Cycling the infamous Kirkstone Pass
Here are the pictures from our climb up the wonderful Kirkstone Pass during our adventure. Ten kilometres up to an altitude of 1,489 feet (454 metres), with a pleasant average gradient of around 4 per cent, but tougher sections at 12-13 per cent. This is the longest route up the climb, but there’s always ‘The Struggle’ for those of you who fancy a tougher challenge. Gradients up to 25 per cent will definitely leave you feeling like you’ve earned a drink when you reach the Kirkstone Pass Inn at the top! Lake Windermere Lunch by the lake before we take on the famous climb. Last glimpse Our last views of Windermere. Next stop Ullswater. A steep start. The B-road from Troutbeck Bridge immediately kicks up through the trees . Into the light. But the climb is instantly worth it for the views. Village life We pass through some beautiful old villages, full of white painted stone cottages and quaint little pubs. Back on the main road And the gradient kicks again. Mountains ahead England’s green and pleasant (if rather hilly) land. Full steam ahead Lou powering up the road after a quick photo stop. I can see my house from here Well, not quite, but the views stretch for miles. An easier bit The gradient relents, but still we climb. Poser! Me proving I cycled up too and didn’t just sit in a car taking photos. Up we go again The road kicks once more. And again Ok, maybe twice more. And we’re there Lou pauses for a photo in front of the famous Kirkstone Pass Inn. Fancy a pint? A very kind cyclist offers to buy us both a drink, thinking we’re taking on the same challenge as him. We’re not allowed inside the pub of course (due to COVID), but at least the sun is shining. Wow! The view over the other side. Downhill all the way to Ullswater now. And we’re down. The lush green valley on the way into Ullswater, where we’ll be enjoying a rest day. Not a bad view for dinner Sat outside the pub, surrounded by mountains as the sun sets and we enjoy burger and chips, washed down with beer and wine (only one each of course!).
Lou’s thoughts on our adventure, and her best pictures from 2,000 miles on the road
Between August and October, we took on the challenge of cycling around Britain’s National Parks and Areas of Outstanding Natural Beauty. Due to the worsening of the virus, we had to cut it short at halfway with 2,000 miles and plenty of amazing memories in the bag. Here are Lou’s thoughts on our challenge (so far). How much cycling had you done before you took on this challenge? Not an awful lot to be honest. My mum and I did the C2C (Coast to Coast) together last year, which was about 170 miles over four days, and that’s the most cycling I’ve ever done on consecutive days. Aside from that, my daily commute to and from work, and the odd day out cycling from home (up to 50 miles or so) is about all I’ve done. How confident were you on a bike before setting out on your adventure? I’m fortunate to have a very beautiful bike that I feel pretty confident on, although I was very aware that our upcoming adventure would be very different to the cycling I was used to and challenge me in a number of ways. In what ways were you challenged? I think what made me most nervous was getting used to riding with panniers and an extra 20kg on the bike. Having never ridden with panniers or done much training, it was definitely a concern, especially as I’d only recent gotten used to riding with clip-in pedals and not falling off! I’d also been diagnosed with a minor heart issue earlier this year. I have a small leak in one of my heart valves, and although the cardiologist wasn’t concerned about me taking on the challenge because I was fit and healthy, they’ve never fully gotten to the bottom of what’s going on. It was always in the back of my mind as I knew it seemed to affect my breathing most when I was out on the bike, especially on the hills. I knew it would frustrate me as I don’t struggle with the power needed to get up the steep climbs and never had problems with my breathing before I started to have symptoms last year. I guess I knew I was going to have to not let myself get annoyed by it. What was it like? Looking back on it; pretty epic! At the start, it was very much just taking things day-by-day, not looking at the big picture. And then one day, you look back and you’ve cycled 2000 miles. I think when you decide to take on a big challenge, it’s hard to see what it looks like. When Paul asked me ‘shall we cycle 4000 miles around the UK?’ I think my response was ‘yea sure, why not’. Then 3 weeks later, we left. Sometimes that’s the best way, just follow your heart and don’t think too much. What were the biggest day-to-day challenges during the ride? Eating – it sounds daft, but we had to eat so often that it became a bit of a chore. We also found it hard to get much variety, being limited as to what we could carry on the bikes, and because the hotels and pubs were often serving limited menus due to COVID. And the weather – we were unfortunate enough to set off on the first day of rain for a long time, and we barely had a day without a downpour for the first month. On some days, we’d be constantly putting on layers, only to have to stop to take them off again a few minutes later – it made it pretty slow-going. Then there was the wind – we experienced three or four big storms on the journey, and whilst we were often able to take another rest day and make it up, we had some incredibly strong headwinds and sidewinds. They were exhausting, and at times, pretty frightening on a bike. What were your most memorable moments? I have quite a few: – Sitting at the top of Malham Cove watching the sunrise. Paul and I were the only people there. It was magical and I’ll never forget the feeling of being sat on the clifftop, staring out over the valley as the sun came up. I could have sat there, just the two of us, all day. – Seeing the Northern lights, a bucket list dream, on the eve of my birthday. I will feel eternally fortunate to have seen the beautiful ‘Mirrie Dancers’ from our amazing glamping wigwam hut – Cycling to Cape Wrath at the very northern end of Britain. A cycling experience like no other! – Pedalling over the Brecon Beacons in the rain, and Paul and I being the only two souls up there (apart from some curious sheep). It was breathtakingly beautiful, especially as the sun came out as reached the summit – Getting to spend some time with my dad at the first rest stop. I hadn’t seen him all the way through lockdown and missed him so much – The many moments of kindness from strangers and some of the wonderful people we met along the way. And your lowest point on the journey? This was possibly on day 2, haha. We still had a lot to learn about how far to cycle and how long it would take us. We arrived at our destination at 10pm in the pitch black and pouring rain. While I struggled to put the tent up, Paul held his phone up so I could see what I was doing. I’m thankful to say that we didn’t carry on how we started! What would you do differently next time? Pack less. The added weight on the bike definitely made things more challenging. It’s safe to say we have very strong legs for it, but less weight would have made life a little easier. I’ll be much more
How many seconds is someone else’s life worth to you? The problem with cycling on British roads.
It was mid-morning as we rode north on the Isle of Skye. The weather was changeable – a stiff side-wind meant we were already on full alert and we were expecting heavy rain. We’d made it onto the island the evening before, and now our goal for the day was to make it Shulista at its most northerly point, where we’d be spending a few days celebrating Lou’s birthday. Skye is pretty limited when it comes to route options – we were taking the main road (in reality, the only road) north towards the island’s capital, Portree. Trust me, if there had been an alternative route, we’d have taken it – we always did. Around five miles along it began to get busier, but most drivers were patient and considerate, with plenty of passing opportunities on the long, straight single carriageway A-road. Lou was riding behind me as a campervan approached from the rear, and there was a car coming towards us on the opposite side of the road too. There wasn’t room to overtake us, but I figured he’d just wait a few seconds then overtake, as it was easy to see there was nothing behind the car ahead. He didn’t though – he just kept on coming, not slowing in the slightest. He started to overtake Lou with only about 6 inches to spare; I could see the shock on the face of the driver coming the other way, mouth wide open as she moved into the small hard shoulder to make it through. Luckily, she squeezed past, but I could feel how close he was – the shadow of the giant hunk of metal quickly enveloping us both. Instinctively, I tried to push him out wider, waving my hand and moving out carefully to force him to move over, especially as the road in the other direction was now clear. He maintained his path, nearly brushing the bags on my bike as he went by, and even better than that, gesticulating wildly at me as he did