Rhayader to Machynlleth

Saturday September 18, 2010

My campsite for the night by the river in Ryayader.

Another standard start, breakfast at about mid-day, and headed off early arvo. It was a day of hills, right from the get-go, with a long steep climb out of Rhayader, I was giving first gear a good work-out.

Countryside in Wales.

Countryside in Wales.

A sculpture I found along the way.

 I soon hit some steep descents and broke my speed record for the trip again, with 71.3 km/h, good fun!

Always excited to see a sign like this.

And like this.

Riding up past a reservoir.

I stopped at a reservoir to admire the view.

A reservoir.

Another view of the reservoir.

Also taking a break were half a dozen Irish motorcyclists.

So I had a chat to them, quite a friendly bunch, I loved their accents. I couldn't understand everything they were saying though. They mentioned a place in Ireland that I should visit, and went off on a tangent discussing who the first guys to fly a plane were, and where they did it.

They also suggested I head up to Scotland and catch a ferry to Ireland from there, because I had been considering catching a ferry to Ireland from Holyhead, Wales, then from Ireland to Scotland, and Scotland to Scandinavia. Upon their recommendation though, I decided to go the other way, and with the plan to catch a ferry from Ireland to France afterwards.
Today I wasn't really sure where I was heading, only that I was going up to Snowdonia National Park. I came to a fork in the road and had to make a decision, and I really could have gone either way. I've been in the situation quite a few times: "left or right?" It's hard to decide when you don't know what either of the roads are like, whether they are busy, hilly or scenic, and you don't know what the towns along roads take you to are like. Your route will depend on how tired you are, how late it's getting, which direction you want to head, whether you want a major town on the way to stop in for supplies, any number of factors really.
I've had quite a strong sense if freedom on the trip, having not done any planning, I can go wherever I want, whenever I want, and not have to be anywhere at a certain time (other than back in London at the end of the year to fly back home), or do anything (other than eat and sleep). So until the end of the year I'm free to do whatever I want, which is just the way I like it. Although I don't think this will be good preparation for when I start full time work next year with Melbourne Water, I'll be locked into 9-5 job, argh! Now that'll be a theft of freedom, that'll be a real challenge for me. Cycling around Europe with all the freedom in the world will be easier than full-time work. As Scott McClelland says, "full-time work sucks your soul."
Anyway, there I was at a fork in the road, with the day already getting on, and a few spots of rain starting to fall. Right seemed to be the more tame road, left there was a sign that said "...Via Narrow Mountain Road." this was enough to sway me, my sense of adventure got the better of me, so that's the road I took.
It turned out to be pretty hilly and pretty cold as the rain set in, but there were some good views along the way. I can't say if it was better than the other route, I may never know.

I got to a town called Machynlleth.

Machynlleth, Wales.

It was raining quite solidly by this stage.
I had to find a campsite though, which is always a bit of a hassle.

What makes a good campsite, you ask? Well, a number of factors:
- first and foremost, somewhere well hidden or out of the way so that you won't be disturbed by anyone, whether it be drunks, kids, thieves, rangers, etc
- dry ground (not that easy in the UK)
- flat ground, and preferably soft and free of sticks, roots, rocks, etc
- away from busy roads, factories and other sources of noise.
- not far from a shop so you don't have to go far to get milk in the morning

Where do you look to find such a place, you ask? There are a few options:
- best bet is near a river/creek, there are usually lots of trees on the bank for you to hide the tent in
- look for parks, they often have little areas with some tree cover. In the UK though, many of their parks seem to get locked up at night!
- sports grounds. Sometimes there are trees on the side you can camp amongst. Cover is often not great, but the grass is usually soft and flat.
- any patch of grass you find that you think you can get away with
- graveyard? Hmm, no thanks.
- meet someone in the street or the pub and ask/hint to camp in their back yard.

