Heading west is not unusual. The draw of the mountains is strong, as is the dream of endless sunsets and roads that wind on forever.
I first met Hannah back in 2007, when we both had young children and were seeking an alternative to the standard offerings of parenthood. Twelve years later and the list of mad-cap adventures we (and our kids) have enjoyed is quite extensive, and still grows a little longer every year. A shared passion for live music has been the backbone of our friendship, supplemented with literature, films, international rugby matches, and only very recently, cars.
Hannah's move away from the Home Counties coincided with her daughters' arrival at Aberystwyth University, and the opportunity to transfer her job the 'Wales office' at the same time. Initially I felt like this would stretch our friendship, but in reality, the opportunities have more than made up for the distance. Hannah's membership of the Wales Rugby Union has been an added bonus too.
On the way home from a visit to watch Wales play South Africa in Cardiff (November 2018), I took a 'detour' through the Brecon Beacons. Even in my elderly VW Golf the enjoyment factor was high.
For 2019, Hannah and I had already pencilled in a few gigs to keep us bouncing. Two would bring her east – our eclectic music taste covering Dreadzone in my home town and the Orb's 30th Anniversary Tour at a small club venue in Bedford – but the chance to catch Black Stone Cherry at Caerphilly Castle in July would allow me to drive west. I'd booked the tickets back in August, well before the garage was completed and the Seven still a pipedream, but as Tom Hardy says in Inception, "you mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger darling."
Hannah arrived on the train for The Orb gig on a Saturday in May and I met her at the station. I had been over to PT Sports Cars that morning to collect my Seven after some remedial work on its coolant system, new engine mounts and other bits and pieces, and as the sun was shining I took the Seven down to meet her. Climbing into the little blue car was a bit of a surprise, but Hannah was won over immediately.
And so to Wales. Having purchased my Seven in April, I had been able to rack up enough miles to warrant an insurance policy extension (nearly 3000 miles in three months), but the roads around Hertfordshire and Bedfordshire are hardly mountainous or legendary. Since April, the July concert date on my calendar had been edging ever closer, and I began hashing out a plan with long-time Lotus driver, Evora-owning and best mate Andy. Although Caerphilly Castle on Saturday night would be our ultimate destination, how we got there (and back again) was open to suggestion. We had both driven parts of Wales before, but always in the 'wrong car' and were overdue another road trip since a fabulous four-day rented Seven-based trip around the North Coast 500 back in 2017.
Getting there
Leaving Hertfordshire early (5am) on the Friday for a pre-arranged rendezvous with Andy in Evesham, Worcestershire, allowed me to plan in a few of my favourite local roads, running over the Chilterns and out across the Vale of Aylesbury to Banbury. Moving north-westwards I included Fish Hill in the Cotswolds for the twisty descent, but mostly it was quieter B-roads and minor A-roads under my wheels. The plan had included a fuel top-up in Evesham, but as this was the first time I had run with a full tank of fuel, I was pleasantly surprised to see the gauge hovering around the half-way mark after three hours of mostly spirited progression. Breakfast consumed and windscreen de-bugged, we set off west again, now in tandem, and attracting more than a little attention as we growled our way out of town.
I had spent quite some time planning the routes for our weekend’s driving. The Lotus Seven Club's membership includes a discount on the MyRouteApp website and Navigation software, and I put this to very good use. It was to be another three hours’ drive to the hotel but this involved traversing the Malvern Hills, avoiding Hereford centre, and then crossing into Wales on the A44 near Llandridnod Wells. Would the Taffia be expecting us, and intercept our westward drive on some remote mountain road with a bulldozer barring the way? Fortunately no, and we made it to Llandridnod Wells for a scheduled stop without drama, neither car suffering a Lamborghini Miura-like ending off the side of a mountain. Here we took on full tanks of fuel and a much-needed early lunch, the Welsh hospitality more than exceeding expectations. It would have been a fairly interesting run down to Caerphilly from there, but that was never our intention. Instead, we turned north, driving on to Maesmawr Hall Hotel, Caersws. This had been selected for its Seven-friendly secluded car park and also striking distance for Snowdonia. When in Wales, do Wales!
We had made good time across England, so arrived at the hotel slightly ahead of schedule. Checking in was a breeze, and the Seven, which was now filthy and dripping in farm-yard muck, got some appreciative comments from the hotel staff. The Evora makes most of the noise, the Caterham gets the looks, even when splattered in cow shit. It was only just midday and we wanted to make the most of the time we had, so after a hydrating drink in the bar, set about modifying the drive plan to suit. We both wanted to check out the 'evo triangle' to see if it was worth all the hype, and I had heard good things about the roads around Bala – thank you BlatChat, Pistonheads and FB – so we combined the whole lot, and some more, in to what became known as the 'Hotel Loop'. 208 miles circulating North Wales with a rough drive time of five hours.
