WINTER IN THE WELSH VALLEYS

Words by Cian Byrne

The last Sunday of October is hands down my least favourite day of the year. The soft, misty late autumn days are plunged into the dark of winter as the clocks go back and my motivation to do anything outside plummets. Each year the same thought echoes in my head and in almost every conversation, “I’m not doing another winter in Ireland.” It’s my own personal Groundhog Day. After hearing myself saying my winter catchphrase for the umpteenth time, I decided that this year is going to be different. I’m going to be proactive and go biking in places that I’ve never been. I gather my gear, load up my car, board the Stena Line ferry in Dublin and sail to Wales.

The sun is setting as I pull into Machynlleth, orange and amber hues light up the buildings on one side of the street while the other side waits in darkness. It’s a rural market town in the Dyfi Valley with just over 2,000 residents and it once claimed to be the ancient capital of Wales. Despite the small size, Mach, as the locals call it, has a diverse feel to it with beanie-wearing mountain bikers, ski pole-using hikers, and blazer-wearing school kids all present here.

Walking through the town I notice bike shops that seem to have been here for years, including Seiclo Dyfi, a non-profit, community bike shop that aims to make cycling safer and more accessible for people in the area. Riding bikes is not a new phenomenon in this part of Wales, in fact, the town’s most famous residents, the Atherton family, have been building trails here for over 20 years. “The town’s got a good vibe. I’ve heard it was the same before the bike park, but it’s just on a bigger scale now,” says Horatio, a young southerner who moved to Machynlleth for a job with Atherton Bikes. “Sometimes when a load of bikers move to a place, there can be some pushback from the locals, but that’s not been the case here. They’ve embraced us. It feels like a real community.” Looking out the front door of the Atherton Bikes factory I can see Bernard Kerr’s Pivot trailer. The community might be small here, but it’s certainly here and it feels like it’s about to boom.

Horatio is kind enough to give me a tour of the factory, a brand new facility in an industrial estate on the edge of town that they moved into only a matter of months ago. “Just don’t go down the back of the factory,” shouts Dan Brown, one of the co-founders of Atherton Bikes. “We’re working on something new that you’re not allowed to see yet.” His confident smile tells me that whatever it is, they’re particularly excited about it. Like most, I’ve seen Atherton Bikes take off through Gee’s insane rides on social media and the glowing reviews of their bikes online, but I’m reminded of how young a business it is when I see the scale of the made-to-order operation. A 3D printer the size of a car continually lays down layers of titanium to create the lugs which are both separated and fettled by hand to a smooth finish. It’s a unique approach that sees carbon tubes used on the A models and aluminium on the S models, which come in a staggering 23 sizes, and then completed with a DW link. You’ll have to be patient if you want one though, there’s a three month wait for these handmade bikes.

Waking up the following morning, I pick up an A.150 and S.170 from the factory, drive five minutes out of Machynlleth and pull up a dirt road to Dyfi Bike Park. As I cross under the towering totem pole-like entrance to the bike park, sleepy Wales goes heavy metal. At 10 am on a Friday morning, the car park is thronged with campervans, souped-up sports cars, and Land Rovers that have spent their lifetime in these hills. If you’re looking for a spot to get your mates into mountain biking or want to test the limits of your trail bike, this is not it. Dyfi Bike Park is the antidote to every sanitised trail centre that tries to be all things for all riders. This is a bike park for people who like to go fast and hit jumps.

Loading the A.150 onto the uplift trailer and clambering into the back of a Land Rover with a group of 40-somethings on a weekend away, we rattle up the dirt road to the top. Lovey Dyfi is the recommended warm up trail, its swooping berms and jumps get progressively larger the further down you go. The A.150 feels solid, the 150mm of rear suspension is extremely comfortable on drops and charging across braking bumps, but I also want to see how it pedals, so I turn back up the access road and put my legs to work on the climb up to Super Swooper. It feels like I’ve changed bikes, how can something that feels so capable on a jump trail also pedal this well? A few laps later which covers jumps, casing jumps, drops, rocks, and roots, I can only liken this bike to a chameleon, constantly adapting to its surroundings.

Now that I’ve gotten a taste for the bike park, it’s time to try out the S.170 which comes with 180mm front suspension and 170mm out the back. I make my way to the start of Lovely Dyfi to get my bearings all over again. The trail starts with a drop onto a rough landing and instantly I see that this bike was made for trails like these. As soon as it lands, the S.170 pins its ears back and gallops towards the first berm, urging me to stay off the brakes and let it do its job. Plenty of bikes want you to go fast on them, but this one takes care of you when you do, at no point am I holding on as a passenger.

Getting away from the groups lapping the jump trails, I drop into Helter Skelter. This is my cup of tea. Lots of rocks, lots of roots. A small drop sees me looking down at two clashing rock slabs as the bit of goo between my ears starts to fire and tries to figure out a way down. High line? Low line? Nope, just go straight. I’m pinged left to right but make it through and I’m spat out into a set of steep, loose, and fast berms. I could ride this bike on this trail all day.

Catching my breath and sitting down to a bowl of chilli at the cafe in the woods, I notice that there are people from all across the UK here. Dyfi Bike Park is a destination and it does something that a lot of places are shying away from – they’re appealing to a niche audience, rather than trying to be all things to all riders. Throughout my visit, I speak with people who’ve moved here to work in the bike industry, people who’ve driven three hours each way to ride for the day, and people who are eyeing up the property market to have these trails on their doorstep. Big, scary, tough trails are in high demand and Dan Atherton has given the people what they want.

As the dark creeps in yet again on the Welsh valleys, my time here comes to an end. Driving back to the ferry I feel like I’ve just scratched off a tiny section of foil on the scratch card that is mountain biking in Wales. Clocks change, hours come and go, but riding bikes is always fun. I’ve never seen the end of Groundhog Day, but I’m sure Bill Murray says the same.