Wales Blat report Part1

It was an out of the blue private message on the RSMegane forum from an R26 F1 owner in Newport that started the plan. We had discussed a get together in the past and hadn’t managed to find the time. Within 15minutes on a Wednesday morning a plan had been hatched and clearance had been obtained from flight control (the tolerant and long suffering wife). In an effort to rally a group a post was put out on the forum and a couple of others agreed to tag along. I think it’s fair and reasonable to accept that 3 days’ notice does significantly limit the chance of people being able to attend, so 4 felt like a mini victory really. In the following days chatter mainly revolved around the odds that Ladbrokes were offering on the likelihood of us requiring a support canoe, to the point that I opted to put slightly more sensible boots on the .R (Toyo 888’s are basically lightly scratched effigies of Kojak and offer less wet grip than a mackerel). Regardless of the fairly regular blat’s I manage to cram in I’m not embarrassed to admit that I was rather excited over the prospect of meeting up with other Saddo’s, I mean enthusiasts on some cracking tarmac. The plan was to meet at Jnc. 28 of the M4 at 7am on Saturday, to try and get into the hills before the masses rubbed the sleep away from their eyes and ventured out. I had arranged to meet one of the guys at Bridgwater services at 5.30am so the alarm was set for 4.30am, and with the R26.R out of the garage to keep early morning noise to a minimum an early retirement to bed seemed sensible. I have chastised my kids for a while about waking up too early on Christmas morning, so the fact I was wide awake at 3.30am was fairly embarrassing, but I decided it was best to get away early rather than waking the house, and it gave me a chance to take the A roads to Bridgwater rather than the motorway………the thought process is impossible for all but the true enthusiast to understand. The fact that later in the day each of the other 3 admitted that they had struggled to sleep and had woken early was some consolation, nice to meet other idiots!



I adhered to the habit of a mixed road warm up for both the car and me, consisting this time of the journey to Cullompton Services which conveniently is inhabited by those chaps that dispense Optimax and ridiculously overpriced brown froth that we are now brainwashed into accepting as Coffee. The roads were blissfully quite as unsurprisingly the majority of Joe Public were tucked up under the Eiderdown. With tanks suitably topped up and my watch reinforcing how very much ahead of schedule I was, I used the M5 for only 1 junction exiting at Tiverton to pick up the A38. My plan was to thread my way along the A38, which loosely threads its way next to the M5 but offers a more rewarding and interesting route and would take me longer to reach Bridgwater Services, where I was meeting a Mk3 Megane 250 which had been tickled via a Milltek, intercooler and map. Wellington and Taunton were despatched swiftly with the .R in its element on fast twisty roads, far more interesting than the drone and boredom of the M5. I arrived at Bridgwater still 1/2hr early but with the alertness that comes of climbing out of a ticking car after a period of intense concentration.



Adam arrived in the 250 and we exchanged pleasantries before beginning the petrol heads strictly adhered to process of walking around each other’s motor asking the usual questions, commenting on colour and spec and enjoying moments of silence as the details are all absorbed. With a brief conversation about the route we eased out of the services and the slip road onto the M5 offered the perfect platform for a throttle squeeze to assess each other’s performance levels. I was leading and the run up to Bristol went quickly and without any moments worthy of mention, traffic was still sparse, light was improving and wait for it……..it was dry, thoughts of whether I should have stuck with the Toyo’s inhabited the cranium until the first spots of rain made themselves at home on the windscreen. This was just as we got close to the French Tax Collection Device known as the “Severn Bridge”, the only pleasurable part of crossing it for me is the use of the coin collection system that sorts the handful of change that you throw into it, before allowing the barrier to raise. M4 in the mirrors we peeled off at Jnc.28 and found the local Asda Mega Store where we parked up and went in search of Caffeine. At this stage we were approximately 40minutes early, there was most definitely a pattern forming, although I was fairly confident that once playtime began I would ultimately end up getting home late, funny how it works that way!
Mike turned up and the convoy grew to 3 with the addition on his Blue R26, and the first stop was a top up for all of us at a nearby Shell station. Heading out of Newport we made our way over towards Pontypridd railway station where the 4[SUP]th[/SUP] attendee was waiting to meet us in his VERY clean White R26, the weather on the way to Pontypridd was shocking, at one point we all had to swerve onto the opposite side of the road to avoid a large Welsh water feature masquerading as a puddle. Irrespective of the weather, banter on the radios Mike had bought along was upbeat and chatter predominantly focused on “it only being a passing shower”, however to put it into perspective I suspect Noah would have been making a Beeline to the Marina had he been local. Out of Pontypridd we pointed towards Treorchy where the proper start of the blat awaited us. The 20minute run to the small conurbation of Treorchy was without drama and as we pootled through the town the rain had abated and was now a little drizzle, basically business as normal for South Wales. The roads we were heading towards offered the promise of twisting tarmac that snakes out of Treorchy towards Port Talbot consisting of the A4061 and A4107. The map below says it all really and amply demonstrates the term twisty.



