Welsh Tour Blog 2021 Part 3

Written by Gar Cole.

My alarm sounded at 8am. I'd had a superb night's sleep, as did the others in different rooms. Ian and Jon were very glad not to have heard my snoring and I didnt have to endure my eyes being assaulted by Ian in his stripey green undies. We had really fallen lucky booking the Flambards Hotel and Tea Rooms and I recommend it to anyone visiting Cardigan.

As I ventured down to breakfast I was pleased to see the young family from the room next door were still friendly and chatty - obviously there was good snore-proof insulation in the walls!  In a very odd twist, the husband was also called Gareth Cole. Don't know what the odds are of 2 people with the same name checking into a hotel at the same time and being next door to each other,  but their 6yo son thought this highly amusing.  But as you all know,  there's only 1 ' Gar'.   Ian , Jon and Brian were all in good spirits,  a very decent full English was consumed and Brian said how impressed he was with the hotel (if Brian's happy then we're happy).

We arranged to rendezvous with the convoy at 10.30am at the Quay in Cardigan. I had planned a nice gentle start today,  no rush and no fixed schedules with a simple route that anyone could follow; just a cross-country jaunt through Newcastle Emlyn to Rhandirmwyn - a mere  47 miles.

​After yesterday's shenanigans I was pleased to see everyone had stocked up on fuel, chocolate, sweets etc, so I put on my best Michelle-of-the-French Resistance voice and said 'Listen very carefully, I shall say zees only wunce'.  My instructions were clear:  "It doesnt matter if your sat nav says turn left, turn right, turn around or do the Hokey Cokey - you follow me,  all clear?"  "Yes, Mein Fuhrer" came the reply.

The sun had even made an appearance and we waved to the townsfolk as an old Mondeo led a pack consisting of the 3.6 XJ40,  Rover P5b coupe, Jensen Interceptor, MGB roadster, Granada 2.8 estate, Morgan Aero 8 and the BMW 3 series Chase and Photography car. It was quite an impressive sight and we made a nice noise all together wearing our tour plaques and daffodils.

The next hour passed in driving bliss. It was warm, sunny and I had my arm on the window with my herd all following behind. As we started nearing the Cambrians the road started to elevate, so I took the opportunity to pull everyone over to admire the view. You could easily see for 10 miles and everyone was all smiles (you've cracked it today Gar old son) I smugly thought to myself.  I could see the keen photographers taking shots that I'm sure will be very popular with the group once they are all uploaded to the website.   

​As we passed through the tiny hamlet of Rhandirmwyn the satnav immediately lost signal; this was fully expected and I stopped everyone to let them know we were relying on our eyes for the next few miles. The turn onto the lane that leads to Lynn Brianne dam is a 'blink and you'll miss it' affair, so we kept it to 20mph on the single track road as it continued the climb into forested mountains.

At the last second I recognised the lane, did a hard left and the convoy followed suit to arrive at the Dam visitors car park. A stampede for the toilets ensued led by Andy 'tiny bladder' Perman. He's normally know as '2 pants Perman'  after once forgetting to bring any on tour.  Since then he brings an abundance of underwear so a new name was needed!

At this point Paul our photographer said to me in the carpark, "Is there some sort of natural phenomena around here you want me to photograph?" I led him over to the dam wall and let him look over the edge, down the several hundred-feet drop. "Whoaahhh"  he exclaimed,  "that's made my knees go a bit". I then showed him the vast lake on the other side of the dam. "This should keep you busy for a while - get snapping!"

After treating ourselves to ice cream we settled in a group. The lovely Sat Nag Pat produced a stunning ginger cake and Ian brewed everyone a hot drink from the back of the Granada. As I sat on a rock eating nice food with my friends in a stunning location, I couldn't help but think "Life is good right now".

A local couple in a vermillion orange MGB had also parked up near to us. Being the sociable (and nosey) sort that I am, I went over to speak to them. They had seen our cars wearing daffodils and thought it was a lovely and respectful gesture upon visiting Wales. They were proper valley people with strong accents, very much like my family back in the Rhymney valley.  They even corrected my pronunciation of Llanwrtyd Wells. After 1 or 2 attempts I got it right; I later relayed said translation to the gang and they just looked at me as if I was speaking Klingon and had just given an order to launch a spread of photon torpedoes.

