Coed-Y-Brenin

July 20, 2002, Wales

Team FanyLion’s latest outing, a return to the mighty Coed-Y-Brenin, was a complete success, with the keenly contested race between myself and super athlete hyper fit man of steel Rick King; the long awaited debuts of team members Dunn and Pitchford; Dean’s first outing to CYB on his new Sub 5 and, to top it all, we find a new pub/youth club. Read on...

After a good deal of fanny(lion)ing about on the motorways, a near death experience with a VW Corado on the M62 (missed his turnoff and stopped in the fast lane to turn across 4 lanes of 70mph traffic!) and a stop at a greasy spoon for butties and char, we arrived at CYB. The weather was poor, and whilst not cold, the fine drizzle falling would be enough to soak you in about 10 mins.

The plan for day 1 was for Rick and I to have our race (around the 12-mile MBR route), then for us all to do the MBR route together. I reckoned the race would take about 1hr 10mins, so the boys could have a brew whilst Rick and I did our stuff. So, the race...

Rider 1: yours truly, Team FanyLion Manager, Team Hodgson. Bike in tip top condition, fresh from recent victories at SIMBA, sporting go faster ginger goatee beard, new skin tight Fox race shirt, and with right leg shaven to display beautifully rippling calf and thigh (left leg still nice and hairy), I must admit (if I do say so myself) I looked the part. Rick must have been quaking in his boots/trainers as he saw this Lance Armstrongalike, sleek, shaven (in places), svelte, muscular, god like apparition stood before him. Nick Craig then left and it was up to me. My tactics? To get in front early. I needed to beat Rick to the first big climb, then pull away.

Rider 2:Rick King of Rochdale. Super fit iron man, kick boxer, athlete, world class skier and general animal of fitness. Resplendent in dodgy looking cycling shorts, cagoule and piss pot helmet, Rick was obviously trying to lure me into a false sense of security. Rick was going to use Danny’s bike, but his comment of “Don’t start the race just yet, I need 10 mins to get used to the gears” certainly gave me some encouragement. Rick’s tactics (and yes, the fool discussed them with me before the race) was to let me take the lead, stick close to me, then reel me in over the distance.

Team Danny Cliff Diver and Team Downhill Maniac Potts would start us off, with the rest of the Team waiting at the bottom of the first technical section to hurl encouragement/abuse/cabbages at us as we went past.

13:30 hrs. The Off. I was away like a greyhound, sprinting up the first short climb, determined to be in front at the first big climb half a mile away. Rick was behind me (but that was his intention, after all.….) and the race was under way. Going into the first downhill technical section I couldn’t sense Rick close behind, but was letting the bike flow, keeping it smooth and fast. I could soon see the rest of the Team ahead, Team Shack with video camera rolling, the rest of the boys watching keenly.

As I shot through the gate onto the road, Rick suddenly appeared next to me! He had missed a turn and come down the road, taking a (albeit, unintentional) short cut! He saw me and tried to get onto the track ahead of me and cut me off. I sped up and beat him onto the trail, and I was ahead again, but all my early efforts were dashed as his short cut had put us level again.

Under the culvert and I knew Rick was close behind. I adopted ‘roadie tuck’ position and sprinted for the fist big hill, expecting a challenge from Rick here. But none came. I kept the power down hard up the first fire road climb and into the first technical climb. As I ascended up the trail, I saw Rick a good ten or twenty seconds behind floundering with his bike and looking down at the gears. I never saw him again (during the race, that is: he didn’t go missing or anything). The heavens opened at this point, and I assumed Rick would give up and go back to the lads. I was left to continue my ride round the MBR route, which I did at about 80% top speed, as I was unsure if Rick was even behind me. The rain soon stopped, though the course was very slippy and all climbs treacherous due to wet, slippy tree roots and rocks.

I came back to the car park with 1 hour on the clock, but Rick wasn’t there. He had evidently kept going and was behind me somewhere. Rick came in ten mins later. I had won, and in good style. Danny was stunned at the margin of my victory, expecting a finish line sprint. Team Starkey and Team Shack weren’t surprised I had won, but were happy nonetheless.

Rick said he was used to a bike with toe clips, and had he had toe clips he reckoned he would have been about 5mins faster, but acknowledged he would still have lost. The rest of the Team were ready to ride by now. I changed my shirt, scoffed a Mars bar and was ready to go out again. Rick fancied the café more than another ride and licked his wounds over a brew. Some bloke offered us all some ‘energy gel’ sachets, which looked interesting. I was ready for an energy boost and opened one, not sure whether to eat it, smear it on my arse or rub it on my bike. I ate it, and realised I should have I should have done one of the other things with it. Imagine eating Germoline and you are getting somewhere near. Yuk. But a discernible energy rush was detected, so we all packed a few in our pockets for later in the ride.

The drizzle had started up again, guaranteeing a slippy, tricky ride round the MBR route. Deano soon blooded his new Orange Sub 5, going over the bars near the start on the first technical run of the day. Dean is always one to get stuck in early. Respect.

However it was Team Downhill Maniac Potts who had the biggest fall of the day. Leading down a singletrack descent with me in hot pursuit, I saw his bike and legs come up high ahead and knew he gone over the bars at great speed. I then heard the sound of his body slamming into the rocks of the trail. Now that has got to hurt. I slowed down to see if he was OK but was in danger of everyone else behind piling into us. Chris said he was OK (though he didn’t look it) and I carried on. When Chris caught us up he was sporting a badly cut arm and saying he had winded himself and given his ankle some hammer, but was OK to carry on. He looked shaken and his face had gone very white. One of Team Downhill's nine lives gone...

