I enjoy triathlons. Obviously not the initial immersion in freezing water: that is not fun. And not the subsequent half hour of being repeatedly kicked in the face by other swimmers before you jump on a bike, only to find the ride ruined by your cold, wet clothes. That sets up the chest infection, of course, that spoils the run. Actually, when I think about it, I only really enjoy the transitions, those few blessed minutes of rest between sports when you munch away contentedly at your sandwiches, swig some coffee, and gaze indulgently at the obsessive, furrowed faces of those who take it too seriously.
Precious moments! I’ve often wished they could be longer and a little bit more luxurious. And now, in Carmarthenshire, a county that clearly thinks like I do, they have come up with a great idea: triathlons done at your own speed, possibly over an entire weekend, and on a selection of routes. You can swap your least favourite activity with another: paddle-boarding or kayaking instead of swimming, for example. You can even replace yourself with another person which is what I plan to do: daughter Maddy, aged 12, loves swimming so she can do that section, while my partner Sophie likes running so that’s her sorted. All I have to do is get on my bike for a few hours. It’s a family tri, and the transitions are extended over several hours in cafes, pubs and accommodation. Carmarthenshire has, I reckon, done the impossible: they have perfected the triathlon.
Our preparation begins with a night in Brown’s Hotel in Laugharne. This was once a drinking hole for Dylan Thomas, whose photo adorns the bar and whose writing hut is around the corner. A poet from an age when serious exercise was eight pints, an ounce of best shag, and a chip supper, I can only imagine his baffled response to the phenomenal rise in popularity of the triathlon: “Rage, rage against the buying of the Lycra.”
Thomas’s ghost haunts every inch of Laugharne, the inspiration for his fictitious Llareggub in Under Milk Wood. At night, I wander the streets, wishing I had downloaded a recording of it on my phone – the Richard Burton one, of course: “Swim, cycle, run? In your crow-black kit? You’ll die of blisters” – the perfect soundtrack for strolling under Laugharne’s castle walls. I watch the curlews scatter into the moonlight, then climb up to Thomas’s writing shed with its views of four estuaries. This was where he wrote Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night and honed Under Milk Wood. At least we brought the collected works and can read them ourselves.
In honour of Thomas we decide to do our triathlon backwards, starting from Pendine, five miles down the road. The day is good: buttery sunlight spreads across the vast swathe of sand and Sophie sets off, running up the cliff path while Maddy and I wander along the beach. It was here that land speed records used to be attempted: Malcolm Campbell being the first to break the record in 1924. For the next three years he and Welshman John Parry Thomas battled to hold the record until Thomas died in a crash on the sands in 1927. His car, Babs, is in the Museum of Speed in Pendine, sadly closed the day we visit.
The sands are pretty busy these days, too: men digging for ragworms, dog-walkers, even one brave swimmer. Not us, that’s tomorrow. A peregrine falcon swoops over the dunes, passing a kestrel and a buzzard. Then Sophie reappears, full of running and completely energised by the clifftop path. We follow her back to Pendine and go for our first transitional treat in the beachfront cafe.
After lunch, I get my bike out of the car and set off on a 40km loop inland, heading back through Laugharne and up into the hills. The sunshine of the morning has sadly gone, but the road is quiet. It’s a fine ride, but I regret not vetting the route carefully with an OS map beforehand. The Welsh hills are full of wayward, rollercoaster lanes and a couple of wrong turns leave me bamboozled. Eventually, however, I pop out above Pendine and negotiate the steep drop back into the village. The triathlon is two-thirds done.
That night we stay at Blaenfforest Cottages near Newcastle Emlyn, a beautifully restored barn with a hot tub tucked away in woodlands, and are disturbed only by the occasional screech of a peacock. The countryside around here, like much of Wales outside of Snowdonia and Pembrokeshire, feels undiscovered and under-visited. Our swim next morning provides a good example. The village of Llandyssul is hardly on the tourist map of the country and yet it boasts a fabulous stretch of whitewater river dashing madly through the centre. We head down there with Nick and Vincent from Llandyssul Paddlers, a kayak outfit which also does river swimming. The plan was for Maddy to be the sole family representative, but I can’t resist. Sophie can.
The two of us don helmets, wetsuits and life jackets. Nick takes us through a warm-up and some safety drills. Then we get in. Water temperature is about 10C. “White water is graded one to six by kayakers,” explains Nick, “And we’ll swim a one, a two and a two-plus.”
A nervy stagger out on a rocky ledge washed by thigh-deep water ends with a sudden drop and the current sweeps me away. I dip under and emerge. There’s Vincent waiting under the village bridge. I do an awkward front crawl for a few seconds and climb out. Maddy and Nick arrive. I reckon we have completed half the triathlon distance in about a minute. Even the world-champion Brownlee brothers could not match this.
Next we do a rougher section, then the big one. It looks scary but in reality I’m swept along, bouncing from wave to wave, having great fun. We do some celebratory leaps off high rocks and finish with a plunge from the bridge. It’s been a wonderful triathlon: no competitiveness, no pressure, no worries, and no running – not for me. And best of all those fabulously extended transitions over pints of beer: even Dylan Thomas might have grudgingly accepted that triathlons can be fun, at least in part.
Way to go
The trip was provided by Discover Carmarthenshire. Visit discovercarmarthenshire.com for triathlon routes, accommodation and restaurants. Llandysul Paddlers can arrange half-day river swim activities, from £25 adult/£20 junior; it also organises whitewater kayaking courses. Browns Hotel in Laugharne has doubles from £95 per night B&B. A three-night break at The Granary at Blaenforrest (sleeps four) costs from £294
