Thought I'd get the ball rolling as usual. I will be taking pains to avoid my usual blow by blow trail account to avoid giving the game away to the November gang (I pity you) without going into a bikepacking.com-esque load of philosophical and existential pish....

Anyway.
Getting to the start line seemed to be my biggest challenge having failed in 2018 (thank goodness given the weather) and 2020 (thank goodness given the angry farmers). In the event it was fairly straightforward due to including an extended parental visit beforehand and dropping by my brothers lot afterwards. I'd booked a premier in in Oswestry the night before which made for an easy run to Llanbrynmair in the early hours of Saturday morning. I chatted to a few folk (but failing to put BB handles to faces as usual) including Steve Large who was feeling a bit lonely as the only 300 contender. The Jones was looking reasonably svelte packed with a lightweight bivvy bag, mat and 1 season quilt which would allow a kip under a suitable tree if I blew up later on. But I was carrying a fair load of food given vague knowledge of the availability of supplies en-route.

In fact 'vague knowledge' pretty much summed up my route homework. I'd gone over the route a few times, eyed up aerial photos and done a 3D fly through on the OS app (interesting but of no use whatsoever) and tried to suss out any marginal bits. But I would be on totally new ground and given the rep of this event well out of my usual Highland or Yorkshire Dales comfort zone. All I knew for sure would be that it was hilly and steep.

Still the weather was looking pretty good and as daylight dawned high level light cloud was revealed hinting at a nice day. Winds were to be gentle (although I was suspicious of this given the Beebs utter failure to model wind speed these days) and only a chance of rain over night. I tarried for photos from Hannah and Joolz who were doing an article for 'cranked' magazine then hit the road, 0751 am.

It was all new. I tried to relate the terrain to that which I was familiar with but the Isle of Mann is about the nearest I could get - rolling bumps but steeper valleys than the dales or the borders and hedges instead of walls. I was passing and being passed by various folk and there was plenty of chit chat as a result. Gravel bikes were in abundance but despite mutterings about the route being much more straightforward than previous editions I was happy to be 3" tired as per normal. At one point I came across a smart new jacket lying on the trail. I'd just bought a new jacket so this was surplus but I figured it would be missed later on so shoved it under the bar roll and hoped I would catch its owner up as it was 300g's extra I could do without. Fortunately my singlespeeding climbing caught them on the next climb and I repatriated it to a grateful gravel bike rider as him and his two pals went off route.

In fact going off route became a common theme. Not having the faintest clue where I was going didn't help but my inability to fathom which way the pointer was pointing, which was right and left and which of the multiple tracks on the ground was the one highlighted purple on the screen lead to much head scratching, back tracking and blissful ignorance as to whether or not I faced yet another humongous tarmac wall round the next corner. My final track was a mass of additional 'tails' of route at nearly every junction. I must have punched the GPS screen about a thousand times over the course of the route. On several occasions I was also given to expound "where the hell am I?", "what's next?" "how long is the hill going to be?" etc. etc. Damp slate was another new experience leading to much slithering and not a few moments. I impressed my self on a step up a narrow motorcycle eroded trail but some of the rutted off camber descents lead to a fair bit of sideways movement. Gravel bikes? err....

For all that I was progressing well. 1200 and K70 saw me at a cafe where I wolfed down two rounds of sandwiches, a fruit scone with cream and jam (I have standards) and a gallon coffee. I also scoffed a load of pringles I'd taken on the basis that they are near addictive normally so would hopefully allow constant snacking without too many stomach woes. Cruising along the next section in the afternoon sun lead to much grinning and view appreciation, particularly when I was accompanied by a red kite for a few hundred yards. Pre ride research lead to me a small village off route in search of water at a garage cum shop which would hopefully be open. It was so I ate and drank my fill only to be faced with another monster climb. It felt like I had a bowling ball stashed in my stomach but I figured this food load would do me a power of good by the by. My lower intestine obviously thought so as it suddenly announced its intentions, fortunately in some forestry so a quick departure off route, hole dug etc. allowed relief and I felt much better for it. Once again my digestive system was in charge...

This pause used up 10 minutes of the fading light. I told myself that Stuart wouldn't spring on us a rotten trail after dark (largely the case) but I still felt a degree of trepidation given my total absence of geographical knowledge hereabouts. I mean if my beloved Dakota croaked then I would be down to faffing with the phone and the OS app (which has proven to be hideously unreliable). Taking paper maps would involve 3kgs so I'd made do with learning some road numbers to get me back to base if it all went wrong.

