MY BIG RIDE PART 3

The intention was to cycle from Cardiff back to Pembrokeshire, or at least Carmarthen. I only had my GPS for company, no maps to consult. My experience of NCN cycle routes is that they're usually very well signposted and negate the need for map-carrying. I'd slept well at my friend Colin's and woken early, around 5.30am.

It was a warm and sunny morning, so I lit out around 6, taking the Taff Trail back out of Cardiff to Pontypridd to link up with Route 47 which heads west to Neath and onwards to Carmarthen. Sustrans spent the whole of last year bombarding me with emails about their wonderful "Valleys Network" of cycle trails, so I was looking forward to trying it out.

It didn't work.

Finding Route 47 was harder than it might seem, and involved riding up and down through Abercynon a few times and going off-route through the town, but I did eventually find it. However, after a couple miles I came upon a T junction with a signpost right for "high level" Route 47 but no low-level alternative. I took the high level route and went up some serious gradients along quite lanes, but then the trail went off over a locked gate up a very stony forest trail. After a few miles of this I came upon a motocross trail and asked a couple of guys for directions, but in typical valleys fashion they sent me round in circles. Thanks Lads. Every direction involved a steep hill, and when I finally rejoined so-called civilisation at Mountain Ash, I was getting a bit tired. The sun was high in the heavens, the day was hot, and I had had no breakfast. It was Sunday - there was only a convenience store showing signs of life in Mountain Ash and I managed to buy the worst Cornish Pasty I have ever tasted there. According to the station timetable, there were trains to Cardiff or Aberdare. It was annoying and frustrating to have to go back to Cardiff after wasting so much effort, but getting anywhere else would take even more effort.

I decided to ride back down the trail, and got to Cardiff station with only minutes to spare before the Swansea train. Phew.

TdF

It's THAT time of year again!

How many families up and down the country are looking forward to being unable to watch Emmerdale/Coronation Street (I refuse to call it Corrie or any other abbreviation)/Eastenders because the highlights of the Tour de France are being shown on ITV4between 7 and 8pm every night?

We are! As a family, we love it.

My wife has had the TdF theme as a ringtone on her phone for the past year. My daughter wears her TdF baseball cap to school with pride.

It's fantastic.

Wimbledon fascinated the kids this year. I usually watch the men's and women's singles finals, but only so as not to be a social leper, and if it's showing signs of going on too long I'll have a kip. Thankyou Serena Williams, I missed my afternoon nap yesterday.

The World Cup is obviously talked about at school, but actually sitting down and watching a game of football is a non-starter in our house. The fidgeting starts before Gary Lineker has opened his mouth. We're NOT INTERESTED in the England Team with their bloated egos and salaries to match. When Germany spanked their arses and sent them home I laughed, I really did.

THREE WEEKS of cycling around a foreign country? Bring It On!

WHEELY GOOD

My new rims and spokes are being ordered. I will be building the wheels myself.

MY BIG RIDE PART 2

After a not unreasonable night's sleep, I woke around 6am. I listened again to the Barefoot Doctor's Supercharged Taoist guided meditations and some psalms, did some slow stretching, testing the pressure on my knees. Nothing felt particularly untoward. The morning was overcast and misty. I sorted through all my stuff, then wandered the grounds of the Youth Hostel awaiting breakfast at 8, which was a good one. All the cereal and toast you could eat, a modest fried breakfast, and plenty of tea. Perfect, although I forgot to fill my flask.

I cycled down the canal towpath into Brecon, arriving at the basin by the theatre in plenty of time. I was very surprised when not one but two coachloads of people arrived, along with the Pedal Power van and trailer, and a builder's lorry with bikes piled on the back. I'd expected around 20 people, if that!

Strangely, the only person I recognised was Drew. He made clear that he would probably be the slowest person around the course, so I made the decision that rather than tag along with another rider or a group, I'd lead off and set a good starting pace.

