Four out on an unseasonably mild but overcast morning. Despite my best efforts at tweaking, Andy’s terrible 2014 route putting off all but Nige, Paul, Angelo and myself.
The cloud was burning off as we glided through Ogmore Vale, where a mapless Nige insisted with such confidence we turn up through Wyndham we all followed, despite head-unit maps suggesting otherwise. On the steep ramp out of of Nantymoel and onto the main Bwlch road Angelo took off and everyone climbed the hill at their own pace.
After a brisk and refreshing descent into Treorchy I thought I’d comedically sprint to the first corner of the Rhigos. Angelo, not appreciating this was my idea of a joke, simply carried on at the same pace all the way to the top, and despite having to wait at the roadwork traffic lights was way ahead of the rest of the rest of us. Down the other side was what we meteorologists describe as blowy, and I was happy to get to Hirwaun without needing to be scraped out of a hedge.
The now cloudless sky afforded amazing views across to Pen-y-fan as we took the road out of Penderyn to Beacons Reservoir. Turning onto the A470 and back towards Merthyr Nige set a strong pace with everyone looking forward to a coffee stop at the Brecon Railway cafe at Pant.
A few ups a downs to negotiate around Pontyscill finally tripped up Angelo as he down shifted his chain off the crankset. Adopting the usual Pacers’ motto of “all for one, except when you’ve started a steep climb and aren’t stopping for anyone”, the rest of us headed for the café. After getting bored waiting I begrudgingly went back to look for our missing compatriot to discover he’d been rescued by members of the very lowest rung of society, e-bikers. We thanked them for their assistance and they rode off to steal hard-earned gravel KoMs, probably. Oh, and the café was closed, so despite still being without Cheesecake Guy ambassador, Dave, we rolled into the industrial estate for dairy-based dessert.
Now heading homeward I guided the group through a stunning collecting of empty car parks linked by occasionally tarmacked paths that might form some of the outer reaches of the Taff Trail. Coming across some Tony Martin-esque road blocking tactics from another cyclist I bravely shouted an instruction for them to move. So bold was this demand the lane-hogger felt obliged to steer themselves into a ditch, and we all agreed that neither she, nor her pink Fisher-Price tricycle would bother us in future. Nige stopped to assist, because we couldn’t cover up the club name on our jerseys quick enough.
After that it was just a tempo ride home. Good to get some reasonable miles in while the sun shines. Hope to see everyone next week.
