A journey is best measured in friends not miles...

A journey is best measured in friends not miles, I can't take the credit for that sentence but it certainly rang true last weekend. I was back in valleys with my old friend Jason and a new friend Ollie, a guy that recently passed his biking test after meeting black sheep Jason. He'd been lured by the prospect of distant horizons viewed from the back of a motorbike and had pursued his goal to the end. Now he was with us.

Day 1

We came to Wales, like we had done two years ago, so that a new rider could find his biking legs on the strata Florida and other gnarly routes. Wales did not disappoint with hundreds of laughs, smiles and miles.

Waking on the Friday morning I was pleased to see that the weather was clearer than my head. As we unloaded the bikes we had our first mechanical failure before we'd even turned a wheel in anger. Swiftly dealing with the brake issue we set off on 100 mile loop of mid Wales including the Strata Florida. Within minutes of setting off, and just after a full English breakfast, conversation turn to lunch, the hobbits were back on tour!!



The wide-open scenery and reservoir lanes were as pleasurable as I remember them and allowed us to find our feet after some time off a dirt bike, but the fun really began when the lanes got wet.

Our first seemingly insurmountable problem was where the river had burst the banks and flooded the path. I mean look at it! Its not a puddle. I went through, Jason opted for a combination or through and around as can be seen. Ollie took the less travelled submarine route and ended up walking the bike out so we could drain it.

Whilst ringing the water from the drown bike a few other riders we'd passed previously caught up with us.

There were perhaps 8 of them eyeing the water between us cautiously. Bravely the first guy set off and promptly drowned his bike, rider number two then followed, fell off and promptly drowned his bike. Lemming three, clearly the thinker of the group, set of and promptly drowned bike in exactly the same manner! Number four was cunning and plotted a route through the surrounding land, it took him a least four times longer before he suddenly disappeared from view dropping his bike into some distant unseen watery trap.

Fixing our own issue, and feeling a lot better about our own progress, we set off and didn't see the bikers again.

I love the strata, it never fails to disappoint...

There had been less rain and some puddles were smaller and the river crossings less fierce than I recall, but that's not to say the puddles were small! Each of the larger ones is a pond in its own right, capable of swallowing bike and rider in a single moment. You approach them with caution or you pay the price.

Whilst attempting to judge the depth of one Oliie suggested 'throw a rock in it', we erupted in laugher at the suggestion. This wasn't a puddle on a Surrey school run, but in hindsight I wish he had carried through with it, I've never seen a depth rock in practice.

We finished the strata in good time, albeit carrying small reservoirs in our boots, and set off home to dry.

Day 2

You see a lot on these trips because you're getting out and about, it never ceases to amaze me. Last night I saw a bottle of Glenfiddich treated like a fruit shoot gobbled by a greedy child and, as a direct result, only two us made it out this morning.



Saying good bye to our friend with the glazed eyes we headed south and passed this 'the woods have eyes' style caravan. Eco friendly or frickin scarry? ... You decide.



A little later we made our way into some military trainging area that the public are permitted to use unless otherwise sign posted. There were red flags up that I know meant do not enter as we passed two soldiers in full camo armed with rifles. ...we beat a hasty retreat.



The hill lanes went on for miles snaking their way around the valley and life was good. We stopped for lunch in an ancient pub and then made our back home via more forested lanes and unclassified roads. An easy Clark Trail day, with the exception of the gnarly mud fest above.

Day 3

Our final day saw a full compliment of riders hitting the road after our third full English breakfast in a row. I felt secure in the knowledge that if my biking skills were not growing my belly certainly was!!

We headed for the nearest lane and then north west via this magnificent valley road to pick up the TET.

There was a fair amount of road and the lanes were easy, but the radio banter was on point and the three us laughed our way between stops. Not too sure about this roof door to nowhere...

We even stopped for a selfie!

...that didnt go so well...

Feeling sociable we stopped at Sweet Lamb off-road center, a motorsports off road testing facility that we thought was owned by Simon Pavey, six time Dakar rider. The other chaps went into poke around, but were stopped by an old fella who explained the site was currently used by KTM for rider testing the new 790r.

Finishing our final loop on the TET for this trip, we asked an old guy by the road where we could eat and he sent us miles out of our way.

We turned around and, luckily, found the Halfway Inn, but true to name we only got half way in before they said no room at the Inn and turned us away!

Returning to Rhayader we paid a final visit to our favourite establishment, The Elan Hotel, run by a smiling and courteous Irishman and home of the finest Guinness outside of Ireland! I kid you not. Top weekend, thank you boys!

from left to right; Ollie, Jason, me.

Route Map for the weekend.  Red is the TET and Blue the Strata Loop