The canal towpath was congested. After a couple of miles the route swings off down country lanes and I was soon free of the crowds and whizzing along. Talybont Reservoir was the first real stopping place, just for a photo. A couple of other cyclists were close behind me and also stopped, but I don't even know if they were on the ride. I kicked off again, along Six Mile Bank

which was very hard going for my thin road tyres. I was caught up by a few people as I stopped to photograph the view; a dad and son combo on full-sus mountain bikes who were rapidly losing steam, and a chap on a hybrid who looked tasty. He kept edging ahead, even when I was talking to him, which I took to be the "tossing of the gauntlet". I tucked in behind him, led him up the sting-in-the-tail climb at the end, and, after a brief water stop at the van, left him for dead on the hill where we rejoined the road, with a tasty option to eat my dust.

It seemed like I'd made Merthyr Tydfil in a matter of minutes, and from here the ride is pretty much all downhill, though progress is severely hampered by the plethora of barriers and chicanes one has to negotiate, particularly between Pontypridd and Cardiff.

(Later that day, my friend Colin asked me "Did you put your stuff on the van?". At first I had no idea what he was talking about, but what he meant was, had I loaded my panniers onto the van in Brecon for them to bring back to Cardiff for me? It hadn't even occurred to me to do that. Shedding the weight would probably have shaved a good 20 minutes off my time anyway, but the extra time spent lifting my panniers over stupid barriers would have probably given me a further 20 minutes at least!)

Arriving at Tongwynlais I met Keith Underdown and stopped for a brief chat, but having no idea how far behind me the next man was, I pressed on.

At the finish, I was a good 20 minutes ahead of second, which quite staggered me. It was commented on that I'd cycled 52 miles in around 4.5 hours and "didn't look bothered". I wasn't.

THE BONK

No! Not that sort! Ooer!

The Bonk to which I refer is the one to which cyclists allude. "I was on for a well-timed 100k, cruising along quite happily, when around 70k I bonked..." They're not talking about suddenly leaping from their steed to engage in sexual intercourse with anyone who happens to be passing, because:

1. it would take them too long to get their bib tights off
2. no-one, in their right mind or otherwise, would let a sweaty cyclist anywhere near them, especially in broad daylight
3. after 70k they'd rather have a cup of tea.

No, what they're talking about is what I think I experienced on my ride to Brecon. I had been sailing along. I cannot stress how effortless I felt the first 40 miles had been. Admittedly, the hill I ascended at around 45 miles was a complete Bastard on which a wasp started to attack my face, causing me to make a terminal stop on a 16% gradient, but I was still feeling fine as I breasted the hill and began my long and very rapid descent (42mph). I even experienced quite worrying speed wobble, something I seem to have read quite a bit about lately, but similarly, not experienced much before. As the gradient levelled out and I was beginning to have to pedal again, I found my right knee would tolerate NO pressure whatsover without causing me great pain, and I couldn't let my left leg take the strain as the power had drained from every fibre of tendon and muscle. I felt cold-sweaty, mildly dizzy and slightly nauseous. I followed the signs for the Brecon Beacons visitor centre and was soon dismounted and pushing my bike up a seemingly innocuous incline (coming down later I realised it was considerably steeper than I first conceived it to be). Even walking was painful. I made the visitor centre after a long hard struggle and immediately doused my head to cool down and bought a nice big meal - a huge beef pie and salad, which was just what the doctor ordered. It recovered me sufficiently to cruise on into Brecon, but only because the rest of the journey was downhill. I used high strength Ibuleve gel on my knee as soon as I got to a chemist, and when I made the Youth Hostel had a cool shower and went to sleep within minutes. I don't think the Ibuleve had any effect, though the sleep did, and there was no sign of the pain the following morning, though I was ultra cautious for the first few miles.

I put it down to my low-carb diet, which I had been following for a month or so. Ive certainly pushed myself harder than I did that day, but the worst I'd experienced was a mild lethargy and an urge to lay down and go to sleep somewhere. Nothing like this. It was a bit scary, if I'm honest.

