Amphibious log lady aka a kit test

Preface

It would be foolish to set off on a year long trip across an entire continent without testing my kit. However, there I was less than a month to departure and I’d not yet ridden my bike fully loaded. I had intended to go to Scotland for a week to bid goodbye to the highlands, hoping to meet up with my pal Annie. But between heavy snowfall and a heavier than expected admin load from packing up our lives in the UK I realised ambitions needed to be scaled back. I did however manage to recruit a new companion. I first met Adeline at the Bespoked hand built bicycle show 2017, the same day I met Liam. Since she moved to Bristol we’ve grown a lot closer and we’ve supported each other through a lot in the past few months. So it seemed fitting that she became my adventure companion for the kit test/trip to say goodbye to the British hills.

The plan (featuring logs)

So with modest ambitions for the Welsh hills in winter, Adeline and I planned a series of circular routes in Snowdonia that would allow us to flex our adventurous muscles without ever being more than half a day away from the car/hard shelter if the weather did close in. The focal point of the trip became reaching Dulyn bothy in the Carneddau hills of North East Snowdonia. These hills looked decidedly Scottish (their geology is very similar) and I felt they would satisfy my cravings for perspective and awe in the mountains, while also offering the shelter and nostalgia of the bothy. With clear skies, temperatures of -4 predicted overnight and experience telling me that while bothies look cozy and romantic they tend in reality to be damp, dark and cold, I decided to add a sack of logs to my load. Having never ridden my bike fully loaded, this was obviously the sensible thing to do.

The kit to be shaken down

In terms of my setup I have opted for a combination approach, borrowing the best from both the bikepacking and touring worlds. Taking some of my tried and tested bikepacking equipment and some new gear that will help me maximise the space available on/around my bike for the longer trip.

• Up front: I was running my trusty Apidura front roll and accessory pouch, which are waterproof and provide peace of mind that whatever happens my sleeping kit will be dry. I also carried a lightweight camp chair Voile strapped to the front roll (not to be used on this trip but to rattle test the setup).
• Frame bag: Liam and I both commissioned custom frame backs from Ross at Straightcut Designs. The Stooges (especially my Rambler) have huge triangles and it would be foolish not to make the most of that real estate. It makes a nice change from riding a small full suspension bike with no triangle space! My food and water was in my frame bag, using a 3l bladder with extra long hose for my water.
• Bringing up the rear: I have swapped out my usual bikepacking seat pack and affixed a Tailfin Aeropack and aluminium arch, kindly gifted as they have a crush on Liam. With a 10l pannier on each side of the 20l aeropack this gives much more capacity for touring. One pannier was filled with my warm gear and sleep kit (read: fleece and feathers), the other with everything else (including stove, electricals and optimistic warm weather gear). The aeropack was mostly empty, with the logs strapped on top (probably voiding any warranty).

The adventure begins!

As we unloaded from the car and packed our bikepacking bikes in Capel Curig, everyone else was returning to the car park and warning of the weather closing in. It’s always reassuring that when everyone else is retreating, you’re just setting off! Logs successfully secured to my Tailfin rack and waterproofs on, we set off and immediately started climbing up to Llyn Cowlyd. Any hopes Adeline might have had of her hiking boots keeping her feet dry were quickly dashed. Content with my combination of hiking sandals and knee high waterproof sealskin socks, I was singing the praises of what I’ve termed ‘the amphibious lifestyle’. But TLDR, it was wet. From above and below. The wet from above went from rain to hail to snow. As we traversed the lake along the singletrack, frequently having to dismount to negotiate boulders, we might as well have been in Scotland. I was struggling with the weight of my bike and progress was slow. We were slightly concerned with how much time we had left ourselves to reach the bothy, but were optimistic that we would make better progress once we reached the double track on the other side of the dam.

Meandering around the lakes, dams and fields, the rain and snow subsided and gave way to blue sky and warm, crisp evening light. The kind that you only get in winter when the sun is low in the sky.

As we began the old track up towards the bothy, we were still optimistic that we had enough time to get there before dark. The track was steep and snowy, but it was easier than pushing. With around a kilometre to go, we switched on our helmet lights and carried on past the first of two lakes. We knew the bothy was downhill from here and foolishly assumed the track would continue and we’d be tucked up in our sleeping bags munching on lentils in no time!

Fools! The track quickly descended into a steep rocky hiking trail. The logs were cast aside as we struggled to carry our fully loaded bikes down this snowy ravine. Crampons would have been more appropriate than hiking sandals at this point! Luckily my bum gets good grip on the ground. I went back up for the logs as Adeline went on to recce the route ahead. We had a rocky scramble to get to the second lake, where we had to lower our bikes down to cross the dam. At this point, I exclaimed in gleeful relief that I could see the bothy. Alas, it was some sort of maintenance hut for the dam. Thankfully, from here the track was good and we soon came upon the dark silhouette of Dulyn, except taht the latch was broken off the front door. It looked locked and the door wouldn’t budge. Panic began to set in. We did a quick walk around the bothy to see if we could enter by any of the windows, before retuning to the front door to discover we just needed to give it a really good shove. Huzzah and relief!

