The forecast for today according to both the television and the BBC weather site was of rain, better still widespread rain. I say better still because the forecast is so often contradictory that I had expected a sunny day. Unfortunately I woke up to the sound of, you’ve guessed it, rain. So much for the power of optimism!

I carried on getting ready in spite of the persistently steady downfall outside because at this time of the year rain does not really matter. In June, especially at the end of June the weather is warm and your clothes dry quite quickly. Just as long as it stops raining, that is.

And it did. When I opened the back door to get the bike out it had stopped. No blue sky, but nevertheless the rain had stopped. This could be ok after all. Are you beginning to see a worrying level of optimism in my make up? I do mean my mental make up of course.

I was about 100 yards down the road when I realised that my theory about the temperature in June was grossly inaccurate. It was cold, in fact it felt like a late winter morning and the wind had quite a bite to it, I considered turning back to fetch a pair of trousers but decided not to otherwise I could be late. Anyway it was June and June has to mean shorts.

The assembled crowd were sheltering under a tree at Killay and that really sums them up – brave but sensible. I joined them. I was under the impression that we were cycling to Rossili but that was, apparently, last week. Today was Kidwelly. I remember a Kidwelly ride in January (see The Refrigerator Run) and hoped that today may be slightly better. I was pleased to see that Val was among those sheltering beneath the tree – he and Colin had just completed a ride from St Davids to Great Yarmouth in what seemed to be appalling weather. For them today should be a piece of cake!

We picked up Martin somewhere along the way, he just suddenly appeared. Colin and Mike were waiting at Pont y Cob Road where we all generated various ideas of how to get to Kidwelly, but first we had to cross the Loughor bridge. We turned right at Bynea where we stopped for a committee meeting to assess the best route, we failed to elect a chairman but did not fail to see the gathering black clouds overhead so quickly decided to retrace our pedalling and head towards the hospital and Felinfoel. We took the B4308 and had a steady 3 mile climb of 479 feet, that sounds tame on paper but there were no short downhill stretches to assist recovery, there were so many false summits and the only way was to keep your head down and keep pedalling.

But, hey that’s what we like to do!

We reached the A485 on the outskirts of Kidwelly and regrouped at which point a mobile phone rang, by the time it was extricated from wherever the ringing had stopped, then another one rang, “Hello, hello!” but the caller had gone. Just who was this persistent caller slowing us down on our journey to a much needed lunch stop? Well it was none other than Big Trev who wanted to tell us to hurry up because the café was filling up. Within 5 minutes we arrived at ‘Time for Tea’, an excellent little café, and sitting in the corner was Big Trev and Pat both of them beaming from ear to ear. Suddenly the café was full, tables were rearranged and above the hubbub a waitress attempted to take our orders, sadly she failed to take mine. I blame Pat for engaging me in conversation. I started to have a suspicion when food started to arrive which prompted me to ask if everyone had had their orders taken, they had. Pat kindly offered me some of her chips but it just would not have been polite to pick them off her plate as she was eating. Anyway it was soon rectified without a problem.

Now one of the attractions of ‘Time for Tea’ is the excellent carrot cake which is always on offer and to which Big Trev is totally addicted, he is full of anticipation all the way there and he tends to be full of praise (and carrot cake) on the journey home. Yes I think it could be true to say that Big Trev is fond of his carrot cake. But alas today there was not one piece left, not a single crumb. Big Trev put on a brave face but we knew, deep inside he was devastated. We tried to distract him by asking him about his titanium frame but it was no use.

So Pat promised him a raspberry ripple for his tea.

Time to pay up and go. We said our goodbyes and hoped to see Pat and Big Trev again on John Cardy’s Magical History Tour of Neyland next week. Very soon the heavens opened and we were drenched, worse still judging by the sky it looked as though this was it for the rest of the day, I tried not to think of what would be an uncomfortable journey home for the next two hours. Head down, keep plodding. We regrouped on the outskirts of Burry Port and the rain stopped, a car tooted and two dry, warm people waved at us from behind closed windows. Pat and Big Trev. We stopped, as we always do, at Burry Port harbour and I could tell that John Cardy was anxious to get his picture taken, it was something do with the fact that everywhere I looked he was standing to attention with an engaging smile. So I gathered everyone round him and took the only picture of the day.

Part of the cycle track had been washed away by heavy seas recently but thankfully a diversion has been created and we were soon on the superb cycle track towards Llanelli. It is great to be on a traffic free track where you can relax and talk. Phil was out on his second ride with us and as he is anxious to revive his welsh we spent quite some time engaged in welsh conversation, very enjoyable. At Llanelli some of the group decided to stop for tea at the sea front while five of us thought it might be prudent to make the most of the dry spell and press on for home. The wind had been behind us all the way from Burry Port and we were positively sailing, Mike headed for home at Bynea, Phill and David left at Dunvant and The Great John Cardy (to give him his proper title) and myself headed down the cycle track. We reached Black Pill and the sky was such that I was optimistic of getting home before the heavens opened but TGJC’s immediate prospects were that of a drowned rat.

Within ten minutes I was not only home but I was lying in a hot foaming bath, a glass of rather good malt nearby, the level getting lower progressively whilst outside heavy rain lashed against the bathroom window.

I wondered how TGJC was getting on. Ah well I thought as I felt the warmth of the whisky spread through my body!

Next week its John Cardy’s Magical History Tour of Neyland. Meet at Hillside Cottage, Queens Parade, Tenby at 10am, for a pre ride coffee or tea and toast. SA70 7EH opposite No 9 if you want to sat nav it.

Contact Martin Brain quickly if you want a lift there as he has room for one more. martin.brain3@ntlworld.com

See you next week

Lew Spokes