MY BIG RIDE, PART 1

I haven't told you about my Big Ride yet! Sorry!

My "training" and preparations were quite badly disrupted by the disintegration of my rear road wheel (see previous posts) so I wasn't feeling very confident come the day, and had the feeling I might have overstretched myself. Rather than run the risk of exhausting or injuring myself on the first day, I decided I would take the train to Carmarthen (about 30 miles) and start my cycle from there. Trains from here start at 7.05 and get into Carmarthen around 8.15am. It's usually quite a full train and fairly unpleasant. There is often only one old and dirty carriage. From Milford Haven, just across the river, the first train is at 6am, and is always a newer, larger train, so I decided to cycle 5 miles along the Brunel Trail and catch the train at Johnston, getting me to Carmarthen for 7am.

The sun was just over the horizon and heading towards a fairly cloudless sky as I left the house for a hasty scoot over the bridge (left it a bit late) but I made the station with a good 10 minutes to spare. The train was spacious, and I cocooned myself in my ipod and read my bible. I listened to some inspirational mediations from The Barefoot Doctor, and I'm actually convinced that these made all the difference to my physical and mental well being!

At Carmarthen, the sky was a good deal cloudier and there was an early morning mist hugging the hills, but the sun was fighting its way through. The chilliness was welcome, and I headed out along the main A40 through Llandeilo and Llandovery towards my destination at Brecon.

I stopped at two roadside chuck wagons, having a bacon roll at the first, and just a cup of tea at the second, and despite taking my time I was astounded at the time I was making. Arriving at Sennybridge around 12.30pm with only 10 miles to go, I decided to take the longer route via the Brecon Beacons visitor centre, which involved an extra 10 miles and a couple of serious climbs, the second of which saw my knee collapse beneath me.

As I turned off the main road to take the road to the visitor centre, me energy drained from me completely. My right knee quickly became excruciatingly painful, and at one point just would not turn. It was all I could do to push the bike, though I did get back on and make it up to the visitor centre (note: two signs, about a mile apart, both indicating 1.5 miles cannot be right...).

I found the cafe and had a HUGE beef pie and salad with a pot of tea - perfect. I sat around for a while waiting for the pain in my knee to subside, but it showed no signs of abating, so I headed off again. Fortunately the whole 5 or 6 miles into Brecon were downhill.

Upon arrival I found a chemist and bought some Ibuleve extra strength gel and some paracetamol and headed out to find the Youth Hostel, which is a couple of miles out in the middle of nowhere, but well signposted.

NEW WHEELS!

The bike shop phoned today. I can have new wheels built. They will accept my front wheel back and credit me with enough to enable the shop to build me a couple of decent touring wheels. This is a good outcome.

THE MISSING WHEEL

I spoke to the bike shop again today. Madison have "credited me with a new wheel" but as yet we don't know how much this is! I have asked if they will also credit me with the front wheel, as it's part of a set, and I'm now left with a fairly useless wheel. I've also asked if the old wheel can be returned because my new freehub body is on there. We shall see, though I don't hold out much hope on the latter, really, as they've probably binned the wheel by now.

I've asked if new rims can be built around my old large-flange Dura-Ace hubs. Yes, Dura-Ace. Very old Dura-Ace, but still in excellent condition. This is currently being looked into, as it will involve more spokes (both front and rear are 36 spoke hubs), so somewhere along the line I expect this to cost me money, which I don't actually have.

Using the old hubs means I have to go back to using a 6 speed freewheel block rather than an 8 speed cassette. I intend to take the Stronglight triple chainset off and replace with smaller rings anyway as I just do not use big gears anymore, so I don't see any problem with losing a few gears along the way. It will lighten the load. Imagine, a mere 18 gears!

THE BRUNEL RIDE

The yearly Brunel Cycle Ride runs, obviously enough, between Johnston and Neyland in Pembrokeshire, along the course of an old railway line now called The Brunel Cycle Trail. In previous years I've had the thankless task of helping to organise the event and get people there to help and to marshall. This year I declined, making it clear that I would be there with my children and that having an enjoyable time with them would be my sole intention.