What a drive it was. Moving north towards Bala, but never in a straight line, we had a good run over the B4391 with only light traffic, and then on to the Triangle itself. It was late afternoon when we turned on to the B4501 which makes up the Eastern leg. Not a car in sight. For me this was the better of the three sides (we skipped the A5 part). The Seven bobbed and weaved its way through the compressions, twists and rolling tarmac with me grinning, laughing manically or just hanging on for the fun of it. It is only eight miles to the junction that takes you south-west towards Betws-y-Coed, but every inch of those eight are a damn good drive. The second section is much more open, has large moorland vistas, and now, average speed cameras. From a driver's perspective, the cameras actually make sense. The long, easily sighted roads can quickly lull you into driving a little faster. The bends, when they come, are either obvious and enticing or completely blind and unforgiving. There is no in-between. At supercar (silly) speeds it’s easy to see how the scenery can gobble up the unwary, untalented or just unlucky. We kept it smooth and sensible. Still enjoyable and nobody got hurt (or fined).
Following the road into Betws-y-Coed we ran in to the only Tourist Trap for the weekend. Coaches, walkers, cars and just lots of people everywhere, clogging up the only road through town. Once out the other side, things picked up again, and we continued our loop on the A498, eschewing the larger, more popular A470 in the hope of some clear tarmac. We found it and made good progress and swung south at Beddgelert enjoying the drive and perfecting the nip-and-tuck of leapfrogging the light traffic. At Prysor Service Station we turned east on the A4212 and this is when things got even better. The road runs, dances more like, to Bala, following the course of the Afon Prysor river valley for much of its course. Dipping, diving, swooping and criss-crossing the narrow watercourse this road is an absolute hoot to drive, and we hit a clear patch with no traffic. The 17 miles to Bala flew by, the Seven thrumming and the K-Series singing in its appreciation for the drive. Glorious. At Bala itself we turned south-west again – the 'hotel loop' not being all that circular – and took the A494 through the heart of Wales. It’s a good road but in Wales, good roads become the norm, and it barely registers in my recollection. It did its job well though, and at Machynlleth we were able to leave the bigger roads behind and venture back into the hills.
Lost in the movement
There are some places that stick in the mind, whether good or bad, and Dylife is one that I will always look back on fondly. The name may have an oxymoronic ring to it, and if asked to paint a picture I would only be able to draw the roadside place name sign, but for me, and possibly Andy in the Evora, this was the road of the trip. Dylife stuck with me because at the time I was desperately looking for a landmark – any landmark – that would help me relocate the amazing strip of tarmac we were enjoying on a map when we got back. I had begun planning this section of the route months ago, and with only a vague sense of what we were going to achieve. With all the revisions, Googlemaps Streetview explorations and rethinks, some of the actual place names (and roads) had got mentally overwritten in my head. The mostly single-track road to Dylife was one of these. After an unassuming start in Forge, the road climbs gently along the river valley. It takes around six miles of rolling swoops and bends before the road begins its serious climb, turning away from the river valley and rising up onto the plateau above. Still single-track, but wide with good sightlines and open straight sections, the smooth tarmac encourages upward progression. Crossing the plateau, there is no real 'peak' to speak of. The road still twists and undulates requiring solid concentration and you may not get to take in the wide-angle views, but the drive will certainly entertain. Heading east-south-easterly as we were, the descent to Dylife itself onsets gradually – but then opens out, and if the road is clear you can plan your corners with precision. The final T-junction ends this fabulous road as unassuming as it starts. We are already planning a future trip to run this road in the reverse direction. The B4518 carried us back towards the hotel, itself another classic mid-Wales twisty road, however my mind was still racing away across the plateau above, so even this good section of the loop paled by comparison. After a fuel stop in Newtown, it was on to Maesmawr Hall Hotel and dinner. Upon first arriving at the hotel we had met a local couple who were enjoying their weekly lunch in the bar. Hotel food can often be aimed at the captive audience of their guests, but on recommendation from these two locals, we had booked a table for our evening meal. It did not disappoint and set the standard quite high for breakfast. This is travelling in style.
The plan for Saturday was to head out early and enjoy some clear roads before returning to the hotel for breakfast. However, the Welsh weather put a dampener on this, with rain overnight that was still drizzling at dawn. The sheep outside the window didn't seem too bothered by the damp start, but greasy roads, cold tyres and leaden skies curtailed any thoughts of heading out. Coffee and a decent cooked breakfast were a welcome alternative. Taking our time, we witnessed the rain passing through and leaving behind a dry if grey day. My long-nose shower cap from SoftBitsforSevens had kept the moisture at bay, so once the car was 'unwrapped' I even managed to wipe off the windscreen enough to allow light to penetrate again. A slower start than originally planned perhaps, but this now included a short photo session with the cars on the hotel's tree-lined driveway. The vanishing point perspective created by the rows of ancient trunks was too good an opportunity to pass up.
