"Each step forward has a sacred meaning of its own" Sri Chinmoy
Looks Like a Welsh Dragon Audax - 10 August 2024 - Bristol-Llanbedr-Bristol - 214k / 3100M
The "Sri Chinmoy 27 Hours of Cycling" always falls on a Friday evening / all day Saturday in early August. All around the world, those of us who ride will try and clock up some miles, kilometres or hours in the saddle to see how many we can achieve together. This year, just like last year, a hilly Audax organised by Oliver Iles and starting on my doorstep fell on the Saturday in question and when Rasmivan asked if I was up for the 200k, I couldn't really say no. Well, I could have said "I'm training for my first road Ultra in 19 years and this isn't really what I need" but that would have been a cop out. In any case, despite being very light on cycling miles, I did think it would help my ultra preparation just as much as throwing in another 20 mile run. And I was starting to feel the effects on my feet of reeling off 3 of those weekly 20-milers in a succession. I knew it would be a challenge, obviously, but as so often happens (especially this year, it seems) I underestimated just how much of a challenge it would be.
The weather forecast was for a clear start and finish but maybe some drizzle or showers in between. Sunny intervals too, so I layered on the sunblock before rolling down the road for no more than a couple of minutes to Abbey Wood Retail Park. There can't be any event more local to me than this. I had a bit of a sore throat / cold I'd picked up in Paris, probably on the RER or Metro getting to or from the Stade de France for the Olympic Athletics but I was hoping to burn that off on the ride.
Rasmivan was on his Colnago with hundreds of miles in his legs, while I was on my heavier cannondale with only 2 proper long rides behind me this year (a long ride over the Mendips that I cut short in March and the Czechman 90k in June, with a handful of rides preparing for that too). We agreed to stick together for the first 50k and then see how it went. I expected us to part company around then so he could ride as his natural pace and I could take longer breaks and just manage my way round.
Last year 50 riders did this 200k, which is actually 214k and has a good, solid 3000m+ of climbing, much of which is concentrated in the Black Mountains on steep lanes. This year, only 21 people signed on and the route was adjusted a little, meaning we had the famous Tumble climb rather than a nearby alternative on a quieter route. Oliver's briefing confirmed that and also warned of some rough road surfaces, some gravel, care required on narrow descents - the usual Audax warnings! On the roll out from Filton up through Bradley Stoke it became evident it was quite a young and fit crowd by Audax standards (if 21 is a crowd) and the two of us were going to be near the back of the pack. In fact there didn't seem to be much of a "pack" forming, just an atomised crew of riders in 1s and 2s. The weather was holding up as clear and mild and I had a reassuring descent of Hollow Road down into Almondsbury - I don't have much faith in my mech disk brakes on a greasy/wet road after overnight rain, but they seemed to be doing the job OK.
Roads we know well from our Duathlons at Tockington led us out to the bridge and then over the Severn and Wye in glorious, calm conditions with views of the Forest of Dean and the big skies over the Bristol Channel. We skirted Chepstow, climbed up past the race course and then over Wyndcliffe to Tintern. From there, the classic cyclist's club run route led us up the Wye Valley on a surprisingly quiet A road - where was everyone? Well the 7.30 start probably had something to do with it. The first serious climb of the day was the long drag from Redbrook up to the heights of the Forest - I knew this one from previous Audax rides and could glimpse the familiar stream with its tiny waterfalls on the right every so often on the way up. From there it was lanes to Symonds Yat and the first Info Control - I was using an e-brevet for the first time so just had to "register" - then a steep descent to the riverside where I once dramatically capsized a canoe with Balavan. A lot of memories around here for me - runs, hikes and a lot of paddles as well as rides. I was sure the road past the canoe place was a dead end, and so it proved, as we parted company with the tarmac and rode on proper gravel. Not for the last time on this ride I was very glad to be on blue bike not red bike - 30mm tyres were about right and it was still pretty juddery. This would not have been a fun section in rain, but on a dry track it was fine. Soon the track merged with a lane and I remembered running on it in a race a few years ago - https://www.sacredsteps.co.uk/01_monmouthaquathlon2017.htm.
Over the bridge at the end of the lane and into historic Monmouth, the strangely absent summer crowds were suddenly there in force - some even in medieval costume on the bridge where we stopped for another info control. Year the bridge was built? 1270. Still standing. Now that's pretty impressive. That was 64k but Rasmivan was still happy to stick at my pace, so we agreed to do the route together - if anything, he thought my slower pace would help him not either stop too long, or go too fast and in return I benefited massively from drafting behind him when I needed to. Great teamwork, as it turned out. The route to Abergavenny was another one I recalled from recent rides - the road that follows the A40 and nips from one side of it to the other, through Wonastow and Dingestow. Lots of ups and downs, just as I remembered, but no big climbs. Monmouthshire was beautiful, quiet, the roads still pretty free of traffic. I was eating my way through my fuel pretty quickly, but so many times I've been caught out by not doing that - eat early, eat often, is my Audax mantra these days. I led us in to Abergavenny as I know the roundabouts well and then it was just a case of spotting the Trading Post cafe, the recommended stop. In fact it had been renamed Y Bwyty, but it was exactly what we needed. We saw several others from our event either already there or arriving after us, so at that stage we must have been mid pack. I went for the half veggie breakfast which was awesome and the assam tea which was OK, sent Kokila an update on our mileage and then we began our assault on The Northern Section. Yes, it's just a bit between 2 controls but it has a name. And it deserves one.
