1. Y TRI MYNYDD (THE THREE MOUNTAINS) P52
(The Three Mountains)
Ed attempts an epic ride through the Welsh Valleys linking Afan Forest with BikePark Wales and Cwmcarn
We saddle up for a big day out, attempting to link up the South Wales classics of Glyncorrwg, BikePark Wales and Cwmcarn, all by pedal power
GGrinding up a never-ending fireroad, head bowed into the wind, I’m beginning to wonder if this was my best idea. On paper it seemed like a grand day out – starting at one trail centre and finishing at another, dropping in at a bike park en route and linking up a load of quality South Wales riding along the way. It was a loose objective that had been on my mental backburner for some time. I spend the vast majority of my bike time exploring the warren of localsbuilt lines in the Valleys, and have often looked out over the next hill and wondered whether it’s possible to join the dots. When the makers of route-finding app Komoot approached us about trying out their software, it seemed like an opportune time to find out.
Once I’d set the start and end points, the app automatically plotted a route for me, and after adjusting it to take in locations where I knew there were trails, I had a wiggly blue line that measured 82km and sliced across the contours to give 1,800m of ascending and descending. “Pretty achievable,” I’d thought, confidently. But now, barely a quarter of the way in, that cockiness has faded and been replaced by a dull ache in my untrained legs. Of course, I don’t let on about this to my ride companion, Scotty Laughland – although, being the one who came up with the plan and dragged him down from Scotland for it, I do feel slightly responsible for making sure it’s not a completely hellish day out. As a pro mountain biker for Scott, he’s no stranger to a big day in the saddle, but while I’m not quite sure what Scotty’s official job title is – brand ambassador, influencer, lifestyle athlete? – I’m pretty certain his remit doesn’t stretch to wild goose chases
across the Welsh Valleys. But he's here, and so far he doesn’t seem to hate me.
Afan a laugh
Like any South Wales ride, our day has been one of contrasts so far. We embarked on our ‘epic’ from Glyncorrwg, the northerly of Afan Forest’s two trail centres. Situated just up the valley from the swirling steam and dystopian horizon of Port Talbot’s steel works, the tranquillity here couldn’t be more apparent, with the heavy industry petering out into small mining villages and the plumes of steam replaced by leaden clouds, which thankfully are holding onto their rain, for now. Right from the off, the Skyline trail ramps up steeply, and our legs are unceremoniously kicked into gear. Although we’ve got the app to guide us, we’ve acquired a human guide too – Jeff from the Afan a Blast bike shop has enthusiastically joined us for the first leg. He’s setting a rapid pace up the rising switchbacks, pounding at the pedals, pointing out the sights and rattling away in a thick Welsh accent, the lungbusting effort not seeming to hinder his ability to talk in the slightest. We’re much in need of a break by the top, so after prompting Jeff into another monologue we take the opportunity to catch our breath.
The descents at Glyncorrwg are as varied as the Valleys themselves. The trail starts down a freshly-built ribbon of gravel that snakes across open moorland, with the whoosh of wind turbines spinning overhead. From here it drops into the trees and carves a defined groove through a carpet of verdant moss. Speeds increase with the gradient and we’re tipped over rollers into big bucket-shaped berms. Scotty’s in his element, popping his bike onto its back wheel and skimming the crests, his rear tyre cutting loose and catching again on the downslopes. We could easily keep pushing up for more if we weren’t mindful of the many miles still to be ridden. Up until this point we’ve been following the route of both the Blade and Skyline trails, but now we split from the Blade and head out on some narrow singletrack to the farthest tip of the Skyline, where we bid farewell to Jeff. He pedals off back to the shop, where he’s left his wife holding the fort, and we consult the map for
the next part of our journey. We’re at a lookout point where there should be a stunning view of Pen y Fan – the highest peak in the Brecon Beacons – but all there is today is dense grey oblivion. Typical!