It was around 9pm by the time we had settled in front of a roaring fire (thank you logs) and eating a bowl full of warm, cheesy lentils. We decompressed and settled down for the night hoping that Terry the mouse wouldn’t disturb our sleep.

The morning after

The morning was one of the most stunning sunrises I’ve witnessed as the sun rose twice. The first sunrise onto the cliffs above the lake and then the second onto the bothy itself. Not that the warmth of the sun was felt – the wind was bitterly cold. With some mountain horses for company, we explored the vicinity of the bothy in the pre-glow. After the effort required to get to the bothy, we were in no rush to leave, taking our time over multiple mugs of coffee and reading the tales of others in the bothy book.

After the effort required to get to the bothy we were in no rush to leave, taking our time over multiple mugs of coffee and reading the tales of others in the bothy book.

Rather than retrace our steps back up the rocks, we decided to follow the river down the valley. The stories in the bothy book warned us it would be boggy, but the contours of the map reassured us that it would be less steep. We appeared to time our departure well with the arrival of more “weather”. Some bog trotting later and we arrived back at the track, zipped along the road and decided to head down the valley to escape the lowering clouds. Opposite the sterile environment of the Snowdonia adventure park, we happened upon a small village post office serving hot drinks. The owner shared some incredible stories from his father’s job delivering coal to the local farms on an old army vehicle to working on the construction of the Dulyn dam.

With no sign of the rain easing off and realising just quite how tired our bodies were, we decided to skip out the trails and hike-a-bike we had planned for this morning and head straight for pizza in Betws-y-Coed.

With age and experience comes the wisdom of knowing when to be kind to yourself

Fortunately, we had the foresight to book ourselves into the YHA on Pen-y-Pass for the second night, anticipating that we might not have the best night’s sleep in the bothy. Refuelled and warmed up, we headed off up the road into the driving rain. Poking out heads through the doors of the hostel, we were greeted by the Glasgow University cycling team. They were in the area for a downhill mountain biking race but for a group of gravity bros they were intrigued by our setups and bombarded us with questions. Over a game of cards and some local ale, the heaviness of my bike became a hot topic of conversation. She wasn’t that much lighter even after we’d burned all the logs! Items identified as unnecessary weight: the bluetooth speaker and camp chair, although I’m not convinced the second is unnecessary at all. After all, we’re going touring for a year and comfort is important (especially if you have a chronic back problem).

The next morning, the wind was visible in the rain as we tucked into a cooked breakfast. Visibility and general conditions were pretty poor and we figured there was little point in trying to struggle on; we had tested our equipment, our bodies and recharged our minds in the hills. One final waterproof test awaited as we freewheeled off Snowdon through rivers, puddles and an altogether saturated landscape.

Thoughts and reflections

Overall, I’m happy with my setup. The bike is heavy, but this is the accumulation of items rather than some large unnecessary bulk (like a sack of logs). I’ve optimised for durability rather than weight, a major difference between touring and bike packing, and all the individual items just add up.

The Tailfin with panniers certainly makes the bike quite rear heavy. This isn’t that noticeable in the handling, but becomes evident when trying to lift the bike e.g. over a locked gate. The water bladder also makes for streamlined carrying integration and easy sipping on the go, not that I got that thirsty in wettest Wales. Most importantly, the sandals and waterproof socks combination was stress tested and came up trumps. Ok, they may not be sexy, but I challenge anyone to find a more versatile combination.

One thing I have been surprised by is how much additional equipment we have had to buy for this trip. I figured that because we’ve both been riding and camping for years that we were sorted, but actually I’ve ended up revamping my whole setup. I’m relieved that I did this while I was still working and had income! Tailfin have also given us all of their kit, which we are hugely grateful for. Kitchen wise we have invested in a MSR multi-fuel stove and indestructible pans instead of our usual ultra-light and ultra-compact gas stove. After much research, we’ve bought a steripen for water purification and some platypus bags for extra water carrying capacity, not something we’ve had much use for in the UK (have I ever mentioned how wet it is in Wales?). I’ve also bought a new sleeping pad, as I am quite anxious about the durability of air mats, opting for a foam filled self-inflating thermarest instead. It wasn’t the most comfortable on the wooden bunk of the bothy but experience has taught me that a deflated and delaminated air pad is one of the worst things that can happen for this princess. I’ve bought more warm kit in anticipation of -10 C nights at altitude and of course, I have purchased some hiking sandals! Liam and I have also switched to riding without padded shorts and cleats. There are very few clues remaining that we were ever ‘proper cyclists’!

For anyone who is concerned about the wellbeing of my toes I promise I will buy some trainers or hiking shoes in South America if I need to, but shoes are heavy, bulky and slow to dry.

A huge thank you to Adeline for joining me on this trip and helping me document it.