As we turned onto the A4061 the road stretched ahead of us and was open and clear of traffic, with the rain abated and the drizzle sporadic the day brightened in a heartbeat. With all four cars pushing on the sight of the back of Steve’s Scaffolding transit tipper as we rounded the 4[SUP]th[/SUP] corner, wasn’t received gratefully. A mile later we pulled into a layby opposite the turn onto the A4107 and decided to let the scaffolder’s convention get closer to Port Talbot and allow some space to develop as traffic was still sparse. Allegedly the view from the layby is fantastic, however South Wales was keeping itself to itself thanks to a blanket of drizzle, so we kept ourselves amused (and warm) by walking around the motley collection of chariots from our equine chewing neighbours, exchanging questions and compliments whilst shuffling around to avoid appearing in smartphone snaps. I took the opportunity to express my jealousy over the presence of rear screen wipers in each of the 3 cars parked next to mine. I know it’s all about weight saving and that the R26.R was an exercise by Renault to prove its dominance in the “stupidly quick hatch” market, however of all the sacrifices in creature comforts that was made during its conception, the lack of a rear wiper in partnership with Tupperware rear windows is an annoyance to say the least on wet British roads. Although it’s hardly the end of the world, in a machine that can capably travel at license loosing pace using just the first ½ of the ratios on offer, seeing what’s behind you is comforting as is trying to keep tabs on a 4 car convoy, thankfully my fellow peddlers fully understood and kindly all rubbed it in whenever possible.



With the roads clear and a significant lull in passing traffic we ventured back onto the route. The next 10 miles were absolutely glorious and will be remembered for many years to come. The road is open and in its majority smoothly surfaced. Long straights are strung together with a collection of corners that vary in both angle and camber, at times its wrapped in strips of substantial looking barrier whilst other stretches are boarded by grass and fresh air reminding you of the drop that awaits and promises the strong possibility of an attendance from the air ambulance in the event of running out of talent. The magnificence of the road eclipsed any concerns and the sight of the 3 cars ahead of me reinforced just how good an idea it was to have woken up at such a god forsaken hour. The road descends down the side of the valley and takes in various small villages and collections of houses that allowed the convoy to bunch up and reform during the 30MPH zones. After around 10Miles Mike pulled into what can only be described as someone’s drive way, ill-equipped to accommodate 4 cars. Hopping out to convene the overriding facial expression of the group was grinning and conversation revolved around what a treat of a road we had just experienced. It was decided that Breakfast was required and would be sampled from a Café that we had passed a few miles before, having been at the back of the group I set off back up the road in the lead keen the attack the road in reverse, my desire to sample the route in reverse was evident as I sailed past the café and only the flashing Megane headlights in my mirror 3 miles past the Bacon Station educated me of my error, in truth I knew full well but couldn’t resist the lure of the black top extending ahead of me. The .R was in its element with the PS2’s proving confident bite from the front axle and the back pivoting on a trailing brake the pace at times was on a par with anything other than the machines accessible to those with jaw droppingly deep pockets. With the Ti exhaust howling and the car at the top of its game my appreciation and respect for this little unassuming and generally overlooked motor grew exponentially, it was truly one of those defining moments where you gel with a car and realise just how great it is. Performing a 180degree turn I joined the others and over a warm brew and Sausage Sarnie we discussed current steeds and previous machines and generally bathed in the warm glow of talking shit about cars.

