Pembrokeshire is a destination.  A nice drive, but on the way to nowhere and not a place you can get to in a hurry.  Although just a big village, St David's has a cathedral, several decent pubs and cafes, boutiques, and far too many art galleries to keep the locals stocked with pictures.  I'd met up the night before with Jim in the cosy Bishops Inn. We're co-veterans of a few sportives now, and he was helping with the organisation of the ToP.  Whale and chips and a couple of pints isn't quite the nutrition choice of the pros, but it was irresistible and comforting.

I slept fitfully as the wind battered the frame of my guesthouse window. Squashing my head under the pillow, thinking it's going to be murder ploughing into this headwind all day. By 0730 we'd made it to the start in a breezy misty drizzle.  Wearing too few clothes and fingerless mitts I was keen to get off and warmed-up, and without fanfare just 2 of us cruised north out of town up the silent glossy wet A-road.

Pretty soon we dived off the main road and dropped down to the first of many pretty little coves, bouncing straight up the other side with a short 20% gradient.  Jim had warned me to get the small chainring on these descents as you have no time to shift otherwise.  From the corner of my eye I glimpsed waves crashing into the rocks and sweep of the cliffs that mark out this coastline.  Being on the clock makes me impatient to be getting on, otherwise they'd have been great places to gaze and linger.

After the Fishguard feed stop came the first really hefty climb at Bedd Morris - a short 25% ramp followed by a few miles of gentler gradients out onto the high moorland.  Glad to get it out of the way on reasonably fresh legs, we were soon zipping warily down a technical descent into Newport, where I stopped to chat to some locals, tucking into their jelly babies.

Coastline part #2 brought more of the short severe climbs from sea level to clifftops, through Moylegrove, a quaint seaside hamlet, and a stop at Poppit Sands RNLI station. By now most of the clouds had sulked away, leaving the sun shining just enough to make its presence felt.  In the intriguingly-named St Dogmaels we were cheered past a garden decked in bunting, and climbed through a narrow wooded hill valley, full of spring flowers, a trickling stream, and an easy gradient to ride 2 abreast. Pleasant riding indeed.

The feed stations seemed to be coming thick and fast in this part of the parcours. At Boncath it was a ride-thru under a gazebo if you wanted, manned by friendly cadets.  All the feeds were well stocked and welcoming with sweet and salty options. The only minus point was the absence of energy drink - so bringing a few tabs in a 35mm film canister was a good idea.

The signage was impeccable - I have to say this - Jim was in charge. Signing a 100 mile route is a massive logistical effort. As well as the signs we see, there are also those going the opposite way for drivers, and all sorts at junctions. It took six teams a day's work to sign this route, plus another full day to check it the day before. We even had smart detailed professional glossy route cards, though sadly I lost mine somewhere. Fortunately very few signs had gone missing and I heard no tales of anyone getting badly lost.

We hit the queen climb at Preselli (Angel in Welsh). It traces a direct shoulder strap line over the highest hill in sight. Open and exposed, the gradient keeps changing to confound your rhythm.  Typically it split up into lone efforts, each one grinding up, fighting to ignore the steel icicles spearing our quads. Descending the Angel was a delight, flying down a good surface, with open sightlines, and a straight run out.  My gps said I'd maxxed 53mph.  And then after a bit more sapping climbing came a most welcome feed stop at Gwaen valley. The sun shone, the ipod played (what a simple but effective way of making a festival atmosphere). The piles of tasty curry pasties, cold meat balls and hot tea were gratefully wolfed down.  For the sufferers, they'd even thoughtfully put out Vaseline and sudocream in the portaloos.

Straight after the break we had one final categorisable climb to go, before setting a westerly course into the sun towards St Davids.  The final 30+k gave the best opportunity to get into a bit of a rhythm and tap out a tempo.  We felt we needed to cover some ground to redeem our sagging times and flashed past the last feed stop at Letterston.  Going more downhill than up, we gradually picked up the pace.  Somehow all the accumulated lactic pains ebbed away in the last 5k and we time-trialled the lanes.  At 1k to go I pictured us going under an imaginary flame rouge, but wasn't expecting the fantastic welcome from the crowds lining the last few hundred metres - up the steep zigzag climb through the cathedral grounds, under a stone arch into the village.  I kept pushing all the way up to the finish gantry to the sound of applause, collected our times and joined the colourful melee of finishers.

Within a few minutes, we were sat in the sunshine of the visitor centre over the road, thigh muscles self-contentedly humming, and squaring away free helpings of thick home-made courgette and rosemary soup - good enough for any gastropub.

So, in summary - its not easy to get to, but well worth the effort. It was a challenging & pretty route, with competent, thoughtful organisation from the folk at Pembrokeshire Bikes.  Well done, and many thanks to you all.