We'd just ridden the Elan valley. At the highest, most exposed point, it started raining heavily. Most people stopped and wriggled into their waterproofs. Not I. Oh, no, mine were back in my chalet. No matter, by the time they were halfway encased in pvc it stopped raining. And started hailing. Hailstones bigger than peas being hurled at you in a cold wind - no fun. Still, we are true adventurers so pressed on to the café at Devil's Bridge where Ridaz exposed his phallic damp patch. Much schoolboy (and schoolgirl when Deb saw it) hilarity ensued.
