Better late than never but blame broken computer, again! Last Sunday I
decided with two weeks to go I'd better do some training for the Wild Wales
challenge on the 29th. Go to the Clwyds for an exploration of the climbs.
Easy to get to, catch the train to Chester and I'm nearly there.
First of all, the trains only went as far as Birkenhead because of
engineering works, which left me 20 miles short. Damn. Riding down to
Queensferry something didn't feel right. My legs didn't want to pedal, I
was fighting against a headwind which didn't really exist, and I felt
lousy. But a round of jam on toast at Two Mills woke me up, which I would
have missed out on if the trains had been running!
At Shotton a roadworks diversion sign pointed me up a small lane which soon
became a single-track road climbing steeply, with 9 out of 10 cars not
knowing how to behave on such roads, then at the top, a busy T-junction, no
more signposts, no idea where I was. Somehow I found my way to Northop and
I was back on track. Not before waiting ten minutes for a herd of cattle to
cross the road.
The Halkyns were my first real hills for the day, and straight away I took
the wrong road out of Northop and was quickly heading back for the coast. A
signpost the opposite way to Rhosesmor alerted me, but it led me to a
lovely wandering lane, five miles or so, not a car in sight, but one
b*stard wasp who was having a bad day and wanted to sting someone, got me
on the shoulder, which made it painful to pull hard on the climbs.
Across the top and down to Nanerch, then into the Clwyds on the lane to
Llangwyfan, the summit of this first one came by surprise, the shade of the
trees and cool spray from the wet road were much appreciated. The descent
was a bit hairy though, I nearly overcooked a few corners, then right at
the very bottom, blam, flat rear tyre. Clever me, I bought a spare inner
tube yesterday, I went to fit it, I got one with a short valve instead of a
long valve. ARGH! Cue twenty minutes sat at the side of the road trying to
find and fix it, and trying, unsuccessfully, to clean my hands on the
grass.
Finally the bike was rideable again, just in time for the second climb over
the Clwyds, the road past Moel Arthur. A brute of a climb, a long stretch
halfway up, half a mile of 1 in 6 (ish). That's after twenty minutes of
kneeling at the side of the road which made my legs seize up. I surprised
myself getting all the way up without stopping, resorting to going as
slowly as I could manage without falling off (4.5 mph was effective), and
during which my left cleat popped out of the pedal twice, both times using
up much-needed energy, concentration and rhythm to get it back in.
I was well chuffed to get over the summit then the descent was great fun,
rattling something loose when I took the cattle grid a bit too fast (a week
later I still haven't tracked it down), nearly falling off on the atrocious
road surface at the bottom, then an easier few miles via Cilcain where I
could at last clean my hands and top up with water at the village shop.
Next was Bwlch Penbarras, my nemesis, but as I discovered it was a lot
easier from the east, the easiest climb so far, except for the amount of
traffic on such a narrow road. The descent was harder, piling into the
grass on the hairpin to stop myself and let two cars past going uphill.
Dinner in a café in Ruthin before the fourth and final Clwyd climb, two
miles up the A494 back towards Mold. And I wasn't done yet. Across to
Llandegla on more quiet lanes, and up the Horseshoe Pass, getting stuck
halfway behind two horse riders and four or five cyclists taking it at a
very leisurely pace - I was climbing slowly by now but I quickly caught
them and got stuck for a few hundred yards before overtaking. The one at
the front was wearing a heavy jacket and slaving away on an enormous gear,
I was sweating in short sleeves, spinning away easily in 42x28.
From the summit I was going to return to Llandegla and home from there, but
the descent to Llangollen looked unmissable - I've climbed it many times
but never descended it. So off I went, consigning myself to a longer trek
home from Llangollen. My record for climbing the four miles is half an
hour. Seven minutes later I was picking my way through the Sunday afternoon
toursists in the town centre. I even considered one more climb over World's
End back to Rhydtalog but decided enough was enough!
I was expecting the last 30 flat miles to Chester to be a real drag, but
they flew past, before I knew it I was topping up with water again in
Farndon, with only 8 miles to go, with signs of heavy rain recently, while
I'd spent the day frying in the sun.
95 miles on the clock at Chester, and six big climbs en route, and I felt
like I could have done it all again! All I can pin it down to is that I'd
fitted a second bottle cage so I drank more and more frequently. I just
hope I feel the same on the big day next Sunday!