Pyrenees Traverse 2016

Day 1 Elgoibar 3 am and I climbed into Richard’s car. Some breakfast at the airport while we waited filled some time. We retrieved our bikes at Bilbao after the plane had landed slightly early. It seemed an age to rebuild the bits and then once underway sort out all the rattles and rubbings caused by refitted mudguards and saddlebags. Out on the road it was hot so it was good to have a steady ride on the flat. A cycle event was underway. Roads were closed to traffic but they let us ride through. We took a turn which took us up a long climb. At the top there was a little lane which looked inviting so we headed along that. Indeed lanesy riding is the best. At Astebarra a café looked inviting. I opted for lemon beer. Now that was very refreshing so it would have been rude not to have seconds. Stella Radler was the brew. The sandwich went down well too.

We were now into the foothills in the Basque country. Up we climbed to drop away and then another climb. We always kept things steady in the heat. My front tyre decided the heat was too much so a stop was indicated on this next descent. Fixed and repumped we had one last (but the easiest) climb before we descended into the valley for the Hotel. Being a Sunday an evening meal looked to be very scarce. I found a fruit shop and made do with a big fruity dessert. 43 miles and over 5000 feet climbed today.

Day 2 Ezkurra Our first Spanish breakfast was a bit of a strange arrangement. We managed tho’ and headed out of town with my sat nav taking us onto a main road. By the time we had climbed out of the valley the error had been recognised but we were now where we needed to be so that was that. We dropped to Azpieta on an horrendously busy road. Azpieta isn’t much fun either and Richard and I got separated. After a few false exits

and asking in a bar I find the correct road out. What a relief to get on a lovely quiet road even if it goes upward for quite a way. It’s in all of this that my helmet gets lost, falling off the back of the bike after a stop. I only brought it to fend off the Spanish authorities if things got that way. Richard takes a slightly bigger road out of town which turns out to have less climbing on the opposite side of the valley but we meet up at Bidania for lunch. The scenery was now superb with the foothills growing to substantial sized mountains. Ezkurra turned out to be a lovely picturesque village in the mountains. What a great spot to stop at. Quite a bit of climbing today with each climb being ~5 miles. 46 miles and nearly 7000 feet climbed today. Day 3 St Jean Pied de Port After a small breakfast (do they ever eat in Spain?) we took a lovely cool descent into a bit of a busy transport corridor. It was fairly easy and quick riding but the route was shadowing and even using bits of busy road. Time to just ride. At last the turning came for the Col de Ispeguy. Now the road was quiet and as I rode up the valley I could see the wall I had to ascend looming above me. In the end the col was very nicely graded and it was a joy to ride. At the top the country and the scenery changed. France had more crags and dramatic scenery as well as vultures circling. The Spanish side had been more soft and rural. Oddly the French thought the col was 672 meters while the Spanish thought 690 meters. As I dropped off to St Etienne de Baigorry red and black kites

were apparent. St Etienne has a lovely old church and bridge and a kingfisher flashed along the river. Time to stop for lunch and the Plat du Jour went down well. Richard had been taking his time (not that I was rushing) so I decided I would drop my saddlebag off at the Hotel in St Jean and take in a loop. The hotel lady was very obliging and I was soon riding up a lovely valley. However two cols were ahead of me. The Col d’Haltza is really just a top whereby a small descent takes one onto the Col de Burdincurutcheta. These two were tough climbs with 11% featuring a lot. I reached a lovely spot just over the summit where a café invited me in for some well-earned hydration. I now headed off on a loop which Madame had indicated only had a little bit of climbing on it. I thought the first little bit was it but then the second bit arrived. Finally the proper little bit appeared and whilst it wasn’t a major col it wasn’t easy either. It was very much worthwhile tho’ as the mountains and the landscapes were huge. When the descent came it was on a poor surface and a narrow road and quite technical and steep. Brake blocks heated up my rims significantly. A rider came the other way “dancing” on the pedals. I wish it was that easy for me. Down in amongst the villages the sign said “Route Barre”. The detour took me up some steep little climbs on lovely lanes. Those extra wee climbs I could have done without. 79 miles and nearly 9500 feet climbed today and I’d been properly introduced to Pyrenean climbing. Day 4 Montory After my earlier experiences with the puncture in the heat and the very hot rims yesterday I bought a couple of spare inner tubes while I could at the bike shop in St Jean. Richard and I then dodged around some little lanes to bring us onto the valley run and the climb over the Haltza and Burdincurutcheta. If I’d thought ahead I would have chosen a different loop yesterday but no worries it’s all good. The climbs seemed to go more easily this time even with the extra load of the saddlebag. We stopped at the little café again and Madame remembered my order from yesterday so I got my “usual”. Richard had a puncture. It

