I've just run that through my FNRTTC translator and it comes out as: "They're in the pub."Teef, you should remember that a good ride report takes time to ensure all information is correct and photographic proof is collated. Patience
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Dogtrousers
Kilometre nibbler
OP
OP
User482
Guest
Finally on the train back. Rumours of my tired and emotional state entirely without foundation.
mmmmartin
Random geezer
He was a bit like that on the Lowlands Tour. Very useful chap, that @Flying Dodo IME.
srw
It's a bit more complicated than that...
Crikey. That's some going. You and TC were the last two standing at the Castellamare at 11:30am.
Well said indeed.
It was a fine night though a tad nippy at times - this ride is memorable for dark & mist-filled lanes that we swoop along,with patches of warm & very cold air. Then there is the sea at Ogmore and again at Swansea - fabulously serene and blue today - with Port Talbot in between.
And also on this edition for a hill that took a long time to assert itself but then stacked itself up to an angle of (so ridewithGPS tells me) 8.5%!!! (I'm still not clear whether this section was recce'd on the ground or by map from an armchair...
The finale has to be ranked among The Friday's finest.
Flying Dodo
It'll soon be summer
Well, Claudine & Steve clearly sacrificed a few things to end up with a just about perfect night's riding. The same couldn't be said about First Great Western (or GWR as they seem to be re-branding), as the train that Sam, Gordon, Rebecca and I were on, in common with other trains from London, was delayed due to track damage near Bristol Parkway, resulting in a diversion to Bristol Templemeads and being 40 minutes late. My initial plan was therefore to simply to follow the route out of Cardiff and so eventually catch them up, until a text from Steve pointed out there'd be a comfort stop at Tesco's about 5 miles from the start, meaning we should easily meet them there.
Leaving the train station, the 4 of us formed a small peloton and headed west out of Cardiff at a steady pace. It all seemed fairly quiet on the roads which was a good sign. At the A48 junction I spotted Claudine loitering by the lights, so we had a few minutes break waiting for the others to leave Tesco. Setting off as a group, we then had about 3 or 4 miles of the A48 to endure - it's a nice wide road so there was plenty of space for the occasional car to pass us on the other side, which was very considerate. However the actual road surface is amazingly poor with an interesting collection of bumps, holes and a generally pock-marked surface, as though it's been exposed to a low level meteorite shower. Thankfully we then turned off onto the the little lanes, with some lovely, swoopy downhills. It was clear there had been a fair volume of rain recently as often we'd be riding right next to a stream or river with a thundering soundtrack of water. Sometime in the dark you'd wonder exactly where the road edge was, and where the water started, whilst at other times you knew exactly where the water was, as it was flowing over the road!
We passed through a succession of little villages without anyone stirring as our cohort of cyclists whirred through, with lights blazing, showing splashes of colour in people's gardens as we zigged and zagged along the road. Out of the villages, there were brief, misty spots and at times the temperature started to feel a bit cool. It's been 2 years since I last did this ride, so as place names appeared, such as Llantwit or St Donats (or Donuts), I had a brief, fleeting memory of the next few turns. There'd been a couple of punctures so the rear half of the group was further behind, so Claudine took a short cut at St. Brides Major, meaning we ended up at the halfway stop in front of most of the other riders. As halfway stops go, I think we'd be hard pressed to find anything to surpass what Claudine & Steve had got organised at the Watermill just outside Ogmore-by-sea. Stepping inside the pub (which initially seemed deserted), the tables were full of plates of sandwiches and cakes, with posh china tea and coffee pots.
They didn't stay full for long.
Sadly, slave driver that she is, Claudine insisted on a 4 am departure, so people put on all their clothing because as expected, it had got a bit colder when we stepped outside again. Fortunately there were some hills to warm everyone up. We then re-joined the A48 again before dropping down into Port Talbot where there were signs of life, with people waiting in bus stops at 5:30 I even spotted a pie shop open, but we'd zoomed past too fast for me to take a photo for @vernon . And then there were some HILLS, which even by my scale were a tad steep. Still, what goes up must come down, as then
we had the delights of Bog Road, undulating up and down before dropping down towards Swansea.
