You know you’re in a sorry state when you’re sat by the trailside scoffing a sharing bag of crisps, legs and body completely fried. 

That was one such moment when I bikepacked the Trans-Cambrian Way in Mid-Wales, a 174km route with a smidge over 4,000m elevation earlier this summer. 

The route starts in Knighton on the English-Welsh border, taking you deep into the Cambrian Mountains via Rhayader and the Elan Valley, before finishing in Dovey Junction. 

It’s recommended you spend three days riding this route, but I planned to do it in just over a day and a half, starting on a Friday evening. 

Why? Simple reason – because there are only two trains a day from Dovey Junction on a Sunday, one at 09:54 and another at 14:07 (thankfully since riding the route, it seems as though Transport for Wales have added more trains). 

If you think that sounds torturous, there’s a method to the madness. 

I’d be riding Mother North in Norway three weeks later – a 1,008km gravel ultra-endurance race with a mammoth 17,000m elevation. Completing the Trans-Cambrian Way under these gruelling conditions would make for a ‘perfect’ last training ride. 

Read on to find out if I made it onto that 14:07 train or if I got stranded in deepest, darkest Wales… 

Horse for the course

I rode a Kona Ouroboros, a gravel bike I’d received to review for BikeRadar just nine days prior. 

Since I was considering using this bike for Mother North, I needed to do some kind of extended ride to know it wouldn’t give me any grief – another reason why I chose this route. 

The Ouroboros is rather unconventional in that it straddles the line between gravel and cross-country mountain biking. 

The front end is suspension-corrected for a gravel suspension fork, although this CR/DL model wears a rigid carbon fork with a whopping 29×2.5in / 63.5mm tyre clearance. The rear end is less generous with a 29×2.1in / 53.34mm clearance. 

It also differs from most gravel bikes in that it’s built around larger 180mm disc brake rotors and a chunky 31.6mm seatpost to accommodate a wide range of dropper posts. 

Somewhat paradoxically, the Ouroboros CR/DL comes specced with a 2x SRAM Rival eTap AXS Wide groupset – despite 1x drivetrains on gravel bikes being de rigeur now. 

I also happened to be carrying out a ‘wide gravel tyres’ group test at the time and swapped the bike’s stock 45mm Maxxis Rambler tyres for 50mm Continental Terra Adventures.

Prior to this trip, I’d had mixed feelings on these Contis – I thought the grip was commendable but they felt rather draggy. If there was going to be a fitting course to get a definitive verdict on this tyre, it was this one because Continental claims the Terra Adventure bridges the gap between gravel and cross-country. 

As for luggage, I ran my tried-and-tested Tailfin CargoPack (formerly known as the AeroPack Cargo), as well as the brand’s Long Top Tube Pack and Frame Bag. Since this was just a weekender, I went without a handlebar bag. 

I also wore an Apidura Racing Hydration Vest with a 2L bladder to get me through the remote 88km section after Rhayader where 27ºC+ temperatures were forecast – tropical for Wales! 

Given the route’s remote nature, my plan was to wild camp so I wouldn’t be tied to staying at pre-booked accommodation and arriving by a certain time. I took my trusty Big Agnes Fly Creek HV UL1 bikepacking tent, with a Sea to Summit Ether Light XT Insulated Air Sleeping Mat, as well as their Spark Ultralight sleeping bag and Aeros Premium Pillow. 

Finally, I relied on my trusty Garmin Edge 1040 Solar for navigation.  

First, the worst

After a traffic-ridden Friday evening journey from Bristol, I parked in a free Forestry Commission car park in Kinsley Wood, just outside Knighton – big mistake because it was at the top of a very steep 130m elevation climb which I’d have to tackle on fried legs at the end. 

Starting at 7pm, things get off to a relatively mellow start with an undulating 7km road section before a very rude first off-road climb, which I’d undoubtedly rate as the hardest of the entire route. 

It might have been an issue with the GPX file I was following, but I think I was taken further down a descent than I needed to – I was routed onto a narrow and steep footpath with plenty of gates to negotiate before being taken onto the climb proper. 

Once I was off the footpath, a view of a near-vertical hill emerged. Even walking, my heart was racing going up this – I hoped I wasn’t going to be in for 100 miles of this nonsense…  

The rest of the evening continued through slow-going, sheep-shit-infested fields where the navigation wasn’t always obvious. 