So, in Machynlleth, there seemed to be lots of tree cover between the main street and the sporting grounds, playground and skate park, although there were lots of paths going through, where people typically walk their dogs.
Eventually I set up in amongst some trees. My clothes were drenched. I hopped straight into the sleeping bag when the tent was set up, ate sandwiches for tea, and went to sleep to the sound of steady rain falling on the tent.

Eating sandwiches in the tent, with persistent rain outside.

Ride stats
Distance: 61 km
Average: 15.4 km/h
Maximum: 71.3 km/h
Time: 3:57:30

Abergavenny to Rhayader

Friday September 17
This morning I was politely woken by Mike, because they were all heading to work. Mike must really care about his dog Floyd because he was taking him for a walk in the morning before work. Two walks a day, lucky dog!
Bern made me a cup of tea and we had a chat, she works for the local authority, "telling people to eat more fruit and so forth," she said. And on her day off, she volunteers in a shop called "Vintage Visions", which sells vintage clothing, and also runs sewing and re-styling classes. All the money raised goes into supporting the shop.
Mike and Bern were so kind and generous to me, I was very grateful. Just when I was packing the panniers on the bike getting ready to leave, Dan's wife, the next-door neighbour, came over and gave me a bag full of snacks and energy drink! I was very appreciative. Seems the people of Abergavenny are very generous, judging from the ones I met anyway.
Mum always said you should give with no expectation of receiving anything in return. Seems like what these people did.
I thanked Bern for the hospitality and headed into town.

Mike and Bern's house in the centre of the photo.

Part of the set-up for the impending food and wine festival.

A street in Abergavenny

An old bridge over a river in Abergavenny

I needed to find a Vodafone shop because the Internet wasn't working with the SIM I got through Vodafone. I found a 4u phones place, the blokes advice was to ring up Vodafone and they should be able to sort it out (which I did, for the second time, and they did).
This bloke from 4u was also up for a chat, he reckoned he used to do quite a bit of cycling himself.
I bought the usual groceries and found a spot to eat breakfast. I always like to find a nice spot to eat meals, preferably somewhere with a good view or in a pleasant spot, and with a table. They usually place tables in pleasant spots anyway. There seem to be seats everywhere you go in the UK, and tables are fairly common too, but sometimes require a bit if searching.
The abundance of seats I guess partly makes up for the lack of water taps.
This morning I found a table inside an old castle to eat breakfast at.

An old castle on a hill in Abergavenny

Breakfast at a convenient table inside the ruined castle.

I don't think it was a permanent table though, it was too new. I think it was there for the Abergavenny Food and Wine Festival, which was taking place over the next two days (that's what the tent you can see in the photo was for too.A bloke I met in the main street the night before (just before Mike found me) had said it had grown from just a humble little festival 12 years ago to now a very popular and well known one, which attracts something like 500,000 people. He said it was now so popular that "you could walk across people's heads from one end of the main street to the other."
Bern described in a way I understood as "the Glastonbury of Food and Wine Festivals". She said it attracted lots of middle class people from all around the country.
After breakfast in the castle and a quick look in the museum, I made tracks, taking the route along the quieter roads as Mike had suggested.
At one point the road turned steeply downhill, the first real steep hill I'd come to, and this is when I first realised my brakes were not up to scratch. Seriously I was pulling the levers as hard as I could and I wasn't slowing down! Luckily the steepness decreased before the intersection and I could stop, but it was a bit scary. And I thought surely there would be more similar hills to come.
Before I bought my Surly Long Haul Trucker, when I was in the research stage, I was reading a blog called "ozsoapbox", the author had written a post describing 5 things he'd like to see on the new model of the Long Haul Trucker (LHT):
- better brakes
- the inclusion of a Brooks saddle
- non-flamboyant frame colours
- mudguards
- Schwable Marathon Plus tyres

The brakes have received some criticism, and I would have to agree, they leave something to be desired.
I replaced my saddle with a Brooks and added mudguards, which most people who buy a LHT do straight away. I also ordered some quality tyres (the Vittoria Randonneur Pro, which are similar to the Scwable Marathon tyres, both are meant to be very good for touring). I ordered them about 3 months ago through Wiggle, and they never came (they still haven't!) So I still have the original tyres on there.
From the above list, the frame colour was the only thing they changed in the 2010 model, which is available in blue or black. My 2009 model's colour is called truccachino, which some people aren't a fan of, but I don't mind it.
So anyway, I rode across the top of the Brecon Beacons National Park, which was quite pleasant, less hilly and less exciting than I thought it would be though.

