Coast to Coast - The Land of my Fathers

 Back in November 2019 I set off on a small adventure.  I planned to ride across the country, from Foreness Point near Margate to Whitesands Bay near St Davids. The trip was planned as a winter ride, with relatively short stages aligned to the railways, so that I could do a stage and scuttle home.

For a while, everything went swimmingly, with some enjoyable days out and even a night ride.  By February 2020 I had reached the Severn Bridge, and thought that 1st March, St David's Day, would be a propitious date to start the next stage.  On the 1st Storm Jorge was blowing, the bridge was shut and a number of the roads that I had planned to take were under six feet of water.  Never mind, I said to Peter Tiller at the Wayfarers Lunch on the 4th; March goes out like a lamb, so I'll be back on the road by the end of the month.

As we now all know, by the end of the month no-one was going anywhere, and in the ensuing year and a half enthusiasm for the trip rather faded.  But, quite out of the blue, we were invited to the wedding of one of our oldest friends' sons.  The wedding had been postponed for a year, but was to be held in Wales, at a beautiful location in Gower.  If I were to set off a couple of days early, and carry on after the wedding, then the Coast to Coast ride might be on.

I juggled the route to take in the wedding, and set off last Wednesday with Maggie.  The drive down was dreadful, with very heavy thundery showers, standing water and spray.  The trip was looking in doubt again.  But, by the time we got to the bridge, the rain was passing and things looked brighter.  Although it was windy, the Bridge cycleway was open, and I set off.

Once over the bridge things were very different.  The weather was better, and the terrain was different too.  Monmouthshire was very hilly, lots of short hills, some very steep.  I recorded the steepest hill of the trip here, at 21%, but the lanes I was riding were quiet, well surfaced, and I happened on a very pleasant pub for lunch.

Cyclists welcome it said, and I was.  Wye Valley Beer, locally cured ham and fresh, crusty bread.

On to Abergavenny, around the town on the cycleway through Castle Meadows, and along the River Usk to Crickhowell where Maggie was waiting at The Bear.  

Good pub, good room and at dinner we ate the food of our childhood - a great experience.

Next morning I started with the biggest hill of the ride, crossing the river at Crickhowell and climbing steadily for about four miles to the top of Llangynidr Moor, as it was called when I was a boy, topping out at 1693 feet.  It reminded me of the Pyrénées.

A couple of miles across the top and I came to the Heads of the Valleys Road, a major, busy trunk road.  Dreadful to ride on, but it was now part of the very extensive Welsh cycleway network.

Here's the cycleway - the busy road is the other side of that wall.  I could have ridden all the way to Swansea, and on from there most of the way to Carmarthen, on smooth, traffic-free cycleways.  In places I chose not to, but the network is very extensive in South Wales, and is still being extended.

I picked up a section of the Taff Trail near here - a 55 mile cycleway from Cardiff to Brecon - to ride over three attractive viaducts, high in the mountains, and then meandered a bit along memory lane on the way to my Sister's house in Gowerton. Easy enough to find - it's about 100 yards from the cycleway.

Family and friends for the weekend, a fine wedding, and back on the road on Monday picking up my original route at Carmarthen. 

This was the hilliest day's riding.  The Garmin identified ten major hills, and there were many more minor ones.  Big gradients, 18% to 20% being quite common, but it didn't beat Monmouthshire for steepness.  I rode on NCN 47 for quite a way, through some fairly remote countryside.  I saw an abandoned farm, a sad sight, and a number of cottages either forlornly for sale or empty.  It reminded me rather of parts of rural France, where, just as here, people are moving to the cities.

The Wolfe Inn at Wolf's Castle provided my lunch, a lucky find as there had been no pubs or shops since Carmarthen, about 40 miles back, and there were no more until near St Davids, about 20 miles on.  But the countryside was splendid, with about one car an hour, on average, and that absolutely courteous. Some walkers, a horse, and two or three cyclists.  It's not busy, even in August.

But all this ended suddenly.  I came to a little roundabout, on the outskirts of St Davids, and all at once I was in the holiday world.  There were so many people that the pavements couldn't contain them, and they had to walk in the road, where stationary cars waited to inch forward. I wriggled through the town, out on to a country lane and down the hill to Whitesands Bay. Thronged with people, swimming, sunbathing, surfing, making sandcastles and flying kites.  A very happy crowd, and I was quite pleased with myself, too.

Here's the Welsh part of the route, a very good ride.  Worth waiting for, really.

429 miles in not much less than two years, so not a very demanding pace.  Eight days riding from Margate to Whitesands Bay.  But, while I was riding, I enjoyed it very much.

A word on the bike.  I used my Cannondale e-bike for this part of the trip, and it was a good choice.  It is comfortable, made short work of the numerous hills, and finished every day with plenty of battery left.  I quite like e-bike touring, and, of course, you have to stay in a hotel each night to charge it up.

That suits me, too.

Mark