Day 3 - Lancaster to Snowdon

I woke up at 5 not feeling too bad. The fact that this was the last day combined with the fact that it wasn't dark helped psychologically. After packing up the tent it was back to the petrol station shop for a poo and a meal deal before setting off. The first part of the day involved making my way to Liverpool (via the A6 to Preston and then the A59 after Preston). Just as I began my route along the A6 the tent slipped out of where it had been wedged between the top of my pannier bags/underside of my saddle. It landed in the road behind me - thankfully the road wasn't too busy this early in the morning and there weren't any cars within close proximity. This was the first time that this had happened (I'd had this exact same setup the last couple of days without any issues). Anyway I retrieved the tent, re-wedged it, stretched the bungee back over it and pedalled on. After this glitch I made it to Liverpool without any issues and in good time (another meal deal was quickly consumed en-route somewhere along the A59). I pulled over for a pee by the side of the road as I was approaching Liverpool city centre. After a couple of minutes I noticed a difference with the handling of the bike. I pulled over and confirmed what I'd suspected - the tent had fallen off again. I promptly backtracked to where I'd pulled over and sure enough the tent was on the floor at the point that I'd bumped down a small kerb to get back onto the road. I needed to prevent this from happening again. Without having another bungee so had to improvise with something else. Luckily I spotted an offcut of rope tied to a building site's barrier fence barrier fence, so took this and used it to tie down my tent more securely. Job done :). The next hurdle was crossing the River Mersey. I'd looked at Google maps before which seemed to show 2 bridges where I'd be able to cross. However after asking some locals and getting to the waterside it became apparent that these 'bridges' were in fact tunnels which bicycles weren't allowed on. Bugger. The solution: to wait 30 minutes for a ferry that would take me across to Birkenhead - another delay. I used my time on the ferry to refuel - some warm stew from the ferry cafe with a big flapjack. I was eager to make quick progress from Birkenhead to Snowdon as it was now early afternoon and didn't want to be climbing Snowdon in the dark. This didn't happen. Navigating in Northern Wales proved challenging, and my very fatigued, sleep deprived state didn't help matters. Shortly after crossing the border I was kicked off a dual carriageway by the traffic police. I was totally in 'The Zone' and didn't want to deviate from my route/take a slower or more indirect route. The officer was very nice and advised me of a safer way to get to the next town of Mold en route to Snowdon. Of course this slowed progress down again. After eventually getting to Mold I found a pub so walked in with the intention to try and get wifi so that I could plan the rest of my modified route. There was a big group of middle-aged folk celebrating one of their birthday's. I got talking to a couple of them who were extremely helpful showing/explaining to me the best way to get to Snowdon. Seeing my fatigued state they invited me to sit down and very kindly gave me a couple of bits of cake to boost my ever-diminishing energy levels. I jotted down some new direction notes to stick to my handlebars and refilled my water bottles before waving goodbye to the group and continuing my ride. This gave me a boost and I started to feel a bit more hopeful about being able to find my way to Snowdon easily. If only. I rode to the next small town of Pontblyddyn as they'd told me to do and took the turn off at the petrol station. Within about 20 minutes things didn't seem right - the road pattern didn't correspond with my notes. I'd taken a wrong turning somewhere but wasn't sure where. I ended up having to knock on someone's door and them for directions. The lady that answered was very helpful and got out her A-Z to show me where to go. It turned out that I'd gone around in a big circle having taken the wrong turning at the petrol station thanks to an unclear road sign. So back to the petrol station I went. I was now seriously struggling for energy (the 5-meal-deals-per-day/copious Mars Bars weren't providing me with enough calories to replace what I was burning off). So I opted for a big calorific pork pie as well as a pasty and coke, and bought another big pork pie and a packet of cookies for later. I knew that it was now impossible to get to Snowdon before nightfall, but psychologically I knew that getting out of 'the zone' and slowing down would have been catastrophic at this point, and I didn't want to be cycling in the dark longer than I had to. Now taking the correct turning at the petrol station along the A5104 I pedalled onwards. The going got very tough as the afternoon progressed the pork-pie-boost had long since worn off. There were some especially tough hilly and windy sections. I resorted to singing at one point - a coping mechanism I employed to keep my brain active trying to remember song lyrics whilst distracting myself from the neverending pedalling. Thankfully I'd made decent progress during the remaining hours of daylight, and managed to reach Betws-y-Coed (a town approx. 10 miles from Pen-y-Pass at the base of Snowdon, and the first town I'd come across since Pontblyddyn) by nightfall. There was another petrol station here. I was craving sugar so went in and got a couple of Mars Bars and 2 bottles of Coke. This was a very brief stop and I was battling my way up the hill out of town into the dark within 10 minutes of my sugar boost. It had started raining too - great. 'Only 10 miles to go' I kept telling myself. Just concentrate on getting to Pen-y-pass for now - don't even think about Snowdon at this point (another coping mechanism I'd used in previous events (mentally breaking the race/challenge down into sections, and focussing on getting to the end of each section rather than looking at the entire distance left to go). Chrissie Wellington (one of my heroes) talks a lot about this in her autobiography and the importance of being mentally strong. There was another small town (Capel Curig) en route to Pen-y-Pass. The rain that had started off as drizzle had now developed into a significant downpour by the time I'd reached Capel. I had to knock on someone's door to make sure that I was taking the correct turning from here towards Pen-y-Pass (after the significant Pontblyddyn delay earlier I wanted to be 100% sure that I was going the right way). A man answered the door and gave me clear directions. After what seemed like the longest/darkest road ever I eventually got to a hotel. I asked a couple of guys were smoking outside - I asked them where the hostel at the base of the mountain was. They pointed up a slope and said 'it's just up there' Great I thought - I've just got to wheel my bike the short distance up this slope and I will be there. However I walked up the slope and couldn't see anything, not even any lights on the dark horizon. So like a man possessed I irrationally started running up the road with the bike still wearing my cleats. Surely it must be just up here? Where is this bloody hostel? What must have been about 10 minutes later I saw the light in the distance. It was very reminiscent of one evening during the 'Wainwright's Coast to Coast Walk' I did 3 or 4 years ago with my friends Chris and Tom where we could see the light of 'The Lion's Inn' pub in the distance whilst walking through the wilderness. Anyway the walk up the hill turned into a run when I saw the light and it wasn't long before I arrived at the door of the hostel. It was now around 11pm (approx. 4 hours until my 72-hour target time was up). The sign at the start of the path said it was 3.5 miles to reach the summit. Definitely doable. I went into the hostel to get some advice on the path to the top. There was a group of walkers having drinks around a table in the reception area. They strongly advised me not to go up now as the conditions/lack of visibility would make it too dangerous. I really wanted to do it within my given 72-hour timeframe but opted to take their advice and wait until first light tomorrow before attempting the summit. A sensible moment or a moment of weakness? I'm still asking myself this as I write this blog several months later. What if I'd given it a go? Could I have succeeded? Anyway the 72-hour challenge was over. All I could do was try to make it up and down Snowdon in the morning before cycling the 13 miles to the nearby town of Caernarfon in time to catch my 9.00am coach back home to Reading. I spoke to the guy working at the hostel and he explained that it was predominantly downhill to get to Caernarfon. So if I started climbing at 4.00am and was back down by 7.00am that would in theory give me enough time to pack my stuff up/cover the 13 miles to Caernarfon, and get to the coach on time. I was certainly going to give it a go - I'd not been able to climb Snowdon within the initial timeframe - if I wasn't able to make it up Snowdon at all I would have been devastated. Back to the current predicament - there weren't any rooms available. The hostel guy suggested putting the tent up on a patch of grass by the car park. I wasn't going to do this. I ended up laying down my sleeping mat in a disabled toilet/outbuilding with the bike and everything squeezed in with me. It seemed almost like luxury just having a toilet, tap, light and ability to stand up in the place that I was sleeping. Once settled I set my alarm for 3.30am and went to sleep.