Heading away from the pit stop we retraced our steps back to Treorchy, the others encouraged me to lead again muttering various things relating to pushing on and enthusiastic peddling, but in truth I think they were sick of listening to the incessant rattling of my floating front brakes, which admittedly are bloody annoying but offer the kind of performance that allow you to check the inside of the windscreen if really leaned on. 15 minutes later I pulled over close to the junction with the road back down to Treorchy and we regrouped to discuss the route that would take us to the Brecon Beacons.

 

Think we are just waiting for confirmation of George Clooney to play Midnightrunner and its good to go:rolleyes:

 

Cheers bud, proper R26.R territory even in the wet!!!!

 

Wales Blat report Part 2.....

The route up to the layby I was now parked up in is around 8 Miles in length and contains a mixture of twists and turns along with fast straights. In the time taken to traverse it I only passed 2 cars and about 9 Sheep, so it allowed me the opportunity to stretch the Meg’s legs a little. The noise the car manages to create never fails to create a smile and in the most parts elicits a puzzled look from passengers, according to others in the convoy it sounds quite something from the outside. Based on these comments I have promised myself to get someone to drive it ahead of me soon, as is the case with these things, you rarely hear your own wheels pass you by. The wheels are attached to the car via KW ClubSport suspension which allows good levels of adjustment. In the main the ride is well damped and rebound, whilst fairly aggressive, is probably the best I have experienced in a system orientated mainly towards track work. On the tarmac of the hills of South Wales it performed magnificently offering a connection to Terra Firma that inspired confidence, and at no point felt jumpy of jittery. With the roads starting to dry a little grip was improving, however on a couple of corners the rear of the car started to travel a little quicker than the front and small controlled slides added to the experience. By the time the car was stationary in the layby any doubts around whether venturing to South Wales in such moist conditions was a good idea were forgotten, and with the other cars appearing in my mirrors we jumped out to admire the now developing view. After 5 or so minutes discussing the glorious uninterrupted road we had just retraced our steps up, I took the opportunity to swap cars with Mike who had recently fitted a short shift kit to his R26. I find the shift on my car woefully poor in contrast to the rest of the car, so was keen to see if the change was transformed by the kit. Sitting at the back of the group it was impossible not to smile as I watched Mike sink into the Sabelt seats before getting back out to rearrange the various lengths of Red belts and clasps that allow the harness to be used, a fitting welcome to the comical R26.R seating arrangements! Although I only travelled around 5 miles in the Blue R26 it was clear that the short shift kit will need to make its way into my cars plumbing, the shift is positive and feel some and really transforms the box. It may be that the box on my car is particularly bad but I’m hopeful the change will sort it out. Once down into Treorchy we went in search of the A4061 (getting lost only once) towards Hirwaun where we would pick up the A4059. This unremarkably named road spears out onto the Brecon Beacons National Park and is a road that you must go in search of if you are ever in the area. Thanks to the wondrous world of Google Maps such places can be viewed at any time.



The route to Hirwaun was mainly interrupted by traffic lights and road works but still allowed cars to swap places in the convoy’s order. Once out of Hirwaun the road opened up and as is the norm for such open Moorland the rain swept back in, however with the bit firmly between our teeth and sections where the road was clearly visible for long distances, dawdling Coaches and Caravans were passed by 4 sensibly spaced Renaults, it must have been quite a spectacle from the cars being passed. No doubt some tutting would have been heard from those being passed, as it is becoming more and more frowned upon to overtake these days, seemingly irrespective of it being undertaken safetly. The fun of driving is fast becoming something that is frowned upon sadly. The road eventually ends at the Junction with the A470 which connects Merthyr Tydfil with Brecon and is a reasonably fast well surfaced road, however it is normally fairly well used and traffic was pretty heavy.



