Ride across Wales & back in 38 hours

Brian Chapman Memorial 600km audax ride

Red skies at night Shepherd’s delight & in a land of shepherds that had to be a portent. We’d assembled on Innage farm in Marthen for the annual Brian Chapman Memorial audax. A 607km traverse of Wales and back again. A return journey from Chepstow in the bottom corner, to Menai on Anglesey in the top corner. There were 12 checkpoints and a 40 hour time limit. Some 150 riders were due to depart Bulwark Community Centre, in three waves, between 4 & 6 am the next day.

I was in the 5am wave. After a surprisingly sound nights sleep in the van, I arrived at the start at 4:30am. Just in time to eat a beans on toast breakfast & drink a cup of Nescafé Gold Blend. When I was a kid, that was as posh as coffee got. Long before the days of flat whites and skinny oat milk frappucinos.

The first 72km was spent amongst a fast group whose pace was clearly not acknowledging the total length of this ride. We arrived at the first checkpoint in record time, having witnessed a jaw dropping sunrise en route. A fiery scarlet ball that looked like it belonged in a Star Wars film not hovering above the Brecon Beacons. It teased us as we rode away from it, coyly disappearing behind a roadside row of trees, as I fumbled for my phone to document it. When we arrived at Honey’s Cafe in Bronllys, I downed a flat white, got a stamp in my empty brevet card and got straight back on the road to tackle the next leg alone. It was confirmed I was going well when i reeled in a pair who had set off at 4am, an hour before me. But I soon had to pull over for an emergency evacuation when the combined effects of my breakfast and half a packet of dates announced their fibrous intent. Fortunately, a garage loomed ahead near Rhayader and it had a Greggs concession for baguette & coke resupply.
At Llanidloes, I hit the Great Oak cafe, a regular haunt. We waited an ungodly time for another coffee but enjoyed a sticky ginger cake to fuel the substantial hills ahead.
The Machynlleth mountain road delivered spiritual enlightenment and recharged soul batteries. And another checkpoint and stamp. The descent into Machynlleth, a rollercoaster thrill ride straight to the Spar for caffeine in several forms and a doughnut for the sugar and frankly, for the hell of it. Diets were out of the window this weekend, these 8000m were not going to climb themselves. Today, sugar was my friend. I wish it could always be that way.
The road from Mach to Dolgellau, whilst beautiful, was not only busy but was rammed with wealthy, small penised men, overcompensating with large engined vehicles. The number of close passes at high speed was ridiculous. The Lotus drivers club were repeat offenders. I saw more Lamborghinis in a day than I’d ever seen in my life. But the motorcycles were the worst offenders. Seemingly out to dispel any link between themselves and our pedal powered bikes. It was horrifying. More than likely exaggerated by the fact that there were 100 miles in the legs already. As we approached Dolgellau, I was ready to jack it in for the first time. My jaw, clenched with caffeine and adrenaline, was aching like it used to in those lost 90’s techno years. Anxiety levels approximated those historic mid week lows experienced after indulgent weekends of ecstasy. I was certain we’d hit the Mawwdach trail at Dolgellau and I cursed outwardly when it wasn’t the case.

After another busy road we split off and climbed through the forest next to the most idyllic stream tumbling over boulders in dappled light. Even the 20% gradients didn’t dull the delight of this road. And suddenly a man was sat at a desk in the shade of a youth hostel. Another stamp was gathered and a welcome bowl of pasta.
204km were ticked off in 9hours 30. 1/3 of the journey compete. Sweat had crystallised on every part of me and started its mineral chaffe. I took time to gather my thoughts before heading north on the next leg.

