Frank McCourt famously introduces his autobiography, Angela's Ashes, with a line about the misery of an Irish Catholic childhood in Limerick. This, however, is nothing compared to the discomfort and deprivation of a Welsh cyclosportive in the driving, perpetual rain on a Saturday in September.

South Wales itself is a fabulous place, as I'd found on the previous four days of camping near Kidwelly in Camarthenshire. The sun shone, the breeze was gentle, the road signs were confusingly bi-lingual and sheep were strangely subdued. All looked good for my endeavours come the weekend's Fire Breather sportive. Sadly, though, as the day dawned and the BBC Weather App refused to change its forecast, I had to accept that my ride would be, at best, moist.

Fire Breather short route with rain-affected elevation profile.
Fire Breather short route with rain-affected elevation profile.

I'd camped a few miles from the Ffos Las, HQ for the ride and the region's newest race course. Horse racing in Wales took a major dip in popularity in the 1920s when Tenby Races fell victim to possibly the world's first bet-rigging scandal as a consortium of local businessmen made a packet on an underperforming thoroughbred with a co-ordinated nationwide scam. Even today, the subject is taboo in Pembroke among the locals.

Slightly damp, but in steadily dampening conditions, riders set out into the fug over a constantly repetitive diet of ups-and-downs that stretched the miles out like a piece of soggy blu tac. Given the heavy going, many of the individuals setting out looked likely to truncate their day as the ambient humidity reached and passed 100%, both inside and outside the waterproof jackets.

One of the drier stretches of road. Photo: Nick Boyle / @nabboyle
One of the drier stretches of road. Photo: Nick Boyle / @nabboyle
 

The roads were hock deep with running water, the skies grey, and visibility slightly better than playing blind man's buff in a smoke filled room, in the dark, wearing a diver's helmet back to front. The illusion of forward motion was only briefly enhanced when looking down at the rivers of water travelling in the opposite direction on climbs. Still, since you can only get wet once, spirits were pretty good out on the road once you accepted that the only way the day could end was by finishing the ride.

After the first 20-odd miles, the road flattened out for a wind-assisted, heads-down, rouleur-style grind to the feed station. The welcome sight of a sugar-laden marquee at a village hall brought mixed emotions. Joy at the proliferation of fig rolls and flapjacks and the bliss of hot beverages was slightly tinged with the discomfort of standing in pouring rain steaming as much as your drink, which filled with rain water quicker than you could empty it.

The final sixteen miles of the short course (note to Ed, I was *never* going to do the Epic, mate) revisited an area of Carmarthenshire I'd sampled in the days (and seasons) before, when the light was less runny and I had enough peripheral vision to savour place names that either looked like Countdown Conundrums or school-boy insults - basically anything with not enough vowels in or with 'pants' in them.

Views best enjoyed through a cafe window. Photo: Nick Boyle / @nabboyle
Views best enjoyed through a cafe window. Photo: Nick Boyle / @nabboyle
 

After one last ponderous trundle towards Meinciau, there was a mind-numbing descent through the town of Pontyates, an arrow-straight 15% downhill that was never ending (much like the rain), made doubly tortuous by an increasingly boisterous side wind.

With nerves shredded and windblown into submission, the finish at the race course was a welcome relief. Medals and other goodies were hastily pocketed before you could say "did you change your planned route today?". I felt no guilt - riders on the Epic route had 20 miles truncated from their ordeal by 30mph winds.

The face of Fire Breather 2016. Photo: Nick Boyle / @nabboyle
The face of Fire Breather 2016. Photo: Nick Boyle / @nabboyle
 

Sadly my phone doesn't work under water, but Nick Boyle of Chelmer CC took some snaps which summed up the day for all of us. That face *is* the face of the FireBreather 2016.

I'd really love to come back next year and 'see' the countryside and enjoy the climbs and descents. It seemed like a really great course, but for this year the Land of Our Fathers was more Land of Araf* Riders.

*Welsh for 'slow'

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