I knew what was coming when I reviewed the route and ID'd a few big moor crossings around and south of the Elan valley, hinting at BB200's of old that had caused a deal of distress. This is a vast area of upland wilderness bigger than anywhere in the UK out of Scotland. It even rivals areas such as the Cairngorms in terms of lack of habitation, with only reservoirs and forestry intruding into its periphery, preventing a 'biggest UK wilderness' contender. In the event, these parts of the route would be the least of my problems!
The start was good, catching up with Karl and his mate plus George in the pub in Carno the night before, plus Bob at the start in Llanbrynmair. I got going at 7.20am, keen to make the most of the daylight. Catching Bob up the road allowed me to keep the pace down as we chatted before the steepening grade made it's demands and off I went with a wave. Hafren, as is often the case on this route, provided the first trails and a taste of things to come - a vague line through dense sitka straight up a bars above head climb. There is an easy alternative to this but we aren't here for easy alternatives...
Easy but damp bridleway followed, having been well ridden by trail bikes, a problem that would also feature heavily, and a fab grassy descent. I was swapping places with George and Tom who I'd met on the North York Moors 300, idly chatting about what was to come. If only we knew! Juice at Llangurig then off again into a breezy but brightening day.
Ahh yes the weather. So in 2021 it was dry for most of the BB200. In 2022 it was properly sunny all weekend. So after that, plus a sunny Highland Trail and NYM300 this year I was gobsmacked that the weather was going to be warm (hot!) and sunny all weekend. Plans to carry proper bivvy kit and prepping for heavy weather were binned for my usual super lightweight set up. That said, it had rained a lot in the run up and I'd no idea what the implications of this would be in the coming miles...
So into the green desert, as this vast area of upland grassland and bog is known. Three short moorland crossings gave a good flavour - steep climbs, vague lines, but some good riding to boot. I'd done a bit of ground proofing of the route on aerials which did help me keep on track but the presence of others (and lots of tyre prints) was a far better nav aid than a GPS! I bumped into Pete Aylward at the start of moor number two. I'd last seen him in Fort A on the Highland Trail so we had a quick catch up before cracking on. Much steepness to Craig Goch dam and the shock of lots of people! It's quite impressive right enough.
That said the loo was of more interest plus my first feed at K70. Then off down an old railway line signed as an NCN8. somewhat wet for such things though - what happened to the 4m wide tarmac then! Other people featured heavily on this trail but they were nowhere near the next - a straight and steep push up the hillside and over moor number three, but on a nice easy trail, albeit with an 'interesting' finish.
Then the crux - Esgair Garthen, 9k of upland moor with bog and tussock a'plenty. The climb was easy at least and early indications were promising - grassy trail interspersed with boggy bits. This then progressed to boggy trail interspersed with grassy bits, then it progressed to a bog interspersed with boggy trail as it descended into a vast area of swampland. I was at least following a well defined trail that some brave sole had taken a quad bike along. After a bit I realised I was off line but I managed to get back on it via more vague quad track which was actually pretty good going.
I noted a figure behind as I got back on track and we waved quick greetings before ploughing on. A keen eye and a quick foot got me through the worst of it, wondering how long it would last. Of course it always gets much worse before it gets better. The trail, such as it was, vagued into a sea of tussocks and swamp. To my right looked horrendous (actually where the OS showed the bridleway) but to the left grassy gnolls poked out of the swamp and their steep slopes looked to offer better going. So with a heave out of the bog I was making progress again and actually picked my way round the worst of it with only minor damp bits and some extreme tussocks!
Finally it was more grass than bog. After a breezy and overcast start, the sun was now shining in earnest and the wind a cooling breeze.
As I looked up two red kites were circling. I'd seen loads of them all day and all like this pair - seemingly curious about this strange apparition invading their territory. They were entirely unfazed by my presence, looking down at me as they floated effortlessly over the terrain I'd just battled through. So on we go, glad to have that bit done. Grassy tracks followed and then Strata Florida, both the place and the route.
