The September ’21 Grand tour of mid and North Wales in a motorhome Day 19

To help you navigate our blog more easily - this link - https://wherenexthun.blogspot.com/2025/06/how-to-navigate-our-blog.html will take you to a summary page detailing all our blog posts. Clicking on a link will open that post in a new browser window. To return to the home current page just close the browser page and return to the post you were reading beforehand.

'Velocity'

'I feel the need ..... the need for speed!'

As I enter the kitting out room to be weighed and presented with two wrist bands, I am surprised at how remarkably calm I am feeling. I haven’t broken the scales. Nobody called out my weight (although it is evident for all to see because it is written on my green wrist band).

People are sat on benches around the wall in various states of emotion. The silent types; the fidgety ones; the ones constantly chatting for reassurance. There is an air of ‘nervous expectation’ coupled with excitement or impending terror depending on your own individual viewpoint!

Having camped in a flimsy frame tent hung off the side of a huge granite vertical rock spire in the Alps, many, many years ago, I’m not unduly worried. In fact, I’m trying to look relaxed and nonchalant but inside I am sooooo excited!

We are asked to collect a helmet and pair of goggles on the way out to the back courtyard where we are assembled into rows of four and given a huge harness. Helpers duly arrive to help us into the harness and safety checks are made. As an ex outdoor pursuits instructor, I am quite impressed with their health and safety. Everything they do is ‘cross-checked’ by someone else. It is an ingrained habit.

We are warned to put smartphones etc into the harness pocket. Mine is very deep but useless as the safety toggle system which draws it closed is broken. I have more faith in the zips on my Mountain Equipment trousers than I do in this pocket.

Fully kitted up, safety checked and cross checked once more, we amble out in a snaking column away from the café to the first zip wire some hundred metres further on. Greeted at the door, a crew member divides us into fours once more. My group is an uneven 23 and so I am asked to wait until last because I am single, not in a party. Seems fair enough to me.

People of a more nervous disposition might find such a long wait of twenty minutes unsettling, but I’m fine. Thank heavens for that previous alpine experience, eh?

And then it’s my turn. I’m invited forward to lie on the bed (yes really – a red couch). My harness is hooked up to a carriage and a little parachute affair fitted.

Tri, dau, un, GO! (I love the way the team do a count down before pulling the safety release pin).

We swoosh downwards at a sedate pace over part of the blue lake. The stopping the other end is more of an issue than the ride itself. It comes as a sudden jolting halt and noisy bang as our sliders hits the safety block. I’m catapulted forward in a great unexpected series of jolts. Bit traumatic; wish they had warned us about that!

We are rapidly unhooked and ushered into a waiting red ex-army truck for the three-mile, 15-minute journey back up to the top. Having done it only yesterday, I know what’s coming. For everyone else onboard it’s their first time and the bouncing, juddering and jolting up steep gradients and around insanely steep hairpin bends brings a quiet awed hush to the open sided interior. Today, the sun is shining and so I get to see and appreciate the stunning far-ranging views that were hidden yesterday in the murk and by the unfurled weatherproof screens.

Discharged at the top, we are instructed to go to the viewpoint where we can see inside the building and watch those before us depart. Nothing prepares you for that view and the realisation of ‘that’ drop - unless of course you’ve been up before or you are a climber!

In rows of four, assembled one behind the other, we shuffle forward towards the platform and the four red beds. They look like ambulance stretcher beds and they rise and fall at the push of a switch.

The lady in front of me has a panic attack. As she moves forward its plain to see but the crew haven’t yet noticed. She bravely lies down on the bed and they start to strap her in but it’s clear to see, she is struggling badly. Sudden jerky movements, wildly looking around, shaking, her breathing is really rapid and she’s starting to hyperventilate. The platform crew then notice and someone comes across to sooth and encourage her.

I’ve worked enough outdoor pursuits and abseils to know she isn’t going to do it. Her body is literally shaking, her breathing wild, shallow and she’s absolutely gasping for air. Despite their excellent best ‘encouraging’ efforts, she is starting to try and unhook her harness and they wisely take her off back into the room.

I am in awe. She is so brave to even have stepped out onto the platform, let alone get on the bed. It was an extraordinarily courageous effort on her part and actually I’m impressed with the crew too. They handled the situation well; with care, support and compassion.

I’m invited forward to fill her place. Line one. It will be the one closest to the café viewing platforms. I text Mag to let her know I’m coming down next.

My turn to lie face down on the bed as my crew member greets me cheerfully and asks how I’m doing. The slider is on the wire, my harness straps hooked in. A little parachute is attached. It will slow me down towards the end. Apparently! From my prone position I cannot see the drop below me. A quick woosh of gas and the bed drops away into the recess below and I’m left hanging.

Oh my! That drop really is bloody impressive. Especially when you are looking at it head down! I focus on the purple blue slates 5m below me and slowly breath out. I’m fine. Actually, I am really scarily quite chilled. I have this. Piece of cake!

Tri, dau, un – safety pin pulled and we are away.

OMG, the acceleration! It is exhilarating!

Within seconds I am out in front and accelerating to over 100 mph (I’m told later). A steep drop down across the top slate waste tips before racing over the brilliant turquoise blue lake. I’m whizzing along. The café viewing platforms pass in a blurring nano second.

55 secs, 1.2 km, 105mph fastest speed achieved. Cheeks blown out!

It’s all over. I hit the one safety block and then the second and slow to a stop. I grab the proffered T bar pole and a team member pulls me down to ground level.

Was it worth the money? I think so. Awesome fun. Not quite up there with zip wiring the jungles and river gorges of Costa Rica but not far off it.

Back at the café, Mag explains she has done several GoPro videos of people coming down and thinks one of them is me! Or maybe not!

After lunch in the café, we get ready to set off for Anglesey, our next stop.

I’m beginning to notice a severe pain in one tooth and my jaw is aching. I have a sore throat and ear ache and my left eye is watering. My jaw doesn’t shut properly and my tongue is swelling. It can’t be anything to do with the zip wire and so I resign myself to the fact that it feels like a tooth infection. Ho hum!

Awelfryn camp site delivers what its website promises. A big grass field with plenty of space between pitches and stupendous views of the distant Snowdonia mountains.

Big skies and big views.

100 metres away is the ancient monument of the ‘meeting place of Welsh Princes’. It’s a holy site if you are Welsh. Princes and ancient druids met here to discuss common interests and differences and to make peace and trade agreements.

We have a nice sheltered corner pitch, close to the road and a neighbouring house but still with good views. Facilities are clean. We level up, take off the bikes and head down the road to Newborough forest reserve.

Eight miles of forested trails in a red squirrel habitat, where you can find the most stunning beach and sand dunes at the end. The views across Snowdonia and the Lleyn peninsula are to die for. We tear ourselves away to cycle the gravel tracks through the pine forests past ancient rocky outcrops of metamorphic stone.