Our first ad-VAN-ture!
The beginning
Every year for the past four years I’ve used the long Easter weekend as an excuse to get away on some kind of biggish adventure. Last year it was bikepacking to Yorkshire, the year before that it was camping in the New Forest, the year before that it was cycling from London to Wales and back again, and the year before that—the year that started it all—it was my first ever bikepacking trip to the Cotswolds.
Although each adventure takes a slightly different shape or form, they all share something fundamental at their core: they allow me to spend time in nature and switch off from the stresses of every day life.
I was mindlessly scrolling through Instagram the other day (as you do) and stumbled upon a post about “re-charging”. The concept of re-charging isn’t new to me; I talk about it a lot, especially in terms of my social battery, but this post took it one step further and suggested that we may need to re-charge in different ways based on what’s actually burning us out. Sure, I usually need a bit of alone time after a big burst of social interaction—but even when my calendar’s clear, I still sometimes find myself feeling completely drained. This post helped me understand the possible reason why.
It claimed that exhaustion can actually be caused by many different factors, and that it’s helpful for us to be aware of what specifically is making us feel so zonked. A few of the likely culprits: physical exhaustion, mental exhaustion, emotional exhaustion, social exhaustion (hello!). And a few that are less spoken about: moral injury exhaustion (when our actions aren’t matching up to our morals or values), and sensory exhaustion.
This last one sent alarm bells ringing through my head. Sensory overload is something I experience on an almost weekly basis, where my brain feels completely overwhelmed by all of the information it’s trying to process (lights, sounds, touch, smells, tastes). In response, it triggers my body to enter flight, fright or freeze mode, where I tend to mimic a brain-dead potato perched mindlessly on the sofa.
This—I thought—may help to explain my constant need to escape. To literally run away from the bright lights and loud noises of the city, and flee into the quiet safety of the countryside. There, my body allows itself to relax, my brain once again flowing with ideas and gratitude and joy. The quiet is my safe space, so it’s no wonder I try to seek it out as often as I can.
BUT ANYWAY. I digress. Back to the customary tradition of Easter adventures. Well guess what? This year was no different, except for the very exciting fact that we now had a van.
We’ve been working tirelessly over the past couple of months (Me: designing, Sean: building) to get Jethro ready for his first outing, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I think we did a preeetttyyyy good job. I mean, just look at this beauty! ☝️
So, on Thursday afternoon we packed up our bikes and our belongings, plugged the name of a Welsh village that we couldn’t pronounce into the satnav, and hit the road.
What follows is a brief account of where we went, what we cooked, where we cycled, and what we got up to over the five days we spent in the B.E.A.U.T.I.F.U.L Brecon Beacons. Enjoy! ✨
Day 1
It’s Thursday evening, around 7pm, when we pull into the campsite where we’ll be staying for the first couple of nights. The first thing I notice is the quiet—that kind of soft, expansive stillness you only seem to find in places far from traffic and phone signal. The second thing I notice is the view.
The site is nestled right in the cradle of a wide Welsh valley, surrounded on all sides by rolling slopes that rise steeply into the distance. Some are blanketed in thick green grass, others speckled with rough patches of heather and exposed rock. Sheep dot the hillsides like scattered marshmallows, and beyond them, the faint lines of walking trails crisscross the landscape.
The campsite itself is simple and low-key, with just a handful of well-kept pitches and a small wooden building with hot showers and clean loos. No fuss, no frills. Everything you need and nothing you don’t. The air smells of damp earth and dewy grass, and the light is beginning to soften into that golden, syrupy hue that makes everything feel a little bit magical.
We park up, stretch our legs, and let out the kind of deep sigh that only comes when you know you've truly arrived.
There’s only a couple of hours of daylight left, so we get to work on unpacking the van, lighting the fire, and getting dinner on the go. Tonight, it’s fish tacos on the menu and we couldn’t be more excited.
As it turns out, our ‘indoor/outdoor’ kitchen concept works an absolute treat and we’re both able to soak up the valley air whilst getting on with our respective tasks: Sean: cooking up a storm, Me: relaxing on a beanbag whilst sipping prosecco 💁🏻♀️
I take in a long, drawn out breath. Life is good.
Day 2
Our first night in the van. Ever. And you know what? It was surprisingly comfortable. I’d gone deep down the rabbit hole of researching foam densities, mattress toppers, and every bedding hack the internet had to offer—and honestly, it paid off. After all that research and testing, I’m pretty confident we ended up with one of the comfiest setups out there.
Bodies in tact, it’s now time for breakfast. Although this time the backdrop looks a little less inspiring and a little more unsettling. Gone are the fluffy white clouds and bursts of blue, and in their place lies a heavy blanket of grey.
