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No hiding place. One puncture…
Den and I were up early for a 7:00 am departure, and straight up some big climbs, the second of which ended on a treacherous descent down a rough stone path. Finally we found a great tarmac track, not our proper route, and enjoyed some lovely views, before emerging on an old railway line that took us gently down into Bridgend. We navigated the town centre with ease to find the Dragon Cafe, our chosen RV point. After an enormous set breakfast, mysteriously including chips, we got the news that Tim & Jim were over an hour behind. We set off for Porthcawl where we planned to meet them for coffee.
The route to Porthcawl included a horrible up and over on a busy A road but we got there pretty quickly and we were out the other side without finding anywhere good looking for a coffee break. I was having some difficulty in retaining my breakfast, as the heat began to mount, so we stopped by the side of the road at the Kenfig nature reserve, where there was a roadside buffet serving refreshments to some "classic car" aficionados. The irony of holding such an event at a nature reserve and beauty spot seemed to pass them by. After several drinks I lay down on the grass to await the arrival of the others. Turned out to be quite a comfortable patch of grass, and Den said our neighbours were very entertained by the snoring. I was not so happy about being woken with a start by a dog-fight going on inches away. This seemed to tickle the dog owners even more, but it didn’t stop me having another short nap, before Tim & Jim eventually arrived.
Pretty soon we were down the hill and enjoying the delightful sights of the Port Talbot business park and old steel works. We promised ourselves another refreshment stop as soon as we found anywhere good, but Aberavon was none too attractive, and the queues for drinks were long. Briton Ferry did not offer anything either, which was rather disappointing as I was imagining a lovely secluded river valley, with boats & pubs, and olde worlde river vessels - a bit like Symonds Yat. How wrong can you be?
On we went, and by the outskirts of Swansea we’d still not found a suitable stopping point. And I wasn’t particularly enjoying another industrial area, when I copped the first puncture of the trip. This was fixed reasonably quickly in spite of our inability to find the cause and difficulty getting the axle removed because of the pannier connector…. Swansea and the route to Mumbles was heaving with pedestrians, mostly oblivious to bicycles and focused on their ice creams and sun tan oil. The hotel in Mumbles around 4:15pm was very welcome.
After a quick cold shower, the long walk along the promenade proved worthwhile when we finally arrived at the Pilot Inn where we sampled the output from their microbrewery while enjoying Den’s story about the sports admin award he had received on behalf of Pippa. Before too long we headed back nearer to the hotel, to the “Mumtaz”, for our first, and Den’s fourth, curry of the trip…
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