At Brecon we joined the A40 towards Sennybridge where one of the group grabbed a top up of fuel before we pushed onto Llandovery. The route was less populated with other cars and allowed us to catch up on some lost time. The reason for heading towards Llandovery was to get onto the road that climbs up and over Black Mountain which we were assured by one of the guys would be worth the journey. With time ticking on and a couple of the guys starting to make reference to the high probability of a cold shoulder waiting at home, the importance of us discovering a worthy road grew with every mile.
Out of Llandovery we turned onto the A4069 which started fairly unremarkably but started to impress as it snaked along the base of the valley, twisting in unison with the River Towy. It offers a challenging route that allows swift progress but insists that you stay very much on your game, the mood visibly changed as the pace picked up and mutterings of concern over time disappeared and were replaced with Radio chatter relating to the route and the approaching climb over Black Mountain. Passing through Llangadog the road branched right and almost immediately started to climb before passing over a Cattle Grid. The white R26 and I pulled over into a layby to wait for the other 2 cars who had been caught behind a few slower moving peeps. With all 4 cars back together we set off, immediately the road snaked towards a tight hairpin right that signals its intent with an off camber entry over a small stone bridge, a group of 3 bikes passed us adhering to the bikers code by acknowledging the bike ahead of us with a customary nod of the head. The road climbs for a couple of miles through various well sighted corners, Mike had managed to pass the bike in a slower section further down, but with a couple of cars despatched by the bike and three of us we gathered pace as the biker led us along for 5 or so minutes. The road is flanked by large boulders of Granite that whilst unlikely to prevent you from joining the Moorland in the event of getting it wrong, they would certainly make a proper mess of anything that crossed their path. Even with attention focused on stringing together a path along this staggering road, the view diverted attention occasionally and only added to the experience. The presence of a large layby allowed us to pull in and drink in the scenery which by now was bathed in slightly friendlier weather, hardly Mediterranean but significantly better than we had started in. Conversation revolved around the brilliance of the road and how glad we were that the route had taken in this section. Turning and looking back up the Mountain the road could be clearly traced out back to the summit, and I made a personal promise to return again and spend significantly more time driving it in both directions. We took the opportunity to line the cars up and take some woefully poor smartphone snaps.




Pulling out of the layby we continued down the remaining descent and the road gradually flattened as we passed through a number of small town’s En Route to the M4 that would take us back towards Cardiff which signalled the end of proceedings as 1 car would take the slip road and head home, followed shortly by another at Newport. As we merged onto the motorway traffic was fairly heavy, but thankfully everything was moving well. I had subconsciously started to wind down in the assumption that the 30 mile slog ahead of us would be more of a chore than a pleasure; however it became rapidly clear that the Blat Gods were still restless. The run to Cardiff was a hoot with the 4 of us swapping places and Scything through the miles like that popular chap from Poldark. At one point a Seat Leon insisted in adding a Spanish flavour to our French Juggernaut, by the time the first car peeled off at Cardiff the final 30 Miles felt like a fitting finish to a day that had started superbly and continued to improve as it progressed. The remaining 3 of us pulled into a service’s in response to the nagging fuel gauges and it was agreed that the day had been a success. With tanks brimmed and rumbling stomachs abated, we all went our own ways. The Severn Bridge, Bristol, Taunton and Cullompton came and went and nearly 12Hrs after leaving the car was reacquainted with its garage. The car, roads and company had contributed to a memorable day that had delivered everything I had hoped for. The R26.R is a car that seems to divide opinion more than most, with true enthusiasts eagerly keen to sample the experience it is renowned for delivering, whilst others are unable to see through the sacrifices made in comfort and practicality. Much as I like the looks and demeanour of the car, it’s difficult not to agree with the argument that it had some acquaintance with the ugly stick during its creation. The Lunar Grey finish is a colour that I rank as one of the finest produced by anyone, but is on a footing with Marmite in the reaction it elicits from people. However its ability to dismiss roads that can upset significantly higher priced machines, coupled with the clarity and depth of information it provides is deeply impressive………still miss a radio just a little bit though!

 

Want want want that's your problem :rolleyes: