Talgarth Black - Black Mountains

An Epic trip following a classic route up, over, down and around the black mountains at the heart of the Brecon Beacons. They’re not black or a mountain but they are big and the ride is tough so it’s as good a name as any.

Distance:40km

Climb:1200m

Grade: Black

Time:4-6hours

Rating: 5/5

The ride is accompanied by expansive views, curtesy of some serious climbs and some hooliganously (not a word) fast descents.

The ride is also rich in singletrack and characterised, generally as exposed and grassy. There is very little cover about; certainly no trees and even waist high shrubs are few and far between.

This exposed topography leads to some pretty severe, active scree slopes on the weather beaten sides of the ‘mountains’ and with lots of water sloshing about, some very rocky and exposed trails too. At the top the ground is semi-peaty and will grab a wheel at a moment, if you’re not careful.

We started in Llanbedr and, heading due north, ventured deep in to the nearest valley, following the Grywnne Fechan brook/stream. For a solid hour, we dragged, winched and pushed our way forwards, climbing 364m in elevation over 6km (just under 5%).

Now, as I write that down, it doesn’t really sound much. I do that, and some, on a typical ride over my local hill (not all in one go, mind). Nevertheless, it felt hard at the time. The grassy topography adding resistance to our forward motion and making for slow progress.

The route is singletrack for the most part (the grass clearing away to leave soft earth) but widens out towards the summit in to a grassy causeway. This made tandem riding possible and chatter practicable (who am I kidding).  The climb, as long and drawn out as it was, finishes with a sting in the tail; a final switch back before the last 100m or so. This is the steepest part of the whole climb and foiled 4 of the 5 of us (I thank you).

Feeling a little slow, I had lagged behind my comrades for just over an hour as I sought to pace myself and spread out what little fitness I had (riding time had diminished somewhat over the preceding weeks but I’ve since found out it was partly my brakes were dragging - fucking shitty SRAM pistons); watching them all disappear in to the distance and then fail, one by one, to tackle the switch back gave me time to consider line choice and tactics.

It was time well spent as I cruised past their stricken steeds, spending what ever reserves of energy I had left and powered up the incline; that’s how it’s done - smug feeling awash. I came, I saw, I conquered. I smiled. I got there first, hehe.

You can see the ridge from some 20mins out and it is a torturous progression along the causeway with it seeming to simultaneously edge closer whilst remaining persistently distant. Anyway, having arrived at the top of the pass (still some 100m or so shy of the summit) we were rewarded by one hella good view.  I’d taken my time up the climb and reaching the pass was blessed relief. Time for a snack and to soak up the panorama.

Having gawked and gassed for a short while, we assessed our onward journey - allowing sufficient time for that sense of impending passing-out to subside - before we hit the descent.  We point all point and make vague grunts of agreement at the direction the route takes next. There are no sign posts, just an excessive number of worn-in ribbons of singletrack, heading in myriad directions. We take a punt and head off on one ribbon that looks the most defined, and is heading in the right direction - roughly east. Weaving across the open grassy plains, we (I) take it easy at first (not wanting to look too ‘Enduro’) but it didn’t last long.

What starts off fairly smooth and flowing, gradually got steeper and ‘a tad rowdy’; almost out of nowhere, it just becomes a sea of boulders.  With the addition of large dose of gravity, however, it was less a case of trying to maintain momentum (by picking the right line), over these hefty lumps of mineral, and more a case of just surfing the wave of rocks as you and them cascade down the hill.

Having accurately navigated our way down from the exposed, grassy terrain higher up and safely over the rim dinger that was half way down, the trail changed again. After a brief pause two thirds down for a gate, the trail becomes a high-sided chute;  flanked on both sides by low hanging, scrubby trees and riddled with roots.

The descent brought smiles to all 5 of us. It was worth the climb (The only downside being the shut gate 3/4 of the way down). After a quick regroup, we made our way around the foothills to the north at a more leisurely and social pace; mixing a bit of road, a bit of off-road, a short climb and some swooping singletrack before arriving at what we thought was our next ascent.

We stopped to grab lunch before committing to the next climb, which turned out to be the wrong one (if trying to complete the classic). This route was, in reality a ‘footpath’ (again, no or few sign posts) covering some 320m over 2.5km or less. It gets very steep and leaves no choice but to get off and hike it up. We should have ticked off another few kilometers cycling around the northern foothills before turning to head up using the bridleway but, alas, it wasn’t until we were actually topping out that we realised the error of our ways.

So, as it was, we were left to work our way across the plateau to the top of the next valley. We got a little lost; and stuck a couple of times - the boggy ground happily consuming our front wheels when we weren’t paying attention. We consulted the map a few times but eventually worked it out and found Grwyne Fawr.

