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The map said the trail ran along the side of the lake and naturally that's the way we set off. The next 2km carrying the bikes up 200m of knee deep heather wasn't exactly what the doctor ordered, but then nor was the bog on top. By the time we topped out at 700m we needed a pretty special 'something' to cheer us up, and BOY did we get it! If I'd have cross referenced the route with the MTB site I'd have found that the decent route we were unwittingly about to try is rated as one of the best in the UK as it drops down from 'Lord Herefords Nob' (yes, yes, I know. Only in the UK'.) for 400m over 3km. The ridgeline is most unlike the UK's other natural rock strata or hills, it stands sweeping up from the south to a sharp edge that runs for Km after Km from north east to south west. Down the predominantly north side is a smooth, steep, run of rocky grass and heather that seamlessly rolls into unbounded grassy meadows and the green fertile valleys of mid Wales. And down that slope we were about to go, oblivious of the wildest of rides to come.
The top section was mainly composed of rough overlapping slabs, which we did our best to avoid by taking the boulder-strewn path to the right. The steep nature of the face forced us to gather speed at a ferocious pace and the momentum carried us bouncing and deflecting over boulders that we had no right or skills to be riding. As I look at the photos of the face now I can still remember that crazy rush as we lost the last two hours of climb in less than 10 minutes of wild riding over some amazing ground. Technical rocky steps, bouldered loose single track, faster smoother rutted track, a hairpin, red soil, open and flowing, a slighter gradient, faster, ever faster, damp earth, grass and red mud, then more single track, and finally head high gorse bushes with random line choices as we were gently left panting and in wonder at a slow water crossing. I'm not entirely sure who was more surprised, the cows or us. But at that precise moment I know who was happiest! The short climb up the other side of the gully opened out into a huge unbroken expanse of grass area, more like the African plains than the tightly choreographed landscape of the British Isles. Suddenly the sky looked huge and we set off again, infinitesimally small, sweaty, grinning fools, with numb legs, we pushed the pedals and they took us on again. But downhill, always downhill, rolling freely over virgin grass towards a clump of trees in the far off distance.
By far the best descent we rode on the first half of the trip this wouldn't be an easy day out. But for that ride''.it HAS to be worth it! Probably best though that you don't do it as part of a huge 2000km trip, because the next few days are a bit hard'
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A brief road section led us north to our lunch stop at a small intersection and bridge called Glasbury. We had chosen this area to return once again to sea level because of the promise of fuel (as we were now starting to think of food). The fine 'PH' symbol stood out as one of the few buildings present in this area and we were by now desperate for some complex carbohydrates. Three memorable things happened that lunchtime. First the 'PH' was closed. That was bad. Second, we discovered a hotel on the other side of the river that was open. That was really good. Finally, when we discovered that it was possibly the only hotel in the universe that didn't serve food'That was mind crushingly bad. So we returned to the bridge and sat watching the locals swim in the river wondering what to do next. If we had to finish the next 40km without food then so be it, it would be hard but doable if we used our emergency supply of two chewy bars, but it would mean stuffing ourselves to near death that night to replace a whole days intake.
A garage over the road provided an assortment of slightly stale sugar snacks and a few bags of crisps and after a brief break we set off for the second half of our day slightly hungry. The first two Km were another dreamy ride as we followed the riverbed northeast but as with everything else in the region, if you are not following wide river beds you're not riding flat ground!
As I sit here writing this I can remember clearly looking at the map as we sat at the fuel station, my bag of crisps in my hand, wondering exactly how we were going to travel 35km over 1700m of climbing in 4.5 hours when we were already tired and had to navigate some pretty remote terrain. I now know the answer to that question. We weren't! Our ETA of 7:30pm was long past as darkness started to close in at 10pm and we took yet another wrong turn looking for more vague tracks and trails.
It seems odd now that it was so difficult to try and cover such a short distance in 4.5 hours and not manage it. When I look at the map it all seems quite straightforward except that I know we were tired. A quick check of the route profile throws in a few ideas, but I guess it all comes down to the cumulative effects of exhaustion and lack of food. Most certainly the last one. If you have no fuel, prepare to run aerobic, and that equals, SLOW!
I have included a profile of the afternoon, not as an excuse for our slow progress but to give you an idea of the confused nature of the terrain in the
Brecons.
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