Trans Cambrian Way
Monks Trod (shortly)

Wales. A great place to try the Tero out in the wilds over a few days. Snowdonia was the site of my first independent teenage adventures: trekking the snowy Carneddau; rock climbing Llanberis Pass; riding our Triumph 750s through Beddgelert, strung with colourful bunting for the 1977 Queen’s Jubilee. Blue Remembered Downpipes. The happy highways where I went. And can come again. On my e-SUV bike!

I was planning to meet a mate in Machynlleth to ride the Trans-Cambrian Way 160-km to Knighton on the English border. But the chance to add a ride across greater Snowdonia – or Eryri – picking up the Trans Eryri Bike Trail, (see vid at the bottom) and maybe even riding up Snowdon (Yr Wyddfa) itself was irresistible.
Yes, you can cycle 7km up to Snowdon summit (1085m) from Llanberis and down the south side. Just as long as it’s before 10am and after 5pm in summer, so you don’t photobomb the Instagraming hoards. It’s still a tough climb, over 1000m from near enough sea level, but is the least steep way up the mountain.

What kills mini-adventures like this is the need to book up trains and scant lodgings way in advance, unless wild camping. That can be fun, but adds to the load, has recharging issues and can get miserable if the weather turns rough, even at a campsite with power. Stuck to a schedule with whatever the weather brings adds an unwanted pressure to the fair weather rider.

Wedi Syli, Wedi Sôn, Wedi Sortio
And following the hottest May week since the Permian Heat Spike, temperatures were halving across the country, with a week of rain forecast right across my Cambrian parade. Crap! In a fool’s bid to invoke good weather, I’d left my perfectly good Gore-tex jacket at home, so last I minute nipped into Kington for a cheap ‘flexothane’ farmer’s cag which went on to do as good a job. Sortio!

Llandudno to Llanberis • 53km
I left the car at the Knighton and trained to Llandundo Junction where a mix up with nearby Llandudno station meant I missed the twice-daily connection to Betws-y-Coed. No probs, it probably would have been packed out and anyway, what another 25km, we have e-power! Walk Assist helped me heave the loaded bike up the platform steps, and on the stree,t I crossed the right bridge and picked up a quiet backroad 26 clicks to Betws, jammed as ever, with day trippers.
Something was up with the front tyre and a quick spin located half of a fat gorse thorn. I’d drilled the rims to take Schrader valves and Slimed the rear, but not the front, so found a shady step by an old chapel to patch the tube, saving the back-up tube for a rainier day which would surely come soon. Compared to a moto, fixing bike tube flats is so easy I could do it all day, but I’m yet to convert to tubeless as I did years ago with motos. You can always fix a bike tube with compliant rims; I’m not so sure with thin, tubeless bicycle tyres where you’d probably carry a back-up tube anyway.
From Betws it was another 28km to Llanberis along the busy A5 which I was dreading. Had I thought to check Google Streetview, I’d have seen that, besides the parallel C road part of the way, there’s a pavement along the A5 nearly all the way to Capel Curig. Nice.

At Capel I shot a glance over to Joe Brown’s climbing shop, still there at the junction and last visited in the late 70s. Then I carried on down the wilder A4086 Nant Gwryd valley, swung right and whizzed effortlessly up to Pen y Pass straddling the Llanberis Pass. After clocking 63kph on the way down, I couldn’t resist another nostalgic interlude opposite Dinas Cromlech crag (below) to eye up Cenotaph Corner (below left), the valley’s classic route first climbed in 1952 by Joe Brown and Don Whillans, followed by us 25 years later. We used to doss under the Cromlech Boulders (bottom right). I was surprised to see it was still allowed.

As I neared Llanberis, athrong with befleeced outdoor activists, it started raining. A steep climb led to the YHA on the edge of town, where I was allowed to leave the Tero in the drying room. That will be a nicely pre-warmed machine for the battery tomorrow. Llanberis was never a gourmands stopover, but whatever a ‘sheek kebab’ is, it’s utterly horrible, has the legal minimum of vegetables and was not worth the 40 minute wait.

