Our first ad-VAN-ture!
The middle
đ Pssst - if you missed part one, you can read it here.
And just a gentle word of warning that this one gets a little personal towards the end, so if youâre looking for a happy-go-lucky, easy-reading account of my time in Wales, you might get slightly more than you bargained for.
Day 3
It was 7am when the alarm went off. I listened out for the sound of birdsong but there was none.
âPlease donât be raining, please donât be rainingâ I pleaded, eyes still shut. But I already knew what was coming. Even with my eyes closed I could feel the weight of the sky; the light too dim to be anything but grey.
Slowly, I counted to three, not wanting to confirm what I already knew. Then, like ripping off a plaster to lesson the pain, I shot them open, immediately darting them towards the window in the pop-top roof where weâd slept.
Grey.
There it was. The confirmation that today would be yet another battle against the elements. I let out a long, heavy sigh.
Disappointment is one of those emotions Iâve never quite mastered. Give me envy, shame, even frustration, and Iâll somehow manage to stumble my way through. But disappointment? Itâs the emotional equivalent of being tied to a boulder and tossed out to sea.
Heavy.
Inescapable.
That slow, helpless sinking. Knowing that the longer you fall, the harder it will be to rise.
âStop being so dramaticâ I shook myself back to reality. Sure, I might have dreamed of a picture-perfect bank holiday weekend, complete with endless blue skies and infinite sunshine, but guess what? The path you plan isnât always the one you walk.
I wriggled out from under the warm duvet and slithered down into the main living compartment of the van. It was cold, and the abundance of damp clothing slung over every visible surface was a stark reminder that #vanlife may not be quite so idealistic after all.
I brushed the thought aside and clumsily jostled my body into wet lycra. âI love cycling in the rainâ I said out loud, sounding a little more sarcastic than perhaps Iâd meant to.
âUghâ came the unenthused grunt back from Sean.
Today was going to be a good day.
We finally set off nearly three hours later, having stretched the art of faffing to its absolute limits in the hope the rain might ease. It didnât. Instead, we donned our waterproofs, loaded our routes, and just got on with it.
However, after the chain drama of yesterday, this time we decided to opt for something a little less hilly: a 50km route with just under 500m of elevation. Practically flat by Welsh standards. It was delightful.
But what was more delightful was when we pulled into our first cafe stop to find that it was inhabited by the worldâs friendliest cat. And when I say âfriendlyâ, what I actually mean is that this cat didnât care who you were or where you came from, or even if you liked cats, if you had a warm lap he was going to sit on it.
Luckily for him, I was fully onboard with this plan. In fact, I actively encouraged it. Lots of stroking, and cooing, and cwtching ensued, and after a while the rain didnât feel so bad anymore.
Moral of the story: all feelings of disappointment can be resolved by cuddling a cat.
After we left the cafe (and the cat), the weather Gods seemed to turn in our favour. It wasnât quite the blue-sky-infinite-sunshine vibes that weâd been hoping for, but at least it had stopped raining.
Things only got better from there. Not only did we catch a fleeting glimpse of the sun (in between two gargantuan grey clouds, but whatever), but we also, by some divine stroke of luck (or supreme planning đđťââď¸), managed to end our ride at the local tap room. Is there any better way to commemorate an afternoon in the saddle than a glass of natural cider and a cheese board?! I think not.
Day 4
Itâs Sunday. Which means itâs Easter. Which means no one can stop me from having chocolate for breakfast. I thought that was going to be the highlight of my day. But as it turned out, something far more exciting was waiting in the wings.
And that âsomethingâ, ladies and gentlemen, was SUNSHINE.
Thatâs right. On day four, after enduring three days of perpetual drizzle, we were finally being rewarded with my favourite thing in the entire universe.
Warmth.
A day without waterproofs. A day without damp socks. A day without dripping helmets and soggy gloves. I was ecstatic.
And of course weather like that could only mean one thing: a disgustingly long stint out on the bike!
Iâd saved this route especially; it passed through some of the most iconic scenes of the Brecon Beacons and needed that added magic of sunshine to truly do it justice.