www.aukweb.net took an age for him to sort it all out and he really hadn’t diagnosed the problem. We headed up the next col as the Burdincurutcheta isn’t the top really. This bit wasn’t too hard and by the time we crested the Col Bagargui we had stunning views over the Pyrenean peaks. The descent was steep and the valley run to Larrau was hot. So ice cream called in Larrau. Not far now along the valley but I took a little diversion by Haux along a lovely quiet lane. There was some climbing but definitely worth the effort. Richard had punctured again on the descent. He blamed his rim tape for the problem. So tomorrow he will detour to Oloron St Marie for a bike shop and new rim tape. That route won’t have any climbing. I’ll stay on route and do some Tour de France famous ones. 43 miles and over 7000 feet of climbing today. Day 5 Eaux Bonnes Richard headed off for Oloron and a bike shop whilst I headed back towards Larrau. The turn for St Engrace appeared and I found the initial stages of the climb to be quite quick up the valley but after St Engrace the 11% started. The Col de Souscousse was absorbed into the clouds when I got there. Cool for climbing but not so pleasant for descending. Indeed my water proof went on and my brakes were deployed as the mists were clouding my specs. Dropping below the weather things improved and warmed up. At Arrette at the bottom of the valley art work depicting cyclists and bikes were on display. There was a bike shop too. Just a shame that we didn’t know this as Richard could have done the climbing too.

It was lunchtime but I felt the need to just ride so I took a fairly brisk run to turn for the famous Col de Marie Blanc. It starts fairly easily but ramps up steeply over the final kms, first 11%, then 12% and finally 13%. Ouch. Thank goodness it’s not too long. Plenty of riders were descending with their warm kit on. The clouds were down when I got to the top but not as badly as before. I descended into the Ossau valley to take a minor road into Eaux Bonnes. Those last kms were uphill too and some drizzle had begun. The forecast had been for rain. It had turned out better than that. Eaux Bonnes is a spa town at the foot of the Col d’Aubisque. Guess where tomorrow would take us. Richard had his new rim tape fitted and done no climbing at all today. I wonder if he just wanted a day off. 66 miles and nearly 11,000 feet climbed today. Day 6 Bareges It was straight out of the door and onto the Aubisque. It took at least 3 miles before my legs would answer politely and it wasn’t very quick at all. The gradient wasn’t too bad at 8% but enough of a challenge on unwoken legs. We climbed and climbed through mists with the scenery very much hidden. We began to emerge a bit from the mists near the top where glimpses of high peaks could be snatched. I must do this again on a better day. At the summit is a café which must be visited. It has historical pictures of epic cycling adventures on these slopes. We dropped a little way from the summit to get some sense of the Corniches below cloud level with the Col du Soulor in the distance.