The road south
After a brief diversion to find a jetwash in Newtown, and the obligatory chats with locals and admiring machinations of some passing kids, the (slightly) cleaner cars headed out for the journey to Caerphilly Castle, and the evening’s live music entertainment from Black Stone Cherry. Of course, nothing so simple as a leisurely drive south would suffice, and the first thing we did was head east, back into England, and the rolling Shropshire hills.
The rich agricultural landscape of Shropshire makes a wonderful backdrop when flying along in the Seven. It may seem counter-productive to extend the route simply to loop through a different section of the countryside, but the results were worth the effort. The biggest difference was driving under the canopy of broadleaf trees, with only occasional flashes of the open sky above. The wide-open spaces of the Welsh moorlands are an amazing sight; however, the Shropshire hills gave us a green tapestry to play on and a welcome diversion before we swung west at Knighton and back towards to Welsh border.
Zigzagging south, the first 'must-do' drive was along the B4519 and over the Epynt MOD ranges. The roads across the upper moorland may be a little narrow (for the Evora) but are wiggly and well-sighted enough for some great driving. You also get some spectacular views across Wales from the top. We were lucky and got a clear run up from Garth, arriving at the top viewpoint just as the rally cars participating in the Nicky Grist Stages pulled out in front of us. These race-prepared beasts were full-on flame-spitting monsters, and although this was a road section (between the Special Stages) for the competitors, we pulled over and let them have the tarmac to themselves. A short pause to watch the last of the cars departing was an unexpected treat.
Heading on after the rally cars, we cut west at Brecon, through Sennybridge and into the Beacons proper. During this section, the weather worsened a little, which coincided with some of the narrowest and twisty single-track roads. The traffic Gods smiled upon us though, and we made it through the high-hedged squeeze points without the need to backup and pass any oncoming vehicles. Lesson learned, such minor (sub-minor) roads would now be excluded from future planning. Emerging on the A4069 we climbed the last peak of the day. The cloud was low now and the wipers on intermittent, but spirits were still high as the road wound its way over the pass. Dropping down the southern flank of the Brecon Beacons felt like an anti-climax, and certainly the residential and urban roads to Ebbw Vale were a bit of a chore compared to the rolling hills of mid-Wales, however we had a concert to go to and old friends to catch up with. With the Caterham wrapped up in its long-nose shower cap and the taxi booked to Caerphilly, we could relax in the Premier Inn. Some consideration was given to a dawn drive over the Beacons, but the thought of an early start seemed rather too optimistic, especially after a night out at a gig. Time to reunite with Hannah and get gigging.
The home run
Sunday dawned bright, and after another hearty breakfast, it was time to think about going home. Once again, the compass was heavily skewed in favour of the Welsh roads and we set off westerly, with a plan to loop around the Beacons, then turn east and run for the 'old' Severn bridge and onward to home. Wales, of course, had other ideas. The sunshine warmed us, and we drove the winding route across the hills, and all went well until we came, via a long loop, to Llandovery. Here we were supposed to take the A40 east, get out of Wales, cross the Severn and be on our way. Unfortunately, we had chosen the weekend when the A40 was closed between Llandovery and Brecon (probably) and the only easterly route went via Builth Wells. This was a massive diversion, not very well sign-posted, and was causing havoc for all who got caught up in it. We got slightly lost trying to avoid the train of vehicles heading along the A483 (the SatNav was really unimpressed) so reluctantly made our way to Builth with everyone else. Upon arrival, the town was almost at a standstill, as it couldn't cope with the influx of bewildered tourists and frustrated locals. We scythed through the traffic and cut cross-country north easterly, aiming for the A44 and leaving the mess well behind. Overall, we'd lost about two hours, and although we'd almost made it out of Wales there was still more fun to come.
Before heading east, we needed a fuel stop, and hopefully some lunch too. Chepstow was the intended destination, but as we followed the Wye valley south, another road closure (and diversion) came in to play. This one worked mostly to our advantage, as all of the other traffic stayed on the main road while we followed the signs along the darker minor roads under the trees. A smooth ribbon of freshly laid tarmac greeted us, and we wove our way through the forest with no other cars in sight. Eventually, we were guided on to the B4293 and this took us down into Chepstow. Here we refuelled and then crossed the Severn in the sunshine. The cross-country English roads that took us home were entertaining, but nothing like the mountainous peaks and soaring upland moors of Wales. We have vowed to return.
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