Day 8: Back Home

On the morning of Day 4, the sun shines.. again! For today, I have in my program the Elan Valley and the Black Mountain Pass, apparently famous for its appearance on Top Gear but otherwise much loved by car drivers. The forecast for the afternoon is rain, and I will either stay home or just improvise some entertainment if I am lucky.

The road south is the now accustomed A470, a road that I think could never bore anyone, no matter how often it is ridden. Without any danger of losing myself, I just ride south in the morning sun, thinking how lucky these Welsh are to leave in such a green, beautiful, entertaining Amusement Park. At some point, I arrive to Rhayader, and the place would be very inviting for a short stroll. However, I am not in Wales for strolls, short or otherwise, and my first objective of the day is still far away.

What follows is.. more A470, until, smartly following the indication of my prepared route, I leave the A road and start to rapidly descend towards what seems to be a system of dams. The dams were created between the wars, and I think they served to provide Birmingham with water. The natural beauty of the place was, if you ask me, not only preserved but actually enhanced, as the artificial lakes thus created add to the unspoiled attractiveness of the place. During one stop, I have a short chat with a kind (and fortunate) driver in his Caterham Seven, who is obviously spending the morning in a very smart way.

Light car, no roof, manual gearbox. Surely, car driving does not get more fun than this, and I think one of those toys is likely more fun than a 30,000 PS Lamborghini without a clutch pedal, unchallenged with all the curves, and too broad for most country roads. Still, I dare to say that bike riders have, in the end, likely more fun than both.

Elan valley

The road along the Elan Valley is very pleasant in the morning sun, but what follows promises to be even better. However, it will prove a bit of an underwhelming experience.

The Black Mountain Pass is, how should I put it… naked. After all that wooden glory in the morning, the bald mountains around me look just plain. The road is fun in itself, but no Dolomites, either, and I would say that the A470 is no less fun; quite th econtrary, in fact, if burdened with more traffic. You understand why Top Gear would come here, though, as you can certainly not ask the local authorities to have the A470 closed in order to shoot some footage…

I ride all the pass up and down to the vale, and reflect whether I should do it all from the start all over again. I decide against it, riding back whence I came but without a second complete ride. Sorry, Mr Clarkson & Co., I prefer the A470…. To that road I ride again, and then straight north toward HQ in a truly blissful late morning, complete with a military fighter jet (not very big and certainly not a Tornado/Eurofighter; possibly a training jet) flying just over my head.

After the usual, copious lunch and digestive siesta, it is grey and menacing, but it still does not want to rain. I go out and ride to Beddgelert, thence again toward Betws on roads that would never see me sated. At some point, I see a silhouette in the sky that I think it’s impossible to mistake: a massive helicopter with two huge rotors, one at the front and one at the back. I think it’s a Boeing CH47 “Chinook”, and I begin to think that this place must be a favourite of the Armed Forces, which makes sense considering the abundance of space and the relative scarcity of people. What I do after Betws is just lose myself around (one of my favourite motorbike holiday activities; no possibility of getting the wrong roads over here!) until, towards dusk, I ride back to Betws for a pause and some pictures.