BIKEPACKING MASTERCLASS
Escape the city with our winning kit and prep advice
We’re standing on a Welsh mountainside in the claggy mizzle, skin shimmering from the day in the sun combined with sweat from the humid air. We’ve just hiked up a steep, green zigzag hill with our loaded bikes and emerge, breathing heavily, above the climb.
Despite the glorious sunshine for most of the day, the mountains have turned this trip into a proper adventure and we’re ascending into thick white cloud. The swirling murk is being cheerfully described as ‘atmospheric’ and it feels wild and remote up here. My riding companion Alex reflects, “It’s mad to think that this morning we were in Bristol!” And it is mad; the city couldn’t feel further away.
I’ve been joined by Alex, a fellow physio; El, a seasoned Welsh bikepacker; and Hannah, who is in training for the 1500km Trans Pyrenees race. All of us are united in our desire to break from the routine and spend some time moving outside. We’ve done a lot of living in the eight hours it’s taken from urban door to mountain top. Myself and three riding companions battling over the ridge is simultaneously the worst and the best passage of our whole long weekend away. That contrast to our normal comfort was what we were seeking, the feeling of being truly alive. And we’d found that feeling in the Black Mountains range in southern Wales.
Think bikepacking is about being hardcore? In my experience, the opposite is true. The priority is looking after yourself. If that means cycling with less stuff and sleeping indoors, there’s nothing wrong with that. However, if you’ve built up the skills and kit to allow a comfortable overnight adventure, there’s something primal, rejuvenating and downright joyful about sleeping out in nature.
Adopt the mindset
From family cycle touring when I was young to epics such as the Transcontinental and 2020’s GBDURO (a self-sufficient 2000km event from Land’s End to John o’ Groats), I’m no stranger to planning an adventure. That doesn’t make me immune to pre-trip anxiety, just better at managing it. I’ve learned what to take with me, but I’ve also gained faith that most problems can be fixed on the route.
While kit choices are important, it’s not about having all the gear: you just need to be able to carry the appropriate stuff for your chosen adventure. For this trip we were wild camping. I’d opted for a large, durable 16-litre saddlebag and a handlebar bag from Ortlieb, bringing
thermals, a warm jacket, sleeping mat, sleeping bag and bivvy bag to sleep in, plus stove and food, which all fit comfortably in these bags.
I’d the chance to ride a Salsa Cutthroat Apex gravel bike on this trip. Designed for mixed terrain, long-distance adventures, I was excited to compare it to riding my usual hardtail mountain bike fully loaded.
Create the route
There are multiple ways to plan a bikepacking route, and sometimes I use a combination of everything. To get an overview or give your route over to algorithms, then Komoot or Google Maps are useful. If more control is needed, try something like RidewithGPS or Strava, where you’re easily able to plot point by point, and see surface type and frequency of use. If I’m heading off-road or wild camping, I’ll look at OS Maps, satellite images or street view pictures to look at the ground in more detail. Also, appreciating how the weather might affect the variety of riding surfaces is key when planning your daily mileage.
Not all trips need an exact plan, but I find following a pre-planned route allows more brain space to enjoy the journey. For our Welsh outing, some happy map browsing resulted in a ‘chunky’ mixed-surface route that took us from Bristol, up for a night in the Black Mountains and then back home again via the sweeping gravel of the Forest of Dean.
Respect the mountains
The route begins by winding out of Bristol via an old railway track turned cycle path. It’s an enjoyable roll, uninterrupted by traffic or lights, up into the villages to the north. Tucked away in the picturesque village of Olveston, the Crusty Loaf is our first stop and it sets the tone for the trip: a never-before-tasted fusion of custardy pain au raisin loaded with icing and a glacé cherry on top. I do love pastry.
We sail across the Severn Bridge which, if you haven’t done it by bike, is a wonderful experience. Leaving one country for another over a body of water feels like freedom. Chepstow is the first Welsh town, and it has a gloriously large landing strip of bike path that heads west to the Brecon Beacons National Park.
Once you’re in Wales, the hills don’t take long to arrive, and I’d used some of the route of GBDURO to get us out into the good stuff. We tackle the ‘staircase of doom’ near Shirenewton, which is fun to revisit with a much lighter cycling setup. Last time I was here, I’d panniers full of food that needed to last until John o’ Groats. If you do go that way, enjoy it – it’s worth the struggle, and there are some wide gravel tracks waiting on the other side.
A smooth descent brings us to a perfect lunch stop in Usk. Another moment of bakery joy; a large filled baguette, drink and cake all for £3.75. Yes, that is correct. We sit by the river and devour our picnic, putting the world to rights. Fuelling on trips like these is what keeps morale high –
Not all trips need an exact plan, however, following a pre-planned route will allow more brain space to relax and enjoy the journey
consuming a balance of macronutrients; protein, fat, salt and complex carbs, not just simple sugars, will allow your body to continue pedalling happily for longer.