Getting there is hard work. From Pembroke Dock one has to cycle over the Cleddau bridge (Pont Cleddau) and the smaller Westfield Bridge. There is a very nice wide cycle path alongside the main A477 across both bridges and despite the steep hill to the bridge the ride is very pleasant. After crossing Westfield Bridge, the Brunel Trail can be accessed via The Zigzag. This is a gravel path which descends with steps down a very steep embankment. To get me, my children and our cycles down there is a logistical nightmare and very strenuous. It involves leaving two cycles and a child at the top, descending halfway with the other child and their cycle. I then leave that child on a bench while I return to the top for the two other bikes and the other child. These I take all the way down, then return for the first child. Much of the gravel has been washed from beneath the concrete steps by rain, making the steps very high for little legs. Pembrokeshire County Council have apparently secured £250,000 of funding to improve access here, but frankly I'll believe it when I see it.

Rather than use the Zigzag, we continue half a mile or so up the road to Honeyborough Roundabout, where we turn off the main road and cycle down into the village of Neyland. The road itself is quite dangerous with fast and heavy traffic, but we can get off the road quite quickly and onto Neyland Vale, a traffic-free route down to the river. The whole ride is probably an extra 2 miles, but worth the effort.

We had been told that this year's ride was to start and finish at Johnston School, so we had timed our arrival so we could meet with the riders as they turned around at Neyland Marina and ride back with them. As it turned out, everyone stopped for refreshments, and then straggled back when they felt ready,so we headed off with the lead party. The ride is about 4 miles with a very slight uphill gradient the whole way, and Jasmine (10) and Dylan (7) were both red-faced and sweating by the time we arrived.

The return is a lovely downhill coast, so I suggested seeing how far along the trail we could go without having to pedal. This slowed the pace nicely. We discovered that the only times we needed to pedal was where the trail crossed roads and we had to slow down to pass through gates.

When we returned to Neyland we took the same route back, though I did offer them the option of the Zigzag as we came past. They preferred to cycle.

Altogether, we probably covered around 14 miles on a Sunday morning.

Please click on the title to take you to my flickr page for some photos of the event.

THE ONGOING SAGA OF THE WHEEL

Realising I hadn't heard back from the bikeshop regarding the damaged rear wheel, I spoke to them today to be told that Madison have "credited" me with a rear wheel, as they accept that the wheel should not be in that condition, but they do not actually have a replacement wheel for me! (They're one of the UK's major cycling wholesalers, and they don't have any wheels???)

The shop are happy to build me a new wheel, with better components, but it's not going to look anything like the front wheel. I don't much like the wheels anyway, the spokes are very difficult to adjust, being aeroblade spokes (flattened so as to be aerodynamic). So, they've ordered the parts for a new wheel. We'll see how long this bit takes. I shall also endeavour to get the old wheel back so I can reclaim the brand new freehub body I put on it.

TECHNICAL PROBLEMS FURTHERED...

Turns out it was the rim on my rear wheel splitting in 2... cracks were spreading laterally from the spoke eyelets. I took the wheel back to Bierspool Cycles, where I bought it around a year ago. They sent it back to Madison, the suppliers, but they haven't returned it yet. Bierspool did "lend" me a wheel, with which to do my Big Ride (more later); the wheel they "lent" me was the old wheel I'd left with them when I'd bought the current set. The bearings had completely gone. They'd since put a new axle and bearings in, but as predicted, there was a lot of wear on the hub races, and the axle worked itself loose during the second day of riding. It got me there and back, which is what mattered.

