The plan was to take on a 75 mile loop from Llandysul to Lampeter-Aberaeron-Cardigan-Crymych-Newcastle Emlyn and back to Llandysul on the valley floor.
The cup of tea stop, called for by Phil 'Coffin' Jenkins and Andy 'can't feel my fingers' Edwards was welcomed. Pastel Aberaeron hosted us for a quick milky coffee and 10 pieces of toast. Crying into coffee with fingers thawing, hair re brushed and the realisation that the 75 was too much on such a cold morning. Gareth had announced that Cardigan would be reached by midday and the hour and a half time trial along the valley floor back to the Porth Hotel would mean an early shower and comfort in the arms of our partners to watch the Australia game easily by the 2.30 kick off.
A change of route had been called for immediately on leaving Llandysul, 'Let's get to the coast as quick as poss - get out of the valley and the low lying freezing fog'. 'No we'll be fine' came the reply from Garth. The team of six was soon cut to five as an old squash injury saw Andrew Porth drop off the 1st climb. He was last sighted, having taken the wrong turning at Lampeter heading towards Llanllwni mountain looking for a non-existant sheep pen for abandoned cyclists. Five left!
Dipping into valleys of freezing fog isn't great fun, especialy on a Saturday morning when we could be at home watching Saturday kitchen, and then having to climb out of them with 12-20% ascents - 'short, sharp deep burn'
Gar who led all the way, except for the times that he came to check up that the back markers were still up for it. The Andrea Botticelli on his ipod really does
seem to encourage him to 'power on'. The air drumming to Elvis, as he returns to head of the peloton is a worry though!
Leaving the warmth of the chippy, having eyed up the meat pies longingly, we hit the 2 mile climb out of the town to Ffos Y Ffin. The Coffin coughed all the way up and Rhysy Baby got very tired and complained of 'having being beasted'. A clean, well oiled bike and excellent pre-event nutrition will never enable the cycle athlete to get over a Friday night two frame snooker game with his Uncle Craig.
Close to midday and 18 miles from Cardigan meant that the left turn at Synod Inn was the call, 'I'm sure the game starts at 1.30', coughed Phil. 'You go ahead - get the bus - I can't breath - my chest is in bits mun!', 'I've been beasted', grumbles the Baby, 'leave me if you want'.
The coast road had seen sunshine and comparitive warmth but the early start had killed off the main field and the race was on for the lead. The 12 mile return route saw the pace increased. Ron Burgundy, who had stayed with the lead group throughout was heard to say, 'thought it was a group ride'.
Three hours, 45 miles, 3 hours, 3 milky coffees, 10 pieces of toast, freezing fingers, a lost cyclist, a tired one, an ill one, an Assos clad one and a classical music lover - it doesn't bode well for the freezing winter weather of New Mexico!
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