Day 2 in North Wales was tougher than I expected, and things were to continue that way for the duration of my trip along the coast of Wales. As beautiful as it was, the hills were crazy.
In my preview to this trip, I commented that I didn't expect Wales and England to be much of a physical challenge compared to what I had gone through in Australia and New Zealand. How wrong I was. I have since learned that my Dad has a business associate in Wales and they had told him that I'd never get up the hills on the roads following the coast. Well, I got up them, but it did take a lot out of me.
The pattern of the day was a steep descent into a picturesque town or village, followed by a steep ascent out at at 15-20% incline. This happened all day and continued for the first half of the next day as well, and was incredibly draining on the legs as a result.
I did pass-through some lovely seaside towns, though, which made the effort all worthwhile. The stand-outs were Fishguard and St Davids, the later being a city (the smallest in Britain), but St Davids is really only a small town. It got city status because traditionally in England and Wales places were given city status if they had a diocesan cathedral, and St Davids has one, and a very pretty one at that.
It was a hard grind to reach Manorbier, and I was hoping the hostel wasn't all booked-out, and luckily there was a bed in a dorm room available. Before settling-down and showering, I took a walk around the sea cliffs close to the hostel to take in some of the views before sundown.
|Picturesque town of Tenby on a cloudy morning.|
|Fantastic bike path through the rock along the coast.|
I managed to find quiet B roads after that all the way into the Brecon Beacons, an area of higher mountains in South Wales. Once into the national park, it was a very steady uphill climb to nearly 450m. This was one of the biggest climbs of the trip, but even though it was also done in the pouring rain, because it was steady, it was a doddle compared to what I had been doing along the coast.
The Brecon Beacons is famous as an army training area in the UK, especially of the SAS, the British elite special arms forces. I saw plenty of soldiers and army trucks on the way to the hostel.
I arrived at the hostel totally wet-through and was hoping and praying for a bed, and again I got one. I really don't know why I don't book in advance, especially as I pretty much always hit my daily targets on the bike. I dried-off, settled-in and prepared for some hiking the next day, followed by 80Km of cycling again afterwards.
Handily, the hostel had a path conveniently connecting with the trail up Pen-y-Fan. I wasn't planning a huge day, about 14Km total in a circuit back to the hostel. The weather was improving, but still wasn't perfect, so I was unsure whether I'd have views from the top. All the way up, I could see the peaks shrouded in cloud, although there were still great views from lower down.
As I reached the top, I could see nothing, but I decided to hang around for ten minutes, as things can change fast on mountains, and especially in Wales. Sure enough, the clouds started to clear and offered stunning views of the Beacons in all directions. I met a lovely chap from Merthyr Tydfil who took a photo for me and also educated me on some Welsh pronunciation (apparently it is pronounced "Pen-a-van").
On the way down, I was rather taken aback to see two disabled people being helped up the rocky path on 4-wheel drive mobility scooters. At various times their helpers were placing planks of wood across difficult areas and even partly lifting the scooters. It looked back-breaking stuff, and the disabled people looked cold, as they were just sitting there. At my gym back in Australia, we have pictures of an inspiring man without legs scaling peaks in Tasmania and other countries, so I'm not saying mountains aren't a place for the disabled, but it really didn't look a good idea getting those disabled people I saw in Wales up a mountain.
I made my way back to the hostel in good time, but my day wasn't over. I wanted to see if I could make it into England before the end of the day, and with one last almighty effort, I made it to a wild camping spot in the Forest of Dean in Gloucestershire, about 30Km from the city of Gloucester. After a slightly scary experience with an angry Dad of a family of wild pigs - he stared and huffed at me for quite a long time (he was quite big and looked very upset) - I settled down for a quiet night in the forest. Wales was amazing, but I was very pleased to leave the hills behind me.
|Wild camping in the forest.|