You can see why it's called Bog Road................
After someone else had (another) puncture, we had a short blast of rather busy dual carriageway, before we hit the true delights of Swansea:-
And then it's a nice gentle ride on the mainly shared use path round to the Mumbles Pier and an excellent breakfast. And possibly a beer or 3 somewhere else.......
Anyway, it was really nice to see so many locals on this ride, which is all credit to the organisers. I'll see someone of you in Manchester next month.
Leaving the train station, the 4 of us formed a small peloton and headed west out of Cardiff at a steady pace. It all seemed fairly quiet on the roads which was a good sign. At the A48 junction I spotted Claudine loitering by the lights, so we had a few minutes break waiting for the others to leave Tesco. Setting off as a group, we then had about 3 or 4 miles of the A48 to endure - it's a nice wide road so there was plenty of space for the occasional car to pass us on the other side, which was very considerate. However the actual road surface is amazingly poor with an interesting collection of bumps, holes and a generally pock-marked surface, as though it's been exposed to a low level meteorite shower. Thankfully we then turned off onto the the little lanes, with some lovely, swoopy downhills. It was clear there had been a fair volume of rain recently as often we'd be riding right next to a stream or river with a thundering soundtrack of water. Sometime in the dark you'd wonder exactly where the road edge was, and where the water started, whilst at other times you knew exactly where the water was, as it was flowing over the road!
We passed through a succession of little villages without anyone stirring as our cohort of cyclists whirred through, with lights blazing, showing splashes of colour in people's gardens as we zigged and zagged along the road. Out of the villages, there were brief, misty spots and at times the temperature started to feel a bit cool. It's been 2 years since I last did this ride, so as place names appeared, such as Llantwit or St Donats (or Donuts), I had a brief, fleeting memory of the next few turns. There'd been a couple of punctures so the rear half of the group was further behind, so Claudine took a short cut at St. Brides Major, meaning we ended up at the halfway stop in front of most of the other riders. As halfway stops go, I think we'd be hard pressed to find anything to surpass what Claudine & Steve had got organised at the Watermill just outside Ogmore-by-sea. Stepping inside the pub (which initially seemed deserted), the tables were full of plates of sandwiches and cakes, with posh china tea and coffee pots.
They didn't stay full for long.
Sadly, slave driver that she is, Claudine insisted on a 4 am departure, so people put on all their clothing because as expected, it had got a bit colder when we stepped outside again. Fortunately there were some hills to warm everyone up. We then re-joined the A48 again before dropping down into Port Talbot where there were signs of life, with people waiting in bus stops at 5:30 I even spotted a pie shop open, but we'd zoomed past too fast for me to take a photo for @vernon . And then there were some HILLS, which even by my scale were a tad steep. Still, what goes up must come down, as then
we had the delights of Bog Road, undulating up and down before dropping down towards Swansea.
You can see why it's called Bog Road................
After someone else had (another) puncture, we had a short blast of rather busy dual carriageway, before we hit the true delights of Swansea:-
And then it's a nice gentle ride on the mainly shared use path round to the Mumbles Pier and an excellent breakfast. And possibly a beer or 3 somewhere else.......
Anyway, it was really nice to see so many locals on this ride, which is all credit to the organisers. I'll see someone of you in Manchester next month.
Fab Foodie
hanging-on in quiet desperation ...
- Location
- Kirton, Devon.
Looks terriffic .... one day ....
srw
It's a bit more complicated than that...
If you've never done this one and @theclaud or @User482 put it on the programme for next year - don't hesitate, just do it. (Though there is one nasty sting). Unlike the tedium of the hours of outer London, outer Cardiff is done and dusted inside half an hour - and it feels foreign because of the bilinguality. (Off topic for a moment, it always surprises me how the Scots, with whom we Anglo-Saxons share a language, a culture and an Enlightment are much stroppier about wanting independence than the Celtic Welsh.)
