We’re off to Wales.

We’d talked about it. We’d talked all around it. Talk is cheap. Just like the cottage that we’re renting.

It was settled over a Sunday roast at Pete’s place. We decided not to dwell too much on it because the more we thought on, the more we’d come to realise that hurling ourselves down the Welsh mountainsides on a bike is not really a sane activity for a cold, wet winter weekend.

I know it’s going to hurt. It did the last time I did it a few years ago now, and that was when I was really fit. Fortunately, I don’t smoke and lead an active lifestyle so it should be a tolerable pain. After covering thirty-two miles this Sunday and being able to get up and walk with nothing than a slight case of jelly-legs, I’ll do fine. I hope the others can say the same.

Coed-Y-Brenin is just outside Snowdonia, not too far from Dolgellau and is considered to be the mountain-biker’s Mecca. It’s heavily forested, scarily steep and its many trails are purpose-made for the likes of us.

At the end of February, seven of us are going to squeeze our bikes into a van and stay at Mostyn Cottage, which comes complete with roaring log fire, Welsh dressers and sheep in the garden.

If it all goes well, then this will be happening again on a larger scale come summer. Let me know if you want in on the next one.