105km with just under 1,800m of elevation. It was going to be a big day out.
Much to my delight, the Beacons were absolutely dazzling in the sunshine; their rolling green hills stretching out in soft, undulating waves beneath a sky so blue it felt almost theatrical. The road curled gently through valleys dotted with sheep and flanked by dry stone walls, every bend revealing another breathtaking viewâridges bathed in golden light, glinting streams tumbling beside the tarmac, and vast moorland glowing with wild grasses.
This is why weâd come to Wales. This is what we wanted to see.
I breathed in a long, deep inhale, a smile spreading wide across my lips. It was days like this that made me feel free; the endless possibilities of life stretched out in front of me, daring me to take the first steps down an unknown path.
The air was warm, the world inviting. I could almost see the faint glimmer of a new future, should I be bold enough to reach for it.
Recent thoughts Iâd been trying to keep at bay were creeping in again. More persistent this time, harder to drown out.
What if life didnât have to be lived between calendar invites and countdowns to the weekend? What if I didnât need to cross my fingers and hope that sunshine would land on the same days as my time off? I allowed myself to imagine what it might feel like to shape my days around the things I love, rather than squeezing them into the scraps of leftover time. To chase good weather, rather than emails. A life where freedom wasnât something I earned in annual increments, but something woven into the rhythm of every day. Where Mondays didnât mean meetings, and joy didnât wait for weekends.
What if I could build a life where fresh air and movement werenât luxuries, but non-negotiables? Where I could ride until my legs ached and my mind softened? I imagined a life with room to breathe. To create.
To slow down.
What if success looked differentâmeasured not in promotions or praise, but in golden afternoons, wind-tousled hair, and the quiet satisfaction of living a life I chose, not one I fell into?
What if I stopped trying to fit the life I wanted around the life I had, and just⌠made the leap?
âŚwhat if?
If you made it all the way to the end, thank you. I never quite know how these newsletters are going to go when I start writing them, and often surprise myself with where they end up.
I suppose the slightly derailed ending on this particular edition is hardly a surprise; thereâs been a handful of personal shifts and announcements this past week that have brought a lot of old thoughts bubbling back to the surfaceâthe very thoughts that first prompted me to start this Substack in the first place.
Yes, I love riding my bike. Yes, I love adventures. Yes, I love inspiring, empowering, and educating others on how to step outside their comfort zones and do hard things. But hereâs the uncomfortable truth: sometimes I feel like a massive fraud. I talk a big game about living life to the fullest, about not wasting a single second, about being brave and bold and chasing what sets your soul on fire. But Iâm also someone who procrastinates, who hesitates, who gets tangled in fear and ends up watching from the sidelines. Iâm terrible at following my own advice.
There are so many things I want to do. Big, exciting, meaningful things. But they feel just that: big. Which means they also feel terrifying. So the easiest option, the most familiar one, is to do... nothing. To stay where itâs safe. To keep dreaming instead of doing.
Can anyone else relate? That desire to leap, coupled with the overwhelming weight of what the leap might cost?
Iâm afraid that I donât have a tidy resolution or a some kind of breakthrough epiphany to share to wrap this all up. I just wanted to put these feelings out into the world with the quiet hope that if youâve ever felt this too, it might help knowing you're not alone đ
And also âŚhere are some more photos!
Where we stayed: Bryndu Caravan and Camping, Llyswen, Wales
How many nights: 2
What we cooked:
Saturdayâs Dinner: Steak and veg (steak, Tenderstem broccoli, green beans, corn on the cob)
Sundayâs Breakfast: Sausages and scrambled eggs
Sundayâs Dinner: Pesto Pasta (pasta, courgette, tomatoes, pesto, cheese, bacon bits)
Mondayâs Breakfast: Sausages and scrambled eggs
Where we cycled:
Saturdayâs route: https://www.strava.com/activities/14222837112
Sundayâs route: https://www.strava.com/activities/14234654880
Another great read, and glad you got a beautiful sunshine ride too đ