Hannah came up trumps this time with tickets for the England versus Wales rugby match at the Principality Stadium, and as this was a World Cup warm-up to be played in August, well, best pack the Caterham for the weekend too.
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Despite their diminutive size, lightweight and ease of manoeuvrability, Seven's are not really good in clogged city streets. So for this trip we needed a plan to get the best from the Welsh roads and enable us to drop in on the rugby action in Cardiff city centre.
First up though, we needed to get to Wales. My work commitments had me office-bound for the Friday, so an early Saturday start was the only option. With kick-off set for mid-afternoon the journey to Cardiff was always going to be fairly direct, but that didn't mean it needed to be dull. No M4 motorway slogging here. Again I was accompanied by Andy and his Lotus Evora, so we agreed to rendezvous at Avebury Stone circle in Wiltshire.
I live on the north-eastern tip of the Chiltern Hills – so any drive westwards, or in this case south-westwards, gives me the opportunity to wiggle my way over the Chilterns and then link directly into the North Wessex Downs. Avebury marks the westward end of the Downs and would also give Andy a decent drive up from the south. Needing to make good time, I stuck mostly to A roads, and my early start (5am) helped avoid the traffic. I can recommend the top section of the A338 as an enjoyable way to cross the Wiltshire terrain, and then I chose the River Kennet valley to make my way along to Marlborough. This could have been better, as the small towns and villages were a little crowded with parked cars, but the river valley itself makes for a pleasant and varied drive. At Marlborough I took Free's Avenue up onto Fyfield Down. This is a great road that rises up on to the chalk downs and peaks at Hackpen Hill where the modern road jinks around one of Wiltshire's chalk horses cut into the grassland. This jink creates a flowing set of bends as the road drops down the hill – great fun and well worth the slight diversion out of the Kennet valley. Swooping down the hill and then on the A4361 I was able to head directly into Avebury to meet up with Andy.
The stone circle at Avebury is dissected by the main road and unexpectedly I was soon driving through the middle of the stone circle itself. The stones vary in sizes, but one large standing stone – about the size of Ford Transit van – is perched right on the edge of the road. Slowing as I passed, I could almost reach out and touch it. It is impressive to think that these stones were erected in a time before machinery had been invented, and then the stones were subsequently abandoned around 1800BC. A more modern piece of automotive machinery awaits though, and I spy Andy's Lotus Evora as I pull in to the near-empty National Trust car park.
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Leaving Wiltshire, we headed northwest, using the A roads to make our way to the old Severn road bridge, and from there a brief fuel stop at the now familiar Chepstow Tesco petrol station. Refuelled, we drove up the B4325 to Usk, following the course of Mounton Brook as we rose up the Welsh side of the Severn valley. This road has a lot of potential, winding up the river valley among the trees, but we seemed to leapfrog from one group of cyclists to another… hey ho. Keeping our westward momentum on the A472, the remainder of the drive was fairly utilitarian until we arrived at out accommodation in Blackwood.
Our B&B for the night was another gem handed on by Hannah, who lives not far up the road. Gellihaf House (www.gellihafhouse.co.uk) is an Arts and Crafts guest house right on the edge of the Brecon Beacons. Importantly for us, it has gated parking for guests and is a world in itself, away from all distractions and interruptions. We stayed in the twin room – Sirhowy – and it far exceeded my expectations for comfort and style. When we arrived on Saturday, the hosts Cath and Howard were preparing afternoon tea – homemade cakes and all, and it was immediately plain that this was somewhere special. We didn't hang around too much though, as Hannah was already on her way to meet us and the train ride to Cardiff for the rugby match was calling.
Cardiff on match day is an experience to savour. International rugby matches in August are a strange affair. The absence of cold spring or autumnal rain, chilled winds and grey skies, gives the whole city a fiesta or festival atmosphere, and the crowds gathering pre- and post- match easily rival Twickenham's best – and sunshine in Wales is always welcome.
England didn't win the match. They then went on to not win the World Cup either, but we had a great day out and enjoyed the Cardiff hospitality before catching the train back up the valley to spend the evening in the Gellihaf House lounge.
