Afan Argoed and Cwmcarn

May 17, 2003, South Wales

Having read much press of late about the trails in South Wales we thought it high time we headed down there for a look-see. We were not disappointed.

Team Mastiles and Team Shack (in the Mastiles hairdressing-mobile) followed me (in the Interplanetary Assault Wagon) down to South Wales. A service station stop on the way saw the purchase of a stuffed Lion, our new Team Mascot. Fany (the Lion) was soon adorned in Team T-shirt and Fox baseball hat and sat looking out of the car as we continued, keen to get to the trails.

After fighting our way through FA Cup traffic, we collected Sambo from Cardiff (though he had ridden 8miles from Cardiff town centre to make it easier for us to collect him) and headed west on the M4 to rendezvous with 10-ton Kona who was already at Afan Forest Park.

The weather was alternating between light drizzle and torrential rain, and peering through the gloom South Wales looked miserable. The sight of Port Talbot looming into sight did little to lighten the mood or make us feel any better, and as we arrived at Afan we saw some very wet and very muddy bikers returning from the trails. One thing we did notice however was that they all had huge grins on their faces, despite the wet, cold and mud. This looked promising.

Shack stated that he did not want to go biking. It was too cold and wet he said, and it was all my fault. He would stay in the car and play with himself until we returned, or alternatively head to the hotel and wait for us in the pool. We managed to talk him into coming however, and the Team soon stood proud in all its might.

There are two trails at Afan: the 9feet.com trail, and The Wall. A Forest Ranger told us that the 9feet.com was approx 16km long, and The Wall approx 24km. I was keen to do both trails as we would be riding a different area tomorrow and didn’t want to miss anything. The rest of the Team didn’t look so keen, but would see how they felt after the 9feet.com trail.

The 9feet.com started on standard issue man-made hardpacked singletrack, wending its way up through the trees, slowly gaining height. We then came to the inevitable fire road slog and the Team became strung out, Team Starkey adopting his usual position at the back, though now we were able to speak to him (or hurl abuse at him), as Team Shack had brought 3-way walkie-talkies.

It wasn’t long however before the first major mishap of the day, as we lost Team 10-ton Kona. We regrouped at the end of a short singletrack section and did a quick headcount to discover we were a man down. We waited for a while, went back to look for him, shouted, waited some more, but he didn’t appear. We decide we could do no more to find Alister and The Team made the decision to crack on with the ride, assuming that Al would either follow the signs and catch us up, otherwise meet us back at the car park later.

We continued the fire road climb, gaining altitude as the rain fell and we got wetter and wetter. Bikes slithered and skated about on some very muddy sections, the mud the consistency of toothpaste over a harder layer beneath. As we gazed off the side of the mountain into the gloom no doubt there was a view to be had on a clear day, but not today.

We then arrived at the top of the Hidden Valley section, and as we started the drop through the trees we knew we were riding something very special. Team Sambo and I, veterans of Chamonix, both agreed these trails rivalled those of Chamonix, maybe even bettered them. A meandering strip of black twisted and wove its way through the trees, which opened out into grassy glades with carpets of moss and sunlight dappling through the trees, before we sped off again into the trees. Totally awesome. This was the stuff of dreams!

We regrouped at the bottom of the section for much back-slapping and high fives, the wet and cold completely forgotten as we chatted and babbled about just how good that section had been.

Despite the rain being heavy at times, plus occasionally the cloud base dropping so low you could hardly see your front wheel, we rode probably the best trails we had ever ridden. One section of singletrack was so silky smooth and fast that you didn’t need to pedal to go faster, just let go of the brakes, and swoop like an X-wing fighter, feeling the G-forces on you as you flicked your bike in and out of trees and rocks, round switchbacks and over occasional roots and ledges. For those who like it fast and swoopy it simply does not get any better than this.

We eventually returned to the car park to find that Alister’s car had gone. I discovered later that he had been off the pace for some reason, missed a sign and got lost, deciding to head home back to London before the FA Cup finished in Cardiff and he got caught in the traffic. We had ridden just over 12miles and were tired, wet through, cold and covered from head to foot in mud. However, due to the sheer quality of the trail we had just ridden, the entire team soon agreed to set out again and ride The Wall. So, after a quick change of shirt, some quick gear adjusting and spraying of GT85 (and a 3-course meal for the ever-hungry Pitchfork) we set out again.

The Wall was much tougher and longer than the 9feet.com trail, with the first half predominantly climbing, the second half the downward run home. But what a downward run. Ohmigod! The initial sprint along an old railway line, followed by a never-ending fire road climb soon got us warmed up again. The fire road climb soon changed for a semi-technical but very steep singletrack climb, which demanded total concentration from already cold and tired riders. This was proving tough for the Team, however as we reached the top of the ride and started our descent, all pain was soon forgotten.

Once again singletrack sections of the highest calibre lead us back towards the valley bottom. One section of the trail suddenly opened out and we were teetering on the edge of space, a 300foot drop to our left to the river below, the track little more than a ledge cut into the mountainside! Amazing!

