Getting to the start line of the Bear Bones 200 was my biggest challenge, having failed on two previous occasions, and seemed to occupy most of my pre event considerations. After that 200 kilometers and 5000 meters of climbing seemed fairly straightforward. I've never actually ridden a bike in Wales before, largely due to the distances involved in getting there. My only visits have been a family holiday when I was a sprog and a couple of weekend motorbike trips including my failed attempt at doing the Dragon Rally in 2000. The BB200 has been on my radar for a few years as both a means to ride trails of which I'd heard so much about and to see another part of the country from the seat of my bike. Also Wales is really the spiritual home of UK bikepacking. This is down to Stuart Wright, head honcho of Bearbones Bikepacking, who started running the 'Welsh Ride Thing' in 2008 long before bikepacking entered the main stream cycling consciousness. I'd failed to get to the 2018 event thanks to many flooded roads and the 2020 covid special down to the inevitable return to restrictions. This time I was determined so hatched a plan to include the lengthy journey to Wales into visits to parents and brother.
Stuart had sent the route through the week before and I was straight onto the map to check it out. Previous editions have featured some major challenges in the form of large moor sections with not much in the way of a path and plenty in the way of bog and tussock. The weather in October has also played a large part in setting this events grim reputation. 2014 in particular seems to have caused a large amount of distress for the participants mainly down to the aforementioned tussock / bog fest as well as a weather shocker. This is a terrain type I'm massively familiar with and I've plenty fancy gear to deal with any weather that you could expect so I had no real fears as far as the route was concerned. It was more a case of trying to figure out how long I'd be out and where the re-supply points were. The consensus of the cognoscenti was that the trails looked 'alright' however there seemed to be little in the way of shops en-route beyond 40k.
I'd booked a hotel in Oswestry making for a fairly short run from my parents house on the Friday. Driving across the M62 brought back many memories of visits to friends and holiday destinations with parents in the '80's. I noted the peninne way footbridge which we always looked out for back then as one of many landmarks en-route. Thinks - I've never ridden my bike round these hills either... The traffic was something of a shock though, vastly more than those days. Oswestry is a strange place being very nice but still possessing that slightly run down air that seems to plague UK small towns, even in notionally touristy areas. None of the pubs looked immediately welcoming so I ended up dining in the pub next to the hotel. Then it was some final route appraisal before crashing out.
I arrived at the start at 6.30 am. This is at Llanbrynmair Community Centre enabling pre ride coffee and chat with others. I caught up with Steve Large, last seen at the Yorkshire Dales, who was feeling a bit lonely as the only 300 contender. You can only do this after doing the 200 in under 24 hours and its generally seen as a bit much by most, given the reputation of this route. The Jones had once again been brought out and was looking reasonably svelte packed with a lightweight bivvy bag, mat and quilt which would allow a kip under a suitable tree if I blew up later on. I'd been unsure of facilities on route, excepting one cafe and a possible shop depending on timings, so was carrying a fair load of food - hopefully enough for being out all day and most of the night.
Despite my route homework I'd little real idea of what was to come. This lack of trail knowledge would take me well out of my usual Highland or Yorkshire Dales comfort zone and throw in a whole new dimension of challenge. One certainty would be that it would be hilly and steep. So I had no firm plans on how far and fast I'd go, it would just be a case of setting off, keeping the pace down and take it all as it comes.
The good news was the weather forecast which was looking pretty good for the day with maybe some light rain over night and nothing temperature wise to be concerned about. Winds were to be gentle (although I was suspicious of this given the Beebs utter failure to model wind speed these days) and being in the south would provide little in the way of hindrance and a shove in the final kilometers. In fact as daylight dawned high level light cloud hinted at a nice day. I tarried for photos from Hannah and Joolz who were doing an article on the event for 'cranked' magazine then hit the road, 0751 am.
Looking around I tried to relate the terrain to that which I was familiar but the Isle of Mann is about the nearest I could get. Rolling rather than jaggy bumps; but valleys that were steeper than the Dales or the Borders and hedges instead of walls. The first moor of the day gave a nice taster of things to come with a steep push up followed by a reasonable track along then steeply down with fine views of the route ahead. 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 normal.
More back road preceded Hafren forest, one I'd heard much about in my motorcycling days as being the venue of an annual BMW motorcycle rally that I'd failed to get to. After various fire roads we hit single track which seemed to have been well and truly hammered by trail bikes. This was at odds with the many signs extorting people to report such use however I later learned these trails were actually put in by the Yamaha off road school, something else I'd always wanted to do but never got round too. This equated to easy trail, with only a narrow slatey climb and many puddles to keep you on your toes. Damp slate was another new experience leading to much slithering and not a few moments. I impressed myself on one step up but some of the rutted off camber descents lead to a fair bit of sideways movement. Gravel bikes? err....