The Soulor isn’t too tricky from this side; it’s a sort of bump on the descent really. Descending the Soulor was fun and down in the valley we took the upper route which required a bit more climbing to avoid Argeles-Gazost. Dropping into a quiet valley the sun came through and a café magically appeared. Time for a stop. Richard stuck to the busy valley road while I got off it as soon as I could to take a minor road up on the valley side. We’d both ridden through a stunning gorge before the split. We regrouped (despite my extra climb) magically where I rejoined the main road just outside Luz St Sauveur. By now rain and thunder and lightning had begun. The power went down as we began to climb the Col du Tourmalet. The hotel was some way ahead on the slopes but it was time to be indoors. Seeing soaking cyclists turning up our hosts had a laugh saying they were full. All good fun as we could still see the funny side. 46 miles and over 9000 feet climbed today. Day 7 Loudenvielle We took an early start this morning after a huge evening meal. It was straight out onto the Tourmalet. I’ve ridden this climb before so had some memories of bits of the road. I spotted where my family had stayed on that previous holiday as we rode through Bareges. At the corner where the Botanical Gardens used to be a big car park and skiing infrastructure now makes something of an eyesore. As I progressed laden by my saddlebag riders would come past, usually not all that much quicker. Then two riders whizzed past at Tour de France pace. Just amazing to see. The views were superb and as I got higher I recognised “Marmot Corner” where my kids had played while I was pretending to be in the Polka Dot jersey all those years ago. It does get steeper nearer the top as it always did and now there is a photographic service near the summit if you wish to buy a personal memento. At the top it’s busy with motor cyclists and other petrol powered folks all vying for photos of the summit sign and the famous cycling statue.

The café there provided some expensive coffee and tart too. After much sightseeing and photo opportunities it was time to go. It was great fun descending with my speed exceeding 40 mph at times. Not Tour de France descending pace but the roads aren’t closed for me (that’s my excuse anyway).

24 Arrivée May 2017 No. 136 At the bottom St Marie de Campon has a statue commemorating the famous broken forks incident from a very early Tour de France. I headed for the Col d’Aspin which begins fairly easily at first and when a group of Spanish riders came up to me I sat in on a wheel. They seemed happy with that. Then it began to ramp up a bit and I had to let them go. Saddlebag free makes a difference. The Aspin wasn’t too bad at all. It’s never too steep and most of the climbing is over ~3 miles. The Spaniards were at the top and we exchanged grins and thumbs up. The views were amazing away into the valley. Having taken in the views I watched a lass depart for the descent. I followed after a wee while and caught and passed her about halfway down. Neither of us was hanging about as I do like a good descent. At the bottom I stopped to check my route and she appeared to give me the thumbs up on my descending prowess. Takes one to know one I reckon. At Arreau it’s lunchtime but I crack on anyway as it’s getting hot. I take the western leg around the lake at Loudenvielle where a café provides me with some small refreshment and then as I enter Loudenvielle a supermarket provides some lovely fruit and a blood red peach I’ve never come across before. Being early I make a tour of the village and its surroundings until it’s time to check in. 45 miles and over 7000 feet climbed today.

Day 8 Col de Mente Today we began by taking on the Col de Peyresourde. The climb went quite well and the road not too busy. I had a plan to do a diversion while Richard took an easier route. However, I was having so much fun on the descent around the hairpins I dropped too far and had to climb back up to my turn. My route took me up a lovely valley to climb in superb scenery and peace to the Port de Bares. This was a lovely route so I took my time to enjoy it. The descent was narrow on a bumpy and gravelly technical road. So fearless descending was ruled out and my brake blocks got the work out instead. The trees in this part of the mountains were

beginning to show signs of autumn. Some lovely colours were to be admired. I stopped at the bottom in Mauleon Barousse where a noisy old Frenchman was holding court in the café. I came in for some Tour de France jesting while I enjoyed my drink. It was a fairly easy run to St Beat where the climb to the Col de Mente begins. It was hot again. I found this one tough in the heat and perhaps because this was my third big col of the day. I got there tho’ in plenty of time for some beer before the obligatory shower and dinner. What a lovely spot this is at the top of a col with the natural world all around. 53 miles and over 10,000 feet of uphill today. Day 9 Pont De La Taule Just for a change we could start by going downhill this morning. I was expecting it to be quite cold at 4500 feet first thing in the morning but it wasn’t. Even descending in a simple road jersey was comfortable. The Col de Portet d’Aspet comes next and the Fabio Casartelli monument. A lady came over and we had quite a chat (as far as my limited French would go anyway). It seems there is a

society who looks after the monument and greets visitors. Eventually I said my goodbyes and took to the climbing. This one isn’t too bad being ~3 miles in length. The descent was quite technical with very tight hairpin bends. On the flattish bit my saddle broke. Aw shucks. I fiddled about and eventually secured it with a cable tie. Essential equipment is cable ties. The long climb to the summit of the Col de Core might be a bit of a mental challenge for some as the summit can be seen from a long way down the valley. By now such mind games were behind me tho’. At the top a German party, van supported,