It didn't, and in fact went remarkably well. I'd passed K104 at 8 hours exactly so figured 16-17 total if things continued in a similar vane. The cloud appeared eventually but the moon kept shining through well passed the notional time the rain was to start. The breeze was stiff but coming from my left side and slowly turning to a tailwind. I had the old massive moor, endless trail going endlessly uphill, where is it going to end, where am I, why am I doing this, thing; but overall my spirits remained very high, even in the face of the track of one thousand gates. After passing a steady trickle of others I'd passed Dave (Northwind) at K110 but seen no-one after. Then with 30k to go I passed three guys filling bottles at a ford. I staggered up the succeeding tarmac cliff expecting them to catch me on the next flat but in the event had only the bike's company over the final bump and the last few miles to the finish. The rain started just as I was packing up....

So total success all round - great trails, great weather, no real issues energy or leg wise and a thirst to do the 300. I still had a load of pringles left (they were too dry to eat later in the ride so I subsisted purely on haribo in the final 50k) as well as various other snacks and bars. My shiny new jacket stayed in its bag all ride and the only real downer was a large quantity of sheep dung caked on the bike which made for an aromatic in-car bivvy. Bacon rolls the next morning were particularly welcome. It's nice having a meeting venue for these things as well as no fixed start time so everybody goes off in a loose rabble rather than a big group like the HT etc. Not knowing the trails was a major challenge for me but it was actually a good thing.

Cheers Stu and Dee for a great event.

As for the November riders, my only advice would be "'ware the root vegetables!"

Had to laugh at the rotten trail after dark thing.

Thanks for this, good job being vague about the route for us lot absolutely bricking it for the November one.

I've been busy and will still be busy until the ride, so the amount of riding I can get in is almost nonexistent...eep.

A fine read, enjoyed that thanks

I hope the car is smelling a bit better

You'll be fine Allen - I've been told this morning by someone who received the route yesterday but who's never ridden a BB200, that "there's too much road in it" which must mean it's easy

Oh my...

Bearbonesnorm wrote: ↑Fri Oct 22, 2021 9:16 am You'll be fine Allen - I've been told this morning by someone who received the route yesterday but who's never ridden a BB200, that "there's too much road in it" which must mean it's easy

Did they check what gradient said road was at?

Dyffers wrote: ↑Fri Oct 22, 2021 9:36 am

Bearbonesnorm wrote: ↑Fri Oct 22, 2021 9:16 am You'll be fine Allen - I've been told this morning by someone who received the route yesterday but who's never ridden a BB200, that "there's too much road in it" which must mean it's easy

Did they check what gradient said road was at?

Along with percentage of pothole to reasonable surface, presence of grass growing up middle and number of voluminous cow pats on the racing line

Dyffers wrote: ↑Fri Oct 22, 2021 9:36 am

Bearbonesnorm wrote: ↑Fri Oct 22, 2021 9:16 am You'll be fine Allen - I've been told this morning by someone who received the route yesterday but who's never ridden a BB200, that "there's too much road in it" which must mean it's easy

Did they check what gradient said road was at?

I know it. Always thought, I'm never riding that... And then this.

Yeah agree, great read. Recovering for Covid this week, been wondering how I’m gonna get round this year. Definitely a good bit of inspiration

Not sure if Phil could maybe change the name in the title as so many threads are flying about with bb200 as the title?

My report goes something like this and I shall try to keep it brief, though in reality I was out on the field for over 36 hours so it's far from it (brief).

redefined_cycles wrote: ↑Sun Nov 07, 2021 1:18 am Not sure if Phil could maybe change the name in the title as so many threads are flying about with bb200 as the title?

My report goes something like this and I shall try to keep it brief, though in reality I was out on the field for over 36 hours so it's far from it (brief).

Well... You certainly managed to keep it brief!

Hello everybody, my name is shafiq and I'm an idiot, well kindof. This was my third attempt at the BB200 and I was confident I would make it round in under 28 hours though I had 24 as my target. Previous two attempts would be important to reference to then appreciate my plan for this current edition.

In 2019 I put my hand up and asked for advise on how a softie would go about tackling such a ride. Advise was given to get lots of bivvies under my belt so I joined the BAM thread. Then managed to get round the field in just a few minutes short of 36 hours and earned a badge. It was for charity - human rights via CAGE.NGO mainly focussed at the torture given out to men nd women of the muslim community at Guantanamo and other 'black sites' around the world - as I felt I'd otherwise have given up. The plan worked and I survived with thanks to Allah and a few lads/ladettes on the actual ride with their encouragement.

