The Dragon Ride has always been on my bucket list. Many of my fellow club members at Team Milton Keynes talk excitedly about it, how tough it is, etc., etc., and this year I finally got the opportunity to ride it on Sunday, 7th June to find out for myself.
I opted for the Gran Fondo - 140-odd miles through the Brecon Beacons. If successful, this would be the longest distance I would have done in one day. This was insane enough - those even considering the Dragon Devil (300 kilometres - 190 miles) were, to my mind, stark raving bonkers.
Previous attempts to cycle in Wales had been torpedoed either by dreadful weather or mechanicals, so the omens were not particularly propitious. Also, my training for it had been interrupted by a series of quite nasty colds (and a river cruise holiday celebrating my 65th birthday, but we'll skip lightly over that......) Nothing like getting your excuses in first!
My wife and I decided to make an occasion of this so that we could look round South Wales, an area that we didn't know well at all. I booked a room at Blanco's Hotel in Port Talbot, having signally failed to find any bed and breakfast accommodation within 10 miles of the start, the plan being to let my wife have the car and I cycle to the start. I think I must have had the last room available - the Dragon Ride is a very popular event. You can read my review of the hotel on TripAdvisor here.
Organisation
Once my entry had been accepted via the website, everything went very smoothly. Plenty of information was available, my only reservation being that, despite an enquiry from me to the organisers requesting the names of the major climbs and their order, they never got back to me. That, however, was really the only black mark.
I received the rider's pack about ten days before the event and stuck everything I was supposed to stick on the bike, clothes and helmet, taking careful note of the emergency mobile number. I tried as far as possible to familiarise myself with the parcours and its difficulty, and was reasonably reassured that, apart from one climb (The Devil's Elbow) there was nothing particularly alarming about the steepness or length of the climbs, having done a fair amount of Alpine and Pyrenean climbing.
The Ride
After an uneventful drive along the M4 on the Saturday afternoon, we checked us and the bike into our hotel room. I got everything as ready as possible and got my head down after an enormous meal at the hotel.
I arose at 6 a.m. to a gorgeous, if chilly, morning. The idea was to cycle to the start in Margam Park, which was about 5 miles from the hotel, and hook up with some friends at 7.15 - unlike many sportives, the Dragon Ride lets you leave pretty much any time you want.
I'm always a bit uptight before a major event, and forcing breakfast down is an ordeal, so I tend not to bother with it. I know this goes against conventional wisdom, but it works well for me. I have the kind of metabolism that allows me to cycle long distances without the need for a lot of sustenance, and I have never "bonked" on a long ride yet. Famous last words......
I got myself togged up with arm warmers, leg warmers, gilet and gloves and left the hotel with no drama, arriving at the park with plenty of time to spare. There was a certain amount of confusion at this point, caused mainly by my having entered the park at the wrong place, but after some to-ing and fro-ing with some cycling over very rough paths, I got to the starting area to wait for my friends.
As the sun rose, it became obvious that I was over-dressed, so I removed my leg warmers and stuffed them, not without difficulty, into the rear pockets of my brand-new Team Milton Keynes cycling top. My friends were also having logistical difficulties, so we didn't meet up until around 7.45.
Having got the obligatory photos and selfies out of the way, a group of about nine of us, most of whom I didn't know, set off through the starting gate in bright sunshine to begin our great adventure.
The Bwlch
Within a mile, the group split up due to the considerable differences in standards. I pressed on with three others in the vanguard, and the first 15 miles or so were pretty straightforward. However, it wasn't long before we were ascending the Bwlch. This is not a steep climb particularly - just a long drag - and it was at this point that my companions started to pull away from me. I didn't try to keep up; I learned a long time ago that you have to find your own pace and rhythm and stick with it on rides like these, so I didn't let it get me down. I knew they were stronger than me anyway.
Rhigos
The descent down the other side was exhilarating, but VERY chilly - not too technical and very well marked. Almost immediately we started climbing once more. Rhigos is another long drag with great scenery which warmed me up again. Another fabulous descent into Penderyn followed, where we came to the first pit-stop at around 34 miles.
My original plan was to miss the first feed stop and soldier on until the second, but I needed a break after all that climbing. I met my friends there, had a coffee, topped up my water bottles (it was pleasantly warm) and we all set off together again, knowing that the next pit-stop was about 30 miles further on. As for climbs, the Devil's Elbow was next up before we got there - and boy, do I mean up.