were taking in the views. I took the opportunity to have a bite to eat and spoke with a couple of the riders whose English was excellent. I dropped off into the oven as it was hot again lower down. At Seix I’d just missed the café lunch time so had to go hungry. There were at least two groups of riders from the UK tho’. I did manage to get some cold mineral water from a Pizza wagon as they were shutting up shop and they pointed me at the fountain to fill my bottles. It wasn’t far then to the Hotel but I had plenty of time in hand so I rode up the dead end but beautiful valley road by Conflens to Salau following the river all the way as it cascaded over boulders amongst the trees. Here I found a bar which offered the chance of some refreshment. Inside hung numerous medals and a Masters World Champion Cyclo Cross jersey. I was in the presence of greatness and my lady host was arranging some wonderful bikes within her stable. The return down the valley was easy and our hosts at the Hotel discussed the European Brown Bear situation in the local hills. It seems the population is doing well despite some opposition from some of the locals. 56 miles and more than 7500 feet climbed today.

Day 10 Tarascon sur Ariege With grey wagtails and dippers on the river outside we completed breakfast and took to the Col de Latrape. It wasn’t a difficult climb it turned out as it wasn’t too long or steep. The descent was narrow and then we were faced with a long haul up the Col d’Agnes. This was followed by a short descent to a mountain lake before a beautiful climb on

Day 11 Axat It was wet from the off today. Richard took to the busy valley road while I headed upwards for the Route des Corniches. It seemed familiar and indeed it was as I’d ridden this road on one of the GV tours not many years ago. Despite the weather it is a lovely road and I did get to view some of the spectacular rocky crags and pillars. Further along the cable cars bring Talc from mines high up on the mountain to the valley for processing. I climbed to the Col de Marmare as I’d done once before and then followed this with the Col de Chioula. Still the rain fell. On the long 10% haul to the Col de Pailheres it was merely misty. Well that’s an improvement. The Pailheres is high 2007 meters and it was cold up there. I put extra clothing on for the descent but not enough it transpired. I was frozen on the way down. Now that climb and descent needs to be done again in better weather. On the descent there were some lovely mountain villages and I found Richard, who had taken the easier route, on the way down. He and I were attempting to take photos but my camera had misted up in the conditions so I got on with attempting to warm up. The route took us lower and lower through some wonderful gorges. Gorges de l’Aube was superb but the Gorges de St-Georges were narrow and very spectacular. Axat lay beyond and it was good to get in to dry out and warm up. 61 miles and more than 10500 feet of climbing today.

Day 12 Perpignan I had a plan to complete the main traverse route which was too much for Richard. His plan was to take the flat and shorter route

Eventually I reached the summit of the Col de Jau where I spoke with a Frenchman who was training to ride a local circuit of 80 km and 2400 meters of ascent. I didn’t say anything about what I’d been achieving, just gave him a lot of encouragement. “Bravo”. The Col de Jau marked a climatic change in the landscape. I’d ridden from the temperate zone into the drier Mediterranean zone. The flora told me so. I dropped off Jau towards Prades but took a higher route to avoid the busy National. Eventually I crossed it with only a short section to ride. Canigou is the mountain which dominates the view now and my route would take me up onto its flanks. The climb was on a fairly steady gradient but I was flagging a bit so when a likely café appeared I made an effort to carry my bike down several flights of steps only to find it closed and so have to carry the bike back up. So I stopped for a picnic using my emergency rations. I was watching my height gain from time to time on the Sat Nav so I was a tad surprised when the descent appeared and I lost 250 feet. That was to get me across a ravine and then I had to regain that height before I could get higher. Such is climbing I suppose. At the top of the Col de Palomeres the Mediterranean lay ahead. It was an easy climb to the Col de Xatard with cork oaks having been harvested of bark showing along the way. Now I dropped down into the vineyards with one vineyard in full harvest mode. I found myself on a superb cycle path until I ran into school coming out time and the path full of mums. Not long now and I was at the hotel. Richard had beaten me to it despite his detour to the Gorge de Galamus, a gorge I remember well from a GV Tour. 81 miles and over 10000 feet of climbing again. Day 13 Mediterranean Today was an extra day as one had been planned to enable logistical issues to be sorted out. In the event the logistics had proved to be much simpler so I took the opportunity to ride to St Cyprien Plage for a dip in the Med. The ride was fairly uneventful although traffic at the coast could have been lighter and I could have done without the horrid head wind which had sprung up. Nevertheless I got a lovely swim in the sea.

