Day 3 is the Monday, the day the forecasts have predicted as horrible since the mid of last week. The forecast was very right. It is raining strongly in the morning and it should go on this way until early afternoon.

Here, we see the advantage of renting a cottage as opposed to a hotel room. I use my Netflix account for a thorough revisitation of “Peaky Blinders”, from the comfort of a spacious living room, and do damage in the kitchen at my heart’s content. I also have time (as it keeps raining) for the “power nap”.

At around 2 PM it seems like it makes sense to ride out, as the weather should be fine until 7 PM or so. This would still be a decent day of riding.

The roads are drying fast as I get out, and promise good fun. I head south on the A470 again, then it’s west towards north west towards Maentwrog, and then it’s  west towards Barmouth. Barmouth has a spectacular view on the sea, which is unfortunately a bit marred by the grey, sad sky dominating the landscape today, and making of everything an ideal backstage for a funeral. From Barmouth I follow the coastal road and try to think how beautiful this must be on a sunny day. However, I note that the coastal road is, in this part, not really coastal, that is, not directly on the sea. It’s a bit of “let’s see if we can all this coastal road and get away with it” exercise.

At some point I come to a place called Harlech, which has not only a castle, but a rather spectacular view from the margins of the village. Some of the houses must have a glorious view, too; however, the main road does not allow to appreciate it, enclosed as it is from almost uninterrupted building on the sea’s side. It’s a nice place, though. I ride for a while the inland road towards the north (this is the B4573), but then change my mind and ride back to the village because I want to have my fix of “coastal road”, funeral backstage or not.

So I head north from the outer road, which in this stretch affords a better view of the sea. It is still very grey, but still very dry. I ride up all the way to Carnarfon, and the wise part of me says that at 7 PM it might be raining again, and it has been a good-ish day on the road, and it is better to ride back to HQ and enjoy a warm tea. For better or for worse, that part of me loses to the other, and I decide to head to Llandudno; which, I am told, is a very elegant, fine Victorian place. The roads to Llandudno are less fun than usual past Caernarfon (fast, and with more traffic), and it is now raining lightly. I arrive to Llandudno in time to realise that the place is attractive even under the strong rain that is now pouring down. I ride around here and there getting a flair of the place, but the rain is now really strong and it does mar the experience.

Llandudno

Llandudno when it does not rain (Google)

The same is true for the ride back, now under a strong, insisting rain. But I have irt coming, because I wanted to gamble.

I get at HQ at dusk, after perhaps 90 minutes of almost uninterrupted rain, but having managed to clock 170 miles on a day like this one. Memories of the lake District come to mind, but I am reminded of how lucky I have actually been up to now, and reflect that if I had renounced to Llandudno I would have had full 2.5 days of absolutely dry riding, out of 3. I will ride back to Llandudno on a beautiful day, if I can, because the place really merits a real, dry visit.

Not a day for the memories, for sure. But this was supposed to be the worst day of the week anyway, so I don’t complain.

No Guzzi sightings today, and the count is still at zero.