2020 came and I thought it might just be my year as the winner - well, first person back at least - so I departed as soon as the window opened. Not for charity and after about 25 miles and becoming aquainted with Offas Dyke ten how to sleep in tight spaces with a thin tent, I chucked in the towel and went via Storm Alex over a mountain and back to the car. Like you do...

This year being attempt number 3 and with the experience behind me I felt I had a decent chance. So I set up my charity page for the orphan children of Syria and popped my name on the BAM2021 thread. Managed to spmehow secure the golden ticket and got to the start line. That was an experience in itself as I'd forgotten how Bob et al had explained how to avoid the mountain roads whilst driving to the community centre. Some brake fade later in an AWD vehicle I made it the night before and had a good snooze.

Morning came and getting together with Graham (SSnowMan) we were off. Managed to put a few names to faces and the plan was simple. 'Don't die', as my dad would be mad and Stu would never allow me another entry. The story of my dad being significant as we were never allowed bikes as youngster cos they're 'just dangerous'. Naturally my folks only find out about these events after they've happened (kindof).

How would I get round in the aformentioned time? Well I would keep riding to the apex and then it's home-straight 50 miles in and the farthest point was so near, yet so far. Pre-ride, most people that are as slow as me would have noted that food would be a problem. So I had about 2.5L of water/electrolytes (in the form of Zam Zam from the well in Mecca which IME gives a certain percentage of calories too), a couple of small pizzas and plenty other calories dotted around my person.

The cafestop came and I stuffed as well as saying hi to Andy, Al, Sarah and a few others. Then as the night set in proper, S (gravelbike Crikey, how much-ista, first time at BB200) & R (expereinced rider on a singlespeed) who I had been riding with on and off passed me whilst I made preparations for prayer. Just a few minutes but I wanted to get it done before the ground got wet and they headed on forth to a pub near the point where the route turns back on itaelf. Back on my bike and either bored (of being slow and behind target) or afraid (of the dark) I decided to start a mini light comparison-review/test.

Specimen 1: £300ish Exposure Toro with lots of lumens
Specimen 2: £30ish Cateye AMPP400 (lumens?)

The result was that I liked the Cateye alot and it lasted 2.5H of pitch black riding with similar output in low mode as the Exposure. I liked it alot and it would be a talking point with people that can't appreciate a 200km mountain bike ride. At the time it was dying, I was aswell, so I spotted a nice banking and lay out my gear.

Still dry so no need to deploy my 'sweat in the bag' ultralight keep me alive bivy. Instead I lay the mat with the quilt on top and wedged my boots in sideways to keep me from sliding down the bank. R rode by and told me how S had ridden too long on empty so had started throwing up during dinner at the pub. The nice landlord allowed S to stay a few hours and S would then 'road' it back to the car in the 'morn'.

No alarm had been set but I got some decent sleep from midnight til 0400 when the rain started 'pitter-patter'ing me and it was the fastest 'pack away' I'd ever done. By 0600 i had been ride-walking for long enough in the wet and I found somewhere to pray the morning prayers - Fajar. In between I walked up what I imagine must be 'the Clif' that Ian Barrington also walked up yesterday. Relentless 25% grassy climb-walk and my mind went back to Stu. Could this be the HAB (hike a bike) and I touched on the subject with Stu later of HAB. "(If you have the legs and lungs for it) there was no real HAB on this years route", he'd explained.

Now, where was I, yes, Fajar. After prayers I walked-rode some more puddly sections before finally deciding to check the brake pads. All good (and crap brakes) I continued into the light and decided food needs areanging and that when I found the SPAR at Clun. What a lovely place and the approximately 17 percent road climb back to the trail was well worth it. Getting to Clun I asked a chap openeing his cafe about breakfast to which he looked offended and told me he'd open at 10 (2 hours later).

The saga continued and the day break, then a bit of sun and a rainbow at midday, turnips and a wrongturn (reversed back from) with thick gloopy glue-mud at about 11, a millionaire golf course (or shooting range) of some sort and reconditioning my posterior and inner thighs with muc-off chamoise at about 1500, soon goy me to the 'oh dear, will i make it back for a basic badge. 15 miles remaining I stopped for prayers. The final stop of the day as it was home straight from here.

Used the water bottle - as opposed to the ZamZam in the framebag bladder - with water from the streams to make ablution and a little drink (dont tell the farmer at the top of the hill.. the one that says "ooo knows whats been there [in the water"] and then it happened. I could smell talc!