The joys of SRAM

A real lowlight was experiencing a grisly chain drop ten miles into the route. 

I was descending and could see the trail was going to go back up very steeply, so I pre-emptively shifted down to the inner chainring and the SRAM Rival eTap AXS Wide front derailleur chucked the chain in between the chainring and the bottom bracket, gouging the shell. 

When I realised I couldn’t free the chain because the crankset was in the way, I thought I was a goner (you need a long 8mm hex key to undo the crank bolt and rather a lot of force) and have to do the ‘walk of shame’ back to the car. 

I then thought I could try undoing the preload bolt, praying it was wound in enough to shift the chainrings out a little – luckily, that worked! 

I was glad I experienced this issue now because I knew I couldn’t rely on a front derailleur for Norway. 

Mechanical sorted, I trundled on and the light was starting to dim after 9:30, but I was still trapped in the sheep field – I wanted a sheep-free night’s sleep. 

Before long, I passed a house and spotted an empty field shortly after – it was more exposed than I’d like but I could see the next section was going to be road, so this’d be my camp spot. 

27km ridden, and what a wholesome way to spend a Friday night! 

Remote preparations

After a rather restless night’s sleep (I need to be really banjaxed to sleep comfortably in a tent), I got up at 6am. The plan today was to tick off as much of the remaining 130km as I could and camp again close to the end. 

The first 20km were more of the same as yesterday evening – sheep-infested fields with tons of difficult-to-negotiate gates. 

I arrived at Rhayader just after 9am and had a substantial breakfast, before resupplying at the Co-Op and a bakery. 

I could see there was going to be little civilisation from this point until a shop in Staylittle, which Google reported closes at 6pm. 

I was hoping I’d make it there to resupply again, but after knowing how difficult the route was so far, I wasn’t taking any chances and brought enough with me in case I missed it – a bloody good job I did. 

All in, I carried 4.2L of fluid. 

A tough stint in the chair 

The aptly named Puke Hill lived up to its name, starting as a steep road climb that then transitions into a singletrack off-road rockfest. You know it’s tough when you get repeatedly overtaken by a trail runner. 

At the brutal hill’s summit, I could see the mellow cycle path that follows the Elan Valley that I’ve ridden in the past. This troublesome alternative climb had taken a lot of willpower and I burnt into my supplies, inhaling my lunchtime pasty, as well as downing a Coke. 

Yet more technical singletrack followed, which then turned into an undulating trail with endless water crossings and aggressive rock gardens – another fitting test for the Terra Adventures. 

Don’t bother trying to carefully negotiate these river crossings – it’s a guarantee you’re getting wet feet. 

I kept yo-yoing a load of motocross riders who were also negotiating this section while being slowed up by the numerous gates. 

Before the steep tarmac climb up to the Claerwent Reservoir, my water situation started to become severe. I was still ages away from Staylittle, so I started rationing – ironic considering I was next to water! 

The reservoir section is described as one of the route’s more forgiving parts, but it still required concentration – the rough surface means line choice is critical. 

It was also completely exposed to the baking heat, which made my water situation even more desperate. At one point, I immersed myself in the reservoir to try and combat my thirst. 

I was very grateful to a pick-up truck driver who I passed who happened to be carrying a tank of water in the back, who kindly allowed me to refill everything. 

Another bout of desperation

The rest of the afternoon was equally hard-going in the sweltering sun, and I became increasingly run down.  

I necked two gels to try and recombust myself up a prolonged ascent and I had to have a sit down shortly after where I smashed down the aforementioned sharing bag of crisps to get some salt into me. 

More slow-going technical terrain ensued and I was getting desperate for fluids again at the 120km mark on what seemed like an endless fireroad. 

I was very fortunate to spot a campsite where the kind landowner let me use the tap – the fact I guzzled 2,250ml of water in one sitting shows my desperation! 

After a tarmac stint, the sheep fields made a return, and one particularly tall gate that couldn’t be opened proved particularly tricky where I had to hoist my loaded bike over it. 