Brecon Beacons National Park

Brecon Beacons National Park

Brecon Beacons National Park

Brecon Beacons National Park

From Brecon I headed north and experienced some of the best riding yet. It was very hilly but the roads were quiet and the surface was very smooth, and a lot of the downhills were without tight bends which meant high speeds were possible (and were reached, hence my maximum speed on the trip so far of 68.4 km/h).

I would love to have been on my road bike! If I lived around there I'd be cycling those roads all the time.
I stopped for a late lunch in a town called Llanfair-ym-Muallt.

Llanfair-ym-Maullt, where I stopped for lunch.

As with many of the Welsh town names, I had no idea how to pronounce it.
I was craving a pizza but I only had the same old tuna and tomato rolls. I was watching a bloke fishing, and not catching anything. Eventually he gave up and stopped by for a chat.
You're probably sick of hearing about all the chats I have with people, but this was probably the most enjoyable one yet. We were really on the same wavelength and shared the same philosophies on life. He was also a cyclist and followed the pro cycling (in fact he had some professional cycling friends). So we talked about that, he told me one time he was cycling up L'Alpe d'Huez with a mate and was about 1 km from the top when it dropped about 20 degrees to -15 within a few minutes, a blizzard must have blown over, so he said to his mate "I'm turning around". He reckoned it was so cold he was on the point of hypothermia, and was pedaling with the brakes applied on the descent to try and keep warm.
I didn't get his name but you can see him walking off in this photo.

The fisherman I had a chat to walking off in the centre of the photo.

By the time I got going again it was just about dark.

The river in Llanfair-ym-Maullt

I wanted to get to the next town though, so I rode about 20 km in the dark and stopped in a town called Rhayader.

I couldn't resist buying fish and chips, from a supposedly award winning fish and chip shop.

The fish and chip shop in Rhayader.

And they were quite delicious. While I was eating them in a park, two women walking a dog stopped by and asked if I'd lost a first aid kit. I told them I hadn't actually brought one with me. They said they'd found one lying in the middle of the road and saw that I was a cyclist and thought I might have been the one who lost it. They gave it to me anyway.
I thought this was pretty lucky because I needed a first aid kit. But could it have been a sign that I was about to get injured? I decided to look at it in another way: if you have it, you don't need it. Just like when you have your puncture repair kit and pump, you don't get a puncture, but the one day you forget the pump is the day you get a puncture. This has happened to me quite a few times, and I think the same can be said for many other situations. So being given the first aid kit was a good omen. I hope.
I found spot to pitch the tent in the park by the river, wrote my blog, and went to sleep.

Ride stats
Distance: 108.14 km
Average: 16.3 km/h
Maximum: 68.4 km/h
Time: 6:36:32

Shirenewton to Abergavenny

Thursday September 16

My campsite for the night beside the Shirenewton football field.

This morning I was not rudely awoken, but woke up naturally. I haven't been setting an alarm at all on this trip, just letting myself wake up when I do, which is normally 10:30 or 11 am. And people say you can't sleep in when camping!
First thing I do when I wake up is check the time on my watch or iPhone. I went to turn on the iPhone but it was dead - gave no sign of life at all. Tried again, still nothing. This worried me greatly, I thought about all the things I need it for: maps, web, email, blog, torch, music, notes, photos, etc. Again I realised how much I was relying on it, it's my life support. And I'm it's life support, by giving it charge through the bike dynamo hub. It was 80 % charged when I'd gone to sleep, so thought it couldn't just have a flat battery... but upon further close inspection, I could just make out a dim flat battery symbol on the screen. I connected up the cache battery to it and breathed some life into it. Don't scare me like that iPhone!
I realised I was really hungry, since I hadn't eaten tea the previous day, so I packed up and went in search of a shop, and discovered there were none in Shirenewton. Oh no! The next major town was 20 km away, a town called Usk, and I had to go through struggle town to get there. Seriously, it's so hard riding with no energy. All I had to eat was a banana and some blackberries along the way.