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 meet its owner soon as it was 300g's extra I could do without. Fortunately I soon caught a grateful gravel bike rider who was down one jacket 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 swearing. After having seen a fellow rider (Bob) heading in the wrong direction I then dived down a steep single track descent thanks to a left / right confusion only to realise I was off route after getting down the worst of it... Worse, Bob had followed me so we both had to scramble back up to get on track.
Soon enough I was spat out of the woods onto another common feature hereabouts - the totally knackered and hardly trafficked back road. Grass or moss growing up the center, more pothole than surface and high hedges either side. Pre ride research indicated a chunk of road riding on the route but most of it was on these decrepit old lanes which offered more challenge than some of the tracks! Llandidloes was the only sizeable community the route passed through and despite having only done 40k I made use of the Spar shop for a bottle of Irn Bru and a breather. A steady climb followed then the first of many farmland bridleways with no clear track but short grass for easy going. This is common hereabouts as the hills are littered with both bridleways and byways that get little use and so have fallen into obscurity.
I was actually anticipating the generalities of this section reasonably well thanks to my homework. A monster road climb in the event (the first of many) and then a long section of trail signed as 'Glyndwrs Way' - a long distance path traversing this part of Wales. Mostly on good surfaces with just a short section of grassy trail which featured much sheep dung - I'd be covered in this by the end...
I paused for a chat with Joolz and Hannah who were taking photos of passing riders at a cross roads. This lead me into a single track which would have been a bit boggy under normal circumstances but was remarkably dry for October in Wales, all thanks to the dry summer now a distant memory. I pushed up the last bit to Bwlch-y-Sarnau, a tiny village but home to Glyndwrs Cafe, something of an institution on this route and a welcome stop for an early lunch.
My stomach was happy to receive two rounds of sandwiches, a fruit scone with cream and jam (I have standards) and a gallon of coffee. I also scoffed a load of pringles I'd taken with me on the basis that they are near addictive normally so would hopefully allow constant snacking without too many stomach woes. I was sat outside in the sun which was most pleasant. The guys who'd been there when I arrived cracked on and a few more appeared including Bob who was having BB woes and had also broken his glasses. Eventually I'd eaten everything I could and had no more excuses to stay so got going.
More forestry and my first check but happily I'd anticipated it. The route used a bridleway which cut out a short loop of track but was none existent on the ground. I could have ridden round the track (as others clearly had done) but felt honour bound to use a path which was visible on aerials as well as being marked on OSM which went diagonally from track to track across the line of the bridleway.
Shortly after this was another dubious section, actually on a footpath. There seemed to be bike trails either side of it but in the event I pushed up the path (and rode a bit) to access more smooth tracks finishing with a vague line across fields and a nice little hedged in lane, well horsed but fortunately dry. This lead to more road riding and a welcome loo break by the A843. As has been the pattern this year on long distance bike rides, my digestive system had been calling the shots. Hopefully a sign of things working as they should but a nuisance all the same. That said, humongous road climb number two followed straight after so the weight loss was much appreciated!
The next section ended up being my favourite of the whole route. It was also the longest continuous off road bit at around 19k. This was over a substantial moor which characterises the landscape around here. These large rolling ridges overlook numerous river valleys, including the Severn, Teme and Ithon, and are orientated in random directions rather than the ordered regularity of the valleys and glens in the north which were shaped by glaciers. Also unlike up north they are criss-crossed with a network of roads, byways and bridleways making for careful route planning. The trails were easy and cruising along 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. The culmination is a traverse below Beacon Hill and Pool Hill on Glyndwrs Way again and then the 'Heart of Wales Line Trail' with fine views all around. Smooth grassy trails were a real luxury after all of the rough Highland stalkers paths I'd battled along earlier in the year.
Finally I dropped steeply back down to valley level only to head straight back up again to Offas Dike, a low earthwork which is all that's left of a former kings attempt to keep the English out. We'd be seeing more of this later. In fact the return route was only a couple of k away and technically this was a potential short cut if you felt like baling. It never entered my head in the event and anyway such a move would still involve a long ride back so you are as well just keeping on going. Thereafter my route knowledge was even vaguer, simply a function of there being too much to take in from just looking at the map a few times. Up we went again, walking on tarmac now becoming a regular occurrence. More HWLT and a passing of a couple of guys and Dave who I'd met at the Scottish Winter Bivvy in 2019. He was eating food at the trail side so we exchanged notes before I pushed on. I was out of water and wanted to get to the shop in Bucknell before five.