The five Ps of planning
It becomes apparent that I’d slightly underestimated the next stage of the route. Komoot can tell you if the riding surface is tarmac or dirt, but what it can’t tell you is that you’re headed down the illegal motocrossers’ local favourite and they’ve gouged the track into a mess of deep ruts and puddles. What with this and an incessant headwind along sections of gravel fireroad that I’d assumed would be a breeze, stoke levels are on the decline. And they slump further when we pop out on a road and realise we’ve missed our turn. Somewhere along the way we’d managed to silence the dulcet electronic tones of our phone navigation, so are now forced to throw away all our hardwon elevation on a tarmac descent into Aberdare, rather than on the trail we’d planned. Things could’ve turned sour if the pound shop wasn’t doing three Mars bars for a quid.
Our spirits reviving, we navigate through the streets towards a tall and impenetrable bank of conifers. I know that beyond this is BikePark Wales, but between us and the manicured berms is a bridleway that seems to go on forever, getting progressively steeper and rockier with every twist and turn. Over the loose, rubbly surface each metre is a battle, so it’s with great relief that we finally meet the uplift road and spin up the last easy gradient to the top. [NB: Riding at BikePark Wales is only permitted if you buy a pass and sign a waiver – we got permission to do this.]
The hardest bit now is deciding which runs to ride, but after bashing over rocky ground for the last 40km we’re both in the mood for some flow and airtime. We dive into Vicious Valley and the A470 Line, swapping the lead and sticking wheel-to-wheel on a high-speed chase down the hill. The agony of the climbing is soon forgotten in the buzz of adrenaline, and even at the bottom we’re not disheartened, as our next dose isn’t far away. A short pedal across the valley leads us to Aberfan, a village that hit the news in the 1960s when a colliery spoil tip collapsed, engulfing a school. The remnants of this disaster have long since vanished, but the steep and densely-wooded slopes above are now home to some quality locals-built downhill tracks, and I promise Scotty that the next descent is worth the climb. Totally different in style to BikePark Wales, this gravity-fuelled plummet threads the needle between dense trunks, balancing across off-cambers and diving down root-filled chutes into catch-berms. The insistent drizzle that started a while ago is just enough to penetrate the canopy, adding some unpredictable spice to the roots. Any carelessness with where we point our wheels and we’ll pay for it, but I love this South Wales style of trail. It may be dank, and berming around piles of fly-tipped waste is a bit grim, but the quality of the riding is up there with the best.
Dole not coal
The decline of coal mining in the latter half of the 20th Century was a crushing blow for the Welsh Valleys, but between the pockets of deprivation, there’s still some beauty to be found. We join part of the Taff Trail from Brecon to Cardiff and follow it downstream beside the River Taff, marvelling at the gorgeous scenery juxtaposed with viaducts and other remnants of a bygone industrial era. Riding along the line of an old railway, we’re thankful to be clocking up some easy miles, but again, I’ve been blasé about the sheer distance we have to cover. Eventually veering off from the Taff, our destination isn’t far off as the crow flies, but a couple of big hills still stand in our way. We grind up to the moorland above Wyllie and the Sirhowy Valley, and then from Risca up to the top of Cwmcarn Forest, where we’ll follow the Twrch trail centre loop down to the end. Even fatigue, dropping temperatures and a puncture can’t stop us from enjoying the next descent, which sends us back into the darkness of the Welsh woods for more loam, mud and switchback turns.
On the final push up Cwmcarn, our morale has sunk so low that even bargain-priced chocolate bars can’t lift us. We’re knackered and silent, the top can’t come soon enough. When we finally crest the hill and drop our saddles for the descent, I’m happy it’s for the last time. While it's a straightforward trail to ride, the Twrch becomes more dangerous when your mind isn’t all there. The final descent is flat out, so if you’re not fully focussed it’s easy to run wide in a high-speed chicane. Luckily we make it down unscathed, with time for a quick celebratory photo before we head straight to the cafe. Once I’ve stuffed a jacket potato down my throat, I sit back and reflect on the success of my “tri mynydd” ride. We did achieve what we set out to do, but it wasn’t a total win. The fireroads, moto ruts and climbing probably outweighed the fun, but it was certainly an adventure and has whetted my appetite for more missions into the hills. There’s a reason trail centres have car parks – so you don't have to cycle to them! Lesson learned – the hard way – but sometimes you have to find out for yourself.
The drizzle penetrates the canopy, adding some unpredictable spice to the roots