Day 4 - Talybont Reservoir to Clifford (via Hay on Wye)
A nice roll down to Talybont before a short climb at which point my chain tried to rip off my rear mech. It had parted just enough to clip itself around it with the immense force of my awesome pedal stroke. I found a suitable place to effect a repair: outside an apparently abandoned garage/workshop. I squatted on my stool among numerous rotting and rusted minibuses and swapped out the offending link, fitting a power link I'd bought for just such an occurrence. I also had a full chain with another power link and matching short length, and half my home tool kit with me. No wonder the hills were still hard.
As i worked I noticed the sound of a voice coming from inside the dilapidated building. I quickly realized it was a radio and assuming somebody would be listening to it, and being covered in chain oil, walked around to the rear of the workshop. Here I saw more ancient rusting vehicles. One of which contained a man of about my age, dressed in overalls, reading the newspaper. He oped the van door and i explained my predicament, asking if there was anywhere I would be able to clean up.
In his broad Welsh accent he replied " That would mean i'd have to open up then."
He got out of his van and walked across to an ageing and incomplete VW transporter, jumped in, started the engine, reversed six feet and revealed the back door to the workshop.
" I once got burgled a few years ago you know."
It was only then that I noticed the deep VW tracks in the overgrown yard that extended no further than his short journey. That's one hell of a deadlock I thought. Containing my mirth and offering many thanks I was shown inside to an inner room, Swarfega and a bucket. The rest of the small office was piled shoulder high in parts, cardboard boxes and various other workshops related and long since discarded items. A semi clear path led to the bucket on onward to the workshop proper. I cleaned my hands, dried them on an old newspaper and with many thanks set upon my way.
It was raining. Hard.
I put on my new day-glow altura boil-in-the-bag waterproof jacket and once my eyes had adjusted to the glare, set off again. At Talgarth I took shelter in the information centre until i noticed a cafe across the square. There i spent an hour being mothered by Belinda my genial hostess and her regulars.
The eventual run down to Hay on Wye was accompanied by sunshine, a steady slope of some three or four miles, beautiful countryside and empty lanes. Sublime.
Hard to tear myself away
I bought my evening meal. A 15oz rump steak, Chantelle mushrooms, new potatoes, sweetcorn, red onion and a bulb of garlic. All that was missing was a full-bodied red. As I purchased my vegetables from the grocer I felt a tap on my shoulder. "They'll be no good with pout this a voice said. The good samaritan smiled and proffered my steak, left on the butcher's counter a few doors down. Again I gave thanks and packed my panniers with my meal.
Up from Hay to Clifford. Another elevated site with stunning views and little else. Wonderful.
It was still twitching.....
Shortly after dinner two man of a certain age arrived on site. One immediately made for my bike while the other put up their tent. We struck up a conversation about his 1950 Claud Butler, My Armstrong etc. Eventually I asked where he was from. Three miles from my front door. I regularly ride past his house in the next village. You couldn't make it up.
Day 5- Clifford to Pipe Aston, Ludlow
I was spoilt by the run down to the river valley only to have to climb straight up the other side of it. The severed cow weighed heavily about my person.
From Clifford
It seemed I spent the next couple of hours climbing though villages and hamlets, having plenty of time to admire them at my snail's pace. Fearing more hills I diverted to Kington, found a homely cafe, ordered lunch and consulted my map.
Setting off with good speed I noticed something slightly different and unnerving about my progress. I couldn't properly put my finger on it until the first descent. My eyes streamed, my vision blurred, my glasses remained on the cafe table! As I sheepishly propped up my bike outside the cafe the proprietress ran from the building waving my glasses. "We hoped you'd come back" she said, "an down the road but couldn't see you." Once again I gave thanks, put on my glasses and set off.
I tried not to make eye contact with some of the villagers. Once my glasses were returned to the proper place thing seemed a lot less threatening......
At Wigmore I managed to stop and buy dinner without incident. only a few miles remained. All of them up!
Duck pond at Elton.
Wigmore to the camp site proved a challenge well met. I seem to have a thing for finishing at altitude. Another near-empty site with friendly hosts. bought eggs for the morning. Taking pity on me, my hostess gave me a loaf of bread from her freezer to have with them in the morning.
Up to Monstay Farm
The sky is falling!
Day 6 - Monstay farm to Ludlow
A lazy finish. As I rolled down the long winding hill through the forest above Ludlow I realized how far I'd come and how much I'd enjoyed the journey. What struck me most was my restored faith in humanity brought about by the constant kindness of strangers. The warmth of their welcomes and help and fleeting friendships freely given.
As i turned into Ludlow station Mrs HM greeted me with a welcome kiss and a beaming smile. Thanks for the 6 day pass darling. I couldn't have done it or been there without you.
Home comforts awaited. A soft bed, a home-cooked meal, clean clothes and doors and windows
And the bike? Other than the chain, which I had joined poorly some time before, it didn't put a foot wrong. Which is more that can be said for it's rider.
Journey's End. Ludlow