Stopped drinking and spilt away the offending water. Completed my prayers and continued. My mind on the smell of talc and paranoia set in as the sun started to slow edge away... Had I given myself an nasty infection. Pseudomonas maybe... maybe that stream I filled up at near the houses, maybe waste was coming from the houses.... It wasnt that bad (and I'm not here asking for a safety brief and how I should get a filter and lots of water pruity tablets etc etc) but my mind definitely couldn't figure out the talc smel. Had I gone into kidney failure from a nasty infection and it'd hit me suddenly later on. Walking up one of the final 25% road climbs didn't help and introduced the notion of (diabetic) ketoacidosis. Was this my last ride ever of this sort... What would the locals think when they realised I continued to make my own (based on prophetic advise) risk assessments on drinking water

To put that full paranoid incident to rest... Before the ride was over I remember that just past the fire road, near the golf course-shooting range with the posh millionaire cars. I'd quickly gine under some tree cover and smothered my thighs in the chamoise cream. It was a smelly one which for some reason the people at Muc-Off had decided we distance riders like fragranced bum cream. After this historic moment where one of the millionaires almost stopped for me - before probably thinking I was having a poo under a shallow tree and driving off in disgust - the remaining chamoise cream had been applied to my hands. They were a quarter as sore as the thighs sections that had been gripping and tensing against my 110g carbon saddle.

Bum cream applied to the hands, I then popped on my gloves and rode hard for a good 2 hours. So by the time it was prayer time, I popped off the gloves and forgot about the talc smell coming from my hands and thus screwed my head for well over 2 hours. I even considered chucking in the towel cos if I was gonna get a bug that started eating away at my nervous system I'd rather not be 'bush-whacking'. Got to Llanbrymair and Dee greeted me with the commiserations of being only 15 minutes late for a badge.

That beans on toast was one of the best beans on toast I've ever had in my life and everyone lived happily ever after. Stats as follows.

Donation page at time of starting the ride - £1700ish.

Donation page a couple of weeks after the ride - £4713 (Alhamdulillah).

Number of conversations or 'hallo' with locals - 2 (but 3 others if you include the coomunity centre, cafe man at Clun and the SPAR).

Time total on the playground - 36hours and 16ish minutes.

Riding time spent actually riding or walking - 19ish hours.

Number of times I thought I should give up/give in - 3.

Enjoyment and satisfaction rating - off the scales.

Number of killer turnips encountered - too many.

Pics below

In pictures




Post ride, a bit of phto evidence for the donors and to push the fundraising page.


Kept seeing bits of litter about on the trail. Not sure where it came from but most appeared fresh and in the middle of nowhere and at times that noone (in their right mind) should've/would've been walking about. Generally cycling nutrition related..


95 miles in a a beautiful rainbow Alhamdulillah (all praise God), what a sight it was.


Not long left now I told myself... lets take a pic!


Wales... by ek, you're gorgeous (and may Allah keep you like that).


A bird of prey that wasn't afraid to come too close. Pity bout my camera and that I wasn't fast enough when it was overhead.


Thanks Stu and Dee for inviting us to your back yard.


So happy at this point as I'd tackled a decently hefty climb (walking obviously) and the sun had been out. Started threatening to rain though but the pic opportunity was to tempting.


0728 The time the sun finally started showing itself and I'd just caught early morn prayers in the nick o time.. Rain had been a proper hindrance in finding a decently dry non soggy spot so in the end opted for a rock or 2.


Alot of walking on a slight uphill. Couldn't muster the energy and also didn't wanna risk sliding into/off a rut in the damp wet slipperiness


Light test Exposure TORO in low mode



The £12.50 Cateye in low mode


Some angry killer sheep... Hope Karls ok.


Beautiful wild horse (children) the eve before.


Did I say the plan involved 'only 3 pics!'.






My Bruce looking proud of himself for not being the final bike on the route (yet).


Surely Reg will know if this was a quarry at some point. What stone is that pls Reg?


Pictures just don't do the beauty justice.


My bad, this must be the teenage/baby horse and above must be been children ponies... I dunno... It was all too exciting for the faculties to think through clearly.


Just realised... there's our Graham in a pic I took early into the ride.


My Bruce wondering where we're going the night before the morning after!... In for a treat InshaAllah

Last... my page with some previous children the charity would have supported/is supporting. If anyone found the above pics 'admireful' and lovely then maybe drop us a few quid. 100% donation policy with a charity (Ummah Welfare Trust) with a very good track record of being second to none...

https://tinyurl.com/88vnfyww

Great writeup and pictures Shaf

Verena wrote: ↑Sun Nov 07, 2021 8:30 am Great writeup and pictures Shaf

Thanks very much Verena... that there Wales you and the rest live in is absolutely gorgeous (and slightly remote and scary at times). Can't wait for 2022 (kindof) if I make it til then

Image
Post ride, a bit of phto evidence for the donors and to push the fundraising page.