Telegraph Valley to Maentwrog • 31km

‘Cycling up Snowdon (Yr Wyddfa) is not easy. It is a brutal, 7-km relentless physical test requiring excellent fitness, technical riding skills, and a full-suspension mountain bike.’
Opinion from the internet

Well, one out of three might have to do then! I last walked the Llanberis Path in the 1980s but these days well over 500,000 people make the 1000-m ascent annually, queuing at the summit trig point to grab the money shot. Skip the queue, and there’ll be bother. Since 1896 the Snowdon Mountain Railway has paralleled the Path, so it can’t be that steep and on top there’s a visitor’s centre, cafe and gift shop selling novelty vapes.
Back home, cycling to the summit seemed like a fun idea; how many big mountains you can ride up in England or Wales? But as usual ‘no plan survives contact with the [road]’ and before I’d even reached Llanberis I’d talked myself out of it. It was a long old way to Knighton and the crap weather would probably take its toll. Another time: a dawn start, luggage-free and with clear skies. That morning the summit was smothered in cloud and stayed that way all day. Dodging Snowdon made the short day to Maentwrog even shorter but, as it turned out, not easier.

The standard Snowdon cycle loop from Llanberis comes south off the summit along the steeper Snowdon Ranger Path and returns to town along Telegraph Valley (above). Both of these were new to me and offered a less extreme start to off-roading on the untried Tero. The Telegraph track started right behind the hostel. And do did the gates. We gotta have gates.

The easy track ascended the deserted Maesgwn valley, passing ruined homesteads and cranking up as it neared the col, before dropping down to meet the Rangers Path which zig-zagged down to the Welsh Highland Railway stop by the road. I’d had half a mind to grab a ride on the train towards Nantmor for a laugh and to dodge the A485, but was put off by booking and bike-space issues. I’m glad I didn’t. The A road was only a couple of miles after which the 9km ride from Rhyd Ddu to Beddgelert was a highlight, a lovely low-level meander through woods, alongside the river and with several level crossings of the railway (double gates for extra points), all part of the Snowdon Slate Trail.

In Beddgelert, named after a mythical hound mistakenly slain by his master, I treated myself to a pot of tea and watched the tourists come and go. Somewhere nearby the Highland Railway’s whistle parped forlornly as it steamed by. From here it was another short rat run along an A road through the Aberglaslyn Gorge to Nantmor which passed with less aggro than expected. There a back road climbed back into the hills, passing cosy hideaways draped in dripping ferns and drooping roses.

Not all Bridleways are Ridleways
At Bwlchwernog, I rejoined the Slate Trail – starting as a steep stony track that climbed onto the boggy open moor and pretty much stayed that way to Croesor for the next 2km (below). With muddy patches, big stones buried in tall grass and little room to gain momentum or balance, after one sideways tip-over into the gorse (too slow on the dropper), I decided it was safer to walk than risk a more awkward fall or bike damage while lurching between rock step and mud hole. It was a lesson that a bridleway on the map doesn’t always translate to an easily rideable track on a bike.

I paced myself, pushing up the track with frequent rests. For some reason Walk Assist up to 6kph didn’t seem to be assisting like it should. Maybe you need to pick the right gear? I learned later on this trip that Walk Assist can get through 1% of battery a minute.

This was a lush, hidden corner of Snowdonia I’d never seen before, with views back to the Snowdon massif and down to the Portmadoc, the Glaslyn estuary and Portmerion which lightly traumatised adults of a vintage age will associate with the intriguing and unsettling 1968 TV show, The Prisoner.

From Croesor, a former slate quarry village above an dense network of caverns and passages, I was back on rolling, single track backroads, but even these had occasional gates to stop you getting too carried away. This whole region once was once the world’s biggest slate mine and is now recognised by UNESCO.
C road turned to B road turned to A, and before I knew it I was opposite the hotel in Maentwrog, feeling like I was ready to spread out in my lovely spacious room. Before sundown the rains blew in. Tomorrow was going to be Wet Monday.