Stopping to eat blackberries on the way.

A farmer moving his cows across the road.

I got to Usk and found the supermarket. Wow, food tastes so good when you're starving, I devoured that cereal! Have I mentioned I like cereal?While out the front of the supermarket, a bloke stopped to chat, to ask where I was going and where I'd been, lots of people ask me this, I've found. This guy was middle-aged, friendly, had a strong accent. He offered me a few pieces of advice that I can remember, after I told him I was going to Ireland:
Welsh bloke: "be very careful in Ireland"
Me: "why is that?"
Welsh bloke: "because they're crap drivers!" And he went on to describe examples of their poor driving.
He also told me: "In Ireland, and in Wales as well, if you're at the pub and a girl says to you "do you want to come back to my place with me? I'll make you a nice bit of cake", don't go, because you might never leave again! And that could be you. You won't get many stamps on your passport then, will you?"
After that I was on my way to Abbergavenny. When I got to the main road leading to the town, the A4042, it was a dual carriageway with no shoulder, and was quite busy, so after consulting Google Maps I decided to take a detour and headed down to the turn-off to Pontypool and stopped at the McDonalds for some free Wi-Fi. Then by the time I headed toward Pontypool, it seemed to be peak hour, because there was a constant flow of traffic and no shoulder, again I felt quite endangered!

A busy road with no shoulder during peak hour.

I did survive though, and took the turn off to Abertillery. I wanted to go there because, from memory, this is where my ancestors on the Powell side were from. I didn't get time to note down the family tree before I left unfortunately, and there are lots of similar names to Abertillery in Wales, so I don't know if I got the right one. Auntie Janet is the knowledge bank on our family tree, so I emailed Dad to get her email address, still haven't heard back, check your email Dad!
To get to Abertillery, you go up through a big gorge, and I was sticking to the quieter road, so it was quite pleasant. It was a long uphill slog all the way to Brynmawr though.

Heading towards Abertillery.

In Abertillery I stopped for a late lunch of the same old tomato and tuna rolls, and a bloke strolled over to have a chat. He was waiting for his mate to come past and pick him up and head to the pub.

Near Abertillery

He was a friendly young bloke, an electrical contractor, he reckoned there'd been less work around in recent times, due to the recession, and reckons people are still holding on to their money.Further up the gorge I rode past a few kids on their bikes. They caught up to me after I passed, wanting to know what I was all about.

A curious kid that was chatting to me.

Wow, kids ask so many questions! They just fired question after question at me, they held me up for about 15 minutes.
"Where have you come from?"
"What are those for?" [gear levers]
"Do you listen to music while you ride?"
"What brand of cigarettes do you have in Australia?"
Unfortunately they smoked, and they were so young.
Some more friends of the boys came over and the boys exclaimed to them "he's from Australia!"

More young kids.