At the 143km mark, I found an excellent camp spot in another field at the top of the hill. I had 27km left to tick off in the morning – but knowing how slow-going many sections of the route are, I reckoned I’d be on the afternoon train. 

Morning mission

Once I’d awoken and packed everything away, I set off just after 7am through yet more sheep fields and technical singletrack. 

This section culminated in a steep and slippery shale-infested descent, where I had to exercise considerable caution as I picked my way down. 

The route then picked up some narrow, earth-strewn lanes where I was able to make quicker progress – it was at this point I thought I’d try making a beeline for the 09:54 train. 

I had to make a split-decision when I could see I was being taken up another off-road climb – do I stick on the tarmac to the end or finish the route proper? Seeing as the climb didn’t look significant, I thought I’d finish what I started. 

The Dyfi Forest ascent was relatively calm, followed by a fast downhill back to the road. With minutes to spare, I sprinted for Dovey Junction and made it by the skin of my teeth for the train to Shrewsbury – mission accomplished! 

Don’t underestimate this route 

The Trans-Cambrian Way proved a memorable weekend adventure and was just the training ride I needed ahead of my ultra-endurance race. 

Underestimate this route at your peril – of the UK bikepacking routes I’ve completed, it’s up there with the toughest. 

Aside from the chain drop, the gravel bike I rode proved perfectly up to the task, but a mountain bike would be more fun on some of the more technical sections. 

Bear in mind you’ll lose lots of time negotiating obstacles such as rock gardens, deep river crossings and tricky descents – I’d definitely advise this as a summer-only route. 

And I can’t not mention all of the gates, – I counted 88! That works out to almost a gate every mile, but my arms are sadly not Arnold Schwarzenegger-like after bikepacking this route. 

I’m also unsure of the advice to take three days riding this route – you’ll be in a tight spot for food after Rhyader at 50km unless you make a lengthy diversion off the route. 

My advice would be to end your first day at Rhayader so you can have dinner and breakfast there in the morning, and then stock up for the rest of the journey. 

You may also want to consider packing a water filter or purification tablets for the remote sections, but I’ll chalk my water woes down to bad luck in that I picked one of the hottest weekends of the summer to attempt this route. 

Still, I’d thoroughly recommend the Trans-Cambrian Way for the scenic mountain views and varied terrain, but perhaps not the sheep!. However, be warned – it’s not for the faint-hearted. 

Earlier this summer, I rode the Traversée du Massif Vosgien, a 408km bikepacking route running through the Vosges mountains in Alsace, France. 

The predominantly off-road route snakes its way from Wissembourg, a picturesque town on the German border, and finishes in Thann, close to the city of Mulhouse. 

I rode with my friends Rob and Jeremy – Rob and I have been on many bikepacking trips together and I used to regularly ride with Jeremy when we worked at a bike shop together. 

This was an excellent trip – I really enjoyed the varied route that increased in technicality each day and the laid-back French culture. 

What’s more, it was my first time cycling in France – sacrilege considering I live in the UK and I’ve been seriously cycling since 2013.  

From relying on baguette and pizza vending machines when entire towns were closed to encountering a raunchy shoot while riding a remote trail (it seemingly all happens in France!), read on to learn my key takeaways from riding this route. 

What is the Traversée du Massif Vosgien? 

Although Rob initially encountered the route on Bikepacking.com, the Traversée du Massif Vosgien dates all the way back to 1897, where it was designed by Club Vosgien (a hiking club) to celebrate their 25th anniversary. 

In 2005, it was officially mapped by the Alsacien chapter of the FFCT (French Cycle-Touring Federation). 

White and orange placards with TMV lettering can be regularly found along the route (but don’t solely rely on them!), which is 85 per cent unpaved, with the highest point of the journey 1,248m.   

The route is best described in three sections – the first 90 miles or so is punctuated by short and sharp hills that rarely rise above 400m elevation. You’ve then got around 70 miles where the climbs start to extend up 800m elevation and then for the remainder of the route, you’re in the Vosges proper as the ascents head above the 1,000m mark. 

Bikepacking.com rates the route as a five out of ten on its arbitrary scale, and suggests it will take six days to complete the route – advice we ignored. 

Gravel or mountain bike? 

Delve into the comments section on the Bikepacking.com route and you’ll see there’s a pretty even split between those who rode the route on a gravel bike and others on a mountain bike. 