The place was deserted and the toilets shut - bad news as I could have done with them for water as much as a rest. Fortunately the helpful person in the visitor center directed me to a tap attached to a farm steading. Re-supply had presented a few dilemmas. There was a shop at 40k, a 24hr spar at 200k (as featured in last years route) and at 150k another shop open until 10. But I really wasn't sure I'd make this in time as 150k could well equal 15 hours or more on this terrain. I'd food in reserve but no water filter based on getting water here, and maybe a couple of burns if I really needed to. So I brimmed the bladder plus a bottle I'd stashed in my back pocket, figuring this should see me to K200 at a push.
Then Strata Florida the route, an old Roman road. I'd seen pics of this years ago (It's in the Rough Stuff fellowship photo journal) plus spoken to someone who'd ridden a '40's rigid Ariel motorcycle down it so I knew it was wet in places and a bit rough but should be OK and allow good progress.
The first inkling of doom appeared on the climb - some pretty tricky rocky / slatey step ups with big puddles in between. When it levelled out the full doom was revealed - long, long flooded sections of uncertain depth. I managed to get through a couple by dint of hanging onto the banks and winching through with one pedal and a damp boot, but dry feet. But they got bigger and bigger. I was trying to preserve dry feet at all costs as if they got wet they would freeze overnight. This required picking my way past the bigger floods off line. What was worse, the muppets riding trail bikes had tried to do the same so the ground either side of the trail was ploughed to oblivion and a total swamp. My only salvation was being able to scamper across banks far too steep for a motorbike. Gaiters also were a dry foot saver! Worse, I couldn't help noticing the smooth forest track which seemed to parallel large parts of the route. Once again the easy alternative was ignored...
I could feel my sense of humour slipping. Earlier, I'd passed a series three landrover - battered but standard and driven by someone who seemed to know what they were doing. Just after a bunch of folk on newish 'adventure' motorbikes had come towards me and I figured the trail couldn't be that bad if they had ridden it. In hindsight I think they had probably turned back and the landrover driver didn't know what was coming. It looked like a fair bit of work had gone into the track at some point in the past but this was long since wrecked. Although the floods had firm bases, there were rocks a plenty hidden in the murk so trying to ride through, wet feet or no would likely result in a muddy, smelly bath.
This is the track. And the river. Yes, to cap it all, enough idiots had short-cutted into the river for more of a challenge to erode it's banks such that it was flowing down the track. Actually this was OK - just a case of following the flow. An old trials riding tip came back to me - ride along the bit with the strongest current as it will have knocked any loose rocks out the way. This continued until the junction of a burn and the main river floored me. There was no way through and it looked properly deep - thighs at least! After much faffing I tore off gaiters, boots and socks and paddled across a bit of the river upstream from the carnage. Good, I beat that bit. But the next bit, a half mile further on, nearly beat me. I figured I could paddle it but the rocks were treacherous and the water got into my boots. Thank goodness for waterproof socks!
Finally, after two tricky but dry ridden river crossings, the track climbed away from the valley bottom and joined a wider forest track. Cruising down this, I wondered what the future of this route was. The track was technically open for all users but a walker would have no chance unless they were wearing waders. Despite having a degree of sympathy for the off-roaders, this level of damage is nonsense on a right of way. It either needs upgraded to a forest road or else ban the vehicles and do a light touch job to sort the flooding. The 'challenges' for the vehicles could then be provided away from the general populace as per the old permit system. The problem is, in the good old days, trail riders were on shonky old trials bikes and the 4 wheelers in shonky old landrovers. And there weren't many of them. Now it looks like everyone in the UK is descending on Wales to ride or drive off-road and it can't take it. Worse, it's obvious that locals aren't satisfied with this and are hitting any bridleway and path they can find...
OK, enough with all of that, onward and upward. The next byway was shut to vehicles by several monster rocks. I'd finally left the 200 route by this point and was alone with my grumblings. For the first time in a long time, I was doubting if I could do all of this. Hopefully the next trail would be better...
