Welcome to Wales
94.3 Miles, 5,318 ft of Elevation / 151.8 Km, 1,621 m of Elevation
Start: 07:21 Finish: 14:39 Moving Time: 6hrs 3mins
Ride Across Britain: 32% Complete
It’s practically a rest day, they said, as we woke up at 5am and left at 7am to cycle 94 miles from Bath to Ludlow.
Thick, cold mist clung to the hillsides and a washed out sun peered through it across freshly-harvested fields. Country lanes took us to the Severn Suspension Bridge, where we crossed a mile of water as if through a cloud, only the sound of foghorns giving away the shipping beneath.
We entered Wales and quickly dipped down to our first pit stop at Chepstow Castle. Hundreds of cyclists filled the car park, filled bottles and took selfies. Within five minutes of the restart the road turned upwards, and everyone regretted their sausage rolls, as the gradient didn’t stop, climbing all the way back into England.
What goes up, must come down, however. And we did, on a long, long fast wooded descent towards Ross-on-Wye.
At the morning stage briefing, race technical director Andy Cook said that the section of road alongside the River Wye past Hole-in-the-wall is his personal highlight of the entire 9-day route.
It didn’t disappoint. Imagine cycling through an oil painting on a warm summer’s day, waiting for two skittish horses to be guided off the track by their riders, the wide river snaking through birdsong, woods and flowers.
By now the sun was beating down and all 27 degrees Celsius was radiating back off the tarmac, sweat soaking cycling jerseys and salt forming on brows.
From the river we faced long, steep climbs through narrow lanes up towards the second pit stop at Fownthorpe, where everyone fed and watered in the shade.
I walked alongside another rider on my way back to the bike.
Me (making polite conversation): “How did you find that last climb?”
Rider: “Not too bad, I just took it steady. How about you?”
Me: “It was quite hard in the heat, but I managed it”
We went our separate ways and I realised I had been speaking to Elinor Barker, one of the most decorated riders in the history of British Cycling. She and her boyfriend had agreed to ride the day for for fun and she had been interviewed on stage in the marquee the night before.
So, my innocent question was pretty much like asking Serena Williams: “How was that last forehand? Was it okay?”
Coming out of Fownhope we rose some more before longer, faster roads made up the remaining 50km (30 miles). A huge chain gang formed at pace that I wasn’t comfortable with but preferred to the alternative: getting dropped and riding on my own. Kudos to Ed and the aptly-named Malcolm Sherriffs (surely 15 years our senior) for enforcing the pace with some big turns on the front.
Counting down the kilometers we rolled down into Ludlow and someone shouted from a car. We caught up at the traffic lights and realised it was our friend Claire with her Mum and Luca – they had been tracking us via a shared link after we missed our meet point.
They beat us up and down the hill in the town centre, but we pushed on strongly to the racecourse. They only just made it out of the car to see us pass the finish line, confusing onlooking punters, who had bet on Tiger Roll in the 2.30.
One third of the way to John O’Groats and very sore, we hit the tents, as trains rattled past and flocks of geese honked overhead.
The Cycling Eagle 