June 10, 2012
Welsh Desert to Stanky Hill
Day 2
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The night was dry. I'd pitched my tent on top of some tussocky moss and grass, and was worried that it might be uncomfortable to sleep on. On the contrary, it was actually incredibly soft, and I managed to sleep through my alarm. Usually when I'm wild camping in a stealthy way I aim to be up just after sunrise, to avoid the dog walkers and hikers - in the middle of summer this means getting up at 6 or before. When I finally opened my eyes it was more more like half 9! On the other hand, I was hidden from the road and couldn't be seen across the pools - only somebody in the midst of the Desert to the east could have seen my tent.
A coffee on the penny stove, I packed everything away, and went on a small scouting mission to try to find a dry route back to the road. Though my shoes were still wet, by packing them with tissue paper it created a more absorbant layer between that and my socks, and I wasn't keen on pulling the bike back through the bog. After a few minutes I found a much better route back, crossing a small stream just below the road.
After the fine weather the previous day I was down to less than 500ml of water, so I took some time at the little stream to purify some using my filter sterilisation kit. This hasn't been particularly effective in the past - while it produces totally sterile water without altering the taste in any way, it takes a lot of effort to force little water through the filter, especially if there's silt present. Water from the stream was pleasingly silt free, but even under ideal conditions it took me 15 minutes to purify around 400ml of water, 50 ml at a time. Filling the syringe was difficult, and I kept accidentally immersing the "sterile" end of the filter in the stream, which probably ruined my attempts at sterilisation.
I must have cut a strange figure, 500m off the road in the middle of a bog with a bike on its side, fooling around with a giant medical syringe in the stream. After a few minutes I became aware of some shouts apparently aimed in my direction. A guy in a car on the road was waving at me, and saying something I couldn't quite catch. I waved back and looked puzzled. He then gave me a grin and a thumbs up, and I reciprocated - and he drove off. It was only afterwards it occurred to me that he wasn't just giving me a cheery thumbs up, but was probably checking I was alright - it must have been very unclear what I up to down there!
My strangely orange water purified, I set off down the road past the other pools. The surface was good, becoming slightly rougher but always rideable. After my offroad experiences at the end of the previous day, I was worried that crossing the Elenydd would be as arduous. But the surface here is much better - there are occasional big puddles and boggy sections, but not the massive gulleys that make cycling through them so difficult. As you lose sight of lowlands to the east, you really start to feel isolated in the Welsh Desert.
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The track continues, rough but rideable, down to Claerwen farm at the head of the reservoir, where the track becomes gravely. The next section of the route is wonderful, following the perimeter of gigantic Claerwen reservoir and slowly winding downhill to the east. There are some minor climbs, but the scenery is spectacular and you really feel like you're in the middle of nowhere. The crinkly course is much longer than the crow flies on the map, so you get six miles of wonderful riding. The hillside begins to rise up clifflike to your left, until eventually it was like riding on a mountain road, the reservoir to my right. Down this cliff ran torrential waterfalls into the reservoir, and the water looked so clean and oxygenated I dumped the water I'd previously purified (drinking just a bit of it for form's sake), as well as some water I'd picked up at the river near Claerwen farm, and took a couple of liters of it straight from the fall. It was colourless, clear and tasted of mineral water, and I decided to drink it as it was.
I've had a checkered history of drinking wild water. Obviously keeping hydrated is pretty vital to keeping going, especially if you're doing intense exercise like offroad touring. If I get dehydrated, as happens sometimes on leisure rides when I go out in the heat without water, then I can feel my body going over a threshold where it starts to seriously complain, and my energy output falls to around a third of what I normally can do. I can't think about anything other than getting a drink, and am pretty useless until I can get some water back in me - and then it usually takes an hour or so before I'm back to normal. Needless to say, it isn't a good state to get into. Because of this, I'm usually overcautious about making sure I have enough water with me.
Getting clean tap water isn't usually a problem in populated areas, as I've never been refused when just going into a pub and asking if they'll fill up my bottle. Even in England, though, it's quite possible to find yourself in places where this isn't possible. On the plus side, the UK (and especially Wales) doesn't exactly suffer from a dearth of rainfall, and you'll rarely find yourself somewhere where there isn't some form of water available. Ideally I carry a means of sterilising it: but I'd be lying if I didn't say I've often taken a risk and resorted to drinking wild water straight up. So far, a combination of common sense and luck has meant I've never got sick. But there is always an element of risk when you do this.
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At the eastern end of the reservoir the route rejoins a a good road following the outflow to the east. While the Roughing It route suggests going over the bridleway around Rhos y Gelynnen, it looked a bit steep for my liking and I continued along the quiet road which follows the edge of the next, and older, Caban-coch reservoir. This is a lovely ride, and in the sunshine it was hard to remember I was in Wales. The serpentine reservoirs look almost like fjords, and the whole place has a kind of Alpine feel to it. The surface is good and the descent is fast and smooth.
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There were a surprising number of tourists about at the car park near the head of the reservoir - I suppose it was a Sunday, but it was still jarring after descending from the Green Desert. The next stage is an easy ride down to the Elan village, dodging complacent sheep which sat in the middle of the road.
Sheep are not only fairly dense, but unlike most other farm animals seem to have a pretty poor sense of hearing - coming up behind one in the road they often wouldn't notice me on the bike until I was virtually on top of them. The sheep would have a little freak out, leap across my path, before running as fast as its short legs could carry it before me down the road. If you're moving at any sort of speed there's a real chance of accidentally hitting one of these dense creatures, so I took to Baaah-ing at them to try and scare them out of the way. I hope the tourists didn't think it was directed at them.
A short stretch on a busy B road brought me into Rhayader. As described in Roughing It, this really is quite a touristy place and the liveliest the route passes through. Amazingly, the first shop I saw was a bike shop - just what I needed to get some oil for my complaining drivetrain (the chain and derailler had been completely immersed in the bog). I secured my bike to a sign on the main road (in out of the way places I leave all my paniers attached and just take valuables with me. I figure nobody is likely to want to fiddle about with bungee-cord, bin-bag wrapped panniers, and even if they do won't find anything worth stealing apart from my wet socks) and went to the Old Swan tearoom to get something to eat. I'd highly recommend this place - it's not stuffy, as some tearooms tend towards, and does pretty good filling meals rather cheaply. As I sat and studied the map I half listened to a group of local teenagers discussing their night out, and the waitress joined in - sadly still no Welsh accents.
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Once I was up on the hills, the landscape opened out again, and I myself cycling along barely-recognisable paths on hillsides up above tiny farms. At this point I got quite lost, but just kept heading to the East - there was quite a good sense of go-anywhere freedom, but on the other hand I was getting tired and wasn't super-keen on just dropping my tent anyway.
After an hour or so of picking along tiny paths and the back of farms, I joined the Glyndwr Way proper again. The land was very open here and it didn't seem heavily trafficked, so as the light began to go I pitched camp. I used my guiness-can stove to prepare a hot drink and ate the last of the pizza.
Today's ride: 46 miles (74 km)
Total: 98 miles (158 km)
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