I rolled out of Kings Youth Hostel alone once more but replete with pasta and tea, salt rinsed off, water bottles replenished with electrolytes. Back past that babbling stream, and towards the end of the Mawwdach trail. I crossed the rickety bridge at Barmouth against a steady stream of day trippers & push chairs. At the end of the bridge i passed a fellow BCM rider taking a picture of his bike against the backdrop of sea, estuary and mountains. He pulled past me further into town and I hopped into his wheel. He was riding hard. Standing & powering up every climb, and we flew down the seaside road to Harlech. At the info control he admitted, unsurprisingly, that he couldn’t continue to ride at that pace. Another rider pulled up, beaming with smiles and full of energy. It was @vichayzer and she pondered aloud if the Spar was open for ice cream. I’d be dreaming of ice cream for hours and promised myself i’d stop at the first chance. I stopped to snap a photo of the masterpiece which is Harlech castle & had a hell of a job catching up to Vic & Matt. I caught up at Penrhyndeuddraeth and somehow went off the front shortly after. It wasn’t intentional but our group had swelled to 6 and I found myself happy in the shade of the trees alone. At Beddgelert, I ran into Ian & Ingeborg on their tandem. They informed me that the ice cream here was excellent & there were toilets too. That was all the encouragement i needed to stop. I was delighted when the ice cream shop had pistachio, easily my favourite flavour. I took shelter from the sweltering sun on a wall behind the shop sign & greedily ate my waffle cone in the shade. I considered buying another but pulled myself away and started the long & busy climb up to the next check point at Pen Y Gwryd. When I arrived Vic & Matt were already there. They’d obviously passed me as I hunkered behind that sign guzzling ice cream.
We rode out together to the top of Pen Y Pass then the magical descent past Yr Wyddfa where I had a chance to chat to Vic and discover we were both Pan Celtic Race Clan. She was such a strong rider and seemed blessed with boundless energy, despite leaving an hour later than us.

We talked all things All Points North, which she was riding the next weekend, and we arrived at Thomas Telford’s Menai Bridge in slanting sunlight just after 8:30PM.
We were soon at the next check point and a homemade bowl of soup and bread and more caffeine. Time to check our phones & take a brief rest. We were now 290km in but this was the most northerly point. It was time to turn around and head for the sleep stop at Aberdyfi, another 100km south on our return to Chepstow.

I felt tired but accomplished. I couldn’t believe we had crossed Wales in its entirety in 14 hours.

I left Menai by myself for the graveyard shift. The sun set behind me as I crossed the bridge I remembered learning about in school. Descending behind Yr Wyddfa through Waun Fawr & Salem the midges descended. I didn’t have my clear glasses and so was forced to ride without any. Midges in my eyes. In my ears. Up my nose. Permeating my soul. I was on edge. A lamb sprung across the road in front of me as I hurtled downhill at full speed. No time to even brake. I let out a primal scream of warning but i’m not sure it even made a sound. 10000 midges came out of my throat. I stopped in a bus stop to collect my thoughts. It was like herding cats or juggling snakes. I longed to come across another rider. Things were starting to feel unsafe. A blinking red light in the distance gave me hope. I raced to catch up and pulled alongside. I muttered a greeting. The rider turned to face me. His eyes were hollow. He stared straight through me. He didn’t seem as pleased to see me as i’d hoped. He clearly didn’t want company. Was he real? I pedalled onwards, dejected. I was flying downhill now. I think. Or was I going up? I glanced at my GPS. Apparently i was going uphill on a 7% slope. At only 6kmh. I’d had this feeling once before, on a previous 400km brevet. Reality was wafer thin.
Out of the forest & the midges had gone. I rolled into a town. There were drunk boys shouting at drunk girls. It felt like violence was imminent. I stopped and entered a store, eager to get off the streets. The mean streets of Penrhyndeudraeth. The kids looked like they were on ketamine. I felt like a target. A ghoulish MAMIL, salt stained & drawn, guzzling coke and eating a tuna sandwich kerbside. Harlech was in the distance. I thought of the castle & that Zulu film where they sang Men of Harlech. Lamb of God we’re soundtracking my thoughts.
I time trialed to Harlech where the large hill ruined my pace. I stopped to put on layers. I was wet with sweat but cold. The ghost rider from earlier pulled alongside me. He seemed more talkative this time. We attempted discourse. It was impossible. The lights of Barmouth shone 15 miles away. It seemed impossibly far. I decided I’d find a hotel room there. I’d no idea of the time.