A BAD DAY

Today was to be a day of cycling and fishing - cycling leisurely around in the morning sun, then meeting up with a friend later for my first ever fishing lesson, only it didn't quite turn out that way. My cycling mitts went missing. A small thing, you might think, but no. I have two functioning pairs and either one would do, but only one mitt was found. Our house is so small, so chaotic, that finding something like a fingerless glove goes well beyond needle-in-haystack territory. I was seriously pissed off. Voices were raised, and not just mine. There was no way I was even going to attempt any serious distance without padding on my ulnar nerves - I suffer badly with wrist pain and pins-and-needles at the best of times, so that got cancelled in a fit of fury, and I almost cancelled the fishing trip when I found I couldn't get a lift, but thought better of it, and cycled the 10 or so miles to meet my friend, who'd gone to the trouble of sorting me out some tackle. It was quite enjoyable, even though we didn't catch anything, and we spent a pleasurable couple of hours clambering around on the cliffs just south of Tenby and learning to cast a line. The rock climbing took its toll on my knees, and left me in quite severe pain by the time I got home, which was a little worrying. I'm still ridiculously stressed by an accumulation of things today, and pray it passes quickly so I can get some sleep.

A TECHNICAL PROBLEM

While in Cardiff, my touring bike started making an intermittent noise, which seemed to emanate from the back wheel. It sounded like a loose cable was dangling against the spokes, and seemed to come and go at random.

As I started to use the mountain bike more, due to the appalling road surfaces, the road bike got hung up in the workshop and the noise was forgotten.

Back in Pembrokeshire, and preparing for my Big Ride, the noise has got steadily worse.

I knew the wheel was slightly out of true due to a large and deep pothole on Newport Road, and as I put that right, I thought I detected something rattling around inside the rim, which might have accounted for the noise. Giving the wheel a good shake with the inner tube removed seemed to have got rid of any foreign objects.

However, even though the wheel in the stand was turning freely and silently, as soon as I got on the bike, the noise was back.

I changed the bearings, even though there was nothing visibly wrong with the old ones. No difference.

As I was putting the wheel back in the frame, I noticed that the cassette wasn't turning as smoothly as it might, which would indicate a problem with the freehub body. In a word, Bugger.

I've ordered a new one from Edinburgh Bicycle Cooperative, (another £27 I don't have) who are great with delivery, but it's still going to take a few vital days, and then there's all the buggering around getting it fitted again. I was tempted to take the freehub body from my XTR hub, but it's just too good to squander.

BIKEOLOGY

I've been hired to do a course on basic bike maintenance at the local school (teaching adults, not children). It's all a bit last minute and farcical. The original idea was to do 6 sessions of 2 hours each, but with the imminent arrival of the Cycling Proficiency Test, this has been hacked down to 3 weeks, which obviously means I'll have to omit such vital lectures as "Does the frame stand on the wheels or do the wheels hang from the frame?"

Given the time-scale, I'll be amazed if anyone turns up. If anyone DOES turn up, they'll have been emotionally blackmailed into coming by the organisers, and will have about as much interest in bike maintenance as I have in Fiscal Policy.

SUSTRANS

Over the past year or so I've become very disenfranchised with Sustrans. While I entirely commend and support what they do, and what they stand for, I don't like the way the Ranger Programme is being managed. Being a Liaison Ranger is a thankless task with few rewards. Not that rewards or recognition are what I'm after.

It seems to me that the vast majority of Sustrans Rangers are completely inactive (other Liaison Rangers corroborate this) yet the Sustrans Volunteer coordinators are loathe to do anything about this, which I personally find disrespectful to the few of us who are actively working for them.

When I moved to Cardiff I was welcomed by the local Liaison Ranger, who was delighted that there was someone else prepared to roll his sleeves up.

Now I've moved back to Pembrokeshire I'm not feeling so enthusiastic.

I'm quite prepared to sit on the sidelines and watch what happens. I'm sure it won't take much of my attention.

REVIVAL

Hello again dear blog.

It's been much longer than I thought, and much has happened.

I have moved away in search of work and a new life for my family, and I have returned, though not quite empty handed.

I was in Cardiff for three months. On my first visit to the Jobcentre, the first job which came up on a jobpoint was a vacancy for a cycle mechanic and hire operator for a local charity, The Pedal Power Project. I knew the job was mine. A month later I started work.

