What is it that fighter planes and mountain bikes like about the steep hillsides of mid-Wales? Pete Scullion investigates the phenomenon of the Mach Loop.
Words and Photos | Pete Scullion
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Back in the early 1990s, my family regularly took trips from mid-Wales up to Holyhead to get the ferry to Dublin or Dún Laoghaire. Often at Christmas, though it could have been at any time of year when we ventured west to see our extended family.
Part of this journey took us through Corris and up the hill from Minfordd through what my mum called ‘The Khyber Pass’. The road here is bench cut into the very steep eastern flank of Cwmrhwyddfor with a high retaining wall to stop vehicles plunging the fifty or so metres into the stream below.
On one such occasion, instead of being locked into our respective CD players (anti-skip was king), my brothers and I were thrilled to see what was either a Tornado or Harrier rise above the retaining wall at a similar speed to a far less impressive bit of kit – our seven-seat Renault Savanna. Both the pilot and weapons officer waved at us, allowing time for all five of us to wave back before they vanished into the heavens.
Getting low down and dirty
Fast-forward 30 years, and I would return a little better-informed about the kinds of kit that roam these valleys and with a specific intent to enjoy them in the act. For this, I would have the help of local legends Phil Stasiw of Mountain Bike Wales and Miles Mallinson, World Cup videographer extraordinaire. We would be out in the less than pleasant November weather to try to catch sight of the myriad bits of military hardware that use ‘The Mach Loop’ for low-level training.
What on earth is The Mach Loop, I hear you ask. Well, the British Isles are arranged into 20 low-flying areas (LFAs), and only three of these are known as Tactical Training Areas (TTAs). LFA7(T) is The Mach Loop, a small part of mid-Wales. LFA14(T) is in northern Scotland, and LFA20(T) is a part of the Scottish Borders and Northern England. Helicopters in these areas can be as low as 100 feet (30 metres), and planes as low as 250 feet (76 metres). This is to practice reconnaissance, search and rescue, or delivering troops and/or aid.
With RAF Valley on Anglesey being used by both the RAF and USAF, there is a steady stream of military hardware rattling through LFA7. Aircraft from other bases in the UK can also use the loop. Aircraft often enter the loop at the top of Cwmrhwyddfor and circuit counterclockwise to come up the valley past the Red Bull Hardline site and exit north from Bwlch Oerddrws.
The Tornados and Harriers have long gone, with F-15E Strike Eagles, Airbus A400M Atlas, Hawks and Texans making up the vast majority of what passes through on a daily basis. The better the weather, the more birds fly. As we were about to leave the top of the pass above Tal-y-Llyn, we were greeted by a pair of RAF F-35 Lightnings, one of which had a particularly cool callsign of ‘Doom21’.
We’re getting there
My idea, with Phil and Miles’ assistance, was to find a way of using bicycles to access this part of Wales as the roadside car parks can often be jammed with aviation enthusiasts who travel from far and wide with their air traffic control scanners and Facebook pages at the ready to get a handle on what’s likely to be in the air that day.
The plan, therefore, was to start our ride in Corris, ride the trail and then work our way up the hill to the north and west to see if we could get a good vantage point. What with it being November, while it was quite sunny, warm it most certainly was not. Like with wildlife photography, aviation photography of this kind is an awful lot of luck. There would be a lot of waiting about.
With the Aberllefenni slate caverns at our backs, we wound our way through the cottages and across the river to get some warmth going and to sample some of the Dyfi’s finest. Back in the early 2000s, we would ride many, many miles on our downhill bikes here, riding down the trails that the enduro motorbikes would come up, often having to slip into the woods when some rally team testing saw a very fast car coming past sideways.
Thankfully, bikes are a little easier to pedal these days, and there’s not much in the way of rally action here this week, although the Roger Albert Clark Rally would be passing through Hafren Sweetlamb on Friday. On the east side of Aberllefenni, it’s obvious that the sun doesn’t get here often and certainly not in the winter. Rock and root sport a shiny green veneer that informs us early on that the grip will come and go at its leisure.
Dropping in off the fire road, Miles disappears. This is his bread and butter, plus he knows where he’s going. I’m happy keeping Phil in sight as the slate shale gives way to buttery roots and puddles before offering up almost too much grip. From the darkest of dark woods, we’re spat out into the clearfell; eyes adjust before we’re thrown back into the cool darkness of the woods.
