Cooking up a storm

As the long, hot summer of 2018 broke, and rain finally lashed Wales, Paolo Coppo donned his chef’s apron to dish up the grub for riders in the 2018 Mille Cymru at the Llanwrtyd Wells night control point. It was hard work – but preferable to actually taking part!

Day one Pea and mint soup (vegetarian, gluten-free) Vegetable chilli with rice (v, gf) Pasta with chicken, bacon and leek Fruit crumble (v)

Day two Lentil soup (v, gf) Vegetable tagine with cous (v) Beef cawl (gf) Trifle (gf)

LLANWRTYD WELL’S CLAIM to fame is that it’s the smallest town in Britain and host to the World Alterative Games, where you can compete in disciplines such as “worm charming” against the best of the best.

It was a glamorous place back in Victorian times: an information display at the main crossroads tells of fashionable crowds coming from London to bathe in the spa waters, which goes a long way to explain the abundance of tastefully decorated three storey guest houses.

Llanwrtyd was also the night control of the Mille Cymru, where I spent 48 hours during a hot, then wet and then blustery late July.

MC1K was an event I wanted to get involved with, but I figured I had seen enough of Wales over the previous 12 months, courtesy of the Bryan Chapman Memorial and a good number of calendar events. The reality might be somewhat different and more along the lines of being too scared to even consider riding a selection of a thousand of the hilliest kilometres in Wales over 75 hours. Either way, volunteering at the event is a viable option – a slice of the action at a fraction of the sweat. And the centre of the action

❝It was a glamorous place back in Victorian times

❞

Alternative town… Llanwrtyd Wells under a threatening sky

Veggie filler… Tagine for day two

was going to be Llanwrtyd.

There are many jobs to do at a night control and everyone seems to fit into a role that suits – I feel at ease in a kitchen. Being the only meat eater in the control group, meant I was put in charge of “all things meat”, which I enjoyed very much. In my reckless youth I spent a whole summer slogging 80 hours a week in the kitchen of a three star hotel in Courmayeur and it was nice to be back cooking for crowds 25 years later. The organisation was faultless throughout and the relatively small number of riders in the event meant there was time to prepare well in advance. In fact, by 7pm we were pretty much ready to welcome them. By 9pm nobody had shown up and we began to wonder whether anyone would actually make the overnight control at all.

The afternoon had been swelteringly hot, hardly the ideal weather to go up the barren slopes of the Gospel Pass. Finally, the first rider rolled in at 9.45pm, soon followed by a slow trickle of lean, strong riders, covered in salt from copious sweating. It is fair to say, randonneurs are not the hardest customers to please and nothing was sent back to the kitchen, to my knowledge. Nobody commented on the fact that the chicken, leek and bacon penne was well overcooked after sitting on a heated surface for an hour or more – in fact some even came back for seconds.

Randonneurs don’t eat much either, certainly not at the Mille Cymru, one of those few events in the calendar where the average BMI is within the recommended guidelines. I was basing my estimates on my own portions, which clearly must be oversize, given I was eating leftover beef stew at every meal more than a week after I left Llanwrtyd.

One would think that 200 hilly miles a day would be enough to build up a healthy appetite, but very few managed to eat their way through all three courses, although many took advantage of the trifle. The custard jug needed to be constantly topped up.

Time flies when you’re “in control”, and it was soon time to pack up and move on, as riders left, heading to North Wales for the final stage of their epic saga. As I left, all hell broke loose and rain came down in buckets. While riders were getting soaked in Snowdonia, I had time to reflect on the experience.

The highs? Seeing the rain, after nearly two months of absence; “wine o’clock” just before gathering for dinner; the excellent company of awesome volunteers; finding a mobile phone signal to send a text to my wife (it’s in the middle of the bridge, by the way).

The lows? Having left the bike at home; having left the rain jacket at home; and the warm ale!

❝Randonneurs are not the hardest customers to please, and nothing was sent back to the kitchen

❞

Lunch o’clock… taking a break for refreshement