Great rides: Touring north-west Wales for under £100

Bike touring is the best-value way to see Britain. I’ve been doing it for decades, always with an eye on the budget, and I’m practised at getting bang for my buck and poke for my pound. Last summer I set myself the target of doing a week’s cycling holiday for £100 all-in – accommodation, food, transport, the lot. With my Spa Cycles traditional steel tourer and Vango Banshee tent, I explored the Llŷn Peninsula, a less travelled but beautiful part of north-west Wales. 

For maximum return, I included the UK’s longest possible journey. In word-length, that is: Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwll-llantysiliogogogoch to Gorsafawddach-aidraigddanheddogleddollônpenrhynareurdraeth-ceredigion. They’re only 60 miles apart, but 58 and 67 characters respectively. With a budget of £100, that’s less than a quid a letter. 

You won’t find either long name on OS maps. Officially, the first (a village by the Menai Bridge) is Llanfairpwllgwyngyll, and the second (a train stop on the heritage Fairbourne Railway) is Golf Halt. The longer versions were fabricated for publicity purposes: ‘Llanfair…’ in 1869; ‘Gorsaf…’ (trying to outdo the other) in 1986. But while Llanfair PG’s long name stuck, as people took a fancy to its just-absurd-enough length, Gorsaf’s didn’t and was dropped – although it still survives in small letters on the halt’s sign.

Tickets to ride

I got there and back as I get everywhere: by bike and train. Booking in advance gives the best prices. Splitting a journey into legs run by different rail companies – or one leg into different tickets over a peak-time divide – often reduces the price significantly. (Railcards help: for example, 33% off for over-60s.) I sign up by email for train companies’ occasional special offers (York to Edinburgh for a tenner on Transpennine; £1 flash-sale tickets on Northern; and so on) and pounce. 

But often I travel for free. Because often a long, multi-leg journey involves a delay somewhere. Indeed, on this trip my train there arrived over an hour late, so I qualified for a full refund under Delay Repay. Ker-ching! 

For my journey back, I used another technique. Northern’s Delay Repay gives you the option of complimentary tickets anywhere on their enormous network. (Look under ‘slower options’ on the website.) I’ve transformed five-quid singles into, effectively, 60-quid returns this way. Barmouth back home to York cost me just £14 (non-Northern ticket to Chester, then complimentary Northern single for the remainder). 

I’ve been fare-efficient in other ways. England’s flat-fare scheme for buses (£3 from 2025) enables bargain journeys with a folding bike. And a few bus routes take full-size bikes: the X46 York–Hull for instance, or X62 Edinburgh–Peebles. Scotland’s Citylink coaches take bikes, even supplying a free ‘sock’ to wrap it.

Easy for you to say

Those train delays meant I arrived at Llanfairfechan too late to start cycling. No problem: I camped there for a tenner. Next morning I rode along the bike path that picks its way viewfully along the coast and over Telford’s historic Menai Suspension Bridge to Anglesey. An amiable group of German engineering students were on a field trip admiring it. Yay! Britain still leads the world in 200-year-old technology! 

I enjoyed several photo opportunities in Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwll-llantysiliogogogoch, most involving a wide-angle lens to accommodate the signs. The relatively snappy Llanfairpwllgwyngyll or Llanfair Pwllgwyngyll is what appears on road signs, schools, maps and so on. The train station is referred to elsewhere as Llanfairpwll, which is just as well, seeing as it’s a request stop. 

The village enthusiastically embraces its mighty moniker, even if it was a 19th-century PR stunt. It’s fair to say it is ‘actually called’ the long version, especially as it appears solemnly spelled out in full on the Co-op, Volvo concession and train station. Cycle tourers can Instagram these easily: they’re right on the Lôn Las Cymru, the excellent pan-Wales bike route. 

Staying under budget

Accommodation is usually the biggest expenditure in any travel budget. Camping isn’t just economical, it also gives flexibility, likely with walk-up options wherever you decide to stop cycling for the day. This trip, for instance, I could camp along with friends who happened to be in the area that day. Thanks to a new website (well, Facebook group and Google Map), I had plenty of choice. Cycle Camping UK lists only bike-friendly sites that charge £16 a night or less. Using that, I stayed four nights in and around Llŷn for £10 a pop, including that first emergency one in Llanfairfechan. (Often, Caravan Club members-only sites take non-member cycle campers, even if not mentioned on their website: phone to check, or just turn up.) 

Camping is great in nice weather. My trip, however, coincided with Storm Lilian’s 70mph gusts. So one night I took refuge in a hostel at the picture-postcard village of Llangïan – where the tiny cottage shop was a lively buzz of Welsh conversation – for £20. 

So sometimes I’m grateful to be indoors. But most British hotels cost quite a lot, on top of which one person generally pays almost as much as two. And these days, Airbnb seems more about pricey boutique gaffs than low-cost spare rooms in the home of an empty-nester. 