The final challenge before we winch our way high to catch some jets is a long, steady falling traverse that appears to offer nothing but wet clay under a mat of leaves. This is only improved by the addition of mouldy rocks and sniper roots. Nobody’s going fast here. One wrong move and we’re toast.
Thankfully, as we pop back out onto the minor road, eyes wide with the greasiness of what just occurred, we’re glad to be in one piece and promise ourselves a hot beverage at the now legendary Idris Stores in Corris. Batteries and electrics have taken a battering in the cold, with a blizzard whipping in at the high point. We’re the ones who need warming up, though. The opening stint has been a wintry affair and there’s plenty of standing around to do to see if any planes rock up.
Getting more creative
On a longer day, there are plenty of options for creating a loop, or maybe even starting in Aberangell and getting some Welsh Enduro goodness under your belt. With the sun feeling like it was setting the moment it rose, we’re short on time and take the most direct route. The road out of Aberllefenni is a right slag of a climb. You have to really want it, but it’ll get you to a place where planes can and will be below you.
So we wait. As the wind rifles through the pass and swirling currents mean that there’s really no shelter, we settle in to use the remaining daylight hours. A lone police helicopter buzzes through after about an hour of Phil and Miles looking at me as if to say, “We’re going soon, right?”
Much to their horror, the answer is no. Unsurprisingly, when the jets do arrive, there is much excitement and the cold hands are quickly forgotten. Almost as soon as they arrive, the planes are gone, though. Thankfully, the ever-present F-15E Strike Eagles start banging out the laps and there’s nervous excitement to see if they come back again, which they duly do. A handful of Texans and Hawks later and the scope goes quiet.
Another long old wait. We’re all trying to stay warm. It’s definitely worth it, but my days, it’s cold! If the wind dropped, it would actually be quite a nice day. The non-riding pals we made that day tell us they’ve come from the London area. That’s commitment.
More waiting. It feels like forever. Miles and Phil are ready to shove me off the cliff. Then… One of our enthusiast friends says that there’s a plane called Doom21 in the Lichfield Corridor. He’s no idea what it means, but if it’s coming our way, they’ll be 20-odd minutes. So we wait…
And there they are. Two F-35 Lightnings so low that we can hardly pick them out against the grass, the meekest of marker lights flashing in the late afternoon sun. As soon as they arrive, they vanish. Soon they’re back and I’m squinting to pick them out of the foliage. Woooosh. They’re gone.
Miles makes his excuses, mostly being freezing, which is fair enough and leaves Phil and me to see what else we might be able to see. Bwlch Oerddrws is the decision, so we hotfoot it over there to see if the Doom21 lads brought some friends.
Lying down in the grassy tussocks helps deal with the wind. Phil and I stand ready to emerge from our hiding places to catch the kit rattling past the Red Bull Hardline site. What was a trickle soon becomes a flood. The F-15s start lapping and are followed by a steady stream of Texans and Hawks. Whatever acoustics are going on here, you can’t hear them coming, even when they’re clearly visible.
The sun is casting dark shadows on the valley floor, and the planes are catching the light as they climb to clear the head of the pass. The jets and trainers are so good to watch, but when an A400M Atlas comes around the corner, so low it could be trimming the grass, it’s really quite something. Those guys must be having a time in that cockpit.
Worth freezing your arse off, Pete?
So, can you go on a ride in the Dyfi and catch the jets doing daft things as you look down on them? The answer is a resounding yes. You do need a bit of imagination. You will definitely have to go up a big hill. You will definitely need to wait around a lot.
I would not advise trying this in November. The days are short and when we went it was freezing. The flipside of this is that it was quiet. I can only imagine the throngs of people who stand on these passes in the summer. By riding to these locations, however, you can avoid the traffic and the overfilled car parks. And, if there’s nothing in the air, you can also just go ride your bike.
While it’s wonderful to get excited about this kit and watching it being slung about by some of the brightest and best pilots going, as the Imperial War Museums always reiterate, they are instruments of war, and most are designed to kill. Cheerfully, you won’t have to worry about deploying chaff to evade any incoming ordnance while riding a mountain bike in these parts. However, you might still get an odd look or two from the regulars while they’re training their lenses down the valley.
