BIKE PACKING WITH ANNA:
In Praise of Slow Adventure
Location: Cambrian Mountains, Wales
Temple Pathfinder: Anna Blackwell
Bikes: Adventure Disc 1 & 3
Cameras: Nikon FM2N | Canon AE-1
Route: Komoot
“Let’s see where we are, shall we?” I asked Heather, reaching to pull open the bothy door. We’d discovered the night before it didn’t close properly, so wedged it shut with a stone. Having arrived in the dark after hours of cycling, we had no idea what awaited us outside.
Stepping into the grey November morning, we found ourselves surrounded by rolling, grassy hills. We stood quietly, marveling at the peace and gasping in wonder as a heron flew overhead. One of us murmured, “Coffee?” and we retreated inside the tiny cottage.
Heather and I were in Wales’ Cambrian Mountains for a weekend of bikepacking. We’d planned a three-day loop, loaded up our Temple Adventure Disc bikes, and set off.
The idea had sparked months earlier when I visited the Temple workshop and was shown The Rough-Stuff Fellowship Archive by founder, Matt. It's a book documenting the adventures of a 1950s off-road cycling club. The grainy photos—featuring steel-framed bikes, woolen sweaters, and walking boots—ignited something in me. Inspired, I phoned Heather and proposed an adventure: a remote, mountain-filled weekend, with no expectations—just slow, intentional exploration.
Our first day was starkly beautiful—cold, grey, and mizzly. We chattered excitedly, marveling at vibrant autumn leaves as the tarmac turned to rough track beside a reservoir. As night fell, we switched on our bike lights, adding to the sense of adventure.
We reached the Claerddu bothy, where enough leftover wood got the fire blazing—a luxury. The next morning, we lingered over coffee and a slow breakfast, snapping photos on film cameras before finally setting off at midday. The daylight revealed we were in the heart of remote mountains. We pedalled up steep hills and whooped with delight as we freewheeled down.
Stopping on the side of the track for a leisurely lunch and coffee, we layered up against the chill before pressing on. The track soon turned to muddy bog, forcing us to push our bikes, but the mesmerizing views of endless hills and forests kept us inspired.
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ANNA'S BIKE
As dusk fell, we realised Heather’s bike light was running low. Minutes later, mine died completely. Resorting to a headtorch, I suggested a change of plan: a nearby pub with rooms. Heather’s relieved expression said it all.
Disappointment followed as the pub was closed, but Plan C—a different open pub—saved the night. Thrilled with our decision, we indulged in hot showers, a hearty meal, and warm beds.
The next morning started with a 6.5km climb, but we tackled it fuelled by full English breakfasts. Retracing parts of our route, everything looked different in reverse, and sections previously shrouded in darkness came into view.
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Images taken by @annablackwell and @heather.birnie
As we cycled back, we reflected on how perfect the trip had been—pub stay and all. We’d laughed, sung, taken countless film photos, and savored delicious meals in beautiful spots. Heather had fulfilled her dream of staying at the bothy, and we’d created the kind of adventure we’d set out to have.
Wheeling into the car park in the rain and darkness, we didn’t care. Eating the last cinnamon buns in the van, we started planning the next adventure. One thing was certain: there would be another. This trip had been too wonderful not to inspire more.
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