Author Unknown

small roads to the Port de Lers. On this summit 3 French riders helped out with the obligatory photo opportunity. It seemed no one was keen to chat tho’. Sometimes it’s nice to be quiet. Descending took me back into the oven so I stopped at Vicdessos for the Plat du Jour and a top up of my bottles. It was then a very easy roll on to Tarascon sur Ariege where I decided it was too hot for much more. It was only 14:30 and the hotel wasn’t open so I spent some time attempting to sort my broken saddle out a bit better. The cable tie had done well so for a more robust fix I replaced it with some garden wire I had “acquired”. The heat was tiring today with only 41 miles but the climbing was 7000 feet.

www.aukweb.net into Perpignan. I’d be taking on a lot of miles and just a bit of climbing. So I headed back up the river through the Gorges de StGeorges to climb out of the gorge. The climb was long and steady and sometimes rather slow. The German group I’d chatted with a few days ago came past and we exchanged cheery hellos. My usual tactic when climbing long climbs is to enjoy the flora and fauna as I progress. I was passing large clumps of autumn crocus, something I usually see in gardens at home as an unusual plant. Here it grows wild. It wasn’t the first time I’d spotted it on this trip but it seemed I’d found a hot spot for it.

OCD Manoeuvres in the Dark

with Bob Damper

Two of the more distinctive aspects of Audax cycling are: (1) riding around the clock and (2) routes that eschew busy main roads and take in the more scenic—and often therefore hillier—highways and byways. So we might well expect that big climbs have occasionally to be undertaken after dark. Those of us who enjoy climbing will usually explain to doubters that our enjoyment is not really masochistic but is based on tangible rewards like the liberating feeling of finding oneself “above the everyday world”, extensive views across open, unspoilt country and (at least for cyclists like me who only very rarely ride fixed wheel in hilly country) fast, exhilarating, effort-less descents. But if the truth be told, few of these claimed rewards are to be had after dark. Whereas our wilder, high places certainly have a special quality at night, when it is comparatively rare to see any form of traffic and it is often possible to gaze up at dark skies and experience a deep sense of isolated communion with nature, views are generally non-existent and simple self-preservation dictates that descents are undertaken at a speed that takes account of dramatically reduced visibility of road conditions and hazards. It can, of course, also be damned cold high up at night! Back in May of last year, I was musing over entering the 2016 National 400 from Biggin near Hartington in the Peak District. Not having looked carefully at the details of the route at that point, there seemed every chance of some big climbs (and corresponding OCD claims) overnight. As it turned out, the night section was mostly limited to pretty flat roads across the Cheshire plain coming back from North Wales, but still this had got me thinking about what I have called (with due apologies to Andy McCluskey and Paul Humphreys) “OCD Manoeuvres in the Dark”. How many of my own claims, I wondered, were for nighttime ascents and were any of these especially memorable by virtue of it being dark? So I have looked back over my records to discover that very few were in the hours of darkness, just seven in fact. This is few enough that I can tell you a little about all of them in this article without (I hope) boring your Sealskinz socks off. 20 April 1962, Carn yr Arian, Powys, 342 metres: Back in 1962 there was no Powys, and this hill would then have been in the county of Brecon. I wrote about it in my recent “53 Years of CycloClimbing” article (Arrivée vol. 130, pp. 14-16), in which I nominated it as one of my three least enjoyed climbs. I’m sure it would have been a lovely ascent in better circumstances, but I was just 13 years old at the time, on my first ever solo cycle tour, and earlier that day (Good Friday) I had suffered a hub spindle breakage which delayed me for some 8 hours. I was hurrying desperately to get to Ystradfellte hostel (where I had a pre-paid booking) before it closed at 10pm and had no money to pay for alternative accommodation. If memory serves me, this remote The pathetic lights I used on Carn yr Arian in 1962 were pretty much like these. The front light on the left is a genuine Ever Ready, but the rear light is actually an Oldham