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The road north
Sunday breakfast was amazing, and Howard enjoyed the opportunity to give us some mild ribbing on the rugby result. Quite frankly breakfast was worth the cost of the stay alone, so we will be back to visit again. Lessons learned from our previous trip in to Wales, we had chosen to stick to some larger roads this time, giving the Evora a little more room to breathe, and we would also be revisiting some of the best bits of the last trip (see Low Flying December 2019) but in reverse direction when we could. Of course this is Wales, so Saturday's sunshine had moved on, and a grey, damp start greeted us that morning. The Severn was tightly tucked up under its long-nose shower cap, and once revealed, started without drama. I wanted a check out a promising stretch of road to the west, and take in a fuel stop, so we headed for the southern end of the Rhonda Valley, cruising the over hairpins on the A4233 on the way. This would have a been good test for both cars in the dry, but heavy traffic, damp tarmac and persistent drizzle pretty much killed it. The Rhonda Valley was a much better experience though. I have vague recollections of my grandmother, herself a child of the Welsh valleys, speaking admiringly about the Rhonda Valley. On this trip I got to drive up it for the first time and the geological landscape is stunning. As the weather brightened, we followed the road upwards, and on to the A4061 that carves its way up the valley wall. There may be a slight dip before the Brecon's really begin, but once we cleared the top of this magnificent valley, we knew we were on our way to central Wales.
The A4067 was our gateway to the Beacons proper, and it is a road we had driven south on before. Heading north was just as good, with light traffic and improving weather, we made rapid progress and put the smiles back on our faces. Turning eastwards towards LLandovery, we skipped the optional loop around Crychan Forest, partly because it uses MOD roads that may be closed without warning, but mostly because I had forgotten to add it to the route plan. We'll explore that another time.
Traversing central Wales can often be a choice of a broad truck and caravan-heavy trunk road going the right direction, or a minor road that sort of goes the right way, almost. The benefits of less traffic and a more engaging drive draw me to these smaller roads, but that can lead to unexpected encounters with farm machinery, sheep and other obstacles. I really didn't want to get sucked in to the A44, but as it's the only east-west artery for this region we would be forced to use some of it eventually. First though, a narrower wiggle from Llanilar east towards Devils Bridge Falls, and then on again to pick up the main road at Dyffryn Castell. From here a 16 mile hop up the A44 was required, and on a clear day this would have been a pretty good drive. Unfortunately we found a snake of traffic bunched up behind a slow moving motorhome. The Seven was able to leap-frog up to about four cars from the front, its cute and small stature no doubt helping to off-set the rude queue jumping. Then, as the snake entered a long horseshoe curve and the view across confirmed the road ahead was clear, I forged ahead of the obstruction. Released from its shackles, the Seven and I enjoyed an eight-mile run of near-empty A44. Andy in the Evora was not so lucky, a victim of the snake closing ranks and denying him any opportunity to pass.
Once we had reunited at Llanidoles things got much more interesting. Here we turned on to the B4518. This is a cracking B-road which runs up towards Staylittle. We were only going to be using the first eight miles or so, but they are blissful – sweeping, swooping, plus including a full-on Eau Rouge-style compression-heavy corner and most importantly, very few other cars. Leaving Llanidoles the road climbs rapidly up the valley, then levels out and ripples along the ridgeline. Fast, open and with good visibility it urges you onwards. Having used the full rev-band on the climb, the engine sings sweetly as it gets into its stride, and now the road really starts to deliver. Dips and drops, rolling cambers and a variety of left and right-handed bends are there to be enjoyed. In particular the descent and subsequent compression as the road swings round to the edge of Clywedog Reservoir is one to be savoured.
History repeating
Turning left off the B4518 we took the road to Dylife. Climbing the hill in the opposite direction to our previous visit my excitement was building rapidly. Could it be as good again? Well almost. You never forget your first time, and I personally think the north-south direction gives the driver a clearer picture of the road ahead, but it’s still a great drive either way. Dropping down into Forge marked the end of our narrow roads for a while. It was time to make tracks to Bala.
The A487 and A494 do a good job of wending their way through the countryside, and on a traffic-free day, or early start you could make the most of its wide lanes to cut the hours' drive to Bala down, but these are major routes and traffic is to be expected. We arrived in Bala as the afternoon was beginning to cloud over, but that was not going to deter us from the next road on the 'to-drive list'. On out last visit, we arrived at Bala from the north west, zipping along the A4212. This is grand road, and for the first nine miles we reversed our route, passing the Llyn Celyn reservoir on the left. Knowing how good this stretch of road is, I was keen to grab a gap in the traffic and make the most of the drive. Soon though it was time to turn right and pull over into the handy layby just above the main road, and alongside B4391. Feeling that this was going to be a bit special I offered Andy the chance to lead.
I can't recall what prompted me to include the B4391 on our itinerary this time. Something gleaned from BlatChat or another web discussion of tarmac nirvana? Subsequently I have learned that it is a favourite with bikers – especially bike instructors who make very good videos – and that a certain Mr Clarkson once drove a poignant Aston Martin here, accompanied by Brian Eno's 'An Ending' – good music, less talk. Works for me.