At this point young Jonathon Woodward made a fatal error. While chatting to the same couple he attempted a Welsh accent and said,"Ooh theres lovely". Their faces immediately clouded over and they started to pack up. Jon being ex-military realised something was up.

​Fearing an attack with a sharpened leek and a daffodil thermometer he quickly beat a retreat to the Granada. He later asked me what was that all about. I explained that Welsh people endure folks attempting their accent wherever they go in the world, usually with good grace and humour - however an Englishman attempting that accent while in the heart of Wales was akin to flying to New Delhi and berating the locals with your best "It ain't half hot mum" Indian accent.

Now at this point I was still on a smug high from everything going so well. I told the gang the next bit was simple but beautiful - just turn left as we leave the dam and that is the stunning 13-mile Devils Staircase single track road. The road would take us straight into Llanwrtyd Wells and our hotel for the night. Nothing could go wrong, just enjoy the scenery and be careful of the steep edges and wildlife.

Off we set and stopped within minutes for the first set of photos overlooking the stunning Arfan reservoir.  The sheer scale of this area is breathtaking. The cars looked like toys on the little road with huge mountain sides above and below. This section is more open land with sheep grazing the slopes and you can see cars on the other side of the valley as the road snakes it's way back and forth,  you do have to be careful as the views are mesmerising so it can be hard to focus on the road.

As the road nears the summit you enter the National Forest and the scenery changes once again, the open countryside giving way to massive trees on either side of the road and the open spaces between them filled with purple heather and bluebells in the shade of the trees. It's really quite magical and you understand why its voted the number 1 cycle, hike and driving route in Wales.  

We levelled out over a series of cattle grids and I spotted a long steel bridge across the next river. After pulling the convoy over, I asked Paul to go on ahead & set up the video camera to get some footage of the cars crossing. Being first to cross and showing off a bit I zipped across the bridge flashing my lights and waving, not realising the bridge has a dip and hump at the other end!

I winced as the sump made hard contact with the road and limped off out of shot hoping I'd not damaged anything. Luckily all my gauges behaved and with my ego deflated I slowly led the convoy onto the last part of the Staircase towards the hotel. Now as pretty as the scenery was, it started looking less and less familiar despite having done it once before only 2 years previously.

13 miles passed and the expected town did not appear. Descending a 16% road I spotted a sign for Tregarron and my smugness evaporated quicker than a Taliban peace promise. I couldn't work out how I'd gone wrong when the route only led to one destination! I stopped everyone again and asked if anyone had a satnav or phone signal? All were dead,  except Paul's phone which wanted us to return the way we had come, but for 9 miles.

This didnt seem right and I feared the nav was taking us back to the dam and the longer route along the A roads, but with no choice we spun around following Paul, climbed the 16% road and started back into the National Forest on the same road we had traversed earlier. I stuck it for a few miles then became convinced we were heading back to the long way round, which would add another 30 miles to the trip. I then started honking the horn frantically trying to stop the cars ahead; I still had no phone signal to ring anyone but 4 cars did stop while the rest sailed on, oblivious.

An Ordnance Survey map was produced and opened across the bonnet. "Where are we Gar?".  "Umm well to tell the truth I've never used a map in my life". "WHAT?".  "Well I passed my test in the 90s and I've always had a Tom Tom". Looks of disbelief were exchanged, however we did start to make sense of it. We had to pass through Abergwesyn to reach our hotel at Llanwrtyd Wells,   then back the way we had come to Tregarron and onto a road called Abergwesyn road.   

Common sense said surely the Abergwesyn road would take us to the hamlet of Abergwesyn,  so we spun around and headed back once again to do the 5 miles back to Tregarron and hopefully the road to the hotel. As we arrived at Tregarron the sat nav took us on the Abergwesyn road for all of 300ft before it asked us to turn around and retrace back 9 miles the way the first half of the convoy were already doing. Feeling once again like the Twilight Zone had descended upon us, I held my hands up in desperation.  Phil then produced another map which clearly showed that the Abergwesyn road DOES NOT connect to the hamlet of Abergwesyn on the other side of the valley!  Unsurprisingly, this brought the convoy to a halt.