I’m pretty confident on a gravel bike, so that felt the obvious choice – ideally a model with generous tyre clearances that could handle the more aggressive terrain. 

Unfortunately, none of the test bikes I was thinking might be contenders for this route materialised, and my 3T Extrema Italia (with its massive 57mm tyre clearance) was out of action while I waited for a hard-to-find lower headset bearing to arrive.  

So I rode my tried-and-tested Niner RLT 9 RDO – a familiar gravel bike and my other main testbed for anything gravel-related I review. 

It accompanied me on the Seven Serpents ultra-endurance race I completed in 2024 and the King Alfreds Way, among other epic day rides. 

The bike runs a Campagnolo Ekar groupset with Fulcrum Rapid Red 500 wheels, paired with a set of flared Easton EC90 carbon handlebars, a bump-taming Roval Terra seatpost and a Fabric Scoop saddle. 

I’d recently started a ‘wide gravel tyres’ group test for BikeRadar, so I fitted a pair of 50mm Vittoria Terreno T50 tyres onto the bike for more comfort and control on the technical sections, otherwise I kept things mostly as they were already. 

As for luggage, I ran a predominantly Tailfin set-up, including their recently launched AeroPack Cargo rear set-up. 

I ran fork packs instead of a handlebar bag, but the 5L Tailfin ones I had were too small, so I thought it’d be a great opportunity to test the Old Man Mountain Hemlock fork packs I was recently sent. 

Since there were remote sections without civilization, I also wore an Apidura Racing Hydration Vest with a 2L bladder, in addition to two 750ml bottles. 

All of the equipment worked perfectly – except for the Ekar rear derailleur. Riding what appeared to be an unassuming trail on the third day, a large stick managed to find its way in between the derailleur cage and cassette. 

With the offending stick removed, I couldn’t get the rear derailleur to work optimally in all 13 gears despite extensive trailside fettling. I ended up replacing the rear derailleur after the trip.  

All the weather 

We experienced a real mixed bag of weather from baking heat to torrential rain. 

Things started off perfectly, with the first day a dreamy 21ºC –  what more could you ask for? 

But the rain arrived late at night and we woke up to heavy, cold and miserable rain. It was a good job we camped under the cover of some trees in the forest, rather than on an open castle moat we’d considered camping in beforehand. 

The first half of the second day was rather character building, with heavy and at times, torrential, rain. 

We were all very grateful for a mid-morning stop at a house run by a hippie that advertised free coffee (yes, really!). The generous lady had to dash off part-way through our stop and left us alone in the place, encouraging us to make a charity donation, which we did with our loose change.  

The weather U-turned from the third day onwards when the heat arrived. While not as oppressive as my Badlands odyssey, it was pretty uncomfortable when you were in the sun, but fortunately large portions of the route are in shaded forest. 

A memorable moment on the final day was when we had just crested an Alpine-like mountain and came across a fountain. We all immediately dunked our heads under it, much to the amusement of some onlooking hikers. 

Speaking of water, I was very grateful I’d packed a hydration pack. While I was never desperate for water, I felt reassured knowing I wouldn’t need to constantly fill up (although there are several fountains dotted throughout the route) and I’d suggest you do the same if you ride this route in summer. 

It’s not a race

Over the past 18 months, I’ve been getting into ultra-endurance racing, completing the aforementioned Seven Serpents in 2024, as well as Badlands. 

Since this was my first extended bikepacking trip of 2025 (by the way, I’d never recommend working for a straight six months without any annual leave ever again), it was difficult to get out of ultra-mode. 

I wanted to finish the route and to do that, I aimed for us to get a set amount of distance done every day. I also treated this trip as a training ride for the 1,000km Mother North ultra-endurance race in Norway that was looming in August. 

But when things didn’t quite work out, such as the aforementioned rain, that plan started to go out the window. 

It’s all well and good having a plan but you need to balance this with fun –  this is a holiday after all with friends. It’s not just about the riding – it’s about the evening restaurant or campsite meals, exploring picture-postcard French towns and just having a laugh. 

What I will say though is always bear in mind the recommended length of time to do the route – we were overzealous with this and we should have had one more day to build in a buffer for bad weather. 

