"Each step forward has a sacred meaning of its own"   Sri Chinmoy

3 Rivers 100k - 20 November 2022 - Wye, Trothy & Usk valleys, South Wales

A cancelled trip left me with a spare day and some rare sunny weather in the midst of a wet November, so I hurriedly planned myself a route on Friday using BikeHike and uploaded it ready to ride on Saturday. The weather had turned very cold very suddenly but with the promise of clear skies and temperatures baltic but not freezing I was looking forward to another jaunt over the Severn and into the Forest of Dean, the Wye Valley and the lovely landscape around Usk and Monmouth. As usual when I'm a bit underprepared, I promised myself a lot of rest stops and food stops on the way which I knew I probably wouldn't take. They're all part of the mental game of getting myself out there..

The first leg of the journey was a brisk ride out to the Severn Bridge, which took around 35 minutes, then I was over the Severn and Wye and down through the edge of Chepstow via the Bulwark Road. I'd chosen that for both the outbound and return legs just to avoid the same old same old along the cycleway. Chepstow was silent as I had set off before sunrise and the world felt very much as if it was still asleep. After freewheeling down past the antique townhouses to the old bridge, I waited in the shadow of the mist-shrouded castle for the lights to change and a solitary car to pass me coming down out of the Forest of Dean. Then it was time for the serious climb of Tutshill, slowly winching my way up the bends towards the roof of the Forest and the promise of views over the Severn and Wye.

The silent mood of the morning was getting into me and I found myself composing Thomaseque poems which I should have stopped and written down. I think of these verses as Baiku - bike Haiku - but as they come to me when I'm riding and I often don't feel in the mood to stop, they rarely get recorded.

I soon found myself in the heights of the Forest close to St Briavels and I did manage one stop to grab a photo of the view down over the fields to the mist-filled valley of the Wye.

I skirted around St Briavels, missing the castle, and found the way down had epic views too - a steep descent past a village called Mork taking me into the freezing mists of the valley floor. I was glad I had layered up as this was a really cold section of the ride. I was also glad to have stuck several lights on the bike, both front and back, as visibility was crazily poor.  

In Redbrook I stopped near the post office just long enought to down my canned coffee and mini flapjacks which I figured would keep my energy levels up as far as Monmouth North services and their spacious Starbucks. In Monmouth I had to contend with the A40 but it was only for half a mile or so, then I was on back roads along the valley of the Trothy towards Raglan. I started to make pretty good progress as the day began to wake up around me, so much so that when Starbucks beckoned I opted to eat my last flapjack instead of stopping for fuel. I was aware that I wasn't getting enough calories inside me to really replace what I was burning up as the miles rolled by, but I wanted to have time to really chill out in Usk rather than have two rushed stops. Raglan was the next landmark and from there I felt a sudden change in consciousness coming out of the Trothy valley into the Vale of the Usk with its rolling hills and misty fields. The hills were sapping my energy at this point, especially the one up to Coldharbour which was so steep it sunk the sun back below the horizon, so I saw it rise again behind the trees as I came to the top. Usk was ahead of me now and I began to see other riders out on these popular alley roads. I also had to contend with a stretch of A road, a consequence of hurried route planning where I let the computer choose the roads from point to point. Again it was quiet enough and the traffic didn't break the mood of the ride.

In Usk I opted for Number 49 as usual and settled down for eggs on toast and a flat white. Even there I didn't hang around too long, although everything about the place with its plush chairs and soft jazz piano soundtrack seemed designed to keep me stuck there and order more food and drink. I escaped out into the morning for another round of A road (thanks to the route planner again) and then a really choice climb up to the ridge at Mynydd Bach. This climb really did test me, a long drag with every increasing views back over my shoulder to the hills of Abergavenny and the soft lands around the Usk. The road swung round to the left to reveal the full panorama then back again for the final sting in the tale of the ascent. I was pretty tired but my gears were well set up for crawling up the climbs and the endurance-road-bike build was great for smoothing out the descents on dodgy roads. I found myself coming down towards Chepstow Race Course on a road I ridden in the opposite direction many times. From Mynydd Bach down to the race course I followed a delightful stream and the road was fringed with oaks and hazels, occasionally plantations of pine.

On the Severn Bridge this time a few drops of rain fell and as I scanned the horizon I could see squally showers sweeping in. A massive downpour hit me in Olveston and the rain stayed strong all the way back to Bristol. Three faster road bikers overtook me, working together, I tried to stay with them and draft a bit but they were too strong. Then on Fern Hill, the last challenge, I had the satisfaction of catching two of them again. I might be slower than the peloton on the flat but I can climb OK even with 100k in the legs. That's an encouraging sign after quite a low cycling mileage this year - my riding legs are coming back. I lost those riders again on the A38 but the ride was done and dusted by then, just the easy roll from Aztec West back to home.

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