mountain hostel did not have a phone - it was the early 1960’s after all - so I wasn’t able to call (from a phone box, of course) and explain my situation. It was cold, pitch black and all I had to see by was my truly pathetic Ever Ready front battery light. For the technically-minded, these used a Leclanché (dry-cell) zinc-carbon battery with very poor energy density and (because they had a sort of cardboard-like casing) the disarming habit of all but disintegrating when they got wet. They also had very flimsy spring-metal terminals that made poor contact with the bulb and on-off screw connector on top of the case. To complete the tale of woes, the terminals were only weakly attached to the battery cells (by some sort of glue, as I recall) and were prone to coming detached, resulting in total failure. We thought ourselves great wags in those distant boyhood days and it was our habit to refer whimsically to these pitiful lights as Never Ready, a case of many a true word spoken in jest. Even on this dark night, there was infinitely more illumination from the moon than from my front light. Anyway, I’m pleased to say that I made it to the hostel (just) in time, and lived to climb another day.

24 December 1978, Slochd Pass, Highland, 401 metres: This is a bit of a marginal one as it was dusk for most of the ascent rather than truly dead-of-night black. But night comes early in these far northern parts around the winter equinox and daylight was certainly at a premium when I reached the summit late in the afternoon. It was my Christmas tour (again a solo hostelling trip) and I rode this day from Inverness to Aviemore. As an alternative to Ever Ready, I was using a Miller tyre-driven dynamo. Although a huge step up on dry-cell battery lighting, the Miller relied on spring pressure to hold the dynamo pulley in frictional contact with the tyre side-wall. As such, it not only led to very noticeable drag, it also had the disarming feature of slipping in wet weather. It was mid-winter in Scotland, I was high up in the Cairngorm Mountains, and there was no shortage of slush and snow to stop my dynamo from working consistently.

The Slochd Pass is the main A9 road and traffic was quite heavy on this Christmas Eve, so not having reliable lighting after dark was a bit of a concern. In those days, with considerations of weight and financial outlay uppermost, it would not have occurred to us to have a back-up lighting system. After all, this was nearly 40 years ago and there was nothing else available at that time that was really any less problematic. As a postscript, the next day I followed the snow plough over Drumochter Pass for my first and (so far) only Christmas Day OCD claim.

26 August 1987, Roc de Trévézel, Finistère, 349 metres: This climb will, of course, be very familiar to all of you who have ridden PBP as it is the highest point on the route. On the outward journey, I went over the Roc in broad daylight during the late afternoon of Tuesday 25 August and then had a few hours rest at Brest before setting off back to Paris very late in the evening. With a welcome strong tail wind, I reached the top just after midnight. Recollections of the climb are hazy to say the least. I have a vague memory of seeing the lights of Morlaix from the summit, so it ought to have been a very clear night, but against that version of events, I also seem to recall it was cold and very misty on the descent to Huelgoat.

My back-up lighting system for PBP’87 was front and rear Wonderlites, socalled because it was a wonder if you ever got any usable light out of them.

My main lighting system was a Sanyo Dynapower dynamo that fitted under the bottom bracket. This was a popular choice at the time. It had a large roller held by spring pressure on to the top of the tyre. This was an improvement on earlier dynamos like Miller and Lucifer that relied on a small diameter pulley and tyre side-wall contact, not least because when it was new and working well, the drag was very much less. However, its placement just aft of the bottom bracket meant that all kinds of muck got thrown up onto it from the road. Consequently, the bearings quickly got shot, resulting in slippage, vibration and other undesirable effects. My back-up system - sadly needed when the Sanyo started to slip in pre-dawn rain - consisted of the so-called Wonderlites powered by alkaline batteries. Although they used the same zinc-carbon chemistry as the bad old dry-cell batteries, they did have much better energy density and (by virtue of a light metal casing) were a lot more robust. Still, I think they were called Wonderlites because it was a wonder if you got any decent light out of them. If memory serves me, they were of French manufacture, but there was an American firm selling copies. The lights themselves were desperately flimsy things, being made out of some lightweight plastic, with a plastic bracket featuring a kind of thumbwheel and clamp that allowed you to fit the lights quickly and easily to handlebars, seat stay, or other convenient fixing point on the bike. That was the theory anyway.

