Issue 162: Wider, Not Wiser

Jason Miles is back, and doing bike events again. However, they’ve either got harder, or he’s got softer.


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Jason Miles was once our go-to contributor for extreme activities that required lots of pedalling, physical prowess, and his ability to make a good story out of suffering. Perhaps we wore him out, as he’s had a bit of a break from training plans and TV appearances (he was Guy Martin’s co-pilot on their world-record tandem ride). This summer, Jason dipped a toe back into organised riding and was reminded of all the lessons he forgot while he was away.

Words Jason Miles Photography as credited

I briefly considered naming this piece: ‘Thin bloke who’s now not quite as thin as he was rediscovers the earth’s gravitational pull’. The thing is, I lost interest in competitive cycling a few years ago and ever since, I’ve spent my time on other interests – such as being comfortable, warm and dry for longer periods and occasionally spending money on non-cycling things.


I’m trying to blame the pandemic, but I guess that was the catalyst. The forced realisation that I actually enjoyed sitting down more than I thought I did.

Missing you

I miss all you guys out there though. I’m looking at you, the chap who always talks to me enthusiastically at every single bike race but I still don’t know the name of, and the old friend who owes me twelve quid but who I’ve now not seen in person for five years. Yeah, you lot. 


Therein lies the dilemma. While I cringe at the thought of spending months working on my physical performance – not eating much food, lining up at a bicycle event, then spending another week analysing where I could have been faster (and probably then throwing money at whatever perceived problem needed to be resolved) – I often find my new kind of existence quite lonely. It’s a big contributor to early death and other bad stuff is loneliness. And I want my 12 quid back.


There are loads of bike events out there, if that’s (still) your thing. Different types of events come and go (are there any 24-hour races left nowadays?) but a quick glance at the UK calendar proves that the whole off-road biking scene is far from dead. It seems busier than ever to me, at least. It’s a rider’s market and that’s a good thing if like me you’re quite picky about the sort of event that you can be bothered to travel to (in a borrowed car! Long story…) and take part in.


Obviously, right now there are a ton of gravel events. From full-on races with UCI points on offer to the more grassroots ‘gatherings’ with plenty of sleeve tattoos and artisan craft IPA. I’ve not got any tattoos and I prefer a nice pint of bitter but I’m still drawn more towards the less serious, more relaxed type of stuff.

Sleeping in a bag

These days I’m tempted by stuff like the Gravel Rally in North Wales. It’s organised by the same team that brought us the Pan Celtic Race Series. I took part in that once and it was very hard. I spent the best part of a week alternately riding and sleeping in a bag and talking to almost nobody at all. I’ve been to the Gravel Rally before as well and I remember it was also very hard but significantly more ‘peopley’ with a strong emphasis on camaraderie and ‘everyone in the same boat, having a laugh’.


The Pan Celtic ‘Ultra’ race started back in 2019 and has spawned a whole other collection of social rides, as well as the Gravel Rally. Participants become part of the Pan Celtic ‘Clan’ and frequently meet for ‘gatherings’, details of which are all contained on the PCR website. 


Based at a rugby club in the Conwy Valley, the Gravel Rally boasts camping facilities, coffee, showers, a bar, a posh burger van and various sponsors’ stands catering to the gravel/bikepacking/long-distance crowd. The race ‘village’ is near Llanrwst and both long and short route choices visit some well-known (and in some cases quite rugged) places such as Capel Curig and Betws-y-Coed. If you wanted to drag your family along to a bike event with the promise of a cool holiday in the area, this would be pretty hard to beat – it’s in the heart of the Eryri National Park (Snowdonia) and a shortish drive from Holyhead, the North West of England or the Midlands. If you want to avoid using the car, there’s even a viable train service around these parts – regular trains head to Llandudno and from there there’s a frequent service along the Conwy Valley.


Apart from the overall feel of a social event, the cycling part itself is an enduro/timed stage format, so while there are long sections of trail where you’re supposed to show everyone how fast you can go, there are plenty of opportunities in between each stage to ride as a chatty group, take photographs, buy all the chocolate in the Spar shop, that sort of thing. The route choices are an 84 miles/10,000 feet long route or a not-much-easier-if-we’re-being-honest 58 miles/7,000 feet ‘short’ route. (For metric-brained folk, that’s about 135km/3,000 metres for the long route.)


Preceding the main event is a Night Stage event, raced in darkness. Eleven miles, one stage and lights are essential. The route uses many of the trails of Gwydir Forest, so if you’re unlucky with a mechanical or a puncture it’s not too far to walk back to the start.


I arrived horribly late, perhaps due to outside-cycling interests so I missed the night-time fun but by all accounts it was brilliant.

Emperor’s old clothes

There are a lot of thin, fast people in Lycra though, which is fine and while I’m ‘wider in physical stature’ than I used to be, I still have a drawer full of Lycra shorts and racy cycling jerseys so there is no way I’m going shopping for bigger clothing. One day I’ll fit back into my too-small shorts, mark my words! In the meantime, I’ll be testing the limits of Endura’s stitching and stretching the material to the point at which it becomes slightly transparent, giving the poor soul riding behind me a view of my… er… behind.


