The thing with booking tickets to do a train-based BaM (ie most of mine) is that you then have to carry it through no matter what the weather. In the past this has resulted in some highly entertaining adventures.
The accompanying photos below are rather washed out but that might have something to do with the usual deluge and 40-50mph winds, and whilst both the ride and the company were incredibly inspiring I'm afraid that's not reflected very well in my write-up this time which doesn't feel very inspired. Ah well, I'm still drying out.
I arrived in Leominster at 21.30 and after some chips at the Square Takeaway rode off down Cock Croft Lane to check out a potential bivvy spot in Pervin Wood. This didn’t live up to my high expectations so I backtracked to the industrial estate to see if there were any nice skips or other shelter type things. Just next to it was a massive graveyard so in we go in the pitch dark to see what’s what. The chapel had no alcoves and was locked so onwards into the gloom I tottered, my way lit by some of the variety of flashing lights and things that seem to adorn lots of graves these days. Ah, a tool store…. and a toilet… oh, locked…. but hang on there’s a “disabled” loo with the door ajar… yes! accommodation sorted. It even had an ensuite…
After a second breakfast at Roy’s Café (£4 or something for a full breakfast – bargain) we set off for our first port of call which took us through a number of classic “black-and-white” Herefordshire villages and up a dead-end track to a non-descript field shown as Mousenatch on the OS map.
On the way Kev spotted a house named after one of our co-riders – or was it the other way round?
Kev had also pointed out before we set off that the author of The Fall And Rise Of Reginald Perrin, David Nobbs, had actually lived in Bearwood just around the corner! This was a pilgrimage I couldn’t pass up, and we duly arrived at The Old Post Office where I rather brazenly strode right up to the front door and knocked on it and asked about David Nobbs. The current resident was confused to say the least, claiming he’d never had anyone do that since he’d lived there, but he was very good about allowing us to take lots of photos!
By this time the deluge was well and truly upon us and we splashed on through more cute villages until we arrived at the next rather nice village.
In quick succession we then passed Titley Mill, and also the old railway line at Titley Junction which sounds very much like a location for an Ealing comedy probably starring Will Hay and Moore Marriott. Bullocks Mill had long since fallen into rubble leaving just its placename, and by this time the rain was so heavy we diverted into Kington for a coffee and a bit of cake.
Time was marching on and we still had to rendezvous with Peter at Hay on Wye so we changed to a fairly straight road route from Kington instead of the bridleways we’d seen on the map. More tea and crepes (there’s posh), with lots of talking crepe between ourselves, then round to the bike shop for a fettle and some inner tubes etc. I spotted this calling card in the covered market, which seemed to fit our theme rather well.
By some miracle at this point the rain had subsided somewhat, just in time for the haul up to the Gospel Pass, which we managed to ride all the way albeit with a couple of stops to check our pacemakers and look at the view. The final stretch up to Lord Hereford’s Knob is a path so we duly pushed those last few hundred feet like the good boys we are. The bikepacking gods were at last looking kindly on us and rewarded our efforts with some amazing vistas, from the Brecon Beacons on one side right round to Hay Bluff on the other with Hay right down in the bottom of the valley there.
On touching the trig point, I found my thrill
To the east, Brokeback Mountain, to the west, Benny Hill
I’ll give you the grid ref, you might like to go
SO224350
Could this be heaven, could that be the Severn
Twmpa, Twmpa, you’re gonna need a jumper
It gets a bit chilly on top of Lord Hereford’s Knob
Tonight he’ll be sitting on top of Lord Hereford’s Knob
All of our songs sound the same
Things suddenly did indeed turn surprisingly chilly so it was a long blast back down to the River Wye to try and find food and a bivvy spot, passing a couple of fords on the way. Unfortunately we didn’t spot many on the trip so had to make the most of the “double” shown here…
It was dark by the time we’d descended to Talgarth and absolutely no spots presented themselves, even to our probing gaze. We knocked on the door of the Tower Hotel, which was opened by some character out of The Munsters or The Addams Family. Luckily there were no rooms available. Next stop was the Castle Hotel. I nipped in, and in my best wheedling style tried to blag some spots on the lawn. They weren’t at all keen, but we enjoyed a bit of banter and eventually they said we could, or on the verandah, for £20 between us. Daylight robbery! Still, it’s all we had. We’re starting to set up and they go into a huddle, soon popping up to offer the bar floor for £20 each including all-you-can-eat breakfast. It was shocking how quickly we acquiesced…. Peter even found a mattress that he commandeered, although next morning he pronounced it “too soft”. I guess that’s what happens when Three Bears get to sleep somewhere – one spot is “too soft”, I guess Kev’s was “too hard”, so I presume mine must have been “just right”. The bar lady certainly had golden locks.
Next morning we’d arranged to meet Verena but as she’s explained things didn’t quite go to plan, added to which both Peter and myself suffered our first attack of Hedge Flailing Thorn Puncture Disease and had to stop and patch ourselves up. Still, we managed to cruise through Three Cocks and Boughrood Brest before bumping into Verena near Bronllys for a very nice chat and a coffee.
A large amount of wibbling ensued about which route to take to Brecon via Boxbush, and Kev had to put his foot down again to keep us under control. Happily the way took us through Bronllys and past its Cock Hotel, popping in at the garage’s Spar for some supplies. Curiously every garage we saw only had a couple of cars filling up. I’m almost tempted to take a tanker over there, bring some back here, and flog it at a large mark-up outside my house.