so and then disappearing off into the distance. I was furious – how could someone have so little respect for another life? How could those few seconds be so important, so vital that he was willing to risk the lives of two other human beings in order not to have even push the brake pedal? Another van drove past – this time a white van with a couple of workmen in. As they went by (giving plenty of space), they slowed, window down, to inform me that they’d be reporting the incident and the driver to the police. In that moment, all of our experiences on the ride were boiled down to the two vehicles that had just passed us – one who had patience and consideration; the other who was literally willing to risk killing us to gain a few precious seconds. Whilst that was closest we came to danger, almost every day people would pass us way too closely, overtake us on blind bends, race past us only to pull off onto a slip road moments later, drive within inches of our back wheel looking to overtake, never even consider braking as they approached us at speed, or my absolute favourite – slow down but then proceed to drive past ridiculously close, thinking it was fine because they’d pressed the brake. It is a very big problem indeed. What’s going on? Now of course, there’s plenty that could be done in terms of road design to fix this – high quality cycle paths running parallel to the road, regularly cleaned and resurfaced; plus changes to the Highway Code and legal framework. But there’s a much bigger, far more important underlying change that needs to take place – and that is in the attitude of drivers – of human beings towards other human beings. Many people need to start valuing the lives of others – to not do so whilst in charge of a huge hunk of fast-moving metal makes them, in my eyes, guilty of intent should anything go wrong. Why are so many drivers so casual about the risks they take with others lives? I think there are a number of reasons. Firstly, the pace of the modern world and the stresses of daily life are often translated into how people act behind the wheel. Everything is done in a rush, there’s always so much going on, and cyclists on the road might just be stopping you getting where you need to be. I guess the question is, how many seconds is another person’s life worth? What do you think – 10, 20, 30, a whole minute, or would you give it at least 90 seconds before you thought it was worth risking killing someone? You can of course get annoyed with my tone at this point. You can say that cyclists shouldn’t be allowed on the roads, but the law is very clear that they are, and that will not change. In fact, let’s face it, the bicycle is the future – it makes people healthier, it saves them money and most importantly, it saves our planet. The car, diesel, petrol, or even electric can’t do that. You can also get angry about ‘cyclists’ and the way they ride, but that is just illogical. If you’re one of those people that groups all cyclists together as wildly out of control lunatics on two wheels, then to me you’re guilty of the same pattern of behaviour that we see in any of the ‘isms’ – you’re judging millions of people based on the behaviours of an individual. You’re a ‘cyclistist’. Even if you have encountered poor cycling on the road from one, two or more cyclists, if you think that makes it ok to drive dangerously around any or all of them, then you are very much the problem. Alongside the impatience and the demonising of those on two wheels, I think a large part comes
Going wild
Ever since I took hold of Optimus (my wonderful Transporter Kombi van) a few months ago, I’ve wanted to use him to get away for a weekend of adventure, wilderness and training. So what better time of year to do it than January; I was bound to get some glorious weather, right? Oh I do like to be beside the seaside I’d been checking the weather all week and it wasn’t looking great, but it wasn’t awful either (for January). Late Friday afternoon I loaded up Optimus with the bike, sleeping bags (two for extra warmth), roll mat, a lot of thermal and waterproof clothing and just a few essentials I’d be needing – torch, map and a book. My plan for the Friday night was to head for Appledore on the north Devon coast. I’d read that you could pay £5 to park your camper-van overnight right on the banks of the convergence of the Taw and Torridge rivers before they make their way out into the Bristol Channel. It looked like a stunning spot and I’d figured that on a cold, dark night in January the carpark would be deserted. I was surprised when I arrived