed to go through Trefeglwys, then Llandinam, through the wind farm and down to Bwlch-y-sarnau, finding somewhere to bivvy along the way. I knew there was no chance of doing that on my remaining supplies and being in any fit state to get back to Llanidloes the next morning. So rather than going to Llandinam, I thought I’d turn right just before the river and head to the SPAR for supplies, before doubling back somehow to ride through the wind farm.

Obviously I turned left, rather than right, thinking I had to actually go into Llandinam, then turn right, not turn right before it. So after a slow hard push up the hill, including what sounded like rabid dogs barking and people shouting (couldn’t tell if they were shouting at me or the dogs), I reached the wind farm and realised my mistake. So what! I thought pluckily, what’s the worst that can happen? It won't take long to dispatch this wind farm and I can double back. If it all went pear shaped, I could always just pitch the tent, eat what little I had and wait for the dawn.

It felt like I was up there for hours, in reality it was only forty five minutes or so, but I was knackered and couldn’t get any flow going due to the regular gates. These started out with a pedestrian gate next to them, or they were unlocked. The further I went though, they eventually turned into locked gates, with the only option being to lift the bike over. Darkness was falling and I was trying not to eat the remaining food, just in case I needed to bed down.



The planned route followed the 2018 BB200 route, and looked like it pitched straight down a grassy sheep infested bog. Except it tracked along through the bog, leading to an area where you had to cross a stream, with no obvious path. Looking around in the gloom, revealed a gate higher up, so up we slogged. I’m not used to riding stuff that steep, as there just isn’t anything like it where I normally cycle. It was noticeable that the front brake was starting to wear and I was getting forearm pump trying to keep my speed down to a level where I didn’t think I’d wipe out and die.

Much bog, mud and a few sheep related incidents later, we popped out into a farm yard and a tarmac road. I’d gone from having plenty of time to raid the SPAR, to having about an hour before it shut, with no idea of how to get there. It was at this point, I realised that if you want the Wahoo to auto route you to a location, you have to have already added said location to the device. I headed off in what I thought was the right direction and prayed it was correct.

Any sort of up hill and were off and pushing. That’s one thing about the dark, you have no idea how long the pain is going to last, so it’s much easier to climb off and push. On reflection, pretty much every time I got off to push, I was only twenty or so metres from the top and could’ve probably pushed through. I stuffed my face with all my remaining food, as I knew I was going to make it. The run down the hill into town was quite exhilarating, especially as the roads were empty.

I must have looked a right sight locking the bike up, all covered in mud and sheep poor show, with a thousand yard stare. Provisions secured, more Welsh Cakes, some Stroopwafel, pasties and other assorted crap. I had a choice at this point, head for Hafren and spend the night in the woods, or head for Nant Rhys Bothy and see if there was any space. I headed for Hafren and pretty much cursed my stupidity until I finally fell asleep.

I pushed most of the road out of Llanidloes, mostly due to having shovelling a pasty and half a dozen Stroopwafel into my face. It started to rain on and off and again, which was disappointing, but we just kept putting one foot in front of the other. Eventually we reached the toilets at the car park, the Gents were open and I briefly thought of doing a Reg, but they were manky. I refilled the water bladder near the foot bridge and headed off into the forest.

I decided to follow the route we took on the 2021 BB200, as I thought if I went up that slithery rocky track, it was flattish at the top and I’d find a spot for the tent. I didn’t quite make it that far before spearing off up some other single track, on the assumption that it would also result in some sort of flat area. Lots of pushing, swearing and general disappointment later, I came to the top, without seeing anywhere suitable to pitch the tent, so upwards we continued, this time on some sort of rally car access road.



This just dumped me out at a big fence, with locked gates and lots of warning signs about rally cars. I realised where I was, which wasn’t where I wanted to be, and with no obvious way down through the rally circuit and it being late, I weighed up my options. Spotting a small space in amongst some tussocks, I thought I might be able to get the tent up. A bit of kicking and jumping up and down later, the tent was up, for some value of up. I shut my eyes at half past two.

Distance: 156.78KM; Elapsed Time 17:31:00; Moving time: 13:33:13; Elevation: 4,058 m
Smiles: some, but not as many as there should've been; Wet feet? Utterly saturated
https://www.strava.com/activities/8992889273

Top stuff Bob! Nice when someone takes the effort to do a decent write-up. Pretty impressive mileage covered - and hilly too. I've kipped under the 'veranda' at Hafren toilet block (not inside the actual karzi in that particular case) in the pissing rain with Middleagedmadness and we both survived .

