I suppose you pay more attention to the coming weather if you are a walker or a cyclist, after all it is conspicuously there for you either to enjoy or suffer, to feast on its pleasure or to endure its discomfort. Well, pardon me if I am boring you because I have said this several times lately, but in the middle of some rather awful weather Wednesdays have been quite reasonable, I can’t remember when we last had to cancel a Wednesday ride. Furthermore, even on rather ‘iffy’ days the number of riders out continue to be respectable, (tempting to say “which is more than can be said for the riders themselves” – but I didn’t and I won’t).

So this week we were hopping across the water from Ferryside to Llansteffan, a distance of no more than about a quarter of a mile. This was our chance to have a really relaxing day out, to unload the bikes, cycle across the bridge, buy newspapers and steaming hot coffees, chat and wait for a wholesome lunch before riding back across the bridge to a comfortable ride back home in our cars. Then we could tell our wives, girlfriends, husbands, boyfriends or rolling pins (whatever it is that awaits us on our return) what a tough day we have had.

We were thwarted! What is more we would all like to get our hands on that person who did the thwarting. You see there was no bridge. It had been removed. Not a strut, not a spar, not a sign was to be seen.

We would have to discuss the situation!

We tried the door of the Ferryside café, but it was firmly closed. What could we do? We could hardly go home and confess that the whole thing was a clever ruse to be away from household chores and long-since started (but not yet completed) DIY projects. What were we to do?

“I know” said Colin (for he is the bright one) “let’s find the next bridge, there must be one somewhere.”

“Good idea, Col” we all chorused “We knew you’d save the day!”

We pop down to the river to check which direction was upstream then mount our bikes and head north. Being at sea level there is no way out of Ferryside that is not uphill so we soon find ourselves on a hard mile-long slog. Never mind – there must be a bridge somewhere. We regroup at the top to let our breathing catch up with us. We are looking back down the hill feeling quite pleased with ourselves at the supreme effort we have made and see a stranger effortlessly pedalling up the hill. We have no idea who this man is, but he seems to know us.

“Hi, everyone!” he says as he nears us. He is slightly familiar but we have difficulty placing him. That is, until he rides past us. Then we see him from behind.

“Isn’t that Andrew Robinson?” asks jaunty Phil Jones the genial linguist.

“So it is” says Ursula “Hi Andrew!”

“Hi Ursula, hi everyone!” says Andrew, “sorry I’m a bit late but I cycled all the way from Swansea.”

We are all suitably amazed, not to mention impressed.

We seem to have a choice, the main road is straight on and probably not far away but Route 4 is to the left and up a steep, albeit short, hill. We decide to follow Route 4. We are now 11 riders, that is until Andrew and John Bastian disappear out of sight.

We are soon riding along a narrow lane, newly cut hedges on either side and I quietly thought it would be a miracle if we survive this without a puncture. But we did.

We reach the main road which was not as busy as I had feared and for this reason we decide not to use Route 4 through Croes y Ceiliog as there are some testing hills. The main road offers us a 2 mile steady, downhill run – no contest!

In no time we were on the outskirts of Carmarthen and to our immense relief found that the bridge was still there. We caught up with Andrew and John outside B&Q mending a puncture on John’s bike.

“You go on ahead” they said to us “we’ll catch you up.”

We were sure that they would!

There was just a few hundred yards of the busy dual carriageway before we turned off to Johnstown to reach the road to Llansteffan. Not far now, but mostly uphill. I am reminded of Big Trev’s challenging Gwernogle ride and the hill going out of Brechfa that seemed to have a never-ending number of false summits. I grunt and groan every time I realise I have, once again been deceived, it seems to help.

We eventually reach the top of the hill to be greeted with a refreshing downhill run to our destination but Andrew and John have not yet caught us up. We worry (but only slightly). Mike Wood joins us, he has travelled from Alltwalis.