Two months later I had to leave.

Accommodation problems, and domestic unease, meant I had to beat a somewhat hasty retreat to Pembrokeshire. My lovely family are delighted to have me home, but I'm again unemployed with little chance of employment any time soon. To quote the late, great Warren Zevon: "Oh no, these Blues are gonna rub me raw..."

FELLOWSHIP

I made a decision yesterday that I need to get out more (mainly on my bike) so came up with a "brand" of ride that I can promote within (and without) Sustrans - the "Fellowship Ride" - inviting Sustrans Rangers and other people to come along on a short ride (Wednesday evenings) and longer rides (Saturdays). I have mailed this out to the other Rangers and had the usual response from the usual 2 who show enthusiasm. However, I will not be thwarted by the miserable wretches who do not leave their homes for anything other than a free meal! If no-one turns up, I get to do the ride myself anyway, so what do I lose?

UNEMPLOYED?

A musing on the nature of unemployment... it has been around 6 weeks since I did any paid work. I made a claim for Jobseeker's Allowance as soon as I became unemployed, but at my preliminary interview it was clear that my claim would probably be disallowed unless I got a sicknote from my doctor, which I duly did. This resulted in my claim being transferred to one for E.S.A (Employment and Support Allowance) which is a revamped version of Incapacity Benefit. I'm not entirely comfortable with claiming benefit, but my doctor is happy to provide me with sicknotes while we explore what might or might not be wrong with me. I certainly don't like telling people I am unemployed, it is not a status which sits happily with me. While unemployed I am far from idle - my voluntary work with Sustrans continues apace; if anything, with renewed vigour. My church work continues also, though somewhat slower.

When one is employed, there is a sense of belonging, and a sense of status and self-worth which is absent among the unemployed. All you belong to is the dole queue.

I "belong" to the fellowship of my Church. I "belong" to the Sustrans Movement. I "belong" to a Bible Study Group. I "belong" to God.

I do a lot of things, so why then do I feel a sense of shame?

My health conditions do prevent me from working full-time. I can no longer call myself a "writer" or a "poet", having had impenetrable writer's block for over 5 years.

I cannot remember the last time I painted anything. Really.

I don't like to admit that my health is a barrier. I can, with a great deal of preparation and effort, cycle around 60 miles in a single stretch, more than many people can do. I'm usually ill for a while afterwards, but it seems worth the sacrifice at the time, it's a good feeling, especially when done with good friends.

HELLO! HOORAY!

I've decided to rekindle this blog, as things are once more starting to grind me down. Since leaving the bikeshop I have spent some time working for Lidl here in Pembroke Dock as a "caretaker", which is a bit of a misnomer, as all I did was clean, but it was from 6am to 10am, and I actually enjoyed the job, even though it was by far the most soulless place in which I have worked, and staff morale was an alien concept. I left there a couple of months ago after a contretemps with a pompous buffoon of an area manager (my favourite quote was: "It's not a good idea to raise your voice to me, I'm the Area Manager!" Twit.

Since then I've been claiming Employment and Support Allowance, which is the new Incapacity Benefit, while trying (in vain) to get some proper diagnoses of my various illnesses and conditions. This is made more complicated and traumatic with my tried, tested and tame GP due to leave the practice any minute, and there have been discussions with various practice managers, deputy managers, doctors, receptionists, mostly conducted in loud voices to try and resolve the issue of continuity of care.

So, you rejoin me with no real job to speak of, no real "healthcare professional" to tell me what is wrong with me, and in a fairly downtrodden mood.

I am still the Sustrans Volunteer Liaison Ranger for Pembrokeshire, though that is also currently hanging in the balance. I am also quite closely involved with church, and this too is a source of depression and anxiety at the moment, for a variety of reasons.

I am a member of a Bible Study Group which meets weekly. This, surprisingly, is a source of strength and encouragement to me. (I say surprisingly, because when I joined the group 6 months ago I did not expect to form such strong bonds with people so quickly).

BLACKOUT