What’s better than riding the Trans Cambrian Way once in summer? Riding it twice, in winter.  This probably isn’t true, but at the very least it’s guaranteed to be an adventure.

I had the idea in my mind all year that I would love to get at least one winter FKT attempt under my belt, and after my mini ‘off-season’ the thought cemented itself a little more. I needed something to get me out pedalling in the questionable weather, through a long night, and kick start my legs and head when it came to riding again.

I picked a weekend, one of two I had free before the New Year, and set off to ride the Trans Cambrian Way Double. This had been on my radar since taking the FKT for the single earlier in the year, and I decided I would be more motivated by an epic route rather than a relatively ‘easy’ one for a winter attempt.

Layers and lights on, and I set off into the cold morning. A distance of 340 kilometres and a target time of 30 hours.

To cut a long story short, this attempt came to an abrupt end after around 10 hours of pedalling when my leg had a run in with some rather unfriendly dogs. I initially wrote off the Double for the year after this, but a few days of rest later and I decided I wanted to try again.

My head felt much more in the game for this second attempt, the false start the week prior had ultimately been a good thing. Even before the ‘incident’ I was second guessing my choice to go for the double from the start, and I’m not really sure why. I guess it just wasn’t the right time. It really is true that the legs matter, but so often the head matters more.

Conditions had changed substantially in the few days I had been away from the trail, with the wind speeds lower, and the cold and rain adding some new elements to contend with. The ground was wetter under wheel, and the once shin deep floods that littered some of the route were now above the knee. I was pretty unphased by this though, there’s little point dwelling on the things you cannot change. I just packed a few extra layers and set off once more from Knighton.

Rolling out of the station and immediately uphill, I could tell that my legs were feeling pretty good. There’s an opening few kilometres of tarmac, and through a sheep field or two, before the Trans Cambrian Way starts for real. A nice chance to warm up and settle into a rhythm, this stretch feels like a prologue before the real thing. It’s not until a sharp left turn onto the first hike-a-bike of the route that the fun really begins.

A steep stomp up the hillside, the sun rising behind me, up onto the frosty drag that extends out to the horizon. The fresh air filled my lungs, and I kept stopping to take in the stunning views, colours streaking the sky. Part of me was aware that this was wasting time against the clock, but the rest of me didn’t care.

The opening third of the Trans Cam, or the final third on the return leg, feels both slow and swift in equal measure. Despite a few nice descents, and the odd short stretch where the wheels roll quickly, large sections were mostly filled with dragging upwards for hours on waterlogged grass, feeling as though I had two flat tyres as they churned along the rough ground.

The break point in Rhayader is the only bit of civilisation on the entire route, which splits this section apart from the rest. A chance to pause for a few minutes, grab some food and fluids, before pedalling back out into the wilderness through the Elan Valley.

When you’re doing a ride of this length, the first half is as much about holding yourself back as it is about pushing on. I knew I couldn’t ride at an easy pace if I was going to hit my target of riding the double in one go, but I was also very aware of the fact that I couldn’t afford to hit the wall after the halfway point. This made for a fairly relaxed first Trans Cam, if there is such a thing.

Each time I hit a steep gradient, or a tricky bit of terrain, I tried to let the bike flow as easily as possible over it. When I was enjoying a sweeping descent I tried not to think about the fact that I would be climbing back up it in a few hours time, which was easier said than done. I was surprised by how difficult I found it to be present in the moment, the return journey constantly on my mind.

I could write in great detail about every stretch of the 170 kilometres I covered on this first day, but as this is only part of the journey, and one I have completed before, I’ll skip to the turnaround.

There’s a big mental boost when you tick over halfway, which is even more apparent when there’s such a definitive break point like this. As I turned around and rode away from Dovey Junction, pedalling back along the dark bridleways I had just ridden, I felt like my bike was floating across the rough surface.

This feeling can only last for so long before the fatigue creeps back in. My body and mind were tired at this point, and the real challenge had begun.