to find plenty of grand campers, some stylish Transporters and some more weary looking converted vans already in place for the evening. There was still a spot though right next to the water and I grabbed it. I’d already checked out Google Maps and knew there was a fish and chip shop just a few hundred metres away. I was imagining opening the boot, sitting in the back and listening to the sounds of the waves as that glorious odour of salt and vinegar-covered chips filled my nostrils. The first blow to this was when I discovered that the parking meter only took cash, of which I had none. No matter I thought, I’ll find a cashpoint, get my fish and chips then use the change to pay. Google Maps kindly revealed that the nearest cash point was in Bideford, a good drive back the way I’d just come. Off I went, returning and, led by my nose, heading straight for the purveyors of battered cod and golden brown fried potatoes. I arrived just in time to witness the door being locked from the inside and, looking longingly through the window like Charlie salivating over the promise of a golden ticket, was greeted with an apologetic but helpless look in return. I’d spotted a decent-looking pub opposite the water and so headed there instead. You never know what sort of pub you’ll be walking into in the more remote parts of our great isle and I was pleasantly surprised to find that it looked cosy, not a single patron’s head swivelled in my direction as I walked through the door and I received a friendly welcome at the bar. There was only one thing on the menu I could choose; fish and chips with mushy peas. OK so it came on a plate and not in paper and I had only the slightest glimpse through the window of the water, but it tasted good nonetheless. I returned to the van content, some of my fellow happy campers busy organising things in and around their vans. And organised they seemed, far more so than me as I hung sheets over my windows with electrical tape to act as curtains. They had foil-lined blinds that fitted each pane of glass in their vehicle perfectly, making them looking like some sort of Mars Rover vehicle. Makeshift soft furnishings in place, I lay my roll mats and sleeping bag on the floor of the van, using the other as a pillow as I felt surprisingly cosy, and fell asleep next to the bike. Am I in a horror movie? I woke to the sound of clanging metal and was instantly aware of the presence of a large number of people around the van. Peering through the sheet taped to the rear window, heavy with condensation, I could see a group assembling what looked like a makeshift fence blocking off the back of Optimus. Alongside me was parked one of those open-backed monster trucks so common on our roads these days and what I thought was a speedboat attached to the rear. I was already hemmed in at the front by another camper-van and for a moment I was concerned that I’d ended up in one of those low budget horror films where all of the locals are in on it. Was I going to be surrounded, set on fire and burned as a sacrifice to the local god of the sea? Nervously, I slid open the side door and climbed out, concerned I may be greeted by a mob wielding planks of two by two full of nails, pitch forks and rag-covered torches, dipped in oil and burning intensely. Instead, what I found was a large amount of people milling about in wetsuits. An older gentleman, for some reason surprised to see me emerge from the van (there were at least 15 similar ones in the car park interspersed with actual camper vans) said good morning, and I asked him what was going on. Turns out, there was a sea rowing gala that morning (rather them than me) and he politely offered to get them to move the mini-marquee they’d been erecting which was blocking my escape…I mean exit route. With the van out of it’s temporary prison, I readied myself for the day’s ride and set off looking for something to eat. The Golden Arches reared their head at the side of the road and I took the opportunity to enjoy a sausage and egg mcmuffin, hash brown and a tea, safe in the knowledge that I’d be burning it off very soon. The sun begins to rise across the water An uphill start I knew there weren’t many long-term parking spaces in Braunton where the Tarka Trail began, a 30-mile traffic-free cycle route
Seven amazing things we’re taking you to see next year