Did the route involve a very deep mine?
Thanks for giving us a flavour of what I missed. Donation incoming.

Very well done with your fundraising!

(that 'quarry' was just road widening I guess. Bit difficult to work out the rock type from the little photo. Did you bring a sample back for us? . Maybe some sort of spar (not Spar ). Give us the location and easy to work out from geological maps. Ordovician/Silurian sedimentary sandstones/mudstones/limestones round there is it? Bit hazy TBH ).

After weeks of anxiety and stress, it was almost a relief to be finally heading towards Wales in the car. Obviously I was a couple of hours behind schedule, due to plenty of procrastination, which meant I got caught in rush hour traffic on the M6 skirting Birmingham. That actually worked in my favour, as The Wynnstay Arms Hotel, where I’d booked a room for the night, didn’t open till 19:00; so if I’d left around 13:00, I’d have been sitting in the car for a few hours waiting to get into the bar.

The Wynnstay Arms is decidedly old skool, I was going to say with faded grandeur, but I don’t think it was the kind of place that had any grandeur to start with. It was definitely faded though, and I wasn’t the only one that evening thinking about similarities to Fawlty Towers. The welcome, when Pauline the landlady (I assume) finally appeared behind the bar, was genuine and friendly though.

There were a few other patrons in the lounge bar, a few of whom looked like bikepackers. Another couple turned up shortly after me, and various conversations soon struck up. “Have you done this before?”, cue various stories of wild weather, horrific ground conditions and general all round suffering. Not the kind of stuff you want to be hearing the night before when you’ve spent the last few weeks fretting about that kind of stuff.

The conversations were broken up by intermittent attempts to order food and drink, most of which resulted in answers of “I’m disappearing!”, or “I’ve got someone waiting in the other bar.”, before Pauline disappeared for fifteen minutes. It turns out she was doing everything, all the cooking, bar service, the works; she looked older than my mother-in-law.

Stay while you can though, as Pauline said they’ve sold the pub to “two gentlemen”. We’re assuming that next year, the food and drink will be slightly more expensive, and that it won't cost £10 for a room without breakfast.

I never sleep well the night before an event, too much anxiety about waking up with my alarm. Being deaf in one ear has it’s advantages at times, but not if my good ear is in the pillow when the alarm is going off. I’d set the alarm for 06:00, but was up at 05:15, so read my book for a bit to chill out. In the end, I was up, prepped, out and into the car, for the ultra-short drive from the public car park to the school for 07:00.

With the bike extracted from the car, all the bags attached, I was pretty much ready to go, well before my planned 08:00 departure. Looking around, it was interesting to see what kind of bikes people were on and how much gear they were taking. Thinking that someone looked a bit like Matt Page, I decided to wander over and have a chat, turns out it was Dyffers, so we had a bit of a chat.

I waited until I thought it was light enough that I wouldn’t need to use any lights, and headed off to sign out. It would’ve been nice to say more than just, nice to meet you at last, to Stu, but such is the way with these things. I was given 07:50 as my start time, and off I headed down the road.

I’d already told myself that I needed to make full use of the gravel bike on the tarmac sections to make up for the time I’d lose on the off-road bits. I’m not sure if it was youthful exuberance, or just stupidity, but I went off like a rocket. I was enjoying finally shedding all the stress and anxiety of the previous few weeks and just happy to be out and making easy progress. So easy in fact, that I blew straight past the turn for the first off road section and was a kilometre past it before I realised what I’d done.

Lesson number one, pay attention to the route.



By the time I’d backtracked, all the riders I’d passed on the road were now making their way up the first off-road climb of the day. I managed to get most of the way up, but with other slower riders all over the track, it was difficult to pick a good line and with my rear wheel slipping, my heart rate sky high, I was burning too many matches so I got off and pushed the last bit.

The grass felt really grippy and slow, and all the stopping to either open, or close, the umpteen gates broke up the flow of the riding. As expected, given my gear ratios, I was going uphill slightly faster than those around me, while they were all blasting past me on the downhills. Alexinthepeaks went hooning it past me at one point, at a quite frankly scary rate of knots, as I slowly picked my way down a stony track.



Next on the agenda was Hafren Forest, but we had a few miles of tarmac to get there, so I got onto the drops and started thrashing it. By the time I’d got to the bunkhouse I was realising my mistake and backed off a bit. I was soon joined by slarge and we rode together for a bit, until we both made some dubious route choices and were caught by a few others. I was trying to keep up, but realising this was a stupid tactic, tried to drop back a bit, but every time the road went up, I caught up again.