Then the rest of the first half of the ride is somehow familiar - the limestone terrain of the Vale of Glamorgan and the pretty villages reminiscent of half of southern England, whether it's the chalk downs or the Weald. After that, the villages of Margam and Taibach - ribbon development presumably built to support the Port Talbot steelworks, which loom large on the left, are somehow alien. They're handsome places, actually - a number of decent villas (the sort of thing which transported a couple of hundred miles east would fetch upwards of a million) as well as rows of smaller terraces, interspersed with sturdy churches and parades of shops. As well as the pie shop I did notice @Aperitif's off licence, and my inner child was amused by a sign to Goytre.
To avoid a really dull and flat approach to Swansea (I know - I'd driven it earlier in the day) we then turned right, into mining country. By this stage limestone had been replaced by rugged sandstone, tuff and basalt - the closest thing I'm familiar with are the mining villages around Northumberland. That does mean climbing. A long drag up to Richard Burton's birthplace, a sharp left turn and a shout of "it's steep - low gear - then it's flat for a while" heralded the first of three nasty ramps. Strava claims that it's the steepest of the three, but I'm not sure I believe it - perhaps it's over quickly enough that it's just tolerable.
The other two were both walkers for me. I'm reasonably powerful, but I have such a poor power-weight ratio that anything uphill sees me drift to the back of the field. When I was already out of the saddle in my lowest gear after just a few yards of the road I knew I was beaten. But what goes up must come down. It's not my favourite kind of descent - too zigaggy, but nonetheless satisfying.
If we thought we'd got over the climbing we were mistaken. Another uphill heralded the Bog Road, the first of two glories of the ride. Despite its fearsome reputation it's absolutely stunning. A road which roughly contours around the hill, giving views across a misty valley out to sea, with a dull orange sun rising gently. Yes, the Japanese Knotweed and Himalayan Balsam are crowding out other plants, and the road could do with being resurfaced and cleaned, but it was worth it.
The other glory is, as @Flying Dodo says, the bay path. Pancake flat, wide, good tarmac, and with sea-level views across Swansea Bay. As commutes go, it's not at all bad and I hope makes Bastard Landlords I - VIII a little easier to tolerate. It ends at the Beach Hut café opposite the entrance to Mumbles Pier, a camp throwback to the 1880s and 1950s serving generous breakfasts firmly of the 2010s (decent bacon and sausages, crispy fried potatoes and hash browns) with an impressive speed.
On reflection, the only thing I'd change about the ride is the long journey home. Use it as the start for a few days in West Wales. Even though I slept through most of the M4 (after the inevitable stop at a service station - three cappuccinos, OJ and three beers need to go somewhere) I could have done with a more relaxing rest of the day. And my ever-loving chauffeuse would no doubt have preferred to be in bed with the paper. I don't for a moment suppose that a few hours suffering the gentle ministrations of GWR would have been any better.
Then the rest of the first half of the ride is somehow familiar - the limestone terrain of the Vale of Glamorgan and the pretty villages reminiscent of half of southern England, whether it's the chalk downs or the Weald. After that, the villages of Margam and Taibach - ribbon development presumably built to support the Port Talbot steelworks, which loom large on the left, are somehow alien. They're handsome places, actually - a number of decent villas (the sort of thing which transported a couple of hundred miles east would fetch upwards of a million) as well as rows of smaller terraces, interspersed with sturdy churches and parades of shops. As well as the pie shop I did notice @Aperitif's off licence, and my inner child was amused by a sign to Goytre.
To avoid a really dull and flat approach to Swansea (I know - I'd driven it earlier in the day) we then turned right, into mining country. By this stage limestone had been replaced by rugged sandstone, tuff and basalt - the closest thing I'm familiar with are the mining villages around Northumberland. That does mean climbing. A long drag up to Richard Burton's birthplace, a sharp left turn and a shout of "it's steep - low gear - then it's flat for a while" heralded the first of three nasty ramps. Strava claims that it's the steepest of the three, but I'm not sure I believe it - perhaps it's over quickly enough that it's just tolerable.
The other two were both walkers for me. I'm reasonably powerful, but I have such a poor power-weight ratio that anything uphill sees me drift to the back of the field. When I was already out of the saddle in my lowest gear after just a few yards of the road I knew I was beaten. But what goes up must come down. It's not my favourite kind of descent - too zigaggy, but nonetheless satisfying.