Always have enough food for a day 

I described the French culture as ‘laid back’ earlier on – and that’s definitely the approach they take to opening hours. 

While I expected shops to shut at lunchtimes and be closed on Sundays and Mondays, I didn’t expect establishments to be closed, well, all the time. 

There were multiple occasions where we were let down, where entire villages were shut –  they must all be millionaires in the Alsace region. 

The French counteract this by having vending machines – yes, you read that right. 

Many small villages with nothing open had vending machines which the local boulangerie had stocked up that morning – baguettes, loaves of bread, cakes, you name it, it was there. 

On Thursday, it was a bank holiday (Ascension Day) and when there was nothing to eat for lunch in a local town, a local pointed us to a pizza vending machine. 

Having made it known he was hungry for some time, Rob gorged himself silly by straight-on inhaling two full-size pizzas. 

However, he may not quite have realised the enormity of the 400m climb in the baking sun we’d have to go up afterwards… the sight of Rob wheezing up that brute of an ascent after his gluttonous pizzafest will be a memory that will long live in my brain. 

But poking fun at myself, I admit I got ratty in a town later on the next day (Friday wasn’t a bank holiday, but what’s the point of working for one day before the weekend?!) where there wasn’t any breakfast. Luckily, after some searching, we found a baguette vending machine and order was restored. 

With all this in mind, I’d recommend carrying enough food with you for a day, should the worst happen. It came in handy for us multiple times, for example when we shared a baguette at the top of an energy-sapping climb, or some cake as a much-needed pick-me-up. 

That said, when we got to eat ‘real’ food, most of it was excellent. One thing’s for sure, the French know how to bake and some of the restaurant meals we had were top-notch too – I had one of the best steaks (an entrecôte) I’ve had in a while in Wissembourg. 

You’ll long for the quiet 

Save for the towns of Saverne (the route skirts the town, but we diverted into the centre) and Châtenois, most of the places the route passes through are small villages. 

On our fifth day, we were taken on the road up to Bike Park du Lac Blanc and despite the fact we’d previously yearned for places to be open, what we didn’t expect was a noisy busy main road with people everywhere.

After four days of peace and quiet, we yearned for idyll again and it was blissful once we’d headed off-road after this section. 

Sometimes, you want to get away from the hustle and bustle and be at one with your thoughts, and if you stick to the route, the Traversée du Massif Vosgien will give you that. 

Take brake pads 

The thrilling, prolonged fireroad descents and technical sections really do a number on your brake pads on this route and both myself and Jeremy had to replace ours part-way through. 

I knew I’d need to change mine because I intentionally started on half-worn pads, but Jeremy’s were pretty new. 

It goes without saying you should always carry spare brake pads on a bikepacking trip, and while we knew this, it was interesting that we had to replace ours so quickly into the trip. 

Worried we’d wear another set out, both Jeremy and I stocked up at a bike shop in Châtenois. I didn’t want to not finish the route because I didn’t have sufficient spares, but I certainly paid the price – €50 for a set of Campagnolo brake pads (although admittedly they were the fancy DB-410s with an aluminium backing plate)! 

Expect the unexpected 

I mentioned how this trip was my first time in France, but that wasn’t the only first I ticked off. 

Never in my wildest dreams did I expect we’d encounter a raunchy forest shoot while on a bike ride. There we were, idly riding along a remote fireroad where we suddenly saw a 4×4 parked up. 

Nothing dodgy there but to the vehicle’s side was a giggling lady and a man, lumberjack shirt hastily half-buttoned back up, with a third man quickly tucking a camera into the 4×4’s boot.

It took us all a moment to process what we’d just witnessed, but clearly the Vosges region is a fine location for a porno. 

A French fancy 

The Traversée du Massif Vosgien proved an excellent route that I’m still looking back fondly on and a fine introduction to cycling in France. 

The route has everything you could ask for – tough, but not insurmountable climbs, wide open vistas and delectable French cuisine. It’s also distinctive for the obvious German influence the Alsace region has, which stands it apart from other areas of France I’ve visited.  

Take Bikepacking.com’s advice though, and budget six days to complete this trip to really savour the surroundings. 

This route has got me itching to return and explore more of France and I highly recommend it to experienced bikepackers.