The lengthy bridleway down the Doethie valley started promisingly - a nice grassy trail contouring down a steep sided valley - a kind of green version of Glen Tilt (and longer!) But there were some horrible boggy sections lower down, made worse by there being lines all over the place making me think I was always on the wrong one, compounded by my riding skills which brought to mind the phrase 'coo with a gun...'. It also seemed to go on for a very long time.
Finally it spat me out on the road. Dusk was falling and I was a bit miffed to see I was only at K125. I'd been at K160 this time last year! I was not feeling it to be honest but what can you do? I hadn't got a clue where I was, beyond the 'line' and its immediate environs, my route homework focusing on the generalities rather than trying to remember every possible trail type; in order to avoid the confusion I'd suffered last year.
No, my only option was to keep going. The good news was that, inspite of my slow pace and moaning, I was well ahead of my schedule to get to the shop and Llanwrtyd Wells. Three further byways lay between me and it however and guess what - more huge puddles, this time in the dark. I was shouting curses at all things petrol powered by this time but at least it was short lived (and the puddles either easily bypassed or not too deep)
Finally I was on the fast road descent to the village. The loo provided welcome relief and I nearly burst into tears when I saw the sign on the Premier store - 'Take away pizza available'
I was stopped here for the best part of an hour but time well spent, as I needed a break from all that mayhem. A bloke wandered past clutching a bottle, noticed me and asked me what I was doing / where I was from. When I said "Fife" he said "what, Kirkcaldy?" "Nope Dunfermline!" Turns out he lived in Kirkcaldy for many years (his accent was actually south west England.) I can't get away from Fifers... Anyway, when I eventually headed off, with a very full stomach, I was feeling somewhat better than earlier. I knew that one forestry section was to come with a trail of dubious provenance, followed by another forest section that would lead into the routes high point over Carnau at 536m, 114 less than last years high point, so stop complaining!
A car at a track junction had steamed up windows. If there was anyone inside causing the steaming, they must have been miffed at me passing by, realising I was on the wrong fork, coming back, swearing at a recalcitrant gate and then stomping up yet another steep climb, muttering and grumbling. This led to a steep descent through a fire break with more soggy bits. At the bottom I had one of those moments when you simply cannot figure which way is up on the GPS screen and have to keep wandering around until the arrow is on the correct track.
The next singletrack was OK but more sodding trail bikes had been up it so it was a mess in places. After a bit they all turned off but the route carried straight on so I was glad to see the back of the ruts. But the trail got even wetter. Then I realised I was off track and had missed a turn. Back we go to the point but there is no sign of it. Where in all hell should I be going? I shouted out my frustration and just kept going until I hit a track at the bottom. Other bike tracks suggested the two people I was following had done the same. This climbed back up to the line after a few hundred meters. Fallen trees were the next obstacle, finally taking me out of the forest and onto a grassy (and wet) track out of there.
Bloody hell, this was full on. I was hoping the next sections wouldn't lead me similarly astray but fair to say there was some churning going on in my stomach. At least I got the first turning right, missed another but realised quickly; then suddenly, lots of other tyre tracks meant I'd rejoined the 200 route. Finally I left the forest and saw the broad shape of a large moor ahead. I also noted a light somewhere in front - always nice to know you aren't alone in such places...
The climb was OK. On the ground the track matched my GPS pretty good so it was just a case of get pushing. In fact I was back on the bike soon enough and the bog and tussock were replaced with a long length of grassy trail. After variations on these themes I passed a stone shelter and suddenly I was looking ahead instead of up.
The descent would have been a corker in daylight but it still offered some fun and smiles in the dark, finally. It's worth just focusing on such sections on a route like this, consciously forgetting any frustration experienced earlier, as a way of lifting your mood. I knew the next section from last year - a good one - and the Llanwrythl 24hr spar wasn't far away.
The light was still ahead but I only caught the guy as he'd gone off line and backtracked. He was doing the 200 and had already bivvied so we exchanged brief greetings before he turned north for Rhayader and I whizzed down a smooth track to Llanwrythl, the last of the day.
