I had received detailed instructions on how to reach the
house. (In this part of Wales postcodes can cover 10’s of square miles.)
“Left at the old school sign. Follow road up and over the
first hill, all the way down to the cattle grid, up a bigger hill on the other side
and turn right at the top.”
Two minutes after taking what I assumed was the turn (no
road names here) I was off the saddle and pushing the bike up a steep hill
covered in ice and snow. Reaching a fork in the track I tried to divine which
way was straight on (reasoning that the directions hadn't mentioned a turn) but
with the road marking covered it was guesswork. Having made my decision I continued
on my way up into the hills with sheep and striking views for company. The snow
was so deep and the bleats so pitiful that I spent a good few minutes trying to
dig out some grass for the lambs but they were more perturbed by my presence
than grateful so I pressed on.
Having crested the hill I began the slippery descent with one
foot on a pedal scooting along only vaguely in control as the snow rendered my
brakes void but ensured any fall would be cushioned. As I reached the bottom of
the hill with no cattle grid in sight I began to question my earlier choice. Well
out of mobile range and beginning to dither I lucked on a range rover coming
the other way. While he didn't recognise my aunt’s name he was able to assure
me that no farmhouse fitting my description was up ahead. With the weather
closing in I did a 180 and put my back into heaving my bike back up the hill.
Having retraced my steps to the fork I began a new climb
with the possibility that I had made the wrong turn off the main road to begin crouched
at the back of my mind.
Fortunately as I crawled past a farmhouse a dog cam bounding
through the snow to greet me followed by his owner. He was happy to confirm
that there was indeed a place meeting my description up ahead but warned that
from here on vehicles hadn't made it through the drifts and made me promise to
come back and see him if I couldn't make it through.
Ha! Very kind but not a chance. I was in high spirits,
enjoying the adventure, excited to arrive and determined not to let any amount
of deepening snow stop me.
With typical directness Celia had informed me that the
second hill was bigger than the first As I
crossed the cattle grid I could see she was correct.
This picture doesn't do it justice.
Nothing for it but to put my head down, arms outstretched on
the handlebars and slowly trudge upwards. It was in just this pose that my cousin Emma
spied me from above having kindly come looking for me. It had been well over an
hour since I had called Celia from the local shop offering to buy milk and
reporting that I would see them shortly.
With Emma by my side and trying hard to chat while heaving
the bike upwards it wasn't long before we were turning left and heading for the
farm house where a warm welcome awaited.
Safe and sound
Cavala is a magical place and I spent a wonderful 2 days
there. Helping (hindering?) with the horses; digging out driveways; adventuring
back down to the shop with Emma, Celia, Willow the dog and sled and generally
eating, drinking and making merry.
My departure was if anything tougher than my entrance as the
winds had heaped the snow higher and I choose to go the back way where it was
clear no vehicle had ventured.
You can see the path I had plowed stretching behind me and this handy sign confirming that this was a perfect path for cycling...
But it was a lot of fun I carrying as much as
pushing the bike through drifts up to my waist confident that there wasn't much
that could stop me.
But some sections were tough. Those drifts are at least four feet.
As I reached the road after a couple of miles it was very
gratifying to be greeted by a local farmer who seemed pretty bemused to see me
emerging from the snow!
Now heading for England I had the wind at my back rolling
down frosted hills
The 50 miles between me and Herefordshire fell away
easily and I was soon rolling into Fownhope where my good friend Nick’s parents
had kindly agreed to put me up for a night. But not before enjoying some lovely
views and nosing round pretty villages and seemingly abandoned churches.
My detour to Wales had been joyous with the snowy weather
only serving to make the beautiful country even more memorable.
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