9 April 1995, Pengenffordd, Powys, 327 metres: Sometimes known as the Rhiangoll Pass after the little river that rises at Pengenffordd and drains to the south into the Usk, this is the summit of the scenic A479 across the Black Mountains between Talgarth and Crickhowell. On this occasion, I climbed it in the twilight The Sanyo Dynapower bottom-bracket dynamo was my main lighting system for Paris-Brest-Paris in 1987 but proved unreliable.

www.aukweb.net from Talgarth on the late Nik Peregrine’s Welsh Borders 300. I suffered dreadfully on the entire second half of this 300 from the after-effects of flu in the previous week, and really should not have been riding at all. As I say, it was twilight rather than really dark, but as I had lights on for the full ascent, I reckon it counts as one of my manoeuvres. I have an abiding memory of passing the pub at the summit; it looked so cheery and welcoming with lights ablaze, people chatting happily in the bar, and a sign outside saying something tempting like “Fine Ales & Wines - Accommodation”. And I still had 60-odd kilometres to do back to Chepstow. What an effort it took to ignore the lure of this remote mountain hostelry and keep turning the cranks! Still, I did subsequently stay a very pleasant night here on a tour of Wales in August 2003. Back in those days, the pub was sensibly named the Castle Inn (after the nearby Castell Dinas, the highest castle in England and Wales) but I noticed on this year’s Bryan Chapman Memorial 600 that it is now called the Dragon’s Back. I do hate it when long-standing and meaningful pub names get changed on some commercial whim without a care for history, heritage or tradition. Although I had by this time started to go away from using the Sanyo dynamo in favour of rechargeable batteries, and my usual Audax bike of that period (an F. W. Evans) was so equipped, for some reason I did this ride on my 1958 Gillott, lit by an aged Sanyo Dynapower very much on its last legs. I think my reasoning was that I had paid good money for the thing, and I was damn well going to use it until such time as it expired (which it did soon enough afterwards on that year’s National 400). Wonderlites used an MN1203 alkaline battery.

21 May 1995, Llanberis Pass, Gwynedd, 359 metres: This was ridden in the dead of night on the way back from Menai Bridge to Dolgellau on the Bryan Chapman 600. It was a truly dreadful ascent. I was behind schedule, cold, tired and jet-lagged, having flown back from Los Angeles on the previous Thursday night, got my bike ready, packed and travelled to Wales on the Friday, and then got up pre-dawn Saturday to start the ride. Not the best preparation for a 600. Although the climb was horrid, the subsequent descent to Beddgelert was spectacularly scenic - also spectacularly cold - as dawn was breaking on what turned out to be a beautiful May day. I did not see another rider at all between Llanberis and Dolgellau, I presume because everyone except me had the good sense to grab some shuteye at either the Menai Bridge or Dolgellau control around the witching hour. The ’95 BCM remains the one and only Audax that I have ever started and not completed in time. In more recent times, the BCM route has been revised so that Llanberis Pass is now climbed in daylight on the way out to Menai Bridge. I guess this counts as an improvement. As for lighting, by the mid-90’s, rechargeable batteries and halogen bulbs had pretty much revolutionised night-time cycling. On my Evans, I had ditched the Sanyo Dynapower for a “Swinford” system designed and marketed by Oxfordshire cyclist John Bridgeman, assisted by a Colin someone. (Neither John nor I can remember his full name.) John had it made by a company in Swinford, near Eynsham in Oxfordshire, hence the name. It was based on a rechargeable 6V sealed lead-acid battery driving proprietary Union front and rear lights. One drawback was that the battery was pretty bulky and weighed almost 1kg. As the burn time was something like 3-4 hours, I found it prudent on a long over-night Audax to carry two of them in my saddlebag, which was a bit of a burden.