At this point Pat Osborne and Jo Tait were both wearing the expression that strikes fear into men's hearts. The look that says "You're a bunch of incompetents and if you don't sort it fast we will take charge".  Then like a beacon from the sky Nick's phone found a signal and showed the route directly to the hotel,  but once again going back the way we came for 9 miles before making a turn. I asked everyone if they had seen a junction on the entire route? "Nope" came the 10 replies. "Who cares?" said Nick "it's the route back to the hotel.  Zero your trip counters, so if if we lose signal again we know the turn is in 9 miles".  Smart man.

The Jensen is a remarkably quick car for a 44yo. It corners well and effortlessly powers up the steepest of the hills. It was great fun trying to keep up on the twisty bits but everyone did their best. Still skeptical of this route and the turning nobody had seen, I kept quiet. As the 9th mile approached I couldnt believe what I saw; there in front of us was the same steel bridge I'd asked Paul to video us crossing,  and right next to the bridge was a tiny lane with a sign for Llanwrtyd Wells!

Winding my neck in like a tortoise, I realised that I (and everyone else) had missed the sign post because we were too busy waving at Paul and the video camera as we approached the bridge. At long last we were back on the correct road and soon the final 1 in 3 descent to the valley.

Despite all that had happened, Nick still pulled us over at a parking spot to take in the scenery. It was stunning; a clear open valley,  a river running through the middle with a trio of low raft bridges that zig zag across it. It was eerily quiet apart from the water - you have no sense that anyone else is within miles of you. I've honestly never been anywhere so peaceful within the UK. Everyone should see this place just once.

The remaining convoy arrived at the Neuadd Arms Hotel in Llanwrtyd Wells and I heaved a big sigh of relief to see the others had already arrived and checked in. Keen to do the same, we approached the desk. The landlord gave me my key and said, "That's them all". I turned to Brian next to me - yes our cheerful easy-going Yorkshireman - rubbed my temple and asked if they had any more rooms as we now needed 9, not 8. We originally had 16 booked but 7 had been cancelled over the previous weeks. The Landlord said he did have one room he keeps spare for situations like this,  but it wouldn't be the double room with easy access shower I'd originally booked for Brian.

The hotel is nearly 300 years old with a faded grandeur feel to it - open fires, big creaky staircases etc.  Brian's room turned out to be on the 3rd floor up 2 flights of stairs and no lift. Jon Woodward helped carry his case upto his room. I quickly made my way to the "Green Room".  They had given me this suite when we originally booked the whole hotel; it's a lovely oak panelled room,  king-size four poster and a whopping ensuite. After the day we'd had I did what any mature 44yo would do: I leapt backwards into the 4 poster and did starfish moves in the luxurious bedding.

The Green Room

Joining my fellow tourers for an evening meal I was confident nothing else could go wrong - or at least, nothing I could be blamed for! I entered the bar and Brian was on me like a Jack Russell on a postmans leg. "I've got some bad news for you", he said. "That room's awful and it's PINK! You can't swing a cat in there. The bed's soft and everything's pink! Pink carpet, pink bathroom suite, pink curtains. Even the bloody TV is pink!" 

I was tempted to ask in what way was this bad news for me, but thought better of it. Instead I did the honourable thing and offered Brian my suite. I told him it was on the 1st floor and very comfy but he refused, saying he'd stick it out but would have words with the owner in the morning.  He might have changed his mind if he'd seen the room he had turned down but I had offered, so didn't feel so bad about it.

A pleasant evening passed with a decent meal and quite a few drinks. Despite all the hiccups, everyone told me what a great adventure it had been and what fabulous scenery we saw.  I was quite emotional as one person told me they had seen parts of the UK they had never seen thanks to the tours and another said I should be proud of how I'd brought so many people together from different backgrounds over the last 5 years and the friendships that had been forged.  Wow ... praise indeed.

We said our goodbyes the following morning after breakfast. Brian was the last to emerge from the hotel;  he'd told the owner what he thought of the pink shoebox they had put him in and emerged smiling saying that no money had changed hands, either for the room or for his breakfast.
 
As they say in Yorkshire ...  'That'll Do '

Farewells before going home