Day 1

I wake at an uncomfortable 5:15am. Predictable nerves, but I manage to doze until a more respectable 7. As I leave the B&B after a hearty full English breakfast I cannot believe my luck; it’s another beautiful sunny day, which makes for a decent start. It’s an exciting moment to climb on my bike for the first time knowing I’ve now got a significant challenge ahead of me. Helped by a sunny start the nerves quickly disappear; I’m off.

I have a two hour warm up, enjoying the breeze blowing off the Llandudno coast, catching a glimpse of Conwy and it’s castle before heading inland, meandering along some easy country roads. Stunning views across idyllic green countryside are here already, made all the better under blue skies peppered with cotton wool clouds.

As the wheels touch gravel for the first time I enjoy a brief stop, lapping up the location and the sense that I’m about to commit properly to my adventure. Back on my bike I make a wrong turn, thanks to sloppy navigation, and tell myself “I won’t do that again”, something that I repeat probably three or four more times throughout the week.

I climb steadily up into the most well-known of the Welsh hills. The Snowdonia National Park scenery is breath taking as I cut along the east shore of Llyn Cowlyd Reservoir. On this first morning I have two very near misses as my front wheel pitches into deep sphagnum covered puddles and I’m nearly ejected over the front of my bike into a squelchy bath. Thankfully, with the aid of well honed bad language, I manage to avoid this early embarrassment.

As well as passing through Snowdonia I’m close to Plas y Brenin Adventure Centre. So I suppose it’s not surprising that I pass numerous walkers, runners and mountain bikers. I find it both pleasant and annoying; part of me wants solitude, but I know numbers will rapidly dwindle once I leave the Park boundary.

Leaving the hills, having navigated successfully across my first piece of Welsh wilderness, I take refuge at the Pinnacle Café near Capel Curig and enjoy a very good cup of coffee, a rest and catch up on diary writing.

Back on the bike and it’s not far from the café that I have a “major incident”… In a bid to cut back on the bulk of my maps I’d photocopied a few. Coming to the end of my first photocopy I pull the next map out of my bag and look to marry up the ends. They don’t match. I’m furious. I’d failed to appreciate the map was double sided and hadn’t copied the reverse of the map. I now have a gap in my route and I’ve no clue how much is missing.

I’m helped by a nice family walking their dog who give me directions to a small village called Dolwyddelan where a Spar sells OS Maps. Thank God for Spar! I jump back on my bike and speed down flowing track for quite a few kilometres. As much as I enjoy the fast decent, particularly after the recent climb out of Capel Curig, I hope I don’t have to come back this way.

I find Dolwyddelan’s Spar and luck is once again on my side, I’ve biked almost exactly the way I should have come! I don’t have far to go to link up with the next map, but I purchase a copy anyway. There’s no way I’m cocking up and getting lost.

From Dolwyddelan I follow country lanes that sit on the old Sarn Helen trail, peddling into a huge natural bowl. The view and map tells me that what’s coming is inevitable. A crazy hike-a-bike up through well established plantation. It’s very steep, stony, covered in roots, big step ups and washed gulleys, but it makes for a challenge. The sun light beaming into the dark corridor at the top of the climb is a welcome site, but my relief is short lived. I’m met with tussucky upland, mixed with the odd spot of bog. There are brief spells of riding, but for the most part it’s more hike-a-bike.

I find myself at Cwt-y-bugail, the first of three disused quarries spanning the hillside in front of me. They are clear features on the map and where the guide cards becomes a little vague. It’s impressive, but there’s a very weird atmosphere hanging over the place. This is added to by the mine shafts and tunnels that dot the place. What monsters lie beneath?

It’s a huge area of industrial landscape that has ceased functioning. You can see where a small population of people were working their hearts out, changing the landscape for centuries to come. Buildings litter the surroundings. It’s an amazing site and it’s difficult to appreciate the scale of what has gone before; such vast mounds of material moved, no doubt back breaking work in an era lacking heavy mechanised machinery. It’s quite poignant to think that so much hard work and no doubt lives lost feel forgotten and are now being reclaimed by mother nature.

Peddling away from the quarries I enjoy speeding down a series of welcome lanes, but temper my braking as I worry the discs are going to explode. The added weight to my bike turns me into a missile.

I arrive in Llan Ffestiniog in the early evening and enjoy a beef lasagne whilst sitting in the garden of the Pengwern Arms whilst catching up with my girlfriend on the phone, who’s pleased I’m alive. The food and pint are very welcome, but a full belly makes it a little difficult to get back on the road. I’ve decided to head to the outskirts of Betws-y-Coed for my first night in the wilds and there are a few miles to go yet.

As I leave the village I notice an old microwave built into a wall at the entrance to a drive. I realise it’s a make-shift letter box for the postman. Genius.

The trail winds across some undulating hillside, touching briefly the old Sarn Helen trail. I’m blessed with a beautiful sunset as I work my way onto the border of Betws-y-Coed, looking for my first pitch. I fall upon a sweet spot; an old orchard tucked behind a stone wall on the edge of plantation. For those who feel uneasy about wild camping in the middle of nowhere, I can only say that I was overcome with a sense of safety as I set up my stuff, disturbing a deer in the process who barks and bounds off into the woods.

What appeared to be a good spot turns into an angry humming nightmare as hungry midges appear and start to feast. I find haste in setting up my shelter and, whilst cursing the little devils, I thank the stars it’s not raining. I crash out in my make-shift tent, but trying to shut down immediately after protracted exercise, food and the ever present brimming adrenalin makes for some spasmodic sleep.