That is my good mate David caught midway through a detailed examination of the “Ferneography” covering a large swathe of the Black Mountains in high summer. How he got there was pretty simple; dropping a foot into the morass of vegetation while expecting something reassuringly solid to balance on. Didn’t end well for him. For the rest of us, cinematic gold 🙂

How we got there is a little more complex. Simple enough to pluck a route from a well know website promising a big Welsh day out. Much of that route intersected with one I’ve ridden many times, but offered intriguing accoutrements and diverting alternatives to some fairly dull transitions.

Naively stuck it up on the GPS, roped in three other Friday SkivE** clubbers with the promise of big skies, epic landscapes, fantastic descents and an artisan sandwich. The four of us were GPS locked and sandwich loaded in Crickhowel by 1030am ready to tackle a road climb I’ve been avoiding for about 10 years.

On the eBike it’s a lovely way to gain quite a lot of height in not much time rather than a “Oh God Why Did I Have That Last Beer?” purgatory directed trudge sweating out an alcohol marinated will to live. Feeling pretty smug today until karma intervened with an insistent arrow routing us over gate marked “Private Land”.

As we portaged portly ebikes over the locked gate my doubts on the legal veracity of the route began to surface. Best to keep schtum I thought, it’s sure to get better. It really didn’t and 45 minutes later we found ourselves 2 kilometres and endless locked stiles into a double that fern clearing mission.

There was a track for sure. Probably a footpath. Certainly not travelled by foot or tyre for good reason. That reason being head height ferns, hidden rocks, sniper roots and the aforementioned lack of level ground. I mostly forged a path nervously anticipating  a vegetation based involuntary brake incident, pitching me headlong into a landscape cosplaying “Dr Livingstone I presume?”

After enough time for me to consider bad thoughts,  including hunting down the route author and making his or her life a misery with a sharp spoon, the ferns finally released us one third up the grassy track to Rhiw Trimau. I have history with this 3km ascent up the side of an ever opening stunning valley. It’s a proper “well that’s very big and I’m very small” experience in the dry. In the wet, it’s more of a “just leave me face down in this damp grass, it’s the way I’d want to go” experience.

Today it was motor assisted joy leaving us mostly unflustered on the Summit of a Thousand Vistas, and ready to unwrap Al’s Special Sandwich.  Of the 20+ times I’ve rested on this summit about 19 have been “fucks sake let’s get off this hill” as wind/sleet/snow/rain/delete none attempt to fling tired bodies painfully into the next valley.

Not today. Stunning. Just let-me-drink-this-in-and-recycle-it-on-shitty-winter-day stunning. Still existential bullshit and condiment-maxxing focaccias can only take you far. The rest is point and shoot descending through rocky ruts opening up to a glorious mess of loose steppy rock. I love this trail and the big heavy eBike is nothing short of magnificent at dragging you to the far horizon all the time apparently powered by skimming rocks spat from the rear wheel.

And today none of us crashed into the gate I always forget about 3/4 of the way down. So pretty much another first there. As was the discombobulating left turn where I always head right when we hit the road. The route hit back sending us up a rather fabulous sunken road between shady trees. My route concerns diminished I confidently postulated death-by-ferns were behind us.

Yeah. No. It was ahead of us. To the side of us. Everywhere we looked. Although that head height thing barely enabled peripheral vision. Which fired “fern, fern, fern, another fucking fern” at the optic nerve. We considered abandoning this charlatan’s route, clearly ridden only on a computer, before – for reasons between only me and my therapist – pressing on and further into the ferniment***

After far more face based shrubbery than any rider should have to deal with, we arrived at the bottom of the last climb. I rallied the troops “at least it’s not a force 5 gale lashing us with sideways pissing rain and a high chance of benightment“. I like to think this Churchillian address carried the day.

It didn’t. Carrying tho. Oh yes there was a lot of that. 200 vertical metres up something pretending to be some form of trail. It may once have been but time and weather had reduced it to a steep, deep gulley barely cut into the side of a big sodding hill. eBikes have walk modes intended to make pushing easier. Works better if the pedals aren’t permeantly encumbered by the rocks or, and I don’t expect you to be surprised here, ferns.

On my sweaty and sweary ascent of this rubbish facsimile of a ridable trail, I found myself consumed with the hate of vegetation. In the same way bluebells trigger a profound sense of wellbeing, ferns are Gods swing doors always keen to slam you in the face.

Eventually it was over. And after yet another navigational challenge best summarised as “fuck this, let’s go to the pub,” we pretty much fell down the Bwlch at quite the rapid rate to find ourselves just a few kilometres from the car. Sorry I mean pub. The route though just kept on giving. Mostly stiles and pointless diversions. But we were – Stockholm Syndrome – committed to see it through to the end.

At which point we made a glass-clinking public pact never to ride it again. Subsequent investigations with a decent map and dodgy AI companion has brought forth a GPX track I’m keen to try again. I’m hoping the promise of posh sangers means I won’t have to ride it alone.

A week or so later we rode the Gap. And that was just bloody perfect. But more of that next time. Here’s the preview.

*A state of agitation or of turbulent change or development. Or an agent that precipitates or is capable of precipitating such a state; a catalyst. So says the OED. And as metaphors start, we might as well end there.

**All of us electrically assisted. Which ended up being both very good… and very bad as well.

***Yes I know it’s spelt wrong. I have petitioned said OED for a synonym 🙂