VOLUME 1
Content
Just enjoying some winter miles.
6.
The art of slow bicycling
8.
The magnificent seven
12.
Cotic cycles
14.
Reconnect with nature
16.
Purity
18.
We salute you
20.
Changing seasons
24.
Peak 200 ITT
28.
Cycle campaigning
30.
N+1=3
34.
Dr Bike in lockdown
36.
The distance 2018 Peak District
40.
Finding ‘his thing’
42.
Becoming dad
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Contact
Team Paul Chapman Alastair Meikle
Write Cogged is built on interesting content and fits no niche. We are interested in anything that involves two wheels that are powered by legs of any size and shape. We are based in Chesterfield and if you have a story to tell that features Chesterfield, Sheffield or the Peak District we’d love to hear from you. We are looking for content that’s local, rides in the Peak, commutes along the canal, club nights, sportives, events. If you have anything please get in touch as we’d love to talk.
Advertising, subscriptions & distribution Maybe for the future, watch this space.
Contact Paul Chapman e: paul@s40local.co.uk Alastair Meikle e: secretary@cyclechesterfield.org
Post Gogged Studio 2 West Studio Sheffield Road Chesterfield S41 7LL
m:07764 801080
Really ... must we?
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The Art of Slow Bicycling Words & Image: Alastair Meikle (June 2020)
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low bicycling? That seems to be an idea completely against what a lot of people think about cycling nowadays but wait, a slow amble along a quiet route without a deadline - how often do you do that? Combined with a bit of local shopping and the odd coffee stop slipped in I suggest it works wonders for the mind. The trick to this is to idle away a couple of hours without a goal in mind. No need for specialist cycle wear, look at a street in the Netherlands, hardly anyone is wearing cycling ‘gear’. Find a flat route following a river valley and normal clothes are fine. Don’t worry about speed or logging your ride either! My bike of choice for this sort of venture is an old, slightly rusty Batavus 26” wheel ‘sit up and beg’ roadster which I bought second hand from Centre Parcs over 20 years ago for £10! Since then it now has a Sram 7 speed hub gear with coaster brake from a bike I was given and a new front hub brake with hub dynamo from Sturmey Archer replacing the worn out bottle dynamo. Apart from a couple of tyres and a new rear light it has probably cost less than £100. A major investment was a Dutch front rack which can carry a huge weight to the detriment of the steering! Combine that with a couple of pannier baskets and you can carry loads. But recently I’ve been hankering after an Elephant Bike, these are old UK made (Pashley) Post Office bikes that are refurbished and repainted. They weigh a ton but every bike that is sold in this country means another one is donated to Africa. Seems a bargain for under £300 but is it worth replacing the Batavus? Keep a look out on the streets of Chesterfield.
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ocal folklore often says that Sheffield is like Rome in it is a city based on seven hills. Whilst it may have Park Square Roundabout instead of the Coliseum, one thing is for sure Rome does not have the Peak District national park inside its city limits. In March, Welcome to Sheffield, Our Favourite Places and Sheffield Culture guide teamed up and held a weekend of events to celebrate many of the cities residents love of their geographical location. Called the Outdoor City Weekender activities ranged from the internationally renowned Sheffield Adventure Film Festival, head torch running to a bike race with a difference – the Magnificent Seven. Organised by Sheffrec Cycling Club, as the premise behind the Magnificent Seven was simple – 100 riders race up some of the toughest hills in Sheffield and the rider with the best place over all wins. Each of the stages was held on closed roads with a motorcycle escort between each one. The pace between the race sections was at a relaxed social speed and the peloton did not move on until every rider had finished the climb. This was the second year that the event has been held and the categories (and prizes) were expanded to include Vets and Women this year. As well as keen enthusiastic local riders, the event attracted former road race champ Dean Downing and 100 Climbs author Simon Warren.
The Climbs Hangram Lane - 1
Distance: 0.8 miles / 1.27km Average Gradient: 8% Elevation: 353ft / 103m Fastest time on Strava: 4:07 men & 4:56 women
Blake Street - 2
Distance: 0.1 miles / 150 meters Average Gradient: 14% Elevation: 89ft / 25m Fastest time on Strava: 27secs. men & 45 secs women
Fern Road & Thrush Street (Cobbles) -3 Distance: 0.2miles / 390m Average Gradient: 10% Elevation: 123ft / 41m Fastest time on Strava: 2:10
West Lane to Holdworth - 4
Distance: 1.0 mile / 1.62km Average Gradient: 10% Elevation: 554ft / 159m Fastest time on Strava: 5:14 men 8:38 women
Hills included the Cote d’ Outibridge that was used on the 2014 Tour de France and six other local climbs which were specifically chosen for their toughness. There was a balance between both rural and urban climbs and the organisers even managed to find a cobbled section.