Biggest off of the day by yours truly, racing with Shack through the trees, Shack kindly shut the door on me, sending me bouncing off a tree just as the trail dropped down over a large rooted step. The combination of being off balance from contact with the tree coupled with my front wheel disappearing off the step saw me go hurtling over the bars and down in a heap like the proverbial sack of shit. Fortunately there was no 300ft drop at this point or this would have been the ultimate crash!
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The finale to The Wall was another of those ‘you don’t need to pedal to go faster just brake less’ sections of unimaginable swoopiness, smoothness and general brilliance. All riders emerged from the trees with huge grins and erect penises. We now knew why the riders we had seen as we arrived had been looking so happy. We were knackered, wet, cold and wouldn’t have wished for anything less.

It was now 7.15pm: we had been riding for over 5hrs and covered 26miles. After struggling to wash our bikes at the bitch of all stand taps back at the car park (come on Afan, get a hose at least) we set off to the Hotel.

We had a good night at the Swansea Ramada Jarvis , the best feature being that the bar, restaurant and our beds were all under one roof, saving valuable drinking and eating time. Team Starkey was unimpressed with the lack of bread provided with his soup (the girl was intending to serve the soup, then bring the bread) and asked bluntly of the waitress "“Got some bread have we?" Seeing these words written down don’t tell the full story of just how funny this moment was.

Team Issue steaks were eaten, then we retired to the bar. Jamie headed off into Swansea to listen to Judge Jools at a Hard House Club whilst the rest of us drank all manner of weird incarnations until we were too drunk to stand up and crawled off to bed.

An ‘eat as much as you want’ self-service breakfast was just what we needed as we rose next day. Unfortunately none of us felt well enough to make use of the hotel gym or swimming pool, so we ate breakfast, paid up and headed off to find a Halfords for Mastiles to buy some new brake pads.

After searching Swansea for about half an hour we eventually got directions (it was in the next street to the Hotel!), Mastiles got his precious pads, Danny bought his first Camelbak, and we headed off along the M4 to hunt for Cwmcarn.

We arrived at Cwmcarn in fine, dry, sunny and fairly mild conditions, a welcome relief to the shite and mire that we had ridden in the previous day. The car park at Cwmcarn was packed full of all sorts of MTB jiggery-pokery and trickery, and it was obvious this area was better known than Afan.

A quick look at a signboard told us that there was only one route here, and that it was just 8miles long. This was probably ideal as a quick Sunday blast as we had a good 3.5hr drive ahead of us to get home. We saddled up and set off.

The trail started off with an open hard-packed singletrack path, which climbed higher up the valley and into the trees, becoming steeper and more technical. After we regrouped at a gate we hit the trail proper, and the trail steepened sharply and became very technical as it followed a stream up the valley. This was amazing stuff as you concentrated on keeping your weight forward to keep you front wheel down but far enough back to maintain traction.

As we climbed up through the trees Team Sambo and I pulled away from the rest of the riders, Team Shack in 3rd. We continued the climb on technical singletrack through trees and along various streams. The most satisfying section for me was riding up a steep section I had just seen a guy on a Specialized Epic with clip-in shoes fail to get up and resort to pushing. The bloke did say “Go on mate, nice one” as I passed. Cheers buddy.

We regrouped at a car park with large wooden crown being supported on a huge wooden hand. This was as symbolic as it comes, and Sambo took a photo of Team Shack handing back The Crown he took off me at Scugdale.

It was at this point that Team Starkey informed us, via walkie-talkie that he was unable to ride on, the tough climb had been too much for him and he was returning to the car. We were now 6, and we carried on climbing until we reached open moorland and the descending began.

Fast technical downhill sections alongside tarmac roads felt very strange, and we followed yet more high class trails around the edge of the valley. Then we popped out of the trees and once again we were perched on the edge of a precipice, this time overlooking the old mining village of Cwmcarn.

Leaning to the right of our bikes so as not to fall into the nothingness to our lefts, we picked our way along the contours. A short fire road section then lead to a gated entrance to the fastest section of the ride, the blast back to the car park, which Shack and I rode at maximum speed. Team Starkey was watching us complete the final descent from the car park and said we had been the fastest riders he had seen come down in the 35mins he had been sat there. Respect!

Today’s ride had taken just an hour but had been an excellent trail non the less. We saw many additional trails whilst riding that hopefully will be added to this high quality loop to make it longer and more enjoyable.

We had a brew and sandwich in the café and that was that, once again. All that was left was for Sheldon to declare he was thinking of buying a new bike (after all, his current Trek Fuel is so battered and worn out isn’t it?) and another great weekend was over.

We departed from Cwmcarn vowing to return. We had experienced some of the best biking ever and all knew we would be sat at our desks in the morning with stupid grins on our faces, thinking of the trails.

Love & Respect, Team Hodgson.

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Afan Argoed and Cwmcarn

May 17, 2003, South Wales

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