So I'd scoped out an old garden cum picnic area with a couple of wooden gazebos next to the Spar / garage. I rode straight in and sure enough, it was all overgrown with little sign of use. One of the shelters was still in tact, so I shoved the benches out of the way, unrolled my bivvy and got in. I lay for a bit getting settled and reflecting on what had just gone by. Finally I turn over and felt sleep approaching fast. It was 2:30am and I'd ridden 195k....
Highly salubrious bivvy spot.
The first trail of the new day was easy - a nice wide gravel track, still open to motors, despite being also NCN8. But the puddles were only an inch or so deep and I was fueled by a large breakfast courtesy of the Spar shop. The kind person serving had also allowed me to sit in the (closed) Gregs area so my bivvy had been a corker - practically en-suite and full board!
Somewhere up above me was Penlan cottage that had featured in 'Deep Country' - a book I'd read earlier this year about a chap going off grid. It was the usual self indulgent waffle for a part but the detailed descriptions of the local flora and fauna kept my interest to the end. The cottage had been described as being very remote but it's anything but - the main road and two large towns are within an easy walk. Try living by the shores of Loch Treig! Dawn was starting to show above the lights of Llandrindod Wells as the next trail presented a wired shut gate and an impenetrable jungle of nettles. The field alongside it was easy but I feared that any famer who had blocked the ROW would take a dim view of someone bypassing it. The farm dogs barked their anger at me but no-one else was in evidence so I cracked on....
...To nav faff number 3 (4?) The route showed a bridleway pealing off the one I was on up a hillside. But all I could see was a steep bank and lots of bracken. Back and forth revealed nothing so I pushed on, nearly throwing the whole thing again. This got me me back on track but into the bracken on a trail that (apart from two tyre prints) had clearly seen no use for many a year. I was nearly brought to a halt, the bracken got so bad. Eventually I threw my bike over the fence and pushed up through the adjacent field picking up the BW at a gate which was tied shut and again had never been used for years. Fields followed and another quiet farm but I do wonder why these routes aren't either re-claimed or extinguished... Anyway, more hilly roads followed then a further monster climb to a bit of wooded single track, well trampled by trail bikes. But the sun was shining and it was warming up fast with views opening up all round.
In fact the only thing keeping me moving was the prospect of Bwylch Y Sarnau community cafe, as featured on many BB's. Between me and it was another wretched byway but apart from more puddles and one section that the forestry had helpfully spread a thin layer of clay over (near to death mud at one point!) got me there in reasonable order. Two other 200 riders were sat out drinking coffee, having bivvied above Rhayader
We exchanged brief notes about bog and tussock but I was feeling pretty wabbit so retired to the porch to drink hot, sweet coffee and eat food, whilst trying to keep focused on what was to come. I could have stayed there for an hour or more but dragged my self away. 70k to go.
More crazy back roads followed and yet another huge byway climb. This inevitably meant a further stop in Llanidloes Spar for more drink and food. I was struggling to eat but haribo would get me through. Just. The road section that followed nearly had me on my knees. Relentless ups, brief rests then up again, and again. Finally I plummeted towards Llyn Clywedog res and noted two riders opening a gate to the next trail. One was John Allan whose tyre prints I'd followed for many a mile last year. He was riding with a mate who'd never done a BB before and taking it at a leisurely pace as a result. He praised my single speed prowess which buoyed my mood no end. The trail was nice too and after a descent through a field got me back on road and up to the final turn off.
Without thinking too much I wrenched the bars to the left and set off on the last 30k. The monster road climb morphed into another soggy track but this then led into a fine final bridleway and some blessedly easy riding across the last big moor, views to Cadhair Idris ahead.
The byway descent was rough gravel rather than rutted hell and much road descending followed - actually the biggest height lost on the route. Of course what followed beggared the vertical profile - a series of short but sharp ups that seemed to drag on forever. I'd actually plenty of leg power but overall weariness meant I couldn't really exploit it. Then the last trail which was easy and had two nice fords to rinse off some of the accumulated mud from the bike. Finally I dropped down to the A470, ignored the 'Llanbrynmair 3 1/2' sign and ground up the last climb. Then one last precipitous descent back to the '470, one near death miss from an Audi driver (inevitably) and the finish at 14:21.