If you didn’t see it, yesterday I posted a sneak preview of all of the events we have planned for next year. One of the things we pride ourselves on is taking you to see beautiful views, places that inspire awe and wonder. Sometimes, they’re miles from anywhere, but at others, they’re literally on your doorstep and you may pass them daily without giving them a second glance. We’ve got so much lined up for you, here’s a glimpse of what’s in store… 1) Castles and fortresses We’ll cross Offa’s Dyke, the 50-mile long earthwork defence built by the Mercian king of the same name, at both its southern and central points, giving you amazing views and a good sense of how powerful his kingdom was over 1,200 years ago. We’ll also pass fortresses and residences in various states of repair, from castellated stately homes like Cyfartha Castle in the valleys of Wales, to grand but well preserved ruins like those at Chepstow, towering above the Wye as it does, right through to those now clinging on to their few remaining stones like Montgomery and Newport Castles, but no less impressive for it. Chepstow Castle’s grand entrance 2) Places of worship As well as castles, you’ll get to see how religion has shaped our lands for centuries, from Wells cathedral, making the city the smallest in England, to neighbouring Glastonbury Tor, fabled for its connections to Arthurian and Grail legend. Have lunch next to Tintern Abbey, a once great and powerful monastery sitting on the banks of the Wye and many others besides. The imposing ruins of Tintern Abbey, 3) Hills and mountains Cheddar Gorge feels almost prehistoric with its steep-sided cliffs and forested sides; you still wouldn’t be surprised if you saw dinosaurs roaming as you pedal through, whilst Cranborne Chase with its chalky down hills lets you know for sure that you’re on England’s southern slopes. Further north you can enjoy the dramatic nature of the Brecons, passing alongside Pen y Fan, the highest point in southern Britain, or the even more imposing figure of Cadair Idris in Snowdonia National Park as you cycle the valley floor below alongside a dark and mysterious lake. Climb atop the Cambrian Mountains on a road so peaceful you’d almost think civilisation had ceased to exist, or back in England, enjoy the sharp, cragged rocks of the Stiperstones or the 360-degree views from the Long Mynd, both found in the Shropshire Hills. About to descend the Cambrian Mountains, Snowdonia in the distance 4) Lakes and reservoirs Chew Valley & Blagdon Lakes, both at the foot of the Mendip Hills Area of Natural Beauty kick us off on our first ride of the year, the former a peaceful spot where you can watch boats sailing as you enjoy fish and chips from the fashionable Salt & Malt restaurant, and there’s plenty more to come with Pontiscill and Talybont Reservoirs nestled between the high peaks of the Brecons, or my absolute favourite, the Elan Valley, a series of reservoirs in mid-Wales that have an almost ‘moon-scape’ feel at the top but that give way to Alpine-like descents along winding roads through thick forests. The reservoirs of the Brecon Beacons 5. Rivers and seas Follow the Wye Valley high above the river on our half-marathon walk and catch glimpses of the Severn Bridges beyond as the water makes its way out into the Severn Estuary, Bristol Channel and Atlantic Ocean beyond. You’ll also get the chance to ride at the very opposite end of the rivers Severn and Wye, through the mountains from which they first begin their journey and not far away ride alongside the picturesque Dyfi estuary looking out into St George’s Channel and the Irish Sea beyond. Enjoy the prehistoric feel of the The Avon Gorge from on high, not far from where one of the first dinosaurs on British soil was discovered, and follow it upstream through cities, villages, parks, meadows and forests, or join us as we cycle along the River Taff, the waterway that gave the Welsh people their overly used nickname. Cycling the Dyfi estuary 6. Towns and cities Pass through major places of heritage and history, from Bristol’s harbour-side, once the second most important port in the country after London, to Bath and its famous abbey and Roman spa, or smaller cities like Wells and Glastonbury, rich in history and the latter now a centre for free-thinkers due to its links with myths, legends and a certain music festival. At the other end of the scale, we experience smaller market towns like Brecon and Machynlleth, little fishing ports like Aberdovey, the village of Cheddar, a tourist-heaven famed for its caves and cheese, or Shaftesbury, which whilst sitting in the heart of southern England, has a famous cobbled hill once used by Hovis in an advert for their bread supposedly set in northern England. Even more bizarrely, the advert was directed by Ridley Scott!
