Well... thank you Banjo for making it all happen. I'm sure the others will agree that you are a very fine ride leader - exactly the right combination of looking like you could ride a thousand miles if you had to, whilst being supremely patient with those who worry that they might not survive the next five. Which is roughly how I felt when I "paused to admire the view" twice on the way up The Devil's Elbow. But the sun was shining, and when I finally got to the top, no-one looked too cross about waiting for me or took the p1ss out of my silly macho gearing. Funnily enough the low point for me was not my woefully pedestrian ascent of The Elbow (I was enjoying the sunshine so much that I wouldn't really have minded if I'd toppled sideways and had to be winched out of there by helicopter) but the disappointment of the mystery headwind in the Neath valley. Bury Hill on the Felpham FNRttC had already alerted me to the fact that I was out of shape, but I had put most of that down to the cold and the night, and wasn't quite prepared for spending a whole day thinking "Is that
really the lowest gear I've got?".
HLab, on the other hand, gave the effortless impression that three mountains and an Elbow was the sort of thing he might do before breakfast, and the irrepressible User482 looked as though he might manage another mountain or two if he weren't expected home in a few hours. Banjo had it all under control; Celty was out of the traps with such furiously impatient energy that it was bound to end in a lightweight drinking session; Rob was pacing things well; and Ozzie was doing fine but was probably quietly glad to be gallantly keeping me company in Team Slow. Rich was buoying everyone up capably, with a welcome stream of facetiousness and idiocy. We had arrange to meet Kins at Penderyn. "How will we recognize him?" someone asked. "You've seen his avatar," I replied. "He's doing
this..." I replicated the posture in Kins's avatar, adding gestures to signify the presence of a hat and jacket. "What if he doesn't look like that in person?" "I bet he does". He did. As well as the hat and jacket, Kins wore a winning smile, which survived a fatiguing headwind and a catastrophic mechanical. We abandoned him to benign rescuers, but hopefully he will get a new (SRAM) chain and be back to fight another day.
I almost forgot to say how beautiful the ride was. As a Welsh resident one gets dangerously close to taking this stuff for granted, but Rich's pics bring it all home again. Shame about the beer, the farting, and the entertainment, but the locals and the chips weren't so bad. Shame also that La Thatch didn't think to make it a couple of days earlier - I can see her demise going down especially well in the Valleys.