The subsequent descent follows the eastern riverbank of the namesake brook/stream feeding Grwyne Fawr reservoir, itself a pseudonym for the loop we were tackling. The ‘Grwyne Fawr’ descent covers some 6.5km and loses about 280m in elevation. It never really gets steep or overly technical but still managed to claim one victim in an over the bars episode good enough for you’ve been framed.

The top is singletrack, intermittently gravelly and rocky and a bit sandy. Near to the reservoir it changes to a wide, grassy/gravelly causeway before later becoming what I can only describe as a street of pitched cobbles. We stopped to check out the dam, which is definitely worth doing if you’ve not been before; we all imagined ourselves as James Bond jumping off the edge to escape the villain. Sadly we all had bikes to carry with us, which would have been an inconvenience, so we stuck with the trail instead.

A bit of road follows, before you hook right in to the trees of Mynydd Du forest. It sounds like a set out of lord of the rings but, trust me, it’s no ancient woodland and there are no Ents to contend with. Just another slog up the various gravel fire roads through thick pine plantations before we emerge out of the tree line no less than a few feet from the ridge line immediately preceding our final descent to Llanbedr.

Like all good trails (classic or trail centre), there is a descent to finish on. It symbolises the finish line. A reward for all the effort paid.  The Talgarth black duly provides with a 3.5km finale following a lovely ribbon of singletrack from the point we emerged from the wooded hillside. Following the ridgeline, initially, with Sugar Loaf in the distance, we track to the right of the summit before us heading around its northern side to follow the contours as they traverse on a southwesterly direction.

The trail has a very consistent gradient; always assisted by gravity but not so steep so as to be over too soon. The Upper 2.5km is just nice to ride. Not technical, not uphill just pure singletrack pointing slightly downhill, allowing an average speed of c.30km/hr.

The direction of the contours and trail diverge and the last 1km steepens. Staying in the open to start with, the defined single track becomes a choice of lines as all before, and, us fight to balance speed with an off camber, curving trail.  on a we all arrive at a gate preceding the final 0.3km at a hell of a click.  Having regrouped we pass through and make our way down the last third of a kilometer through the trees. A short drop to, and climb out of, the stream running behind Llanbedr finishes the ride.

At 40km , the Talgarth black isn’t a killer in terms of distance but it does have a significant amount of climbing 1220m. The location is quite remote and weather can make it a particularly shitty place to be. We rode in early September, however, high off the back of a good summer, which gave us pretty dry trails and reasonable weather.

Covid-19 Update: A mountain biker surviving lockdown.

When Cilian Murphy awakes from his anaesthetic in 28 Days Later and, all groggy and confused, stumbles his way to the hospital main entrance, he is met with a scene not many expected to ever see in this lifetime.

Cities lying empty, streets desolate of people. Society broken, or so it seemed.

Fast forward to 2020; the year that, so far, wasn’t. Just when we thought it couldn’t get any worse (Brexit - I mean that shit just drags on, doesn’t it?), we go and get hit with a pandemic that forced all in to hiding and, some 3 months later, is still threatening our way of life.

Covid-19 has necessitated the most severe restrictions on social and physical interaction any of us are likely to have ever experienced. Living in effective house arrest (your only crime being human and susceptible to the virus) and unable to socialise with others has been an incredibly difficult undertaking.

How long will it last, no one knows; will it ever be overcome, possibly not.

Mountain biking is an inherently social activity. Of course, it doesn’t preclude social gathering; one can ride a bike without needing a group of friends to cheer him/her on from the sidelines; but the mtb community is a social one, nonetheless.

I have written before about the simple, purist joy one can find sharing a ride with friends and, as I alluded to then, riding solo is nothing new to me. Even so, Covid-Lockdown forced the issue and added in to the mix a restriction on movement, meaning not only was I to ride alone but I had a time restriction of 1 hour to boot.

I can’t get anywhere in 1 hour. A ride to my nearest hill - Bredon Hill - and back is a three hour activity. The same applies for the Cotswolds escarpment at Broadway.

I’ve been lucky enough to have stayed in work during this uncertain time so, in between my time spent as a slave (to the crown), a slave (to my son) and a volunteer slave (to my wife), I have been out looking for new and interesting stuff to ride that falls within the 1-hour prescription; I’ve been exploring.

If lockdown has given me anything, it’s a rejuvenated sense curiosity; a desire to actually follow that unknown bit of trail and see where it leads. You know, that bit you always ride past because you don’t know where it goes; because it might be shit and, let’s be honest; because you can’t be bothered.

Everyone has a few fallback routes. Regulars that they can rely on to provide a bike fix. In most cases, however, I am guessing these routes are far removed from the technically challenging stuff we all dream about - we don’t all live in the lakes. As the hashtag goes - no car, no gnar, not far.

Well, with limitations on movement, initially, lockdown has meant a greater demand on those regular routes and, very quickly, their overuse. This has, in turn, led to a growing boredom with these gravel tracks, green lanes and quiet roads. There are some short sections of bridleway I am able to link in, which provide a bit of singletrack, but this is limited and very un-technical.