Finally Barmouth arrived. It was deserted. Barmouth bridge appeared out of the dark. My wheels hammered on the rickety wooden structure. The estuary flowed beneath me, I was riding into a nightmare, handrails either side were guiding me in. I was tripping balls. What the fuck was going on? At the other side a public toilet. I explored it. Perhaps I could hide in it & nap. It reeked of piss. There was no cold water only hot?! Why would there only be hot water? What was this country coming to. Back outside and three riders appeared. Salvation. They appeared real. I hopped on their wheel. It felt so much safer to be part of a group. Our numbers swelled from 3 to 5. A thick sea fog descended. It was suddenly freezing. I turned my lights up. A sudden sea of white light blinded me. I turned them down again. A tall rider in front of me was falling asleep at the wheel. He would veer wildly to the left then wake up and veer wildly back again. He was a crash waiting to happen. I couldn’t lose their wheels. Visibility was hellishly poor. The rider in front seemed to be controlled by a drunk puppeteer. His bike controlled by something else. How did he stay in the saddle. Limbs thrashed wildly. The fog lifted, what joy to see the road clearly. The fog descended again. Would we ever get there? I prayed i’d wake up, this couldn’t be real.
and then we were there. Everybody breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Thank yous were exchanged. It was 1am. The final check point of the night. A stamp. Hot food. Drinks. and the promise of an air bed & a blanket in a hall with 100 others. In short…..heaven. There was snoring, farting and blissful horizontal comfort and safety. 19 hours and 390km lay behind us. And a thousand undescribed fragments of memory and adventure. In a few hours it would continue.

I woke at 5 something. In a hall full of exhausted riders. Splayed on air beds & half covered in the type of blankets i’d used on a furniture removal summer job I once had. My body felt miraculously well recovered but my mind may as well have been cryogenically frozen. I grabbed a cup of tea & slice of toast and returned to my pit to see if it would thaw out allowing some thought. Breakfast was a gratefully received baked potato, beans, mushrooms & a hastily assembled veggie sausage sandwich with brown sauce.

I rolled out around 6:30am with Nick from Southborough CC. We’d ridden together on that first fast leg from Chepstow to Bronllys & encountered each other several times during the ride. We had 217km left to cover but more than 4000m left to climb. How was that even possible?

There was a sea mist burning off at Aberdyfi, the estuary shrouded in a milky haze. It was a beautiful way to start the day. Soon we were onto fast A roads which were mercifully quiet at this time of day. I slumped onto the aero bars and surprised myself at the power still within my legs.

The track back to Newtown was mildly undulating, the warm sun on our backs a sign of the temperatures yet to come. We approached town through a wooded glade as sunlight streamed through the trees in rays. Breakfast was at 9:30 at Jacks, a family run affair. Large portions & value prices. Chef knew his market. Personally i would have rather paid more for better produce but im a self confessed food snob. They were necessary calories served quickly and with a smile. I felt like id swallowed an anchor as we started the long ascent to Dolfor. The smaller riders in the group, ie everyone else, climbed like they’d eaten helium for breakfast. Shade was at a premium, the heat of the day ratcheting up constantly. From the top a wicked descent and then a fast TT along home roads for me, to Knighton at the far end of the valley. We stopped at Offas Dyke visitors centre for a stamp & an ice cream. Knighton to Kington was a lumpy affair along a rollercoaster road and we were soon at Hay on Wye where we had a pavement picnic on a garage forecourt.

The climb up and over Gospel Pass was brutal with 540km in the legs, but those views were unsurpassed. The descent on newly surfaced roads to Llanthony was a joy with a dash of Russian roulette as tourist driven cars ascended behind blind corners.
The next checkpoint at Treats cafe & campsite came quickly with hot sugary tea and a wonderful apple cake.
The next 40km to Redbrook Post Office was breathtaking in the literal sense, as fatigue and the hills combined to exhaust. The last big climb past the once majestic Tintern Abbey was mental torture but we were soon in Chepstow. Memories of a past life flooded my brain, waking hungover on the floor of our drummers family house after a gig in Newport.
Bulwark Community Centre marked the end of the journey. A time to thank the organisers profusely for a marvellous logistical feat. A last shake of the hands with fellow riders and a weary return to Innage farm to our vehicles.
The achievement felt palpable. 607km powered only by my legs. Crossing Wales, the land of my ancestors, from South East to North West, and back again, in only 38 hours. An epic trek by anyone’s standards. Confirmation of my form for a much larger journey which still lay ahead.

I arrived home at midnight, wired with adrenaline & over exertion. This effort would need a good few days of recovery. Sleep was a struggle but when it came i would drink greedily from its fountain. Or so i thought.

At 5:30 my wife woke me up. She was in distress & needed to go to hospital. Urgently. I sat up and tried flicking my brain into emergency mode. Panic stations. I was fishing for ideas in a frozen arctic sea. White on white on white.

Brian Champan Memorial 600