The bacon roll and coffee that Stuart handed me was like the elixir of life. I was literally at the end of my tether. A few others were around including Bob who'd not long finished himself having struggled with cramp for most of the Saturday. Others were also there all expressing similar views about bogs, tussocks and puddles. A classic BB I think! I drank more coffee and chatted with Stuart about the trials and tribulations of the last 31 hours. Finally I packed up and headed off before the sleep monsters took hold.
Musings....
'Why am I doing this?' I asked on the last post. This years route was harder than anything I've done before, Highland Trail included. I also don't think I've ever knowingly ridden my bike through so much mud in one ride. Thank god for single speed, although my recently new chain is looking a bit sorry for itself. People talk of type 2 fun, and I do get that. But this did seem a bit much at times - well beyond what I would choose to do, if I had a choice! (and I'd known what was coming!) I guess ego plays a part, that smug self satisfied feeling of doing something that only a very small number of people could do; and at the age of 52. Plus the warm glow of knowing that my riding over what will likely be another wet winter will be easy by comparison. A big part of the appeal is that this is one of a very small number of routes worldwide that generates the challenge from the terrain, rather than the speed at which people try to do it. 'Gravel bike friendly' still seems to persist in what many desire from a route so it's nice to be part of something that is the polar opposite of such things. Chapeau Stu and Dee!
Will I do it again? probably, despite the above. Stuart puts a lot of work into route setting, organising and cat herding, so deserves the respect from us the end users turning up to ride it. Mebbes just the 200 though. Anyway, this concludes my 2023 ITT season and what a season. Two 300's and a 900, all in sunny weather! It won't be like this next year....
Gear, kit and stuff
Once again, the Jones excelled itself, inspite of the extreme mud and puddles. Only John Allan had something similarly weird - his Stooge scrambler with Ti truss forks - all the rest were on rigids or hard tails, plus the odd bouncer and a few bikes with dropped bars. 'Ideal bike' is a totally abstract concept for a route like this as anything will offer benefits and disadvantages in equal measure. Maybe a super light gravel bike and a pair of trail running shoes would have been the best!
Bivvy kit:- Rab pertex bivvy bag, thermorest neoair full length mat, Cumulus 150 quilt, HH polyprop top. Ideal for the conditions and super light - 900gs. All carried in a Wildcat seat harness
Worn kit:- Endura 3/4 shorts (I'd worn the arse out of my Madisons on my tour last month,) BAM boxers, Merino T shirt, BB long sleeved top, BB gilet, dexshell water proof socks plus BAM thin socks. Shimano XM9 boots, now just about done. Slightly too warm for most of the day but kept me warm overnight. Boots were an absolute life and foot saver on the bog, tussock and puddles.
Carried kit:- Columbia Outdry extreme jacket, Berghaus Changste goretex over trousers, Montane ultralight gaiters. I wore the jacket when eating pizza and after my bivvy until it warmed up. The gaiters were fab on the soggy trails and helped to keep my feet mostly dry. All shoved into my framebag.
Food:- two vege wraps, 3x mini cheddars, 5x pepperami, 3x Nutri grain bars, 3x snickers, bag of haribo, an apple, 2 mini pork pies, 2 x 500 Kcal 'Tent meals' freeze dried meals, 5x babybells. I ate everything apart from 1 pepperami, the nutri grain bars and the freeze dried meals as I made the shop at Llanwyrtd wells. I bought another packet of harribo, 4 x lucozade sports, 2 cans of coke, 2 bottles of orange juice, 1 packet of crisps, a sandwich pack, a pie, a bakewell tart and a 9" pepperoni, onion, pepper and tomato pizza. Most carried food was in a Topeak front pouch (that usually attaches to my bar roll) which meant it was accessible on the move. Water and a few other bits and bobs went in the framebag.
Bike stuff:- One spare tube, usual tubeless repair kit (not needed this year thank god), no sealant (whoops), chain links, clamp to lock dropper post if it failed, BB adjuster tools, multi tool and leatherman. None of this was used. I oiled the chain at K225 which is frankly miraculous given how wet it was. Squirt lube strikes again!
