Preamble
A couple of years ago I took part, somewhere towards the rear of a charity sportive from Chester to the outskirts of Ruthin.
Although I didn’t make it into Ruthin proper the trip stirred memories not only of Ruthin and the trip over the Clwyd hills, but of other places once visited in that corner of Wales, all now shrouded in the haze of reverie. Having specifically planned the prologue on this basis, during the trip itself I was unaware of its charms. Only now as I edit the photos have the attractions and qualities of the places and landscape, we passed through become apparent, the whole experience has been revisited and revived. Dull monochrome replaced by vibrant colour - never has my slavish snapping been rewarded so immediately, freshly recast memories restored to their pedestals. Day 1 : Bala
So far 2013 had been cold, damp and windy - as we departed Chester there was little promise of change. 
Weather aside a pleasant morning's cycle was in prospect; warm up on the back roads down past Rosset, then turn left through Llay and up into the Clwydians, crossing via Llandegla moor before dropping down into Ruthin for lunch. A little short of the top on the old road just east of Bwlchwyn, the self-proclaimed highest village in Wales, with the roofs of Wrexham industrial estate in the distance... 
Now it was just a case of crossing Llandegla moor before dropping down into Ruthin for lunch. 
Yes, you get a photo of a "coffee shop and carvery" but don't expect any of the historic town with its charming and varied architecture. That said the carvery lived up to its name, a steady stream of hot roast pork/beef/lamb rolls washed down with custard tarts, pastries and coffee. Perfection, a menu cut from the very pages of Team Sky's intensive training diet. After the climb out of Ruthin, a chance encounter in in the Clocaenog forest - think you’re hard? 
No sense of threat on this bin-top navigation stop however, preceding yet another climb into the wind, but cloud starting to clear at last. 
Through Cerrigydrudion... 
...and south onto the A5 for a mile, wind whipping in from the west leaving us struggling to stay upright, and then west into the sun and the scenery. Cysgod Y Garn B&B acquired, just a few miles north of Bala, the photo here is nicked from the village web-site but even this publicity must be good, I'd thoroughly recommend it. 
Bikes parked in the back yard, time for tea and cake in a comfortable conservatory – very civilised. Further beautiful views framed by the bedroom window. 
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Ablutions complete, we were ready for the cab into Bala - "I'll take you to the cheapest pint in town". We turned down the cheapest pint (and a fair chance of a fight) opting instead for a real one in the White Lion Royal (no less) Hotel. 
The White Lion more or less sums up the town, it hasn't changed much in 40+ years and reminds me of the Highland villages and towns I visited in the holidays of my youth. Enough of the romance of travel in the colonies of England, time to eat but let's keep the period vibe. 
Displaying our innate sense of cultural and social curiosity it was time to head back to the WLRH and finish the evening - Taxi! Day 2 : Llangollen
The morning brought the usual Full English and an overdue mudguard adjustment; time to saddle up, once more into the murk! We re-traced our taxi ride down to Bala and then passed the end of the lake, barely stopping to glance far less photo the rain and mist obscuring one of the finest views in Britain - getting warm was the priority. This proved not to be a problem as we soon climbed up onto the moors and the cloud lifted for a while - splendid isolation, before dropping down into the Tanat Valley and more rain. 
Whilst I was swimming around trying to find the road north out of the valley - unknown to me the rest of the team was reclining in the pub at Llangynog taking morning coffee. We later met head on and reformed we climbed out of the valley then decended steeply into the next, Ceiriog Valley alighting at Llanarmon DC very ready for lunch. The West Arms met our requirements and yielded the following, due to feature as the back cover of our forthcoming LP. 
The viaduct and aqueduct at Chirk. 
A fascinating sight, but it does not make up for the lack of photos of the Ceiriog valley, much greener and softer than what has gone before, a beautiful hidden corner of these septic isles IMO. Still, the gentle incline down the valley with the Sun at last in evidence, provided us with a nice little blast, no time to explore Chirk though, Llangollen and the Cup Final beckoned! The final rise of the day took us up again threading between Chirk and its castle and cutting through Offa's Dyke, before plummeting (1 in 4?) through Froncysyllte into the Dee valley, ignoring a true icon of the industrial revolution. 
But enough, the wind was in our hair and the whiff of beer in our nostrils, high time to trundle into Llangollen and partake in all its delights. The Bridge End, a Llangollen landmark and our accommodation for the night… 
...and by a stroke of luck, blessed with a function room complete with TV projector. Thanks to our landlord we were first in and so settled into the best seats in the house, all that was left to do was enjoy a drink and a well-deserved bag of crisps whilst the room filled prior to kick-off. The blessing didn't extend to Cup victory for our Blue Moon colleague DrA but having been a fan forever, it’s the sort of result he endures regularly and with grace*. Dinner plus a few pints followed in the Corn Mill overlooking the Dee and for those of a sturdy constitution a few more in the Prince of Wales, along with a guest appearance by Jan Molby who had been with us in the Bridge earlier. I can confirm that since his heyday, pies remain his passion. Day 3 :
A climb up the Horseshoe Pass was the order of the day, peaking with coffee and a bun at the Ponderosa Cafe. For my follower in "the South", I can report that Box Hill is but a pale imitation. Great view back down to Llangollen too, but the rest was downhill a perfunctory ride back through Wrexham and the grey. 
Upon Reflection
Another tour, another unique experience and this was one of two opposites. One, the weather; the hangover of a very wet year, May, but still persistently cold and damp, no sun to illuminate my photos. The other; open, empty landscapes drawing me in and onwards, the reminders of industry of a revolutionary age and towns built on local resources and the Victorian romantic fascination for tourism - this is the one I take away. Bob, Feb 2015, updated Oct 2023 (* How times have changed). |