At one point, my GPS started flashing that I was off route, perplexed, I backtracked a bit, before realising it was just being a dick and I was indeed on the right track. Still not paying full attention, I blindly followed someone else, might have been fatbikephil, down a steep off-road trail that saw me off and stumbling down it, right up whomever I'd followed came pushing back up saying they’d gone the wrong way.

Lesson number two, pay attention to the route, not to where other riders are going.



Eventually there was a section I couldn’t ride, that was busy with others pushing their gravel bikes up it, so this gave me an excuse to get off and join in the hike-a-bike fun. Starting off again at the top, I soon noticed a new snapping, cracking, sound coming from the direction of the drivetrain. While I knew I’d buggered up the indexing when fitting a new cassette during the week, this sounded different to a chain issue.

Perplexed, I stopped a few times to waggle things and have a look. I discovered that my bottom bracket was a bit on the worn side, with quite a bit of play. By the time we left Hafren Forest, I was convinced that the noises were due to a failed bearing in the bottom bracket and started cursing my stupidity. All the stress and anxiety leading up to the event had been around things like gearing, finding spare brake pads, clothing choices, the ability to carry enough food and water, whether I should ride through the night or not, could I even manage all the climbing. It never once occurred to me to check the bottom bracket.

Lesson number three, check everything on your bike prior to the ride, and do any maintenance with plenty of time to go for a decent test ride or two.

I’d been looking forward to visiting the SPAR in Llanidloes, after reading about it in various trip reports. I’d planned to buy some savoury stuff there, but either plenty of riders had already been through and cleared the place out, or they just didn’t have many veggie options. I didn’t want a crappy sandwich, so I just grabbed a Red Bull and a bit of caramel slice. I really should’ve bought more, but I hadn’t eaten a whole load by this point, so didn’t have a lot of room for more anyway.

I swung by the bike shop and enquired if they had any Ultegra bottom brackets, unsurprisingly they didn’t. So off I headed out of town and up the next climb, which apart from the odd snap and crunch from the bottom bracket, I quite enjoyed. So much so that I piled over the top and started flying down the other side. A glance at my GPS and it’s red flashing lights soon and me slamming on the brakes though and slowly climbing back up to the top; I obviously hadn’t learned lesson one yet. I found myself alone for the next off-road section, which gave me some head space and a chance to calm down and consider my options.



I was soon caught towards the end of that section though, and after a quick chat, I tried to drop back to be on my own again. I was conscious of the fact that I’d gone too hard too early, ending up in Llanidloes half an hour to an hour earlier than expected, as was trying to take it easy for a bit. But with a load of road and some short sharp climbs, I found myself yo-yoing with the riders who’d caught me and found myself going at a pace that wasn’t my own. I didn’t want to go steaming off in front and get back to being on my own again, as this would just burn more matches, so I pootled along just behind them. Thankfully they stopped to sort out some kit, so I was off on my own again, with just the sound of my disintegrating bottom bracket for company.



I was soon off and pushing again, as I just couldn’t get any traction with the rear wheel when standing up, and I didn’t quite have the gears to keep sitting down. I was soon soaked with sweat, as I’d decided to wear my Spring/Autumn weight cycling kit, as I knew it would be too cold during the night for my lightweight summer options. I stopped to mop my brow and the right leg fell off my glasses; I howled into the existential void.



The combination of wearing one legged glasses, while trying to ride downhill off-road, with tears in your eyes from the wind and attempting to look at the GPS on the bars was nigh on impossible. Anyway, that’s my excuse for the bad route choices that followed, with me totally missing a couple of turns, only to see them clearly as I backtracked up various tracks and paths



The community cafe at Bwlch-y-sarnau was a welcome sight, and a chance to stop for a bit and assess choices. I partook of their BearBones packed lunch, eating half of it on the spot and somehow finding room for the rest of it in my bags. I had a quick chat with fatbikephil and another chap who isn’t on the forum, amongst others who were turning up all the time. Rather than wait around and end up pushing off with others, I set off on my own again, hoping that the food wouldn’t come out again on the climb that followed.



I felt much better at this point, I’d slowed down enough that I’d recovered and I was off on my own, going at my own pace. Then we got to what I’m calling bushwhack corner, I have no idea what was going on here. There was no path, not even a hint of one, so why the GPS trace went into the trees at that point, rather than on the bridleway 100m or so further down the track, I have no idea. I eventually emerged on the other side, scraped, scratched and covered in pine needles.