Look good, feel good, DO GOOD…the future of balance
The mission So the other day I posted on Facebook about my plans for balance. I’ve spent months thinking about what I want to get out of the business and why I do what I do. Business success in the traditional sense doesn’t really motivate me, I don’t want a huge company with loads of employees, and earning lots of money certainly isn’t my main driver. What I want to be able to do when I’m old(er) is look back on life and say ‘that was worthwhile, that was cool, I’m really proud that we did that’. And the thing that will allow me to do that is the reason I got into the health and fitness industry 16 years ago and never left – helping people. When all of you, and hundreds of other complete strangers, rallied around to help us raise the huge amount of money needed to fly Chris home in just a matter of days the Christmas before last, it was a wonderful thing in what was the most awful time. It highlighted to me the fundamental goodness in people and I knew I wanted to create something that could help to do something similar for others. I also knew that exercise was the perfect vehicle through which to achieve this. You can’t fail to be inspired when watching something like the London Marathon on TV, when long after the professional athletes have finished and gone home, ordinary people continue to pour over the finish line in their charity t-shirts and fancy dress, smiles and tears of joy at what they’ve achieved and so often the knowledge that they’ve helped others in the process. With all of this in mind I decided we needed a challenging, audacious goal to inspire us into big action…how about raising £1 million for charity I thought? I imagined sitting there in my chair in 40 years’ time, listening to ‘old-fashioned’ musical classics such as 2 become 1 by the Spice Girls and Livin’ La Vida Loca by pop-God Ricky Martin, telling the grandchildren about what we achieved. They won’t be interested of course, they’ll be too busy moaning about the rubbish music, but I have no doubt in my mind that it’ll feel like it was worth all of the effort. The plan My aim is to use all of the products and services we offer through balance to help raise money towards our target. We’ll be giving away some online programmes and simply ask if you like them that you consider donating, and we’ll be putting a percentage of our proceeds from paid online programmes and books towards the target too. We’re also significantly scaling up our events, or ‘balanced days out and weekends’ as I prefer to call them. We’ve been running events for a few years now and we’ve had some amazing times cycling and running through stunning countryside with wonderful people. It’s been a pleasure socialising with and helping those of you who’ve joined us so far and it makes us really excited about the plan for next year. All of this will come together to help three fantastic charities in the south-west of England for 2019. We’re finalising the details with them at present and we’ll provide lots of information about who they are, what they do and how your money can help them to help others imminently. Celebratory meal after our 2016 Coast to Coast adventure. The events Throughout next year, we’ll have a series of shorter walks and runs (generally ranging from 4-10 miles) and bike rides (mostly between 20 and 50 miles) on offer. These will be free of charge; all we’ll ask is that you consider donating £5, or more if you wish, towards our charities. They’ll be relaxed and sociable affairs and we’ll be sure to mix them in with trips to some great places to eat and drink too! We’ll announce these at least three months in advance, more where possible and we’ll plan them around our bigger events so that they make for perfect training days. For the big events, we’ll have: Three cycling weekends – one that’s challenging but not too long or hilly, one tougher option for those who really want to test their limits, and an off-road weekend that allows you to escape completely or build your confidence on a bike Two long walks – there’ll be a half-marathon distance and also a 20-miler so you can really step up your fitness One long run – well, it’s a marathon actually so I think we can definitely call that long. Here are seven things all of our events have in common, designed to make them truly unique, unforgettable experiences for you: They’re friendly – We decided to purposely keep our events small, no more than 30 people on each so that they can be truly sociable. There are some great events out there but often I’ve turned up, done my thing and gone home without really interacting with anyone . We’ve designed ours so that you can spend time getting to know people you’ll have lots in common with and make new friends They’re relaxed – there’s no rush, they’re not races and they’re not timed (though you can time yourself if you wish of course). We live in a fast-paced, stressful world and I know many people feel that chasing times in events can simply add to the stress. There are plenty of races out there so we chose to do something different, events to help escape the rat race and the stress of daily life, just enjoy being in the moment and find some balance. They’re challenging – although they’re relaxed, that doesn’t mean they’re easy, and we know you wouldn’t want that of course. We make them challenging so that you can increase your fitness, look good and feel good, especially when you get that wonderful feeling that happens when you make it to the finish and receive your shiny balance