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Driven
Following the Evora's howling supercharged V6 is never dull. Not wanting to cramp his style, I gave Andy a few seconds to pull away down the road. Plus the Evora's big composite brakes and wider rubber means its stops abruptly when asked, and I had no desire to end up a crumpled mess on the rear diffuser. The B4391 leaves the river valley and the A4212 behind, rising and falling rapidly as it turns northwards towards Ffestiniog. To begin with the tarmac winds across open moorland, with craggy lumps of Snowdonian rock scattered amid the grassy verges. Criss-crossing small becks and streams, the rolling topography kicks the road in all directions, the bends hug the contours and narrow dry stone-walled bridges focus the road, and the mind, on the task ahead. There is no traffic. The dry surface offers plenty of grip, the road is well maintained and quite smooth. This is the best drive of the trip so far. After two miles, the road cuts through the woodland of Ffridd Nant-Crethyll – possibly named after the disused quarries to the south. Only a brief flash of trees and the countryside opens up again with grass moorland stretching away on both sides. This continues for another five miles, with the frequency and tightness of bends slowly increasing. The junction with the B4407 is marked with the first roadside property, and the road narrows here, warning you to slow for the possibility of quarry trucks emerging unsighted. I have noted the B4407 for a future drive…
Continuing onwards the B4391 changes character, staying narrow, albeit with two lanes and the dashed white centre line as before, the twists are tighter with less open stretches between them. The road feels higher too, with the narrow gully of Afon Cynfal dropping away to the left. In the Seven the separating stonewall seems solid and immovable, but a taller car or SUV would probably bounce over should the worst happen. We pass the empty parking area of Cwm Cynfal viewpoint. This marks the rough mid-point of the B4391's run from the A4212 to Ffestiniog, so would make a handy stop-off for photography… but there's no way I'm getting out of the car right now. This is too much fun.
Having passed the viewpoint, the road begins a gentle, almost unperceivable descent. Initially there seems to be no change in the rolling nature of the twists and turns, but slowly the road begins to ease off the ridgeline and keep to the more sheltered northern side. As the bends progress many become multi-faceted curves, turning you left and right in a glorious rhythm, and also dropping the road level a few metres each time – real sweeps and swoops to glide or drive through as the mood takes you. Having left the ridgeline, the landscape evolves again. Trees are more plentiful, occasionally obscuring sightlines across the bends, and the number of farms increases – bringing potential hazards and calling for more caution. It’s just two miles from the viewpoint to the outskirts of Ffestiniog village, yet the smiles per mile value is far higher.
The sky is a dark grey when I pull up behind Andy at the end of the B4931. Our route will take us northwards now, but first I signal an "about-turn" motion with my hand above the Sevens' windscreen. From the Evora cabin I get swift nod of the head, and laughing, we whip round and head back out the way we just came… It’s another eight miles back to the layby at the A4212, and this time I have the lead.
The final leg of the day’s journey is out to Porthmadog for fuel, the most westward tip of the trip, then northwards to Llanberis for the overnight stop. It's early evening and the roads are busier. The A498 is our chosen climb deep into Snowdonia, but its clogged with traffic, so not the good run we were hoping for. The closer we get to Snowdon, the greyer the weather becomes too, and I can feel the rain building. Up and over Llanberis pass, we skim the cloud layer and the high crags and cliffs seem to rumble with foreboding. Moisture in the air translates to slick roads and greasy tarmac as we descend the pass towards our hotel. Tiptoeing the Seven between the drystone walls, the valley floor offers a brief respite in wider, flatter roads, and quickly the shelter of hotel car park is sought. In the lee of a bank of fir trees, I urgently don the half-hood, then once parked up outside the room, slide the Seven beneath its shower cap cover for the night. The Royal Victoria Hotel has a huge car park, and we are tucked away at the back in the coach house section. This suits us fine, not wanting any undue attention to the cars while we have dinner.
After a comfortable, if slightly surreal stay, we departed ready for the journey home, with of course, a few Welsh roads to relish on the way. First up and over the pass again. Still slick-grey, and on cold tyres, this is more of an exercise in patience than a rewarding drive, but once we cleared the top the weather broke and some sun peaked through.
The valley road, the A4086, is a good warm-up run up towards the A5 at Capel Curig, but this takes us towards the tourist trap of Betws-y-coed, and we get snagged up behind a coach tour and some other local traffic. The aim was to spend the morning playing in the roads around the famous evo Triangle, but as it happens, this the time the SatNav decides to throw us off track. We did find a few good drives as we headed towards the English border, but mostly the day became an A-road run eastwards. Warm and sunny, we did make the most of the drive, although at some point one of the Seven's coolant hoses worked loose from the expansion bottle and the fluid evaporated off. Miraculously, the K-series made it home in one piece – fan running constantly – and we avoided any further drama.
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