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45 miles through Fishguard, Eglwysriwa, Llanfair Nant-Gwyn, Llandifriog, and Llandysull.

Had a strong pain in my right big toe during the evening and when I checked I discovered that I had an ingrown toenail. Since my scissors were not strong enough I had to perform minor surgery with my knife. It seemed to work as there is almost no pain this morning.

Crossed over on the Rosslair-Fishguard ferry this a.m. and arrived in Fishguard about 1:00. After I climbed the steep hill into the city I discovered that there was no place to exchange currency, so I got my first chance to try my Visa card in a bank machine--it worked! I decided to ride as far as I could today and just camp in a field or in the woods. I had already ridden a portion of this section and was not relishing the thought of back-tracking over it. This section had some very difficult up and down riding. Also, I am not exactly enamored of the Welsh who seem to possess neither the friendliness of the Irish nor the politeness of the British. The weather was sunny and the warmest day yet--which was not the ideal conditions as I have been having a bit of a problem with sunburn on my calves.

I had some difficulty getting into it at first, but soon I was flying along appreciating the smooth Welsh roads and the slow (compared to Ireland) drivers. All was going fine until I took a backroad between Henlon and Handysull. This was a series of 16% climbs and descents--too difficult to climb and a struggle to keep under control on the downhill. My chain fell off on one downhill and got jammed into my chainwheel. This took about 20 minutes to repair.

Thoroughly exhausted, I arrived in Llandysull about 7:30 and found the town teeming with young men "cruising for a bruising", which made me extremely uncomfortable. This area reminds me a lot of the kind of hostility I experienced in the Kentucky hill country--a real hillbilly mentality. Since finding a forest spot seemed unlikely I decided to try to find the local campground. After asking several people I managed to find a hideous, garbage strewn "caravan park". The manager (Mrs. Davis) was willing to rent me a caravan for 3 pounds a night and due to my exhausted condition I decided to fork it over. The "caravan" is really a one room mobile home with a full kitchen but no bathroom. There is no running water so I took a sponge bath with water from a large jug. Tomorrow I am going to ride as far as possible and get out of Wales. I really do not like it here.

98 miles from Llandysull to a campground at Monmouth. Through Rhydrymerau, Llensawall, Llandovery, Fern Trallong, Coed-Yryhgs, Tally-Coed, and Monmouth.

What a day of highs and lows! Woke at 3:00 a.m. to a barking dog and decided this was "get the hell out of Wales as fast as possible day". Started out at 4:45 at first sign of daylight. Immediately had a half mile 16% climb (a real strain just walking and impossible to ride). Little did I know that this was a sign of things to come. For the next 15 miles I walked up one hill, soaked with sweat, then froze my ass off coasting down to the bottom whereupon another climb would begin. Soon I started to panic--I felt like I was Sisyphus, or in a box which I could not get out of. I've never felt like that before. But I just pushed on and on, hoping that each hill would be the last before things would level off. Finally, at Cruybar I found a 7 mile downhill stream grade--what a joy! The next 20 miles after that were on a main road and nearly level (fortunately it was very early on Sunday morning so traffic was fairly light--still it was white line/white knuckle riding into a headwind). I rode as fast as possible to get off the A-40 highway.

At the suggestion of a shopkeeper I did an alternate 13 mile route into Brecon. Unfortunately this turned out to be a one lane road with numerous steep climbs and there was enough traffic to make it more dangerous than the main road. By early afternoon it was becoming uncomfortably hot and muggy. I rode a side road into Abergavenny where there was heavy traffic. I was mooned by one passing car and given the finger by another. This did not help my mood although the mooning was quite funny.

Finally at Abergavenny I was on the homestretch to Monmouth and its youth hostel. Again, 13 miles of walking uphill and coasting down. I was sweating profusely in the heat. Relief from the heat finally came in the form of a thunderstorm about 6 miles from Monmouth. In a matter of minutes I went from a state of near heat exhaustion to one of teeth chattering cold. But I pushed on, eagerly looking forward to a nice warm bunk and shower at the youth hostel.

I finally arrived in Monmouth about 8:00 and to my chagrin discovered that the hostel was full, so off I went to a campsite located along the river near the center of town. This site was also full, but the friendly manager (an Irishman) managed to squeeze me in between several tents.

Monmouth is a lovely little village, and now that I have settled into my campsite I am feeling great. I had a supper of beans, jam sandwiches, potato chips and rollos (one of the great joys of cycling is that when you are hungry you have no qualms about totally stuffing your face with whatever strikes your fancy).

I have had an irritating click in my drive train and have been unable to isolate the problem.

ENGLAND

70 miles from Monmouth to a field outside Witney.

A day of tough cycling and consistently beautiful scenery. Many difficult climbs (walks) on a calm, warm day. There was a great deal of traffic in stretches as this is a holiday and there are festivals occurring in many of the small towns. Cycled on a lot of one lane roads so narrow that I had to get off my bike whenever a car went by (some roads were so narrow that an older model American car would not even fit).

I thought my hilly stretch was over, but I was in for a rude awakening with a steep two mile climb out of Monmouth--I thought I was going to have a heat stroke! Gloucester was a nice surprise as it is a lovely town in which most of the downtown has been turned into a car-less pedestrian mall. I relaxed in the sun and ate at McDonalds--my first hamburger since arrival.

I walked the six miles out of Gloucester due to the extremely heavy traffic and then began an up and down stretch through beautiful tree-lined roads and classically picturesque English villages (this area is known as the Cotswells and is a favorite vacation spot for Londoners). Despite being immersed in all this beauty, I dreaded coming to each village because it meant a 16% drop into the town center followed by an exhausting walk up the next hill. But today I was better prepared for it psychologically because I knew that things would flatten out before long as I came closer to London.

The afternoon riding was extremely pleasurable; it had cooled down a bit and the hills were becoming less demanding. I simply began to soak in the wonderful scenery and was in no hurry to get anywhere. I had no destination in mind, although Oxford with its youth hostel was a possibility. I arrived at Witney around 7:30, and realizing it was too late to get into Oxford, began looking for a place to sleep. There was a partly hidden spot on a cricket field and I considered it but then changed my mind. I rode a couple of miles until I found a marked footpath (England is dotted with such paths--hiking is a real passion here). So I am now in a field, a couple of hundred yards from the road, and watching the sun set. I am waiting for darkness so that I can pitch my tent.

CONTINUE ON TO LONDON