Eventually I said to them "okay I'd better keep going", and got away.
From Brynmawr to Abergavenny it was clear sailing, downhill the whole way. It was dark when I got there, but I sussed out a camping spot by the creek, then headed to the main street just to have a look around.
I was standing there looking at the map in the street, and I guess looking a little lost, when a bloke walking his dog with his wife and another couple with their dog stopped and asked where I was heading and where I'd been. So I told him, and said I just had to find somewhere to pitch the tent for the night. He reckoned there weren't any coming grounds nearby. Then he kindly offered for me to set up the tent in his back yard. I said "aw yeah...well if it's not too much trouble, that'd be great! How far away are you?"
"Just a five minute walk"
"Yeah that's fine. Thanks a lot for the offer!"
"Well we can't have you just wandering around the town on your own at this time of night."
We introduced ourselves, his name was Mike.
So I followed them back to their house, and chatted to the other guy, I think his name was Dan, and he's Mike's next-door neighbour. He works over in England so has to drive across the bridge each day, can't remember what he did though.
We got to Mikes house and I said good-bye to Dan, and he wished me well, as did his wife. Mike directed me to park my bike in the garage, and he must have softened a bit more or his trust/liking for me had increased because he said "now you have two options, you can either set up the tent in the back yard, or we have a spare room upstairs that you can stay in if you want, but the dog's been sleeping on the bed so there's a bit of dog hair there..."
I said "oh, well if it's not too much trouble I'll stay in the room, that'd be great! The dog hair won't worry me."
And with that, they did a quick tidy up of the room, I carried my panniers up, and I had a bed for the night! I was stoked. And it gets better.
Mike's wife introduced herself properly to me, her name was Bernadette, or Bern as Mike called her. So we had a bit of a chat, Bern spoke about how her daughter had been traveling through South East Asia, and how the locals try to get as much money out of the tourists as they can. Her daughter had been in some sticky situations, especially in the Philippines, but there had always been someone there who helped her keep out of trouble. So Bern reckons she tries to help people out (e.g. travelers like me) where she can, and hopes that other people will do the same.

I joined Mike in the lounge room and chatted while Bern cooked tea.

Mike had a big glass of beer, and offered me a beer, and while I would have loved one, I politely declined, not wanting to take more than I deserved - they'd already been kind enough to offer me the room for the night.
It turned out Mike was a freelance outdoor instructor, taking groups through caves, doing rock climbing and canoeing, hiking, problem solving games, etc. Groups come from all over the place, the group he had that day was from Salisbury (a town I rode through on the way to John Chant's place). He was working at Pencelli the next day (near Brecon, where I was planning to head through).
What a great job that would be! Before Mike was an outdoors instructor, he was the head teacher at a primary school, teaching mostly maths and English. But he gave it up because it was too stressful, and he loves his new job, reckons it's much better than his teaching job.
Mike gave me some tips on which route to take, and got the maps out to show me. He even offered the maps to take with me, said they were old and they have newer ones they use.
I told Mike what it was like in Australia, which he didn't seem to have much knowledge of. We also talked about sport; he asked if I played rugby. He said he wanted to go to New Zealand and go rock climbing there, especially the South Island, Mt Cook.
Mike and Bern's eldest son was quite well traveled, love of the outdoors seemed to have carried through to him because he'd been all over the world and was flying to Uganda the next day and going canoeing down the Nile.
Bern came in and gave me a plate of pasta, even though I'd said I was right for tea. Too kind!

Pasta for tea.

Bern in the lounge room.

We watched a documentary about old people who had various ailments due to old age and were being looked after by family members etc, so they made them live how they had been 20 years earlier, where they had to fend for themselves more, and do things like lift their own bags, walk up stairs, walk the dog, etc. And after just one week it was found that their quality of life increases markedly. So being looked after, protected and forbidden from any sort of arduous tasks, e.g, "oh no, you can't have a dog, you might trip over it and break your hip", this kind of cautious life detracted from their quality of life.
My respect level for Mike increased further during the documentary. There was some background music playing in it, and he quizzed Bern "what song's on in the background Bern?" Bern didn't say anything so I said "is it Pink Floyd?"
Mike: "no"
Me: "oh, it's, ah...Mike Oldfield"
Mike: "yes, Tubular Bells"
Me: "yeah, I knew it was a progressive...song."
Their dogs name was Floyd, so I asked Mike: "so did you name your dog after Pink Floyd?"
"yep. He's my boy!"
They gave me a towel so I could shower, which was greatly appreciated.
And I slept very soundly that night in a comfortable bed.

My bed for the night.

My self-portrait.

Ride stats
Distance: 72.40 km
Average: 17.1 km/h
Maximum: 53.4 km/h
Time: 4:14:04