A wheelie wonderful weekend in Wales
Click here to sign up to our newsletter and get weekly help to get fitter, healthier and happier The drive from Bristol to Wales on Thursday afternoon gave us a good indication of what was to come in the days ahead. The sun shone down from on high, intense and uninterrupted, not a cloud in the sky to stifle its powerful rays even for a second. After leaving the motorway, we wound through the farmland and rolling hills of Worcestershire, Herefordshire and Shropshire before crossing the border into Wales. Quiet villages full of crooked, centuries old buildings lined the route, interspersed by farmland, rivers, forests and panoramic hilltop views. We arrived into Newtown in late afternoon and after dropping Sam at her B&B, Vicky, Brian and I headed for our cottage. What greeted us was stunning, a collection of beautifully refurbished farm buildings surrounding the main house, a lake complete with fountain and even a couple of highly inquisitive llamas. A quick spot of unpacking and off into town to greet the arriving riders, get some dinner and watch England play Belgium. Unusually, we weren’t too fussed by the latter because somehow we’d already won our first two games and qualified, so the debate was more about whether we wanted to win to maintain momentum, or lose and possibly get into the easier side of the draw (which as it turns out, we definitely did). After a short briefing on the first day’s ride over dinner, everyone headed off for an early night ahead of the first day of cycling. Day 1 By 8:30 the following morning, our group of riders had amassed outside the Elephant & Castle Hotel in Newtown. The sun was shining, it was already warm and after a few bike tweaks, a little air in the tyres and the usual remembering someone had forgotten something, they were off. Brian and Simon rolling out on the front to pace everyone sensibly, Tom roving in the middle to ensure everyone was ok and Vicky at the rear ensuring nobody took a wrong turn and that everyone was supported. It was my turn to drive the van and I was excited to experience a day supporting in the Transporter. There’s an official balance one on the way later this year so we’d hired one for this trip and I was keen to see how useful it would be. Turns out, it’s amazing! The route wound along the valley on a quiet B road for 15 miles, following the river and surrounded on all sides by green hills. It was a pleasant and steady start for the group and it didn’t seem long before they’d made it over the first hill of the day to the water/feed stop in the market town of Llanidloes (roughly and poorly pronounced, Thlan-id-loice). Out of town and there was more climbing to do, this one long and in full sun but with great views of the valleys between the green peaks we were climbing. Driving along to catch up with the front riders, it appeared that the locals had decided to run a scrambling bike race on either side of the road, meaning that the riders had to join the main road and travel along for a good mile or two before continuing the race on the other side. With their race heads on, some were taking great risks cutting corners on the main road and I was pleased to hear Brian had given one of the organisers a piece of his mind. There’s a lot of information in Brian’s mind I might add, so I am sure the guy felt all the wiser for it! The vast majority started their descent down into the town of Rhayader and I headed back to help with the first mechanical issue of the day, a faulty inner tube valve, which was causing Alex’s tyre to constantly deflate. Vicky had waited for him so once we’d replaced it with a new one, they were off again. Tom had kindly waited for them in Rhayader so that they could work together on the climb into the Elan Valley. I drove off to head for a rendezvous-vous with the others at the lunch-stop but was quickly called back when Vicky rang to say her bike had broken. The hanger holding the rear mech (the thing that makes the gears change on the back cog) had snapped and it was unridable so she jumped in the van and Tom and Alex headed off again. Luckily there was a bike shop with the right parts literally round the corner and with Brian’s mechanical expertise, she was able to get up and running again and ride as support crew on the Sunday. Out of Rhayader and the road climbs at a constant but challenging gradient of around 8-10 per cent towards the Elan Valley. Built in the early 20th century, the dams that line the valley form a series of lakes that control the flow down from on high and still supply Birmingham with water to this day. Before the dams were built, the land was occupied by two large manor houses and a few small villages. All are now lost beneath the waters but you can discover more about them and their connection to the famous poet Percy Shelley, at the Elan Valley Visitor Centre. Once you reach the top of the climb, you enter a breath-taking moon-like landscape of heath, rivers and lakes. You can only imagine what it is like on a cold, windswept winter day; you probably don’t want to know for real. But cycling around it in glorious sunshine is well worth the effort of the climb, and you’re rewarded with a winding Alpine-like descent along the dam edges as you breeze effortlessly down towards the visitor centre. A quick lunch stop at the visitor centre and it was time to head north again, briefly following the main road before cutting across onto a National Cycle Route that hugged