Onwards to the Monmouthshire and Brecon canal. The stunning, premium gravel surface of the towpath, calm water and dappled sunlight through tree leaves make for lovely riding. We debate who would be Mole, Ratty or Toad from Wind in the Willows. Due to my shiny bike and enjoyment of making ‘poop poop’ noises as we approach the small bridges, sadly, I’m named Toad. Seeking comfort before heading up into the hills, the Towpath Inn provides a perfect interlude with gorgeous outdoor seating and friendly service. Leaving the pub, we pick a few fresh things for dinner and then begin the ascent of Waun Fach.
Up we climb, first on road then doubletrack, then onto some stony off-road and finally grass. We pedal until we succumb to hike-a-bike. The climb is challenging and I’d urge whoever follows this route to respect the mountains. Take layers in case the weather turns, plus sufficient food and navigation device battery as it’s not fast going. It’s ridable for the most part along the ridge, on gravel trail and dry, grassy sections but gets rougher on the descent. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss my suspension fork, but the Salsa’s Teravail tyres are easily capable enough.
Wild camping essentials
Nearing the Grwyne Fawr reservoir, we begin seeking out a bivvy spot. Wild camp-finding can feel like a dark art but, ultimately, you’re looking for flat, sheltered and, ideally, soft land. Fastflowing water is a plus, but purifying is advisable if you’re in the UK lowlands. Knowing and respecting your environment leads on to some important rules of wild camping: set-up late, depart early, leave no trace. If the urge for a ‘wilderpoo’ arrives then make sure it gets buried, trowel or no trowel. Our camp spot is perfect, tucked away from the wind, a stream nearby and overlooking the reservoir. Easy, quick-release straps mean minimal faff to unpack the Ortlieb bags and soon we’re huddled around our stoves cooking up lentils, couscous, olives and flatbreads, finished with hot chocolate and rum.
I go to sleep looking up at the trees and hearing the wind whistle overhead, thinking about our journey so far and how grateful I am to be here.
Once we arrive in Wales, the hills don’t take long to arrive and I’d followed some of the route of the GBDURO to get us out into the good stuff
Morning comes and I’m awoken by some rowdy sheep. The curse of being a morning person – once awake, I’m really awake. I rustle and bustle trying to subtly get everyone else up but they’re unrousable. I content myself with making breakfast while still in my sleeping bag – coffee and porridge with melted dark chocolate – and taking pictures of the sheep as they graze by my snoozing friends.
Rolling down from our camp spot is stunning; the cloud has lifted and the sun is back, twinkling on the reservoir. We pause in Abergavenny for a second breakfast from the Angel Bakery. I had a buttery almond croissant that had me enthusing about life long after the time taken to eat it. From there we headed along a quiet, rolling country road to Monmouth, gateway to the Forest of Dean.
Pick a worthy bike
The route I’ve plotted descends to the Cannop Cycle Centre via a long flowy blue run, and I’m curious how my Salsa/Ortlieb combo will fare on the mountain bike trail. It doesn’t disappoint, as the long wheelbase and wide handlebar ensure that I’m in control, and there’s minimal swing
from the frame bags. We’re whooping and beaming as we sweep our way down the trails. It feels childlike in its joyfulness. The beautiful gravel trails continue as they lead us down to the Wye valley, my unexpected trip highlight: a long gravel section, riding side by side with no fear of traffic. It’s here that I feel my least inhibited. Our conversations become deeper and more meaningful, benefitting from the time, and space, for self-reflection.
Next we enjoy the novelty of smooth resurfaced tarmac to Tintern Abbey, then cross a rickety bridge onto more wonderful off-road trails. Riding through the Tidenham tunnel on the new Wye Valley Greenway is pretty exciting; it’s a lit tunnel that pops us out near Chepstow, avoiding all excess elevation.
Back over the Severn Bridge we go. I’m amazed at such a comfortable ride on the Salsa, given that I’d just jumped on and ridden 200km with no issue, proving itself as a versatile mile muncher. Coming into Bristol, the strong cycling infrastructure goes some way to improving the jarring effect of going from nature to city.
Slow down to go faster
In less than 48 hours we’ve had such a journey, over every type of terrain, the four of us finishing the weekend with tired legs and refreshed heads. We concluded that it’s more about getting out the door and breaking routine than waiting to have the perfect setup, and I couldn’t have had a better crew to share the trails with.
Someone asked me once if I feel the need to make my adventures bigger and bigger to get the same highs. Undoubtedly you ride an extreme mood rollercoaster on something like GBDURO or Transcontinental, but it certainly doesn’t diminish the experience of smaller trips. Weekenders can have just as many highs and often are better for being shared with friends.
I’m still curious about my limits and enjoy challenge. I’m hoping my next big adventure will be the unsupported 1167km Atlas Mountain Race in Morocco in October, but part of the prep for that experience will be trips just like this one. My key piece of advice for someone contemplating a weekend adventure, covering everything from planning to managing things on the road, is: slow down. By taking time to feel prepared, enjoy the journey and look after yourself, you can end up faster, and certainly happier, overall.