Maentwrog to Tal y Llyn • 71km
This was always going to be a long, hard and now wet day: About 70km swinging left and right on the Trans Eryri Trail through the forests towards Dolgellau, then an easy shoreline stage towards the Barmouth estuary before turning steeply up and round the west side of Cadair Idris mountain before a eastward leg to the old coaching inn alongside Tal y Llyn lake.

I rolled the bike out under a dripping awning on the terrace, clipped in the battery, rolled up the Orts tightly and zipped up my farmers cag which today would prove itself. I also fitted the rainproof Quadlock cover – that worked too. Soon I’d pick up the Trans Eryri Trail from Blaenau Ffestiniog, but I’d already decided to trim the day’s route, ditching a loop around Trawsfynydd reservoir which once cooled a nuclear power station that in the Sixties powered all of North Wales. It closed after only three decades but will take a century to decommission.

Instead I sat on the A470, making the best of scant pavements before picking up the Trans Eryri heading east into the hills, south of Trawsfynydd village. As always, once you’re in it and as protected as you can be, rain isn’t so bad as long as your warm. A long sleeve thermal under the cag achieved that, and ended up damp not soaked from the day’s ride. In the end it was easier to take off my splattered glasses and let the Tero’s mudguards stay the spray and the lights give reassurance on main roads.
The hillside backroad fed into the top of the deserted Coed y Brenin bike park, one of the oldest in Britain. You’d think Wales is one big bike park, but along with signage, a bike shop and a cafe, there’s one thing you’ll not get here: sodding gates! On another day it might have been fun to explore the trickier trails, but today it was just a way to dodge the main road for a while.

Back by the 470 and unsure how miserable I’d end up, I decided to brave the highway again as it was mostly a freewheel to near Dolgellau. Here I picked up the Mawddach Trail early, rejoined the Trans Eryri at the Penmaenpool toll bridge (below left) and followed the former railway track along the shore.

The skies even cleared and I de-cagged for a while, letting the headwinds air me out. But by the time I got to the turn inland at Arthog, it was pelting again. I skipped the Trans Eryri for a hyper-steep short-cut to rejoin it where it set off southwest to contour around Cadair Idris’ western flank. Once there I’d decide which way to turn.

And when I say steep, I mean a initially ridiculously acute road I’d need Turbo in first to get up while risking flipping over backwards if I pedalled too hard. I walked it instead, then huffed and puffed over the bars, chewing away at the battery range while the front wheel hopped about in first. No wonder the Trans Eryri took a longer, less steep approach.
Reaching the start of the Cadair track a line of rubble trailed off into the distance, buffeted by a headwind. It only climbed 150m in 9km to the road head on the far side, but I knew this sort of surface takes it out of you and the battery. It was 2pm and with no lunch or prospect of it, and not knowing what to expect – bogs, fords in spate, ambushes by the Sons of Glyndwr – I turned west with the wind and sailed across a lovely moorland lane swinging across the open hills, beating my Llanberis PB at 66kph. It’s was around here that I realised I enjoy riding these deserted singletrack backroads just as much and tracks and trails.

Dolgellau on that day was the epitome of sodden, slate-grey Welsh dejection. I squelched into a bakery-cafe for two mugs of tea and a couple of cakes that were so saturated in sugar, even I couldn’t finish them. It was another bitter culinary fail. But keen to capitalise on the coming rush for the final push, more thigh-burning backroads led to as short a stretch on the gusty A470 as possible, over a pass and the turn down to Tan y Llyn.

Is 25kph cut-off enough?
Riding busier Welsh roads in the rain really feels sketchy at times. You’re under pressure, going as fast as possible to get it over with while staying as far left as possible. One gust or over-reaction to a close pass or a big hole, and you’d hit a ditch, bank or barbed wire and are probably off the bike while more traffic whizzes by.