Another short sharp plummet preceded this as well as a ford across a burn. I had my filter with me and nearly used this for water but I was hankering for fizz and food. A bit of wandering round found the garage and shop which turned out to be well stocked. So much for carrying all this food, most of which was still in my bag at 115k. I made do with coke, strawberry milkshake and as much food from my bags as I could stomach. Riding back to the trail said stomach felt like it had a bowling ball on board which was not ideal given another monstrously steep climb. I knew this food and drink would kick in soon enough but my digestive system also responded with an urgent call for attention. Fortunately I made it into forestry before it got too urgent so was able to drop off the track and attend to its needs. LNT principals meant a 10 minute stop which was eating into my remaining daylight time. It was now coming up to six and I figured it would be full dark by seven.
Careful nav was required on this section (and much stabbing of GPS screen) as the route was quite convoluted. One section followed a byway parallel to a fire road close enough for me to easily get on the wrong track. Again I found myself peering at the screen trying to figure which fork the line was taking me along. Sometimes you just had to guess and then check to see if you were on or off track after a few yards. Further amusingly wrecked back roads followed and then a long, long climb up a rough and rutted byway. Darkness was falling but as usual, I was determined to go as long as possible before using lights. Under the trees this was tricky as it was pitch black until my eyes adjusted. The gradient eased but the ruts highlighted my increasing fatigue as I started bouncing off them. It needed speed and relaxation but I kept slowing and tensing resulting in the front wheel clipping the side of a rut, bouncing into the other side then flicking away requiring a steadying foot to keep upright. Most frustrating. Eventually it joined a better track and off I pelted in the growing gloom. I stopped to put lights on, happy to have made it this far (130k) without.
Weatherwise all was well. As the day had progressed a few bigger clouds had appeared but just as it looked like they were gathering they would fade away again. This was now the time the rain had meant to appear so I was pretty happy to be bone dry after 11 hours going. Looking up revealed a gibous moon and many stars. I figured this would result in much lower temps but I had plenty gear with me so no worries about that.
Hmm. Another big moor beckoned (Offas dyke again) followed by a bigger one (Kerry Hill), a chunk of road riding and then the final bump before the end. These were generalities however and the detail was well beyond me. I was in blissful ignorance as to whether or not there would be yet another humongous tarmac climb round the next corner or if it would be just a few bumps. There had been several occasions when I was given to expound "where the hell am I?" "what's next?" "how long is the hill going to be?" etc. etc. Now it was dark it would be much worse as you lose all perspective and any view that might help keep track of your position. I would just have to trust my beloved dakota GPS to keep me on track. I told myself that Stuart wouldn't spring a rotten trail on us after dark given the generally good going on route so far but I still felt a degree of trepidation given my total absence of geographical knowledge. If the GPS 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.
Anyway there was no use deliberating on this, I just had to keep going. Climbing up to Offas dyke proved to be a challenge. First it was another comical back and forth stumble to find the track which matched the GPS line. No trail on the ground proved no hinderance as the grass was sheep nibbled and short but it was hard to fathom which side of an approaching fence I needed to be on. Thank god for my eye melting lights as I could see the fence merging with dense tree growth. Then I saw the gate just below me. Another wiggle in the track then! After this the track improved and finally crested the ridge to join yet another grassy trail. An electric fence was the next obstacle. I debated unplugging it but then spied a gate where it joined an adjacent fence. Then another gate (there are countless gates to be opened on any Wales trail) followed by.... a field of turnips....
I laughed out loud at this. You see on last years route, depending on where and when people started, a field of turnips had been a surprise obstacle for those approaching it in the dark leading to much amusement. Turnips proved to be surprisingly tricky to ride through as they were sat on the surface and would ping out from under your wheels as you passed leading to much wobbling. Adopting my usual trials riding position I picked my way through wincing at the stalks digging into my shins. I should have ridden round the edge on a trampled line but I was determined not to lose the track!
Ahead was the dyke, now just a low mound and not likely to keep any marauders out, or me. The trail climbed up alongside for a couple of K before peeling off on another smooth track to the road once more. Two big moors to go. Looking up cloud had appeared but the moon kept shining through and I started to think I might make it back to base dry.
It was all going well, maybe too well? I'd been concerned before the start that this ride could be the one where I had a mechanical. There was no specific reason other than the fact that the odds were stacked against me given that all of my ITT's to date had been largely trouble free. Earlier a once per wheel rev ticking sound revealed itself as a twig stuck in the front tyre via a thorn. I pulled it out without thinking which produced a hiss of escaping air. I rotated the wheel so the sealant would plug it; recalling that the last time I had checked there was any sealant in the tyre was July.... The hiss stopped immediately.
