Road Journal: Powys

The Circle of Life

Time is cruel. There are so many conversations I wish I’d had with my grandparents about their life together, the war, their travels and cycling through the decades. This wish will forever remain an internal dialogue.

I seem to have a lot in common with my grandfather - Martyn Winter, we share the same look, temperament, combing our hair ;) and (of course) being completely committed to road cycling. If grandad and I were of an age, I’m sure we’d have been best friends (or fierce rivals). My grandmother - Brenda Winter, was a social butterfly, she magnetised people.

Grandad ‘off the front’ racing in Builth.

My grandmother was evacuated to Powys during the war and fell in love with the area, eventually she convinced my grandfather to move to Rhayader. Their home was situated in the most idyllic countryside. It’s easy to see why the Black Mountains, Valleys and Beacons of Powys were the source of inspiration for the greatest band of all time - Led Zeppelin, and the architect of Middle Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien. 

Those who know me personally wouldn’t describe me as ‘spiritual’ but something undeniably magical happened when we scattered my grandmother's ashes over the Elan Valley in Rhayader; a white butterfly appeared in ashes as they blew away in the wind, like her spirit was set free over the hills and rivers that she loved.

I couldn’t write this off as coincidence. I had a similar experience the day we scattered my grandfather's ashes. I set off for a few laps of the Valley in his honour, during the first climb a large spotted moth landed on my shoe, and stayed with me for the whole four-hour journey, eventually flying back into the hills. It felt like grandad was out riding with me, giving me his wheel.

Typical that grandad was a moth, and my grandmother a beautiful white butterfly. 

My grandparents are still passing on valuable life-lessons. Coming back to the Elan valley reminds me that life is about the simple things, time with the people you love, home-cooked food on the table and good coffee. It’s important to stop, look around and enjoy everything that is good in life.

Ride Journal: 

I set off with my favourite Welsh training partner - Mother Nature, with her mountains, headwinds, crosswinds, rain and false-flats to compete against. The first ride had to be a loop of the Elan Valley, in my grandparent's honour, its the perfect place to ride a bike: rolling hills, perfect scenery, good descents, corner’s and 30km laps. 

I have some good memories or riding here with my dad - Steven Winter, we usually visit in the spring to pay memory to my grandmothers birthday. Our last visit was to scatter my grandfather's ashes upon the hill with nan. During the pilgrimage, dads leg swelled up. His body was telling him something’s up. He was diagnosed with leukaemia, just another example of my grandparents watching over us.

Dad climbing in the Elan Valley, May 2015.

Dad’s recovery is looking positive and he’s getting stronger on the bike (you never forget how to suffer), so they’ll be plenty more rides to share. 

I have never visited Powys during the autumn. Visits have usually been in the spring, summer and Christmas. The autumnal colours are so breathtaking I am left in awe, I even let out a smile, my face nearly cracked ;). The changing season is beautiful, the low sun offers warmth, with a bitter wind to remind you ‘winter is coming’. 

Leaves are falling all around

It's time I was on my way

Thanks to you I'm much obliged

For such a pleasant stay

But now it's time for me to go

The autumn moon lights my way

For now I smell the rain

And with it pain

And it's headed my way

(Led Zeppelin - “Ramble On”)

At this time of year cyclist’s have trouble getting dressed, indecisive of how many layers to bring and ending up with pockets that resemble a baby’s ‘full nappy’, stuffed with warmers, gloves, gilet, cape, etc. 

There are very few cycling products that I would describe as ‘game-changing’, most are just incremental improvements or marketing ploys. Clipless pedals were revolutionary, ergo levers make life a bit easier, but the Castelli Gabba was the first piece of cycling apparel that really blew me away, finally a rainproof garment that didn’t resemble a bin bag… 

CHPT3 have introduced the Jersey Jacket (JJ), the first garment since the Gabba that has stopped me in my tracks. The JJ solves the ‘changing seasons’ problem, completely. No more stuffing your pockets with layers, the JJ seems to modulate your temperature, keeping you cool when it's warm and warm when its cool. The fabric looks like neoprene, but it's not, its made of witchcraft, it absorbs and expels sweat in a continuous cycle. Throw the JJ over a base layer and set off, its that easy (If it looks wet, grab the Gabba or the CHPT3 Rocka).

The JJ’s high collar and shoulder cap have a classic tailoring aesthetic, typical of the CHPT3 design ethos. The zip pocket on the chest is perfect for storing a pocket comb (grandad would approve).

During the Dragon Ride (a 300km+ Sportive with plenty of ‘up’) back in 2015, I was introduced to The Devils Staircase. A series of short steep ramps with a maximum gradient of 25%. I remember going too hard up the first flight of stairs, emptying the tank before realising I had more steps to climb. The Staircase was only 20km from our holiday cottage so naturally, I had to go and pay the Devil his due.

Nan, grandad, you’re always in our hearts. Thank you for bringing us to this incredible place.

Gareth.