So, with such restrictions in place and a growing sense of doom at being unable to ride anything more satisfying than a tow path, I have been forced to look harder and the trails around my home town have come under greater significance and need.

Maps have been scrutinised and new routes devised. All that was left was to get out and ride them.  And, I’ve found some pretty good stuff. A lot of which is all within 5-10 minutes of my house. Linking it all together as been fun and, in doing so, I’ve managed to assemble a reasonable loop lasting some 40 mins.

From permissive paths through ancient battlegrounds to elevated Beech groves and sweeping, riverside singletrack, my local trails clearly have a lot more to offer than I had appreciated.

It just goes to show that, with a little curiosity and a willingness to search them out, there are trails there for riding. Most of the those I have found are designated sections of bridleway (and footpaths, in some cases - I know, slap my wrists) that I had simply not bothered with before as they clearly went no where or didn’t link up very well on paper. However, many were also undesignated; simply worn in by use and there to be found physically - not on a map, I’ve had to get out there and explore.

Ironically, even though we are now allowed to drive to locations (in England, obvs) and meet up with more than just ourselves, I still find myself riding the trails I found during lockdown. In fact some of them may well become my new fallback trails. I’ve found my new normal.

Silver linings and all that; thanks Lockdown.

Headspace

20 months ago, I became a father. It was the proudest, happiest, most emotional day of my life.

The immense joy I had at seeing mini me arrive safely in to this world, and the ongoing pleasure I get seeing my little chap grow and develop, is immeasurable.

But, in a seeming attempt at balancing the scales, fate has decreed that, as compensation, I must now suffer a significant reduction in riding time. I can’t have both.

That’s ok. It was hard to come to terms with at first; I knew it would happen but, nonetheless, I was still unprepared.

Watching YouTube clips and Instagram stories from friends’ and associates’ rides, and matching that up to their Strava feeds has done nothing but feed the thought of being left out. I should just put my phone down and block it out but, you know, we all suffer with insatiable appetites for social interaction. Keeping on top of everyone else’s goings on is a huge part of that.

I mean, how can I be influenced if I don’t check out the influencer’s channels.

Anyway, What has actually struck me most since this change in circumstance is not the lack of bike time - although that is very obvious in its absence - but the lack of me time, in general. The importance of headspace. Or, more specifically, the ability to engage with it; or the time to, has become very prominent.

I can’t say the same for everybody (I’m not a psychologist) but I know from personal experience that not having enough time to myself can lead to feeling repressed. For some, this may not be a lot. For other’s, time for reflection is a considerable element of their social wellbeing.

Me, personally; I’m like a dog scratching at the door, or holding the lead in front of its owner. I need to get outside. I like it there. It helps give my brain a chance to breathe.

I always find a good bike ride allows my consciousness some time off, giving my unconscious thoughts the room to grow. In a creative capacity, this can be very liberating. With my brain left to undertake base functions only, such as breathing (literally), there is more room to breathe (figuratively); and space for ideas to bloom.

I have had some of my more creative thoughts whilst in the midst of a hard as f**k climb up whatever hill I’ve decided is the days torture.

Before M arrived, I would ride 2 or 3 times a week, averaging 30km a ride (2-3 hours a time). Some might say this isn’t actually a lot but it was enough for me. Since M arrived, however, this has dwindled to the point that between Christmas (2019, in case you were wondering) and the end of April, I’d been out once on my bike.

Babies/children take up a lot of time; so much so that it can be hard to find the time or space to think about anything else. You spend 90% of it trying to prevent them from killing themselves and the other 10% trying to calm them down after they throw a Hissy fit due to your interventions.

Since his birth, I think I’ve been so engrossed in this little being, that requires all the help I can give him to survive, that I’d sort of forgotten about myself and, in the midst of his arrival, getting out for a bike ride became difficult; so I took up running.

However, running is is nowhere near the same (for me) - for a start, I’ve found it is a lot harder to get rid of an ear worm whilst running than it is out on the bike. Seriously, if it’s not Hey Duggee, I’m humming the theme to Mr ‘effin tumble, constantly - but it does help with head space.

I have found proper mountain bike riding time hard to come by, which itself is depressing at first. I have, simply, had to revise how and where I get my fix for the time being; linking up local bridleways and gravel tracks to create half an hour of off road freedom still provides a break for my mind.

I can vary the routes, to mitigate boredom, but they’re not hugely technical and not really that interesting. The important thing, however, is the ability to get lost in my headspace.

When I’m on the mountain bike, it doesn’t really matter where I’m going. I’ll happily ride to the shops (the long way round, obvs) if it gives me a chance to draw breath.

Babies demand 100% of your attention and energy most of the time; whatever is left is usually reserved for a cup of tea (which inevitably goes cold) but there are ways to get some headspace, if you are willing to compromise and determined to find solutions.

Mine is on my bike and, thankfully, it’s always there when I need it.