Downhill then back up, more on tarmac pushing. This was the penultimate moor crossing with 50k to go. On the first bit of track I noticed lights ahead - more people. When I caught them there were actually three. It was 8.30 by this time and I figured more food was in order so stopped by the trailside, happy to let them go as chasing people at this stage could spoil my so far perfect pacing strategy. I ate what I could but as usual cold dry food was totally unappetising. I ended up ditching the last of my cheese and a pork pie - I was certain this would feed the local rodent population so no worries about littering - and resorted to my old favourite of haribo supermix for a much needed energy kick. Then it was onto the Kerry Ridgeline trail. This was an easy track at first then a road. Then it disappeared into a grassy field. Oh oh...
The tracks of the three chaps ahead were clearly visible so I ploughed on, glad of the plus tyres which tend to float over such stuff where a narrow tread would dig in. The breeze was now stiff but coming from my left side so whilst chilly, of little concern. It did add to the drama however and lead me to that oft experienced bikepacking situation of a trail of uncertain providence over a massive moor going endlessly uphill. Where is it going to end? where am I? why am I doing this? These days I'm wise enough to let these thoughts appear but pass me by without concern. I was enjoying it because of the conditions, not in spite of them.
Of course the trail did end eventually and I noted the lights ahead of the three guys who I was catching again. I'd a notion of a long road descent coming up but next thing we were off on another track. Hmm can't remember this bit plus it was more along than down. I then managed to kick my front light when dismounting to shut a particularly awkward gate resulting in a need to reach for tools to tighten its mount back up. Grumbling, I finally emerged at a main road but further climbing on more wee roads ensued before (at last!) a substantial plummet to the valley floor, the lights of Newtown to my right. 30k to go, I was on the last leg.
The three guys I'd been slowly catching, then letting go as I ate or faffed, were filling bottles at a ford. I chatted for a bit but I was on a roll again so cracked on. Or not as I immediately hit another tarmac wall which stopped me dead. I staggered up in reasonable form expecting them to catch me on the next flat bit. A few more ups and downs followed before finally getting into the valley bottom that I knew was the approach to the last moor crossing. Worryingly my GPS screen was blank apart from the track line. Zooming out revealed a missing map tile, why did it have to be this one? Fortunately I passed through this void before the turn off to the climb. No lights behind which made me shrug and keep going. This was a bit of a killer actually and nearly the longest on route as it happens. I walked for what seemed like a long time (15 minutes?) but topping out exposed me to a strong tailwind which blew me up the last of the ascent and the last track. As it happened this was motorway standard and the descent tarmac.
Which meant... I'd done it! I hit the road at the valley bottom and spun gently along in the breeze, back to our outward route and Llanbrynmair soon after. I checked my watch - 0014 - and wrote my time on the sheet at the community center. This made for a total time of 16 hours 23 minutes. On peering at the sheet I noted only one other completion time and several scratches. That meant I was second fastest (again!) unless a late starter was due in but a shock all the same given pre trip concerns about my form. Still I was fair chuffed to have done the route in good order, more or less, and crucially - in the dry! I wandered round to the car and dismantled the bike as I was planning on sleeping in the back of the car. One of the three guys I'd passed appeared noting that he had done the route in exactly the same time as me so joint second fastest then which made me feel a bit better. The other two appeared soon afterwards and we chatted for a bit. Then the rain finally started so I finished packing up and dived into the back of the car. A bit of finessing saw me stretched out in my quilt and sleep came soon after despite the now heavy rain beating off the roof.
So total success all round - great trails, great weather (my only totally dry ITT of the year), no major 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. I woke just after dawn the next morning noting others around. Bacon rolls were being provided by Stu and Dee in the community center which 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. I sat and chatted to various people whilst eating and drinking before finally bidding my farewells and hitting the road for the drive north.
Afterword....
Not knowing the trails or geography was definitely a major challenge for me. I've never done such a route before but in the end it was actually a good thing and added a fun extra dimension to the proceedings. It's also made me realise that knowing the trails is a major advantage in terms of pacing yourself and route planning. That said I managed my pace nigh on perfectly given my general well being throughout. I'd been amused at the number of gravel bikes on route and these seem to have seen the greatest attrition. Fastest time was a guy on a Stooge (again!) and most people behind me were also on flat bars and wide tyres. The road length may have encouraged drop bars and narrow tyres but I've long since learned that even a short section of hard trail can wreck you so better to ride for these bits than the easy stuff I think.
This completes my 2021 ITT season with 100% success and all on the Jones singlespeed. If you'd asked me a few years ago if I fancied doing two 300ks, a 200 and a 900 SS in one year I'd have been aghast. And yet here I am, 50 years old, having done just that. I suspect an easier year is in the offing for 2022 but for now I'll drink to my best ever!
Finally massive thanks to Stu and Dee for organising a fine event that is rightly one of the mainstays of the UK bikepacking calendar. Nearly all of the new events coming forward are aimed squarely at the gravel bike crowd so its nice that this one and the other long standing routes remain the domain of mountainbikes!
No comments:
Post a Comment