The old fallback of YHA hostels doesn’t work so well these days, now so many rural ones have closed. Yet many surviving hostels have regular special offers, particularly in the off-season, and you get 10% off with YHA membership. Last year I took advantage of such offers for winter rides in the Lakes and Whitby. At £12-15 a night, they were a bargain. 

There are many independent bunkhouses and suchlike too, discoverable via Google. I’ve stayed thus recently in locations such as Rutland Water, Spurn Head and the Yorkshire Dales, cheaply (£20) and comfortably. The budget hotel chains sometimes have specials, too. I’ve sneaked rooms at Travelodge for under £30 and Premier Inn for little more. Both allow bikes in your room. Sunday nights are often cheapest. 

Warmshowers is a website (and paid-for app) for cyclist-to-cyclist hospitality. The idea is you stay for free at someone’s house, returning the favour to someone else another time. It’s social and convenient – especially, I’ve found, in places otherwise hard or expensive to find accommodation. For many hosts, a good guest is a pleasure to have. Both parties can benefit. 

Nights under canvas – or polyester, I suppose – aren’t always idyllic. This tour I had no choice but to camp one night on Llŷn when Lilian was at its height. Fearful at 4am of poles snapping, I removed them, weighed the tent down with my bike to stop it escaping, and sat out the gale in the campsite loo doing sudoku. I was pretty good at sudoku by the time it blew over. The tent survived, but if you see a water bottle blowing around the beach at Southport, it’s probably mine. 

Camping can be special as well as cheap. My final pitch was up a hill outside Criccieth. There were dozens of caravans and motorhomes next door, but I had the lush tent-field to myself, with awesome views over the bay and Snowdonia to accompany my pasta, pesto and glass of Rioja. Priceless. (Actually, a tenner; I’ll take that.)

Food for (financial) thought

Eating out can soon become a financial toad in the black hole, but self-catering keeps costs down. Budget instant noodles from Aldi and Lidl work as well as camping food pouches from outdoor shops. And in a hostel kitchen, or over my ancient Trangia camping stove, I can control exactly what I’m eating – particularly because I raided my cupboards at home before I came. If cafés are scarce or expensive, boiling water from the morning brew-up can go in a flask for day use. 

In many off-piste rural areas I find Co-ops often have tempting reduced-price items from late afternoon, conveniently timed between the end of my ride and the campsite. My favourite bargain was a £3 bottle of wine last year from Hawkshead Co-op, apparently a recognised low-pricer by Lakes locals. 

For on-the-go eating, there are often reliable cheap deals on food from the chains. A bacon roll and coffee from Greggs is often my start to a touring day for three quid or so. For lunch, many supermarket meal deals include coffee, sarnie and snack for under four quid. And I’ve exploited many a sub-£10 Wetherspoons Afternoon Deal (2-5pm) that includes a drink. 

It’s nice to support local cafés and pubs as well, of course. Their happy hours often make me happy, and for more than an hour. In Criccieth and Barmouth I had excellent local cask ales this way for £4 a pint, and around Llŷn, some inexpensive coffees from local cafés where I enjoyed trying to get by in Welsh. You may not get a discount doing this but it’s a gesture much appreciated. 

Picnics at some highlight locations aren’t just low cost. For me they’re one of the joys of cycle touring. On my North Wales jaunt I had a stunning panorama to accompany my lunch at the summit of Mynydd Rhiw. And across from Barmouth, there was the glorious sunny backdrop of the viaduct for my al fresco afternoon tea.

Final accounts

In my week round north-west Wales I had a month’s worth of cycling experiences, in addition to mammoth place names. Menai Bridge, castles, mountains, beaches, Llŷn’s imposing hills, with agreeably flat lands and quiet lanes between and around them that make it surprisingly pleasant to cycle round. I also visited Beddgelert’s quaint village below Snowdonia containing ‘the grave’ of Gelert, faithful but nonexistent dog of legend. 

Two unique cycling highlights stood out. There was Barmouth’s astounding half-mile-long, 150-year-old wooden viaduct. It carries trains, bikes and pedestrians – but not cars – across the mouth of the Mawddach Estuary, with hills either side. Clanking across its loose boards is like playing a giant marimba. 

At Harlech, I rode down (not up: it’s one-way) what’s claimed as the ‘world’s steepest street’: Ffordd Pen Llech, which winds its way from some cafés and shops up by the castle to the flats below. It’s Britain’s only signed 40% road gradient. However, depending on definition of ‘steepest’ and ‘street’ (centre of road? edge of hairpin? gradient over what distance? houses both sides? cobbles allowed?) it’s arguably not even Britain’s most extreme, never mind the world’s. Baldwin Street in Dunedin, New Zealand, is the official global record holder, and various English candidates (Church Lane in Whitby, Vale Street in Bristol) have even dizzier sections. 

Ffordd Pen Llech is certainly steep. But the cost of cycle touring isn’t. I enjoyed a week of it – well, six days and five nights – for £100. On a bike, you don’t need a fortune to have a ton of fun. Iechyd da!