As for a back-up, we were now firmly in the era of cheap, efficient, reliable, light, compact and, therefore, ubiquitous LED rear lights, exemplified by the excellent CatEye products, so there was really no longer any reason to worry about adequate rear lighting. However, cheap and efficient white-light emitting diodes, suitable for front illumination, were still a few years in the future.

17 October 2015, Llyn Brân, 448 metres: High up on the Denbighshire moors, Llyn Brân is a magical spot, especially after dark. It was a long, steady climb up from the beach café control at sea level at Pensarn to this moorland summit on Vicky Payne’s Clwydian 200, all of 15 miles in fact, with just a couple of short descents (into Llanfair Talhaiarn and then into Llansannan) for relief. I stopped to light up about 1½ miles (and 100m) short of the summit, at the cattle grid near Hafod Dafyyd. Although I had recently fitted my heavy-duty Dawes Galaxy with a Son dynohub, and very pleased with it I was too, I was on this occasion riding my Thorn Audax, and using a Cree LED front light with rechargeable lithium-ion battery (residing in a small top-tube frame bag), producing truly spectacular illumination for such a lightweight and low-cost system. (Sadly, this favourite little

28 Arrivée May 2017 No. 136 light was lost on Paul Whitehead’s Ebble & Wylie Valley 200: I unloaded the contents of my saddlebag into long roadside grass to get at a spare tube when I suffered a puncture and must have left it behind in the grass when I repacked.) My back-up was simply a duplicate of this same set-up (so I still have one that I can use). Reaching the summit at about 7pm, I was captivated to see Llyn Brân sparkling in the clear moonlight. Shortly after passing this little lake, I turned left to begin the wonderful (and welcome) descent to Llyn Brenig, and thence to journey’s end at Corwen, with the lights of the remote Sportsman’s Arms prominent on the moor to the west. This is the highest pub in Wales. One day, I hope to sample their hospitality (and beer). Vicky promotes this event by telling everyone “The last 20km are all downhill”, and she is right! This must be the finest end to any Audax anywhere, even in the dark. 15 October 2016, Llyn Bran, 448 metres: The previous year’s Clwydian 200 had proved an excellent opportunity to get some late OCD claims in, and I had enjoyed it so much that I was determined to do it again in 2016. I was marginally faster this time so it was not quite as dark for the ascent, and early on in the climb I could even see clearly the mountains of the Snowdon range off to the west, with the unmistakable outline of Tryfan especially prominent. Nevertheless, I lit up at exactly the same spot near Hafod Dafyyd and it was pretty dark at the summit, so I feel this qualifies as a manoeuvre. Once again, the lights of the Sportsman’s Arms attracted my attention across the moor, and once again I ignored its attractions and pushed on. For various reasons, I was riding my 1958 Gillott, not my usual Audax mount these days and lacking a dynohub. So I relied for illumination on a Busch and Müller IXON USB rechargeable front light giving out some 30 lux. Although this is way below the 70 lux output of the B&M Luxos IQ headlight fitted to my usual (Thorn) Audax bike, it was adequate for the last few miles of a 200. My back-up was a cheap and cheerful Electron Pod with Cree LED, which set me back just £5.99 from SJS Cycles. This is nonrechargeable, using a couple of CR2032 button-cell lithium batteries with a claimed 30 hours burn time. But don’t expect to be able to change the batteries when they expire. This requires undoing four tiny (1.5 mm) Allen screws that are so soft that the recess in the screw head rounds off when you apply any force with an Allen key. They are a throwaway item. Well, that’s all folks, at least for now. With winter well and truly upon us as I write, thoughts turn to next summer’s exploits, when I hope to add to this little list of OCD manoeuvres in the dark. The 2017 London-Edinburgh-London certainly offers promise in this regard, but it remains to be seen if any of the big climbs, like Yad Moss and the Devil’s Beef Tub, coincide with the hours of darkness. It all depends, of course, on the start time I get given and my speed on the road (or lack of it). I will at least get two shots at it, on the way out and on the way back, if I survive that far.