“F*** it… why not?!”
Sarah Hall shares her reflections on attempting the Trans Cambrian Way in winter
The above expletive was my response when asked if I fancied bikepacking the Trans Cambrian Way in winter - my first experience on a mountain bike. I’m trying to do more things that scare me, daunt me or stretch me out of my comfort zone. Sometimes you just have to say yes, beg and borrow any kit you don’t have (thanks to MSR and Ray) and accept that you might never feel fully prepared.
I’ve had a gravel bike for around nine months – the transition from road riding to gravel opened my eyes to the possibilities of travel by bike. With a few multi-day gravel routes under my belt, such as the Traws Eryri, I was keen to explore my limits further. Although I’d never before ridden a hardtail (a mountain bike that has a front suspension fork, but no rear suspension), it felt like a natural progression from this past year to open up trickier bikepacking routes.
On immediate reflection after the Trans Cambrian, my most intense memories are of mud, rain, hard graft and pure joy.
Over the three days we spent on the route, we experienced an intense range of emotions that far outweigh the stats on paper. It was a stark contrast of perceived effort to actual distance travelled each day, a reminder of the cliché that it’s all about the journey and not the destination.
From the get-go it felt like a complete baptism of fire (or mud) with terrain that sucked at our tyres, challenging weather and technical sections in the dark. Time warps when spending long days on the bike moving through varied landscapes – it’s all a sepia blur of forestry tracks, muddy grass, rutted singletrack, ford crossings, steep tarmac, rocky terrain, lashing rain and brutal headwinds. Despite all this – or more likely because of this – the psyche was high, character was built, and resilience gained.
Ceri was an absolute gem of a riding partner – supporting me where needed, accepting kit faff, being a guinea pig on all the deep puddles and a queen of dynamic thinking (read: route changes due to weather, quick kit hacks and deploying old inner tube for a last-minute Garmin mount).
It’s a privilege to put yourself in a position of self-inflicted ‘try hard’, and even more so to share that time with a friend. Some of the most poignant moments of the trip were realising when we were both in our own little pain caves with cranks spinning in unison, heavy breathing synchronised, and yet still managing to smile whenever we caught each other’s eye.
Overall, I would say that it was an epic introduction to mountain biking and winter bikepacking. Would I do it again? Absolutely. The gates, though… let’s not talk about how many gates we had to open…