Anyway, taking all of that into account I ended up being the only person there in a pair of baggy military surplus shorts and a loose-fitting, downhill-style jersey. Quite a bright, stripy jersey as well, which apparently made me look like a toddler. At least the photographer could spot me easily.


I even had a hydration pack. The shame of it all.

Flashbacks

After trying to remember what sort of things to stuff into my pockets for a whole day of riding without starving to death and then a few hellos and how-do-you-dos with people I’ve not seen for ages (sadly none of them owed me money) we gathered at the start line ready for the off. Unlike last year, the sun was shining (it was in that early summer almost-drought that now seems a distant memory) and a nervous silence befell those who were here last year and remembered The First Climb…


In all fairness, it’s a complete and utter bloody horror. All tarmac, about 1-in-3 all the way to the top and just horrible. Admittedly there are lovely views but I can’t remember them – all I can remember is sweat invading my eyes. According to the website, “Sector 1 will more than warm the legs with its brutal, expletive-provoking barbaric climb. Welcome to the Pan Celtic Gravel Rally.” Yeah, cheers for that.

After that, we’re high up in the mountains and cruising along a brilliant gravel road/trail that’s often quite rough. It climbs steadily and partially follows a massive grey pipe towards Llyn Cowlyd, which is probably Welsh for ‘very big lake’. Stage Two is much more fun than Stage One and that’s all you need to know. 

My friends, Dave and Ben, had waited for me at the top. I think they’d been there for a long time so I pleaded with them to not do it again and suggested we all meet later at the bar. In fairness to them, they did wait one more time, but after I’d dragged my sorry carcass to the end of Stage Two they got the message (and presumably got cold) so they got cracking.


More steep tarmac, this time downhill which was making me wish I had a dropper seatpost on my gravel bike but everyone seemed to survive that with just a working set of brake pads.


Talking of dropper posts, just before I arrived at the start of Stage Four I seemed to remember that last time I’d thought that if I did this event again it would be on a mountain bike. As far as gravel events go, the Gravel Rally is right at the extreme end in terms of terrain and – as is the case with Stage Four – rideability. Not much of it is rideable in other words. It’s a shoulder-the-bike, hikeabike job and I remembered last time that I practically ruined a pair of shoes trying to walk up here. This time I wore some more sensible (and cheaper) ones. There were noticeably more riders this year on mountain bikes, which kind of proves my point. I still think the fastest people on the day were on gravel bikes, but they perhaps had slightly less fun.


In an attempt to summarise the stages, there’s an equal mix of flat, uphill and downhill timed sections, mostly on gravel forest roads or ancient, narrow tracks. There’s nothing too technical but these are forest roads so you need to be on your guard for loose gravel if you value all of your teeth. 


I apparently forgot all of that wisdom and brought a gravel bike again.

Come for the prize-giving

We’re soon back to fast, fun, forest gravel and headed towards the brilliant Stage Five, close to the trails of Penmachno. Another really tough, technical climb here but the descent is brilliant.


The Spar in Dolwyddelan probably prepares for this event a few days beforehand. For one day, the shop and its picnic table became an unofficial Pan Celtic checkpoint – the whole place was packed with hungry cyclists buying pasties and Monster Munch. You couldn’t move for people in olive green bike jerseys and Lycra shorts with pockets.


After eight timed stages and ten transitions, we’re back at the Rugby Club with its showers, bar and comfy chairs. I lost count of the number of friendly faces I bumped into. I ate pizza and very carefully placed my very dirty bike back into my mate Duncan’s lovely posh BMW that I’d borrowed. Everyone at the finish seemed to have enjoyed themselves, while I suspect some were just glad it was all over. It’s a long day out and it would be easy to underestimate the Gravel Rally if you’d assumed it was ‘just’ another gravel event.


Without a doubt, when the day ended I had the most fun I’ve ever had watching a prize-giving presentation. Organiser Mally Ryan really should do a turn at stand-up comedy; remember where you heard it first. Honestly, go to the Gravel Rally just for the presentation and you can thank me later!

Speaking of Mr Ryan, I caught up with him afterwards and asked, half-joking, if he did all this for the money. He said: “It all comes down to the people who take a punt on us and turn up and ride. I find it hugely rewarding seeing the mixed bag of people at our events and the energy they bring. I do want to be rich, but rich in the personal encounters and feedback we get afterwards.” So, no big money in organising bike races, then.

I’ve spent a lot of time in North Wales over the years and the Gravel Rally has shown me trails I didn’t know existed, has shown me climbs that I hope to never see again (!) and most importantly for me, it’s a bike event that’s in reality a great day out with your mates on bikes in one of the best places to ride a bike in the country. Just don’t expect it to be easy!