We seemed to be following Glyndwr's Way at this point, but the GPS trace looked like it was off the track in the trees, rather than on the obvious trail. There was another rider pushing in front of me, so if it was good enough for him, it was good enough for me. Again I nearly made it to the top, but the mental image of a box of matches kept appearing, so it was off and pushing the last bit.

The pushing continued and continued, I’m sure I could have ridden some of it, but there seemed little point, as there was always a bit every five to ten metres that I couldn’t ride, for whatever reason. I then heard someone calling my name, it turned out that Dyffers had caught me up, but he was on a parallel path to the one I was on. So we had a bit of a chat as we pushed up the hill and then rode on together for a bit.

I’ve probably made it pretty clear that I’m not really one to ride with other people, but I really enjoyed those ten kilometres. I can’t really remember much of what we chatted about, most stuff goes in one ear and then straight back out it again. Having said that, a few nuggets have lodged themselves away for the future.

Lesson number four, listen to the experiences of others and take note of why they’re doing things the way they’re doing them.



My bottom bracket had got a lot worse by this point and was making some alarming cracks and snaps, and the occasion zing for added enjoyment. Then shortly after making friends with a couple of horses, it jammed solid. Thankfully it was unjammed with a bit of wiggling, but at that point I knew my card was marked, my ride was over and I should head back to the car. It was a crushing disappointment.

I waved Dyffers off at the public loos on the A438, and broke out my phone and tried to figure out the best way to get back to the car. Ignoring Dyffers suggestion if ambling up the A road, I continued along the route for a bit, as I figured that I had a few more kilometres before I actually had to make the decision to head back. I was suddenly in amongst other riders again, having caught up with someone on the steep climb up from the road and having been finally caught by the two I’d ridden behind for a bit earlier in the day.



While I managed to nurse the bike up the steep road climbs that followed, it was obvious to all and sundry that my ride was over, what a racket. I chatted a bit with the two riders I’d been behind earlier, but marvelled at the chap who I’d caught up with, as he just didn’t stop and kept ploughing along at his own pace, almost oblivious to what the rest of us were doing. If someone rode alongside he chatted, but that was that, he did his own thing.

Lesson number five, do your own thing, don’t be swayed to ride faster or slower than you want. It’s not a social ride, it’s you versus the clock, do what you need to do to get round.





While finally deciding to head back to the car was a massive disappointment, it was also cue for a whole new level of anxiety and worry. In addition to the myriad of noises coming from the bottom bracket bearings, it felt like I was pedalling squares on the ups, as the cranks were noticeably moving around. Every wince inducing crunch, crack, screech or snap came with the thought that this was it, this was the moment the bearings would sub standard the bed and the housing would collapse, ejecting my cranks.



As I don’t know the area, I’d decided to find a quiet back road that would take me North, where I could pick up the return leg of the route and follow it back. I knew there was a lengthy road section on that part of the route, so I wouldn’t be faced with any gnarly off-raod nonsense. So I slowly winched myself up a quiet back road onto a moor, the views were fantastic, the sun was out and I was at peace. I dropped down the other side and turned left back onto the route. I stopped riding anything steep after that though and got off and pushed, as the cranks were now jamming with alarming regularity. I soft pedalled on all the flat bits and just tried to take it easy, in the vain hope that everything would stay together and I’d make it back.





Llandinam eventually came and went, Trefeglwys came and went, and still I soft pedalled and pushed and cajoled and crossed my fingers. The push up the last road climb was brutal, all the more so, as I think I could’ve ridden most of it. Rather than bailing to Staylittle, I stayed on the route for the final gravel section, and I’m glad I did. Feeling like I was now pretty much home and dry, I gave it a bit of welly and briefly enjoyed just riding along.





Soon enough, we were heading down the road to Llanbrynmair, and it was with much relief that I swept back into the car park. Eleven hours after I’d set off, having covered one hundred and forty four kilometres, I’d made it safely back. The disappointment was palpable though, not just because I hadn’t completed the route, and also not because I wouldn’t be there on Sunday morning to swap stores, gain more knowledge and put more faces to names. The main disappointment was the realisation that I’m unlikely to see the combination of conditions and a seriously gravel bike friendly route again anytime soon.



Just like my first time riding through The Chilterns while attempting The Icknield Way double, I’m chalking this one up under unfinished business.

https://www.strava.com/activities/6122639402

RIP wrote: ↑Sun Nov 07, 2021 10:52 am Very well done with your fundraising!

(that 'quarry' was just road widening I guess. Bit difficult to work out the rock type from the little photo. Did you bring a sample back for us? . Maybe some sort of spar (not Spar ). Give us the location and easy to work out from geological maps. Ordovician/Silurian sedimentary sandstones/mudstones/limestones round there is it? Bit hazy TBH ).