On down the A470 then a little detour to the hamlet of Penisapentre, after which I foolishly overrode Peter’s offer to see a bivvy spot of his, and Kevin's sensible exhortations to avoid any more thorny tracks, in favour of a track onwards towards Brecon. It seemed a shame to pass up any tracks because a lot of the trip was on road, and this one took us over a raging ford which Kev and Peter are gingerly trying to cross here…
The track turned out to more or less be a canal, and a canal full of yet more thorns with the inevitable result. Still, we finally made it through to Brecon via Penishawain and called in at some posh deli for lunch and a brew. We’d hoped to stock up with a few bike spares at the Brecon bike shop but Wednesdays are obviously a bad day for just about everything in this bit of Wales because that was shut too. On the upside, as we passed through we met Verena and her daughter showing Hermione round her new home…
The pull up to The Gap was incredibly rocky, far worse than I remember it, but we tottered to the top with a water stop to break the tedium. Peter decided to take the air for a while, while Kev and myself continued on up to the peak of Fan-y-Big (in the left background in the photo below). This is almost a 1-in-1 slope and needed pushing the whole way, using our special 20-paces-at-a-time-then-rest technique which worked really well. The views from the top were sensational of course, and we posed for the obligatory shot on The Diving Board with Kev bathed in the evening’s last rays…
As the sun slowly set over Pen-Y-Fan we rolled down some excellent little Kev-recommended tracks past the reservoirs to Pontsticill where there was the choice of a couple of decent boozers – we chose the emptiest one. Good choice as it turned out, with fantastic food, own-brewed beer, entertaining landlord, etc. We’d been hoping to bivvy out again but mein host announced that it was going to bucket down again overnight. Once again we stepped into our blagging-a-nightspot routine which this time was instantly well received with the offer of his marquee outside. Probably the biggest shelter I’ve ever been under and a lifesaver as it turned out because it did indeed tip it down overnight. Peter took the sensible(?) precaution of sleeping on a table, but Kev had to move his spot as a tidal wave rapidly approached him in the early hours. All above board as a BaM claim since there was no charge.
We had a nice lie-in until 07.30 – the downpour outside certainly wasn’t encouraging us out – but after a spot of porridge we had to make a move. A short road journey took us to the Mountain Railway workshops and café, which were sadly closed until 10am so we took a deep breath and headed into Merthyr, or Pant and Dowlais to be exact. Kev’s radar was operating far better than ours during this trip most of the time and he spotted a little café right in the middle of Dowlais and in we ducked. Poor old Dowlais has been down on its luck for years, with only the opencast coal site keeping things going these days, but the café owners were cheerfulness personified and rustled up some breakfast items including a rather curious object for Peter apparently called a “full breakfast omelette” which was indeed a, er, full breakfast wrapped up in an omelette. The owners were very chatty so we had a grand old time. I’ve also learned a new language so that was very educational – MerthyrSpeak. Basically it’s exactly the same as English (the ladies spoke no Welsh) but each and every sentence always ends with the word “ennet”, whether it’s a statement or a question or whatever, for example “terrible weather today ennet”. We soon picked it up and were rapidly fluent with everyone in the place.
The rest of the day was a bit of a rainswept blur to be honest, accompanied by 40-50mph winds from all sorts of directions. The geographic term “The Valleys” for this area of Wales is a bit of a clue as to the type of terrain you have to cross to go east and west
. The ridge over to Pontlottyn was particularly bleak with its pylons and scrapyards and squelchy bogs, and we were pretty drenched as we dropped down through Fochriw, then up again over the next ridge to Tredegar.
(copyright Kev)
Up and down, up and down we travelled, like some demented rollercoaster ride until finally arriving in Brynmawr where we patronised another friendly café. Rather curiously the lady owner locked the door behind us as we went in, whether that was to stop any more people coming in or to prevent us getting out wasn’t very clear! Whatever it was, you can’t go wrong with a slice of cake for 30p.
We’d hoped that the Ironworks industrial museum would be open at Blaenavon but it was yet another door metaphorically slammed in our faces, so a final push was made over the Blorenge past the masts in a howling gale and down into Abergavenny. A visit to yet another bike shop, plus a quick brew, then we bade our fond farewells to Peter for his 15 mile ride back to the Forest Of Dean through the rain, whilst Kev and myself headed for the station. After he’d battled with the ticket machine we managed to catch an earlier train home without any bother.
I’m still a huge fan of sandals and waterproof socks after this outing, and my sub-200g Marmot Essence waterproof top, although I can confirm that it’s a bad idea to absent-mindedly forget to take your down jacket off from under your waterproof before setting off in the morning (as a result of which I was a right grump on arrival in Tredegar until I yanked it off and got a grip, so apologies to Kev and Peter)....
It only remains to thank Kev, Peter and Verena for going along with this lunatic scheme and also adding immeasurably to the experience - you couldn't ask for more companionable co-riders, absolutely top drawer. Although you could probably count the number of willing people on the fingers of, er, three fingers anyway. It's now two days later and I'm still struggling hard to get back down to unreality after such a sensory-overload of a trip. As I've said before, one day I'll not quite manage it and just get stuck and forever marooned in Bikepackerland. Peter's already half way there with his vanlife I reckon!
So, sadly rain stopped play with a couple of them, but did you spot all the RPNs? And in fact a couple of other “names” as well….
.
??
), there's no way I can justify buggering off for two days and a night, I'll have to be home at night - I'll just join them for a day ride at least (takes packed bags back off bike).
. Never mind, we enjoyed some coffees and sparkling conversation under the corrugated plastic roofing with an endless stream of lorries rattling past 
. Nice to see Hermione though of course.
Tubeless seems the way to go in hedge-cutting season