Doethie Valley Conquered

If you’ve visited here recently you’ll know that I do not like to give up on a challenge. The FMFT summer trip in Wales featured a ride that went less well than it should have. During a good few hours in the fairly remote Doethie valley area of mid Wales a combination of navigational errors meant that the entire point of the ride – the apparently fantastic singletrack on the bank of the Afan Doethie – was entirely missed. I was so frustrated about this that I resorted to writing about a ride that was only really supposed to fill an hour before tea the night before rather than the main event. However, I was not going to let it lie there.

This weekend was time to face it again.

This time I made some adjustments that, I hoped, would make the ride better. These included leaving behind some features of the last ride, and ensuring that my kit included a full compliment of navigational aids. Also I re-planned the route, cutting out the deep, confusing forrestry section that had thrown the ride out and aiming for a climb that had accidentally featured as a descent the last time out. Thus prepared I left my support crew and set off on the same early outward section as before. This was simple – following the previous route up a small road and then branching off past a ruin and over a challenging stream crossing, but mostly in pleasant low-valley wooded singletrack. My plan was to turn off, cross the river where the bridleway clearly did, and then climb on the other side. At the river I faced my first challenge. It seemed like it should be a ford, but with recent rain the river was running high and there was no way I was going to be able to ride through.

Debating my options for a moment I considered attempting the old route, but I could see the track climbing the other side and it seemed wrong to be put back so early, so, bearing in mind the 20degree heat making a cold river seem more attractive, I took off my shoes and socks and waded my way across with my kit and bike. Not only was I very glad I did as the water flowed over my knees, but I was also pleased with my choice of merino socks as I slipped them on over wet feet on the far bank.

Next up was a killer climb straight up the side of the valley. Mostly ridable apart from the steepest loose sections which had been torn up by recent flowing water I ground and swore my way to the top where I relaxed with a track over open moorland, and a brake-melting fire-road descent dropping me neatly at the point where lunch had not stopped a second navigation error on the previous visit.

This time I tool the correct track and climbed again through what was forest on the map, but has now been drastically cleared, which may have contributed to the mistake. Even here it wasn’t plain sailing as the only main track ended suddenly, and left me scrambling downhill to find the old (now much damaged by the tree-felling) bridleway. Still on track, however, I dropped in and out of two valleys and made it to the gateway to the fun.

Beyond this gate the ride made total sense and the hills I’d (secretly enjoyed, but) dragged my way up fell away. Miles and miles of singletrack follow the river down, challenging you with occasional bogs (one of which I fell neatly into), stream crossings, ridable rock steps and drops and all the time with the water tumbling a fair way below you down a slope that varies from steep to vertical and so keeps you on your toes and on the ribbon of trail. It’s spectacular, remote and beautiful as well as amazing fun and despite the tyre tracks I didn’t see a single other person all the way. It’ll leave you breathless from the location as much as from the effort and is a truly awesome. Everyone who calls themselves a mountain biker should ride it and it was more then worth the bloody-minded 200-mile drive to go back and prove a point.

A

(With much thanks to JT)