Out of Abergavenny on lanes, we were soon going up and over numerous climbs on the side of The Skirrid, some hard work for legs that were already starting to fatigue. I was into my longest ride of the season now, and feeling it. The views were awesome, the peak of Sugarloaf in cloud to one side and Holy Mountain on the other, riding further out of town and deeper into the hills. The info control as expected in Llanfihangel Crucorney was about the Skirrid Inn being the oldest Inn in Wales, then we took the road that normally leads me up towards the Gospel Pass but took the lane for Partrishow. I've seen that turning many times but never taken it - this time I did and was rewarded with a monster climb that felt like 20% and probably was – on a narrow lane with deeply cratered surface, breaking up at the edges and crumbling into heavy gravel. A Royal Mail van came down and we both managed to squeeze through the barely half-metre of space left in the rutted edge of the lane without losing all our momentum. That was a beast of a climb. Next came an out-and-back on an equally ruined road, some of it a sketchy downhill with yet more of the gross gravel, before the mad ascent to Partrishow Church. This was definitely a twenty percenter or worse and my wheel started slipping on the moss and grit so I ended up walking the last 20m. That took us to the info control (at the church of St Issui, pictured) and next came the horrible mossy descent and return along the narrow, ruined lane to rejoin the road to Llanbedr.
The whole section was challenging in the extreme – on roads I remembered from the finish of the Black Mountains Fell Race leading up the Grwne Fechan valley, with awe inspiring views of mountains I know as old friends from my running adventures, then around a single-track section closed to traffic (where the brambles and ferns virtually met in the middle and we were brushing them apart as we rode through). I let Rasmivan carry on at his pace, stopped for the odd photo, then caught him up at the junctions. Relentless hills eventually ended as we rode in past Table Mountain and on to a long, steep residential street that channelled us straight into Crickhowell. What an amazing section of Audax that was.
The Bookish Café in Crickhowell served up great coffee and cake, a short rest, then we were back in the saddle heading for the named climb of the day, The Tumble. I’ve done hiller Audaxes than this one on paper – but in real life this one did seem to have the most tough climbing. As soon as we were out of Crickhowell and over it’s historic stone bridge, the climbing began – up and over an area of high ground and down again to the Clydach valley, then more endless ups and downs before we found ourselves contouring around The Blorenge. Rasmivan went on ahead and I took it slow, then the big climb started and I got even slower. It really was a case of slowly winching my way up a the climb, which was not as steep as the Partrishow/Llanbedr monstrosities, and was at least on a great surface, but which was long and relentless. By the time I came in at the top I felt properly finished. And with over 40 miles still to go – including the Wentwood 16% climb!
I was roasting in the afternoon sun at this point, and couldn’t resist an ice cream at the summit. It went down a treat – sugar, fat and coolness. The 2 riders still behind us caught up and went off on a side road to enjoy the views before carrying on. We went down to Blaenavon, spotted the info control at Forgeside and began what I thought was another big climb only to be treated to the opposite – a short, sharp shocker uphill to join a railway-cycleway that led downhill on a smooth surface for mile after mile through enchanting, cool, deep green forest. I began to fantasise that this road from heaven might lead all the way to Pontypool. And then it did.
The cafe at the Canal Basin was closed - we were on time for the control but too late for the receipt to prove we'd been there. I was fine, just needing to register the e-brevet which locates you by GPS, but Rasmivan needed a receipt for his traditional brevet card so we stopped at the first place we saw open on the way to Llandegfedd Lake, which happened to be a Premier Local newsagent. I bought 3 twixes, a litre of chocolate milk and a coke, proving that my system had shut down a bit but was still craving sugar, fat and protein. The liquids went down a treat but I think I only got through one of the twixes. At this point fatigue was really starting to bite and my feet were in a lot of pain, hamstrings protesting a bit too. Loosening my shoes and taking off my toe covers helped a lot. We set out for the lake and I caught Rasmivan up at the top of each mini-climb. There were glorious views again from the barrage and the lanes around the reservoir. That lumpy section led us to a flat run-in to Usk, then down past the prison and out along the gorgeous valley, ticking off the miles towards home in the evening sun. The spectre of Wentwood loomed ahead though, and when it came (complete with 16% warning sign just to sap your spirits further) it was quite a trial. A long, desperately slow haul up to the wooded ridge. I know it well now though, and when the left-hander came I knew I was a short grind from the top. This was the only point where I saw Rasmivan look knackered - he had a few words to say about that climb!
The route to Chepstow had more ups and downs, including a long run downhill before and after Shirenewton and a final haul up from the roundabout to the edge of Chepstow itself, from where you can roll down to the bridge. The last 2 riders who had been behind us caught up and went ahead. One of them later told me he was from Norfolk - imagine the contrast of those flats to these Welsh hills! Chapeau.
After the rivers came the familiar return through Tockington, one last shock of a climb at Hollow Road and then a swift charge down through Bradley Stoke to the finish at the Fox Den pub. We were last in but got a thank you for being hours ahead of the cutoff - Oliver told us he is often there right up to nearly 10pm. So we didn't do too badly. 26 hours of cycling between us, our contribution to the worldwide Sri Chinmoy Cycling Family. A day that I won't forget in a hurry!
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