Breakfast at the Lobster Pot on Barmouth’s quayside in the sunshine. Locals picking up their first coffee and discussing boat, fishing and weather issues. It was very relaxed.
Leaving town, I followed the cycle route along the seafront, across the railway line via a gated pedestrian crossing, and up a cliff. The designated cycle route was so steep, it should have had steps. I made it to the first corner and thought it safer for me and the walkers heading down if I pushed the bike up.
St Mary’s and St Bodfan’s church on the cliff side just outside town is home to as varied a collection of gravestones and memorials as exist anywhere outside a Hollywood director’s imagination. Every one of them looks out on the seascape.
There can be no nicer place than Harlech to stop for coffee on a morning like this.
I ready myself for the task to come: cycling the “steepest road in the world”. (No, I’m not heading to New Zealand, Harlech have neglected to amend the signs). I took a deep breath, put my head in the right place and set off.
The descent was a bit hairy in places. I took it easy and trusted my brakes. That being its own leap of faith. If we measured the cycle path back in Barmouth, I’m sure we’d see it’s steeper.
At Penrhyndeudraeth I met a cyclist who is taking a week to cycle the Lôn Las cycle route (route 8) from Chepstow to Holyhead. Turns out we stayed in the same hotel in Barmouth last night.
Porthmadog was busy. Route 8 crosses William Madocks’ impressive causeway on a path beside the road. I missed the turn and rode across with the traffic.
A little cyclists’ chicane helps riders avoid the ignominy of a pratt fall caused by getting a wheel caught in the tracks that take the Welsh Highland Railway across the road towards Snowdon and Caernarfon. I turned down for a look at the quay.
A few miles away on Criccieth, some friends, Bethan and Aled, put on a lovely lunch for me. Aled wore especially a Welsh flag T-shirt that had a red bicycle on it rather than a dragon. We nattered for ages in the sunshine and I left with instructions on how to get to the Lloyd George Museum in Llanystumdwy (and coaching on how to say it!)
Lloyd George chose to be buried here, in his favourite spot overlooking the river a few miles from where he grew up. The monument is entirely suited to its surroundings. The museum across the road is a gem. Polished, professional and using the perspective time allows to offer an reasonably balanced view of one of our most consequential national leaders.
Two stops in the middle of the day. I was definitely running behind. There’s a bike path from Llanystumdwy all the way to Pwllheli. Another cyclist caught me and said something about the wind in Welsh. I agreed. We were cycling straight into a strong headwind and it was making the going tough on what should be an easy stretch.
Dewi was cycling from his home in the heart of Snowdonia to the family caravan near Aberdaron. Fifty-five miles and som very big hills. He was very tolerant of my attempts at Welsh. He understood that I’d been cycling for 21 days and that I started in Barmouth this morning and was heading to Aberdaron. Then he kindly eased into English.
We stopped in Pwllheli as a fuel stop and talked routes. Bethan and Aled had talked to me about the Rhiw, a steep climb a few miles before Aberdaron. Over lunch, we looked at alternative routes. Dewi told me his route and said I should go for the Rhiw. As we set off on our different journeys to the same place, I put it on hold for a decision later.
There was a lot of traffic heading west down the peninsula for the bank holiday weekend. It was a parade of posh 4x4s with personalised plates. It was a relief to reach Abersoch, where it seems they all park.
I had a quick coffee and made my route decision, reasoning that I’m only here once and I’m not afraid of a hill. Twelve miles, ten of which are ‘mostly flat’, or downhill. Don’t look at the other two!
It started to rain. Proper rain for the first time on the tour. Six miles in, I reached the bottom of the hill. I settled in, felt good, knew that just like in Gwbert on Monday, I needed to plug away. Keep pushing the pedals and eventually I’d get there. That didn’t work for long. The problen with this hill is that you can see it rise straight ahead. It’s a uniform climb, so no change in tempo, no comparative rests. It didn’t beat me. I used strategy and tactics to tackle it. I walked.
Nearing the top a local in their garden congratulated me on making it. I took those congratulations. I deserved them.
To mark the achievement, the skies opened. I couldn’t see through my riding glasses and without them the rain stung my eyes.
The door of the hotel I’d booked has a ‘cyclists welcome’ sticker at the entrance. Reception told me they had nowhere to store my bike. The owner apologised, telling me there wasn’t any room on a bank holiday weekend and that I was welcome to lock it to the bench out front or perhaps the railings round by the church.
I know it’d be unlikely anything would happen to it in a remote little village like this, I’d just like it to be out of sight. Just then I had a message from Bethan, telling me I was mad for cycling over Rhiw. I asked if she knew anyone in Aberdaron who I could leave the bike with.
Shortly, I received instructions to wait by the local public toilets to meet a man I didn’t know – a dodgy pursuit in other circumstances. A few minutes later the bike was stored safely in a garden and I could relax.
Day totals: 58 miles, 2,792ft of elevation gained
Tour totals: 1,092 miles, 44,902ft of elevation gained