If we thought we'd got over the climbing we were mistaken. Another uphill heralded the Bog Road, the first of two glories of the ride. Despite its fearsome reputation it's absolutely stunning. A road which roughly contours around the hill, giving views across a misty valley out to sea, with a dull orange sun rising gently. Yes, the Japanese Knotweed and Himalayan Balsam are crowding out other plants, and the road could do with being resurfaced and cleaned, but it was worth it.
The other glory is, as @Flying Dodo says, the bay path. Pancake flat, wide, good tarmac, and with sea-level views across Swansea Bay. As commutes go, it's not at all bad and I hope makes Bastard Landlords I - VIII a little easier to tolerate. It ends at the Beach Hut café opposite the entrance to Mumbles Pier, a camp throwback to the 1880s and 1950s serving generous breakfasts firmly of the 2010s (decent bacon and sausages, crispy fried potatoes and hash browns) with an impressive speed.
On reflection, the only thing I'd change about the ride is the long journey home. Use it as the start for a few days in West Wales. Even though I slept through most of the M4 (after the inevitable stop at a service station - three cappuccinos, OJ and three beers need to go somewhere) I could have done with a more relaxing rest of the day. And my ever-loving chauffeuse would no doubt have preferred to be in bed with the paper. I don't for a moment suppose that a few hours suffering the gentle ministrations of GWR would have been any better.
srw
It's a bit more complicated than that...
One other thing I meant to say - congratulations to @theclaud and @User482 (who must be very influential) on finding a substantial contingent of locals to turn up. Of the 35 of us, only about 7 were Fridays regulars up from the Southeast. I suspect it's no accident that it was most of those 7 who formed the core of the contingent that ended up drinking "beer" looking at the breasts of a fertility goddess. (Though I'm not sure whether her legs are supposed to be open towards Swansea or the Bristol Channel).
It is good to get a mix of newbies and old hands, locals and Fridays regulars. On this occasion we could have done with just a little more experience in the mix, as the waymarking broke down somewhat in the latter half of the ride. The first half has very few turns, so went smoothly enough. The second half is a little less straighforward, and we had enough punctures and minor incidents to spread the ride out a little. A yet-to-be-identified person who was not the Chef D'Affaires seemed to have taken it upon himself (I'm guessing here, but the suspects are mostly male) to announce that we were all up when it was not the case, resulting in posts being prematurely abandoned by inexperienced or insufficiently dedicated waymarkers. It was only because @Flying Dodo was across the route as well as being unflappable, because @User482 was dashing up and down the line the whole night, and because intuition sent a few people the right way, that the whole thing didn't fall apart. Meanwhile, at the front, those who know the area but not the ride are more apt to make assumptions about the route (which is counter-intuitive in places), and we had to devote considerable energy and attention to reining people in. Which is a roundabout way of saying that even though we had a lovely time, we very much missed a lot of the regulars, individually and collectively.
Mostly it was all good though. I'll write more later - I'm a little sluggish today for some reason that can't possibly have anything to do with beer...
srw
It's a bit more complicated than that...
If I was being a corporate tosspot I'd say that "one of the learnings" from being one of the few regulars who were aware of how the system should work is that it would be worth explaining as part of the safety briefing. "If you go off in front of me we'll lose you and it will be your fault. If you desert your waymarking post before this person arrives you will be taken off and forcibly re-educated into the true way." Of course that doesn't necessarily help if your chef d'affaires is stuck on a train at the briefing. Perhaps he or she should be made to wear or wave a badge of office - I believe that glowsticks are quite good value.
@StuAff and @Dogtrousers looked after the back of the ride admirably until FD got there, and continued to be invaluable in other ways thereafter. But yes, you are right. I'm relaxed about people riding ahead of me when they want to stretch their legs - especially on big hills where everyone needs to find a pace that suits them - as long as they are the sort of people who notice stuff. Looking over one's shoulder regularly and noticing that one is passing a possible turn-off is all that is required. And in the end my conscience is clear when it comes to people riding off the front. But risking losing people because of disappeared waymarkers won't do. But at least we didn't leave any behind - I got a bit obsessive about accounting for the ones we'd positioned on the route into Llantwit Major before setting off...
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