It was apparent by now that our new Team members were no slouches in the bike handling or fitness departments. Despite being on a fully rigid Orange P7 (formerly owned by Team Shack), Chris Dunne was up at the front with me. Chris was obviously very fit (though I saw Dean eyeing him up and knew Dean thought he was fit too, but in a slightly different way...). Jamie Pitchford, on his Trek alu steed with Manitou forks was also a very competent mountainbiker. He too was in the lead pack and ripped it up on the downhills in great style.

After an hour and forty minutes we were back at the car park. The MBR route seemed more ‘bedded in’ somehow than when we had last ridden it two months ago, and we all agreed it is a corker.

All that was left was to wash the bikes down, get eaten alive by midgets and pack the cars for the short journey to Criccieth. Unfortunately Team Potts had to head home due to prior engagements, though he was unsure whether he would have been able to ride tomorrow anyway, as he was feeling very sore after his crash. The rest of us were keen for beer, steak and merriment. When we set off for Criccieth we had no idea of the treats in store for us. Read on...

After a bath and spruce up we headed to our usual hostelry, The Prince of Wales. After the usual steak/pie/cod, etc. and four or so pints of ale each we decided to go and try the other establishment(s) of Criccieth. There is only one other pub in Criccieth, and it looked very much like a ‘local pub, for local people’. Or more like a ‘local pub for inbred Taffy bastards’. They were crammed in like sardines and the place looked very tatty and past its best.

We then noticed a hotel up the hill that looked lively. I doubted it would be any good and suggested we head back to our own hotel bar. Glad we didn’t.

As Rick and I walked in the jukebox skidded to a halt. Darts stopped mid flight and the place went quiet. As the remaining seven team members entered we were studied closely by the punters, but the jukebox started up again, and the darts thudded into the board. We ordered our beers, then... eureka. Phil noticed that the young girl who he normally eyes up in Criccieth was in there. And it was her birthday. And she had about ten mates with her. And they were all girls. And they were all young. And they were fit. They were very, very fit. And had very few clothes on. Oh god. I felt so bloody old.

Phil was busy winking and waving to birthday girl whilst Rick made a beeline to the Karaoke bloke. Despite protests from the Team, Rick’s rendition of Sweet Caroline rocked the room, and the night was in full swing.

Rounds of beer developed into rounds of Vodka Red Bulls. The place was getting busier (had the whole village come to hear Rick’s singing? Or had they heard that Sex God Shack was in town?) and hotter, and the young, nubile, scantily clad teen-goddesses were looking fantastic.

Shack then divulged he had nominated Chris Dunne to sing Karaoke, and let us in on a secret that Chris sings in a band. Chris sang, Mastiles said “He’s a one man Boy Band” (or should that be one boy Boy Band?) and Team Boy Band was born, as easy as that.

The evening then became more of a blur as the vodka took effect. Sheldon and I agreed the place was so hot it was like a rave back in 88; Phil never did pull birthday girl; Mastiles, Boy Band & Jamie Pitchford climbed up to the castle for a secret Team initiation ceremony (whatever that entailed. Mastiles wouldn’t tell us). Then we retired to bed, bellies full of food, gullets full of booze, to dream of singletrack, midgets and sweaty young girls in low cut tops.

Morning arrived far too soon, and after chiselling myself off the sheets, we ate the usual high quality breakfast and returned to CYB to do the 22 mile Karrimor trail, the sun blazing down from a clear blue sky. Rick was feeling the worse for wear after staying up late drinking (or was he a broken man after yesterday’s race?) and was asleep in Danny’s car boot, and flatly refused to get on a bike today.

The Team set off, myself and Team Boy Bend leading up the first of the many miles of lung busting fire track climbs of the Karrimor. Quote of the weekend came this time from Team Starkey. After a long time climbing Sheldon was suffering and could be heard remonstrating with himself that he would have to get fitter. He said he spends too much time riding on his own and taking it easy. “When you go out riding on your own, maybe you need to push yourself more.” I offered. “True” replied the forlorn looking Sheldon “The only pushing I do is on the bog”.

Despite having run out of liquid many miles ago (told you to get a 3litre Camelbak Dr. Starkey) and suffering calf cramps, Sheldon carried on to complete the Karrimor route. Respect.

We rode 3 miles of new trails as part of the revamped Karrimor, and they were superb, with twisty, fast and winding singletrack cut into the hillside. Awesome. Massive Respect must go to Team Boy Band, who completed the ride on his fully rigid P7. My arms were aching with 125mm of coil sprung technology beneath them, so God only knows what punishment his arms suffered on rigid forks. Hardcore.

Big crash of the day was by Team Boy Band. We missed a turn, and Phil and I stopped in the middle of the track. Boy Band, with nowhere to go, slammed all on and went over the bars. Screaming blue murder at his bike, Boy Band received a badly cut thumb and grazes to his leg, but was OK. Remind us not to do VW Corado impressions next time. Sorry Chris.

And that, was that. We loaded up the cars and headed home, with another excellent weekend behind us. We had gained two fine recruits, we had got muddy, sweaty, hurt ourselves, leered at young girls, drunk beer, eaten pies, sung songs, raced, climbed, and been bitten by midgets. What could be better?

Team Hodgson, Over & Out.

Fanylion Mountain Bike Team

Official site of the Fanylion Mountain Bike Team. Includes mountain bike ride guides, gear reviews, bike maintenance, team reports and rider profiles of the Fanylion Racing Team.

Main Menu

In this section

Coed-Y-Brenin

July 20, 2002, Wales

Riders present

Enjoyment level

Main Menu