I'll begin at the beginning. Or should that be begin at the end?

 

Llandudno sits on the very north west tip of Wales. It's a seaside resort developed in the Victorian era and now hosts coach loads of silver permed retired folk – the women at any rate – who fill the large hotel edifices fronting the wide promenade.

 

It's also one end of the A470, a road that runs along the spine of Wales through its most interesting and grand mountain scenery, past tumbling rivers, forests and verdant valleys, until at the other end loses itself in the traffic and bustle of Cardiff in the south. It crosses two national parks; Snowdonia and the Brecon Beacons. It presents vistas of the Cambrian mountains, and offers up a tempting menu of riding along its 160 mile route.

 

 

I've eyed up this run for some time now, and when the rare bout of June high pressure hovered over us it was time to be on the road. It's almost impossible not to find your way around the road network easily here, such is the plethora of signs displayed. In areas that rely on tourism as an economic mainstay; they want you to find everything everywhere. No map required on this run.

 

 

Under blue, blue skies the eleven miles from Betws-y-Coed to Blaenau Ffestiniog offers up the initial treats of the rider's day, as it traverses the Gwydyr Forest Park. First through several miles of road the width of which is not much more than a lane, before it opens up through wide valleys to hills in the near distance. Then as you're getting into the groove of swinging through bends across a stretch named the Crimea Pass you crest a small hill to be confronted by the giant slate hills at Blaenau. 

 

 

In Victorian times the slate industry dominated this corner of Snowdonia, with ten mines producing a material that sadly seems no longer to be required. The mines are closed and are now tourist caverns, but the 'waste' hills loom over the tiny stone cottages that once housed a slate mining population of 12,000 – the decline of mining has now reduced the town's population to 5,000.

 

The Snowdonia national park boundary stone sits at the side of the road just outside Blaenau. The road narrows again after this and twists dramatically downwards, requiring a prod into second gear (I think). Another in a string of enjoyable surprises that the 470 would throw up throughout the five hour plus ride south.

 

It's straight and smooth along wide wide valleys to Dolgellau. It's an opportunity to snick up through the gears and let the revs purr as there is little hindrance from traffic on the roads through here. The road surfaces are as smooth and grippy as you'll find anywhere; which I'm sure Welsh riders will confirm. They don't receive the pounding of many UK roads, but I've always been impressed by the unstinting maintenance attention the Welsh Assembly seems to give to the road network. 

 

 

Away to my right, and out of context with the almost poetic ride I'm enjoying, a couple of concrete hulks bespoil the landscape; as if some Stalinist designer has been invited to visit ugliness on this part of Wales. It's the Trawsfynydd ex nuclear power plant: closed since 1991, and in the process of being decommissioned. Just how long does it take? And if these plants are so safe; why do they build them in remote locations?

Up a long sweep of bends twixt two of the highest peaks in Snowdonia, I crested the road with a car-park-come-viewing-point on the right; overlooking a majestic rugged valley that the road weaves through. Another rider was parked up and watched me as I made a complete hash of the first bend. I spoke sternly to myself and pointed the bike downwards with a bit more focus.

 

It was time to look for a break spot. Not that there were too many miles under the wheels, but parking the bike up for pictures at regular intervals tends to severely affect the average mph. I came to a hamlet...please don't ask me the name. A cafe, a store, and a pub with three touring bikes parked outside. Too early for a beer so I chose the cafe. It's the one with a little rabbit zoo (so cute) and a kids playground...you'll know it.

 

 

The mid Wales section of the 470 is lowland, sandwiched between the hills, and it's really good for getting the bike into a fast smooth touring gait. It follows the rivers Severn and Wye before reaching Rhayader, off road and enduro capital of the world: then into the hills again towards Builth Wells and Brecon.

 

Here I nominate my favourite stretch – Builth to Brecon. The road surface, especially over the first miles is superb. The River Wye runs alongside the road on the left providing a scenic accompaniment before turning east towards Hereford and Monmouth. And what makes this 20 mile section such an appetising piece of road, is that there are just two small villages to pass through with 30mph restrictions. I could have 'cheated' here as the map shows a B road (4520) through the hills with black markers indicating a steeper route; but I had to be true to my original mission.

 

At Brecon signs appear for Merthyr Tydfil and Cardiff. Urbanisation. Areas clustered together. Traffic and people. But before I get there another riding treat is in store as the road sweeps through the Brecon Beacons. Bold curved mountains appear on either side of me, vivid against a flawless mid-afternoon sky, and every fold and mark of the land etched out by the bright sun and sharp shadows.

 

A string of forest garlanded reservoirs line the road towards Merthyr. People are parked up and enjoying the rare warmth. The traffic gets more dense, but I'm surprised by the fast two lane highway that runs towards Cardiff. I'm going into the city as most souls are quitting the working day and heading the other way. My goal is the Cardiff Bay renaissance area. I see the roof of the Millenium Stadium and continue following the 470 towards more and more city centre traffic, and then pick up signs for the Bay.

 

 

I'm a little disappointed. I expected an inviting conglomeration of bars and cafes beside the water. But the part I'd reached was full of glass Legoland office buildings and uniform hotels. Perhaps I was in the wrong location, but I couldn't be bothered to ride around any more, and my Guzzi Breva doesn't like towns any more than I do. The cold beer would have to wait.

 

John Newman
for Wemoto News