This is the only situation where I wish the 25kph/15.5mph assist cut-out (UK, EU, China and Australia) was higher. On trails and tracks it’s fine, but riding a ‘pedelec’ on busy roads at a speed closer to the flow of the traffic would feel safer. There’s more time for the vehicle behind to see you and react. I suppose whacking it up into Turbo might help on hills where I can’t reach 25kph, but I’m on a mission to leave Turbo as an absolute last resort.
In the Canada and the US (Class 1 & 2) and in NZ the limit Is 32kph, and the US also has a Class 3 E-bike category up to 45kph/28mph for over 16s, road-use only, not trails shared with other users. Interesting article with the table above. This video from EMBN seems to miss the point, but the comments are illuminating. Many say if the limit was upped to 32kph/20mph they’d not illegally derestrict (chip) their bikes.

Off road, it doesn’t make much difference but for roadies, commuters and general leisure cycling, it makes a massive difference … the difference between wanting to derestict your bike and not. The Law 100% needs updating. @shenava

A bit like the video above, when I got my Tero I tested it in Turbo (the only time I’ve used it) against my regular Merida HT. From a standing start over a kilometre the Merida was actually quicker than the Tero in Turbo, which merely accelerated very fast to the cut-off, then became a 28-kilo tank. Out of the city, acceleration is not that important and on the flat I find I can sustain the Tero in the low 30s kph, but not all day up hill and down dale. And that for me is the key with e-bikes – extending your waning all-day stamina. Downhill anyone on any bike can freewheel at twice that speed.
The thing is, as speed increases so exponentially does air drag, which is why they have aero bikes. Once chipped you’ll consume loads more battery power and possibly reduce the life of your motor and battery. We all managed cycling main roads before e-bikes, but each year over 600,000 cars join the UK road network. The best solution is to absolutely minimise time on busy roads.
That said, I’m sure drivers are better passing bikes these days, many perhaps being rec riders themselves. The mandatory 1.5m spacing for passing feels ridiculously close. Luckily most get that and pass right out in the opposite lane.

At the lakeside hotel (above) I waited in dripping fatigue to get my room key, but again a boat shed was offered to house the sheep-shit splattered bike. I never know if I’m better off not mentioning it and secreting the battery to my room, such is the worry about battery charging fires. This LFB advice suggests the battery gets hot and can burn, but it’s my fast charger that gets almost too hot to touch; the battery pretty much stays as it is, which is probably as it should be. It’s usually home modified e-bikes that do this, but what hotel manager can tell a Specialized Tero X5 from a throttle powered 1000w ebay shed build?
Here finally, three nights in I got a darn good three-course feed, just when I needed it. Back upstairs, my small room looked like the back of a Chinese laundry, draped with drying gear while more rain lashed against the panes.
It’d been a shame to shorten the off-roading today, but it really wasn’t the weather for it. It would have turned into a mucky, slithering chore where any problems would have been compounded. In drier conditions I’d definitely like to try the Cadair track and stay at Tan y Llyn again.

Rendezvous in Machynlleth
Another rainy start. I roll out of the boat shed, stow my oars and briefly rejoin the A487 before turning onto a parallel C road at Corris. At one point it’s blocked due to subsidence, but bikes can squeeze by. The road ends near Mach where the Trans Eryri takes a quiet back way past the old stone bridge nearly all the way to the station. Just a mile away is Bron Yr Aur cottage where my intensive guidebook research once revealed that while Led Zeppelin certainly stayed here in the early 70s, they did not write Stairway to Heaven here, even if the prelapsarian setting suits the song so well.
So all that glittered was not old, but all that dripped was soaking wet and just down the road Barry and his rented Cube Bogmuncher were sheltering under Mach’s 150-year-old town clock. For us it’s long dormant but now supposedly irritating chimes heralded Kilometre Zero of the Trans Cambrian Trail, the next stage in my Welsh pedalling adventure.