Both rides that I fitted around sampling the delights of drunken Swansea were old favourites. Both had surprises.
At Afan I rode Whites level and spent the climb remembering just why I love it as it snakes up the valley side and just lets you ease on up on the middle ring. Three fallen trees didn’t stop the fun and at the top I was all set up for the black extension and leaving the perfect amount of energy for the return leg. Except there was forestry work and the last few sections are closed. The diversion, in its defence, does still spit you down the hill on the less ridden Skyline trail, but to get there was a long fireroad slog, back up to the top and past the bottom of the black section again. Having thought I knew the route and rationed my energy perfectly this hurt a lot. Also the trail it uses is somehow rougher, or I was more tired and I felt battered by the end. Battered but still grinning.
Apart form this the only exceptional bit was the number of women riding, which is great to see, and the two fairly inexperienced couples who seemed to be struggling on the jump section and who I may have kindly glared at as I got past. Sorry if you’re them.
At Cwm Carn it was a familiar story. There was rain, then a muddy slippery circuit where normally easy sections get way harder and sketchy. The fog was down on top as I ripped through the black trail with fairly limited visibility and the woods seemed spooky and misty. Otherwise it was all good until I hit the bottom of the last rocky bit down to the final fireroad crossing. It seems the wet and the sandy soil had munched through my front brake pads as I discovered as I tried to slow for the bottom. One encounter with a gate and a bit of blood mixing with the mud on my legs and I was safely home with my left arm pumped from the extra rear braking then required to keep it all in any sort of shape.
Still, these things make it fun and I could think about the near miss all the way home as my car heater dried out the mud.
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