After a fairly short section of bridleways and back roads, kilometres that felt fairly transitionary as they built up to the gnarly Foel Fadien climb, it was onto the tricky ascent I had been dreading for some time. I was expecting this to be one of the hardest sections of the ride, but expecting it and experiencing it are two very different things. The wind pushing me back down the hillside, the surface giving way under my feet, the gradient uncomfortably steep. It wasn’t quite one step forward two steps back, but it certainly felt that way.

After what felt like hours trudging through the darkness, I reached the top. Back amongst the sheep fields once more, finally progressing with some real intensity again.

On rides like this one there are always stretches that take you by surprise, usually because of how much harder they are then you expected. For me this was the climb up the smooth gravel track through Hafren Forest. Despite having ridden this section only hours prior, I recalled a pretty short descent, therefore a short climb in this direction. Unfortunately, I was wrong. The trees lining the trail were creating a perfect tunnel of wind into my face, the noise of it howling through the forest filled the sky. The terrain is easy under wheel, the gradient isn’t particularly noteworthy, but it ended up being one of the hardest stretches for me.

A few more hours ticked by, through the hardest hours of the night, and I was back on the road climbing up to Teifi Pools. This brought me into the final quarter of the double, an important milestone from a psychological standpoint. The rain lessened to a light shower, and the wind was finally at my back. From tarmac back to gravel, and I was soon sweeping around the stunning Claerwen Reservoir.

Dawn broke as I pedalled towards the dam, and as I turned onto the sunken road I was surprised to see a beautiful sunrise filling the sky. Riding and wading through knee deep flooding is a lot more enjoyable when a beautiful pink light is glinting off the surface of the water.

Into Rhayader once more, a quick stop for some hash browns and a coffee, and for the first time I was as sure as I could be that I would finish the double, and I would get pretty close to the target time. These are roads and trails I’ve ridden before in both directions, and the familiarity helped to boost morale.

Unlike the majority of the Trans Cam, some of the hardest sections from here to home are the road climbs. Long and relentlessly steep, but still a nice change to be suffering on the smooth stuff.

The final run-in begins a fair few kilometres from the end, as you climb up onto the top of the hillside one last time and tip back down towards Knighton. Sweeping downhill, the panoramic view filling the horizon, finally clocking some real speed. I had been looking forward to this, my reward for dragging myself up in the other direction all those hours earlier. Fun, fast, a feeling of real freedom as the wind rushes by.

Rolling towards the station to complete the Trans Cambrian Way Double, a smile on my face, the clock stopping at 30 hours and 25 minutes.

There are a lot of things that make riding a winter FKT harder than a summer one, aside from the obvious obstacles of bad weather and trail conditions. I was surprised by how much more difficult it was to ride through a long 15 hour night, the slow progress played on my mind more than I thought it would, and the need to wear more layers cost time that I hadn’t considered. Stopping continuously to take off and put on layers as the weather swung from warm and sunny to frosty and raining, trying to eat while wearing thick gloves, getting anything in or out of a bag, all took longer than expected. Each pause of a few minutes adding up over the course of the 330 kilometres.

The double also held difficulties of its own, some of them purely psychological. These I had expected and prepared for, but I hadn’t given the fact that this route was an out and back enough real thought. I had split the first Trans Cam and the second Trans Cam into two equal parts in my mind, simply two halves of a whole. However, the route W-E is much harder. This would probably be less true if I wasn’t deep into the effort by the time I turned, but the climbs and surfaces are just much less favourable in this direction. On the way out I didn’t need to hike-a-bike once, but on the return there are multiple ascents that are un-rideable due to either gradient or quality of trail. This drained my legs and tested my already tired mind.

This was the first FKT I have attempted where I really doubted my decision to do it and my ability to complete it while I was out there, but ultimately this made it more meaningful once it was done. It tested me to my limits, and I was rewarded for my efforts upon completion. Not in any material way of course, that’s not what this is about, but instead in ways that really matter. I was lifted up by it, inspired to ride again, and motivated for future challenges.

Once again my mind turned to the next adventure almost as soon as this one was over.

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Molly Weaver.