RIP wrote: ↑Sat May 20, 2023 4:25 pm Top stuff Bob! Nice when someone takes the effort to do a decent write-up. Pretty impressive mileage covered - and hilly too. I've kipped under the 'veranda' at Hafren toilet block (not inside the actual karzi in that particular case) in the pissing rain with Middleagedmadness and we both survived .

If I'd been using a bivvy bag, then I'd have definitely used that veranda.

Here we go, part 3 of 3 of my WRT adventure…

I woke up at six o’clock, groaned, attempted to turn over, gave up and went back to sleep for an hour. I was utterly knackered and the sound of rain was almost enough to make me try and sleep for another hour, but time waits for no man. With the air out of the mat, I found that there was a log, or root or something running under the tent and I was on a slope in two dimensions. I was surprised I could even sit upright, everything was stiff and tender.

It seemed to take ages to get up, out, and all packed away; not helped by the unexpected cloud and inclement weather, but we eventually set off around eight o’clock. I briefly looked for a way through the fencing separating me from the rally car track, but decided to just drop back down through the forest and try and pick up my route somehow.



I must have taken a less than optimal route up through the forest the night before, as it took no time to get to the bottom. So convinced that I was in the wrong place, I started climbing again, until I realised I’d seen that caravan the night before, so I turned around again and made my way back towards the car park. While I had the route on my Wahoo, I was so far off it that it wasn’t visible on the screen, so I figured I’d head into the other side of the forest and start climbing until it reappeared. Which it did with unexpected rapidity, as I hadn’t had to climb much at all.

Back on route, it became a familiar pattern, ride until the legs complain, then get off and push. The weather sort of started to clear up too, while it wasn’t warm by any stretch of the imagination, it was too warm for the big waterproof. The gravel fire roads were great, the views were great and I kept stopping to take a photo, or just take it in.



The good gravel roads couldn’t last and we eventually had to part ways in the most brutal fashion, faced with a tussock filled hillside masquerading as a bridleway. Push, brake, clamber, push, brake, clamber, repeat, repeat, repeat. The result of gaining the top of the slope, was the disappointment of the view of an even steeper slope, with the bit in between being pointless to ride, unless you like the bucking bronco.

The second slope was an absolute mare. It was less about pushing the bike, and more about hauling it, while desperately trying to remain upright. I did fall over at one point, dropping the bike on top of myself and bruising my right calf quite badly. One of those new Restrap carrying harnesses suddenly seemed like a great idea.



I briefly thought there’d be something nice and rideable at the top, and once a bit of naggery singletrack was out of the way, there was, but it didn’t last. The realisation that I now had to lose all that high and drop down to cross the Afon Clywedog, then climb all the way back up again was quite the downer. I imagine being faced with that in the early hours of the morning on a BB200 is sort of the point, do you have the mental resilience to just get on with it or not.

I had to push down most of the descent, as it had been washed away; I did not have the skillz let alone the confidence to attempt to ride it. Across the Afon was a nice spot though, I can imagine a nice bivvy could be had there, as it’s relatively easily accessible coming the way I then had to push up. At the top I was back on trails I actually had knowledge of, as I’d come in the other direction on last year's WRT. So off we went, for the drop down to the bridge and corresponding push back up passed the sheering shed.



Finally back onto something I could ride, so we made swifter progress towards and around Glaslyn, before stopping at the road for some more Welsh Cakes. I knew that we were now nearly done, just two descents and a climb between me and some Lemon Drizzle. Last year I dropped down on the road before climbing back up, but this time I turned right, rather than left, onto the bridleway I should have taken last year. Quite glad I didn’t do it on the gravel bike, as I practically gave my hands cramp hauling on the brakes for all I was worth, barely slowing to a stop. The front brake was getting noticeably long and I just prayed it wouldn’t bottom out before I hit the bottom.



A progress update txt’d to home, before dropping into the mobile back hole and the finish. Those descents back to the car are great fun, but also tempered by the fact that it would be pretty stupid to have a massive off this close to the end. Rather than heading directly for cake, I headed for the car, so I could clean off all the accumulated poor show before presenting myself.

Distance: 34.49KM; Elapsed Time 4:29:42; Moving time: 3:19:05; Elevation: 809 m
Smiles: quite a lot, mostly after all the bastard pushing was over; Wet feet? Left foot only
https://www.strava.com/activities/8992892015

So what did I learn…? Lots, as it turns out. I need slightly lower gearing, as it would’ve been nice to ride more of the steep, but rideable trails. Mostly though, I now know I can get around a BB200, which was sort of the point of the exercise.

Enjoyed that! From my armchair . An impressive WRT that Bob. I now feel slightly more guilty for spending half the time sat in the pub, or in a cafe, or on a train. But only slightly .

One can only salute your fortitude and doggedness in the face of adversity