“That’s Wales” quips the campsite owner as he passes on his way to empty the bins.
But a little bit of drizzle isn’t going to stop us. We’re here for an adventure, and an adventure we’re going to have.
First item on the itinerary: make an epic breakfast sandwich to fuel us up for the day.
Then: lycra on, bikes out, routes loaded, and off we go.
Cycling through the Welsh moors almost feels like slipping into another world, one stripped down to its rawest form. The landscape stretches out in a sweep of muted browns and greys, barren and beautiful in its bleakness. There are no apartment blocks, no sirens, no signs of life beyond the occasional (and very cute) bleat of a newborn lamb. The sky hangs heavy and low, thick with cloud, while the wind whips across the open terrain.
It’s beautiful in its own way.
Today’s route is 43km with just under 1,000m of elevation. With race season just around the corner, it’s important that we start to ramp up our training. This trip, in particular, was designed with the intention of getting in some good back to back days, and testing the legs with a few punchy climbs.
“I’m feeling pretty good” I shout out to Sean, who is practically dancing up the hill in front of me.
“Me too!'“ comes the reply, although that fact was pretty obvious.
I glance down at my Garmin—a 12% gradient—then lift my eyes to the moorland ahead. There’s something quietly intimidating about the starkness up here. The wind doesn’t just blow; it snatches the sound from your mouth and hurls it across the barren expanse, scattering your voice so far and wide it feels like no one would ever hear it.
I take a deep breath in, trying to steady my heart-rate as the climb steepens. The air is damp and oppressive. If something were to go wrong up here it’s uncertain how long it would take for a passing car to be able to offer help.
These are the thoughts racing through my mind when I hear it.
A sharp SNAP, followed by a jolt of resistance in the pedals…and then, panic.
I look down and gulp.
I’ve snapped my chain.
But it doesn’t stop there. The broken link manages to hook itself over the front derailleur and completely dislodge it. Now I can’t shift gear, and I can’t pedal. Two fairly critical components when it comes to riding a bike.
Brilliant.
Still, credit where credit’s due. I might not be a mechanical mastermind, but I do always carry my top-tube bag packed with tools and spares, no matter the ride, no matter the distance. So I give myself a small pat on the back for that.
Twenty minutes and a whole lot of tinkering later (if it wasn’t for Sean I’d probably still be shivering by the roadside, eyes welling up, waiting to flag down a passing car for a lift to the nearest village) we’re back on the road. I take it easy, reluctant to shift into the big ring in case I trigger another mechanical tantrum. Slowly, we make our way back to the campsite.
As the pedals turn and the miles pass, I soak up the stillness. Out here, I feel more like myself than I do anywhere else, and the weight of everyday life melts away.
“Look!” I hear the shout from up ahead as I’m wrenched back to reality.
I see Sean, his arms waving frantically towards the hedge, his eyes wide.
“What on earth…"?” I crumple my nose, unsure of what he’s trying to tell me.
“Look!” he says again, making even more deliberate motions towards the hedge.
I pause, then slowly turn, and see exactly what he’s pointing at.
From this moment on, all of the morning’s sagas are forgotten, erased from memory as though they never happened at all. In their place: the pure, unexpected joy of encountering not one, but four, majestic moos. We slow to a stop and grin stupidly for an undetermined period of time.
As we roll back into the campsite we’re still on a high.
By the time we roll back into the campsite, the mood has completely shifted. Unfortunately, the weather has not. We take one look at each other, soaked and slightly shivering, and agree that the most logical course of action is to retreat to the local pub. Warm lighting, a roaring fire, and a pint of cider in hand feel like the ultimate reward for a day well salvaged.
Fingers crossed that tomorrow brings a little more mercy.
To be continued…
I’ve made the decision to break this adventure write-up into three parts. Not just because we only got back yesterday and I haven’t had the brainpower to pull it all together yet, but also because I quite like the idea of letting the story unfold slowly. There’s something special about not rushing it… about giving each part the space it deserves.
So stay tuned, there’s plenty more to come!
Where we stayed: Boatside Caravan and Camping, Builth Wells, Wales
How many nights: 2
What we cooked:
Thursday’s Dinner: Fish tacos (white fish fillets, lime juice, chilli powder, cumin, salt, corn on the cob, salsa, baby gem lettuce, tortillas)
Friday’s Breakfast: Epic breakfast sandwich (toasted bread, smashed avocado, fried egg, bacon, ketchup)
Friday’s Dinner: Pasta Primavera (pasta, courgette, tomatoes, garlic, lemon juice, goats cheese)
Saturday’s Breakfast: Another epic breakfast sandwich (toasted bread, smashed avocado, fried egg, bacon, ketchup)
Where we cycled:
Friday’s route: https://www.strava.com/activities/14212243040