We make our way to The Village Shop where we are going to eat. For the unsuspecting this is easy to miss as an eating place but those who miss it are foregoing a truly unforgettable experience. From the moment you step in through the doorway marked “The Sheriff’s Office” you enter the quirky world of Tim and Nanw. The shop itself is small but packed full of all sorts of goods, fresh vegetables, sweets in jars, everyday essentials and an excellent range of local bottled beers. Through a doorway at the back of the shop we enter a dimly lit area, wisely we wait a moment to adjust our vision before proceeding, we see six tables, we sit. Perhaps when our eyes fully adjust we will find the menu, we see a movement as four customers, having finished their meal, rise and leave. This is a world of shadows but all part of the experience. We realise there are no menus and anyway even if they were how could we read them?

A waitress arrives and asks us what we would like to drink, having been here before I knew what was coming and I hoped someone would ask for a bottle of beer. You see the eating area is not licenced and a surprise awaits anyone who chooses alcohol. John White hesitates but I cajole him and he succumbs, several others clamber off the wagon and onto the bandwagon. The purchasing process begins.

“Follow me!” she says to the intending imbibers.

Dutifully, they follow and are shown to the shop which is licenced and contains a range of beers produced incidentally by Foss y Ffin Brewery. Each selects his or her (for Jan was part of this alcohol-needy troupe) bottle of choice and proceeds to the till.

“Not so fast” says the waitress as someone tries to make his (for it was not Jan) way back to the tables, “we’re not done yet. Now follow me to the door”

Each purchaser walks to the door, bottle in hand, obediently exits, descends the steps and walks to the edge of the pavement. Now they can re-enter and give their bottles back to the waitress (for now, you see, they are supplying their own drink). The bottles are opened and are brought to the tables with glasses.

A hilarious and unique bit of fun only possible because the law insists on being an ass.

Shortly Nanw herself arrives and tells us what we are going to have – it will be pea and ham soup or onion soup. The choices are made, each diner is given a bowl and a large bowl of the chosen soup is put in the centre of the table. This has all been prepared and produced earlier that morning and is real, delicious and wholesome. Somehow all thoughts of the return journey must have been obliterated from our brains because seconds were ordered and quickly consumed. We sat back sated and replete.

A short kip now would be nice.

“What would you like for dessert” asks Nanw “I’ve made some pwdin bwn, that’s like Chelsea buns broken up and soaked in brandy, served with cream ….”

We didn’t really hear any more but we had to try it, so we did. It was Oscar Wilde who once said “I can resist anything except temptation.” How very true.

This was all thoroughly enjoyable and I was paid what must be the ultimate compliment – from John Cardy, no less.

“Bob Evans” he said (for that is indeed my real name) “this is the best yet.” Coming from the man who gave us ‘The Magical Mystery Tour’ and ‘The Magical History Tour’ not to mention our recent trip to the Newport Velodrome this is praise indeed. However I do feel that it was Tim and Nanw’s quirky humour and friendly hospitality that should get the praise.

But we still have to get home. What I have not mentioned is that I was wise enough not to have the dessert so that after the initial climb back out I led the pack through Carmarthen and back to Ferryside. Andrew had left before us because he was cycling all the way back to Swansea and wanted to make the most of the daylight.

For us it was a total of 35 miles – for Andrew it was a mere 90. Just a warm-up for him really, still when the days get a bit longer he can really get into his stride.

I suppose if you were prone to understatement you could call it a rather enjoyable day! It certainly won't be our last visit.

Happy pedalling

Lew Spokes

For the complete Wednesday and Sunday rides programme click on the link at the top of this page, or if that is too much trouble then click here.

Wot, no bridge?		The Village Stores
Sweets Galore		The Drinks Corner
Andrew - seen from the front, with Jan and Mike		Jaunty Phil and his Motley Crew
The Brainy Corner		Colin the Bright One
Choosing the Alcohol		Paying the Price
And now its Mine!!