Devil's Elbow
I was feeling pretty good at this stage, so we managed to stick together pretty much for the next 15 miles or so before I began to get dropped again. I let them get on with it and concentrated on my own ride. The road began to get narrower and steeper as the gradient rose to 11 or 12 percent and a timing mat announced the start of a timed climb. Round a left hairpin bend we went to be confronted with about 600 metres of 15-20 percent stuff. I just sat in the saddle in my lowest gear (34 x 28) and just spun up it very steadily, coming out of the saddle occasionally.
The biggest issue for me on sections like this is the behaviour of other riders. There were a lot of cyclists walking up the narrow hill at this point and many were not leaving sufficient room. Allied to this were others weaving all over the road as they struggled up the gradient - I would far rather be on my own under these circumstances as the risk of colliding is significantly increased.
I could actually see my friends further up the hill and I felt that I was gaining on them very slightly. I made it up the hill and was very pleased with the way I handled it. The time will break no records, but the sense of achievement was very powerful.
Not long after that came the second pit-stop at Ystradfellte (apparently). Once again, I met my friends there and we congratulated each other on ascending the Devil's Elbow. We also commiserated with another friend of ours whom we bumped into whose ride had come to an end via a terminal mechanical.
It was here that I came across a new foodstuff for the first time. I have a good deal of difficulty ingesting gels, as even the isotonic ones can get sickly after a while. I don't have a particularly sweet tooth anyway, so am always on the lookout for something savoury. Behold - cold salted new potatoes! Nectar of the gods, I tell you. About three of these followed by a banana slid down very satisfactorily indeed before we set off again, having been told by the staff at this stop that the next one was 38 miles away.
Black Mountain
The next section to the third pit-stop, although not particularly challenging according to the profile, was actually very tough. Undulating terrain and into a headwind meant that I got dropped pretty quickly this time and I was beginning to suffer mentally. This always happens, and I usually get over it, so I plodded on, taking quite a few photos on the way to give myself a break. Again, I met my friends at the next stop very briefly, before they set off without me after having agreed that that last 30-odd miles had been seriously hard work. We knew there was one big challenge left to conquer before the final pit-stop - Black Mountain.
I actually took a longish break here, sitting in glorious sunshine, as I needed to gather my physical and mental resources. To my extreme annoyance, they had run out of salted potatoes - obviously others had also discovered their delights. I had to make do with some potato chips and a banana, washed down with plenty of water. To my surprise, another friend of mine who was doing the ride on his own arrived, so we had a bit of a chat and I carried on solo.
There was a bit of a climb out of the feed station, but after that I was able to get some blessed recovery as we had a longish downhill section. However, there is always a price to pay, and before long we were ascending Black Mountain. This again is actually just a long slog, but you can see the road ascending above you and of course I was pretty knackered, so it seemed longer than it probably actually was.
The Finish
Word had it at the feed station that after Black Mountain there was only one other hill of any significance, just outside Neath. There was indeed something of a stinker here, but the remainder of the ride was much hillier than I was expecting. My mental resources were pretty low and for the first time I was thinking rather negatively, but got a boost when one of the marshals said that there was only 5 miles to go. Irritatingly, I had to pass the hotel on the way to the finish, but nothing now was going to stop me collecting my finisher's medal.
I got to Margam Park and thankfully turned into the entrance, only to be told that the finish was actually another two miles down the road! By this time I was screaming internally, but plugged on until I got over the finish line, cheered on by my friends who'd probably been there for hours. I collected my medal, had a brief chat to my friends, and sat down to gather myself physically and mentally for the ride to the hotel.
I wearily climbed into the saddle and cycled back to Port Talbot. My bike was making strange creaking and clicking noises from the bottom bracket and every adversity is magnified, of course, when you are at a low physical and mental ebb. I then had to lug the bike up two flights of stairs back to the room, and I just leaned on the banisters the whole way up.
Conclusion
I made it through the Dragon Ride, at considerable physical and mental cost; as usual, the feeling on finishing was one of relief rather than euphoria. It took me two full days to recover, but it did eventually dawn on me what I'd achieved. The furthest distance in any one day over very hilly terrain - not bad, not bad at all, old boy.
The weather was beautiful, as was the scenery. The organisation was top-notch, the company good and no mechanicals - although my bottom bracket needed replacing afterwards!
Another one ticked off on my bucket list. What's next? I do have in mind to ascend Mont Ventoux in 2017, which will be the 50th anniversary of Tom Simpson dying on its slopes during the 1967 Tour de France. Well, I do need a goal...... Anybody want to join me?
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