To Hay-on-Wye: Gospel Pass again

June 12, 2024

I didn’t do the best job of scoping out today’s ride to Hay-on-Wye. I just checked out its metrics (or statutories, since we record our distances in miles): 22 miles, 2,200 feet; and the shape of the profile - one long, fairly lazy looking climb for most of the ride, and then a steep drop at the end.

That sounded easy enough, until I checked back to see what it was like the last time we covered this distance going the other direction. That’s the first I realized we’d be climbing over Gospel Pass high in the Black Mountains again, the site of an epic ride that’s still strong in my memory. I warned Rachael last night that there’s a climb involved, but later she’ll feel I hadn’t given her fair warning. It’ll be a challenge.

So there’s some anxiety in the team about just how hard this ride might be when we set out. We’ve also got our eye on the sky though, hoping the weather cooperates for us. We don’t want to be up at bare, exposed Gospel Pass if the weather turns foul, as can certainly happen on short notice in the mountains. We just have to think back to our outings two days ago for a reminder of that fact.

As we leave our apartment for the last time I turn to Rachael and state that we’d better make Hay while the sun shines, pleased with myself for having found the perfect old saw for the situation. And we’re off.

Leaving Abergavenny, likely for the last time.

Still leaving Abergavenny, but it’s warming up already so the coats get shed within the first mile. The climb helps with that.

I tell Rachael that it’s generally uphill the first seventeen miles, but that’s really just to prepare her for the worst. She always she’s happier expecting things will be harder than they end up proving out to be so she’s mentally prepared. Actually though once we make it past that first hill leaving town there’s not much pain involved for the next hour as our road climbs only 600 feet in the next ten miles at a reasonably steady grade. There are the occasional rises and falls, but nothing of any real consequence.

We’re on a quiet road, well paved, and wide enough so that we rarely have to stop or dismount to give way for a passing vehicle. For a long time we bike through the most characteristic setting of the region - a tunnel of green, walled in by hedgerows on either side and sometimes under the cover of overarching hardwoods. When we can see through or over the green wall though, the terrain around us is getting increasingly dramatic and even a little frightening as we see high ground all around and aren’t sure how our road is going to penetrate it. Its no problem though - we’re following the granule course of the Honddu River along the deep gap it’s carved into the Black Mountains.

We gradually gain elevation, cycling through a tunnel of green.

Pretty animals. Any idea what the breed is?

The shaded green canopy gives the ride a mysterious air.

This shot gives a good perspective on our situation. Were following the steadily narrowing Honddu valley as it cuts through the steep-sided hills on either side.

We’re well into the ride when I stop for a look at the charming Capel y Ffin chapel, a unique structure with a lopsided bellcote that I remember from our last time through. I stop to admire it again, as well as the row of impressive age-old cypresses that front it. Rachael continues on, not wanting to break her momentum, and I won’t see her again until the summit.

The chapel was built in 1762. I imagine this row of trees must date back to the same time.

I don’t stay long, so I don’t think I’m really that far behind Rachael though I can’t say because we’ve lost reception up in these hills and I can’t track her location. I don’t want her to be waiting too long at the exposed, likely windy summit so I keep a good, steady pace - until I can’t toward the end when the fun ends and the road ramps up significantly. Surprisingly I’ve caught up enough that she’s in view and probably even within shouting distance, so she probably stopped off for a walk in the weeds somewhere.

The change is abrupt. One minute I’m climbing at 3-5% and suddenly these 14-16% ramps start interrupting the flow. At one point I pull off to let a car pass and a group of about eight club riders passes me at the same time. They’re biking at my pace so I stay about fifty yards behind them for the next mile - and when they all suddenly pull up, dismount and start walking it’s my cue to do the same.

They’re all starting to weave and labor. We’ll all dismount soon.

The really steep part only lasts for maybe a quarter mile, and then comes a cattle guard, a sign to keep clear of the free range animals, and then everything changes again. We’re up in the moors, you can see forever, and the land is littered with sheep and a few horses.

Past the cattle guard the climb levels off enough to be mangable again.

Its scenes like this especially that make me happy to have returned to the UK.

Rachael’s waiting for me at the top, but fortunately hasn’t been here so long that she’s frozen solid yet. It’s been a hard climb at the end but I tell her that at least we went up the easier side this time. That sets her off, and she quickly corrects me - it’s not easier, it’s just less awful.

We don’t stay around for long - just enough to pan the stunning views, take a few pics, and layer up for the descent. Just as we’re about to get back on the bikes I look up the road and see a parade of four horses walking toward us. By the time I get the camera aimed their way two of them have disappeared into the bracken, but I’m lucky to have seen what I did before they drop off the road and join their gang of six.

It’s pretty cold and windy up here and the chill will get much worse on the five mile drop coming up. Time to layer up again, including the hands.

The view back down Honddu Valley, the route we just climbed up. I liked catching that sheep standing in the feed bin. He was in it when I passed him on the way up but jumped out when I approached.

The ride down is fantastic, dropping off the end of the world, rushing past sheep on the side or scattering ones standing in the road until they bolt just before we near, controlling our speed and watching our brakes the whole way. By the time we finally level out right at the outskirts of town both of our hands ache from clutching the brake levers for the last twenty minutes.

A fantastic road, one that makes me think of the Pyrenees.

I only stop this once on the descent. It’s cold, and we’re ready to get to shelter. And more importantly, we want to reach our hotel before they end lunch service.

Video sound track: Ghost Beads, by Oregon

We make it to our lodging, the Swan Hotel, at 1:55. Our timing is perfect - our room has just become available and lunch is still served for another half hour. We’re not late for it.

Another local brew, an HPA. I’m familiar with several variations on pale ales, but HPA is a new one on me so I ask. A Hereford Pale Ale, obviously.

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Today's ride: 22 miles (35 km)
Total: 2,082 miles (3,351 km)

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Bob KoreisNot Easier, Just Less Awful. That would make a good title for something.
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2 months ago

Betsy EvansBeautiful ride!
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2 months ago