There we go Reg. The central cross/plus sign marks the spot. Just a fee mm above llanallo. I turned right then left past the public toilets. It was at that right turn that the picwas taken. Was a beautiful place and the rock looked well groomed...



Counting on you

redefined_cycles wrote: ↑ Counting on you

Oh dear, that's a bit rash . I'll go with mudstone then but not convinced. The pro geologists will be along shortly to help us out.

Enjoyed (with appropriate commiseration) Bo's tale as well. Some interesting insights into the psychology of it all.

Bob & Shaf, great write ups. It's funny seeing the places in daylight as I had pitch black, wet and rather blowy!

Here mine;

Short version - I scratched.

Detailed version;
I set off at 8.04 in drizzle and wind, the reason for heavier but nothing I couldn't handle.
Speed was good, the bike was heavy as, mostly because I didn't think I could do the route in one, despite that being my goal all along, making my day harder as it was almost as heavy as it is ok a bikepacking trip. I had all the essentials to pitch up, but those 40mph gusts didn't really inspire me to stop. My plan - ride right through. My mistake, why take as much as I did?!

I chatted with a quick rider called Dan for a while, a thoroughly nice chap, but had to cut him loose by the bunkhouse. He was way quicker than me, but rather polite and hung back to talk to me. Shame I couldn't ride at his pace.



I found a mini Cathedral City cheese here - thank you to whoever lost it!


Free cheese face.


Nice old barn.


At km 59 I was at a cafe. Cramping already, Dioralyte shot at the ready. Blimey, that stuff is rank.



This is where it started going wrong. Three cups of coffee and a piece of cake, I could barely get the drive to head back out in that wind and rain, again whilst starting to shiver.
From here on in, my tyres wouldn't grip the wet grassy, muddy, puddly ground, felt like riding on ice at times. Whilst off-road every pedal stroke resulted in a degree of wheelspin, sapping my energy as I had to push harder on the pedals to get anywhere.

After riding with another Alan, we had some techy slippy muddy decent to head down. Alan chose to walk, I chose to skid both wheels down behind him. An ill-advised local chose to exercise her jaw on us riding on a path that was not for cycling on, whilst standing next to the bridleway sign, I said, we are allowed here, it's a bridleway, look - there's a picture of a horse the local retreated rather quickly whilst mumbling "well, just make sure you close the gate".



I then crashed. Was a silly crash, only a small one, but got the worst dead leg from a rock, ever!!
I had a word with myself and got some supportive texts from Carla (my wife), keeping me going. I started to feel positive about the ride again, I mean, I'm out on my bike, it's what I love, right?
Around 7 or 8pm-is, I had a royal meltdown. On what seemed like a never-ending grassy slippy, slidey mess I jabbed my computer trying to find out where I was with no succession. Rain was driving at me. The wind was battering me, blowing me off my feet and dictating at times the way I pointed on my bike.

Shortly after this meltdown, came another. I shouted at the sky, then the floor took a right old cursing with more choice words than I care to admit I said. Following a thin purple line on the Garmin was proving to be very difficult, which aided my meltdown. I could barely see it with the rain, the thickness doesn't help, and not being able to figure out how to change it on the go infuriated me. I've scratched. But I still have to get back. 80km in, means pretty much almost 80km back. Let me put that distance into perspective; that's still at least 7 hours back, without stopping which started to be more often as I get confused in the dark.
I've I cut across country to rejoin the return route my energy that was hovering around 70% full dropped in what appeared to be a blink of my eye, I could barely push the pedals. A slight incline may have well been Everest. My body has had enough. Music, singing and talking to myself wouldn't help at this point.

]

Knowing that I still had a long way to go, I had my emergency Red bull, almost throwing it up minutes after having it I forced food in as I had been through the day. I started to feel really sick.
A fair few boys passed me at 1am ish, they were on their way back from the full 200, still a bit of a way of but their pace made me feel rubbish... They were so strong.
After having to push more hills than I have ever pushed I was on the last 8km. I got back to the van and threw my bike in, in bed by 3am, out like a light at 3:00.05.
I wish I could do better. No matter how hard I tried to ride harder, faster, longer, I couldn't change my fate.



BearBones KMs collected: 146/200
BearBones meters climbed: 2458
To sum it up, I wasn't good enough.

Escape Goat wrote: ↑Sun Nov 07, 2021 7:09 pm Free cheese face.

This makes you a winner in my eyes.

hehe

Well done to all who cycled all or part if it and I've enjoyed the write ups
I see various mentions of more road this time? Just wondered what % of the ride is road which I imagine is still relatively low