Cote de Oughtibridge - TDF Climb - 5
Words & Images: Paul Gregory (March 2017)
Distance: 0.5 miles / 910m Average Gradient: 13% Elevation: 387ft / 124m Fastest time on Strava: 03:46 men & 5:21 women
Distance: 1.0 mile / 1.68km Average Gradient: 8% Elevation: 462ft / 152m Fastest time on Strava: 4:58 men & 7:02 women
Hagg Hill - 6
Foxhall Lane - 7
Distance: 0.7 miles / 1.1km Average Gradient: 10% Elevation: 375ft / 114m Fastest time on Strava: 3:53 & 4:58 women
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Cotic Cycles
Words & Image: Paul Gregory (May 2017)
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o how many bicycles would you own if you ran a bike manufacturing business. In the case of Cy Turner the owner of local brand Cotic the answer is two.
As we sat drinking coffee Cotic’s offices in Calver, Cy explained the logic to his decision. He spends most of his working day around bikes and if he had more he would be spending his leisure time on the spanners maintaining a fleet of bikes and taking his work home with him. Like a lot of things that we talked about it made sense. He explained how the business started. Cy and his mates rode a lot of downhill, but back in 2001 full suspension bikes had a habit of dropping to bits. With his mechanical engineering background he designed a solid reliable hardtail mountain bike that later became the brands first model - the Soul. (The business got it’s name as a play on the owner’s christian name - Cy Cotic (get it !)) Since those early days, the company now has a staff of seven and a range of ten different bikes. The range comprises of five mountain bikes including hardtail and full suspension models, a flat bar road bike - the Roadrat that can be used as either a singlespeed, hub or derailleur geared and a drop barred adventure and gravel bike called the Escapade. Over the past few years there has been a dramatic shift in how they make their money. Three years ago 70% of Cotic’s sales were of frames, now 70% of their sales are of complete bikes. They are still aware that a significant minority of people self-build and use user friendly design such as threaded bottom brackets, but a lot of this is driven by complete bike build costs have dropped and some models are £100 cheaper than a couple of years ago with a better specification. A lot of their sales come from their popular demo days. Whilst they operate the normal ‘industry standard’ demo days at events up and down the country they also operate a system where if you have a group of mates who fancy trying their products, just get in touch and they will bring a van full of bikes for you to try. This was a fairly bold move and big investment by Cotic, but also a bit of a no-brainer regarding its success and a great way for riders to ‘try before they buy’ and raise brand awareness. Cy jokingly explained that when he and head of customer service, Paul Dexter wrote the job description for the person in charge of doing the demo’s they were describing the job that they would hate - long hours, driving the Ay-up team van Black Betty all over the country, working weekends. Surprisingly they got 55 applicants for the job. It has taken off so well that they have one person in the office spending three days a week doing the admin for these events Cotic don’t hide the fact that their frames are made abroad. Cy explained that whilst there has been an explosion of artisan frame builders in the UK that make very nice custom frames, to get the quantity and quality that they were looking for they would probably have to go to a fabricator that specialised in work for the aerospace or racing car industries. Not only would the costs be higher than Taiwan, but they would run the risk of being bumped
down the production roster if a more lucrative rush job came in. Dealing with a company that only makes bike frames, not only can they guarantee consistency in the finished product, they can also give feedback prior to production on whether a new idea will work. Knowing when to stop is also something that they have mastered. I asked about their immensely versatile drop bar bike - the Escapade and the widest tyres that could be fitted using 650b wheels. The answer was 47mm. I asked if they were tempted to push this out to a 2.1” mountain bike tyre. Cy explained that whilst a wider tyre would fit the front forks, they would have to extend the chainstay which would result in a bike that would be similar to riding a drop bar mountain bike from 20 years ago which was not what they were after. This would take all of the fun factor out of the bike which is definitely what Cotic is not about. One thing that came across was the company only designed and sold bikes they would ride themselves and took a big pride in doing what they did well. He told me about when they sent one of their frames away for load testing and the company that was doing the certification for them rang them up and asked them if they could stop because they couldn’t get it to break. One of the challenges that Cotic faces is innovation from manufacturers. A lot of component development is based around products designed for carbon frames and mass production such as flat mount brakes and press fit bottom brackets where Cotic have mainly used steel as a base for their frame sets. Adapting these standards for a different material are not always straightforward also features such as flat mounts are not suitable on bikes such as the Roadrat. The decision of what standards to follow can sometimes be taken out of their hands. Mountain bike fork manufacturers are now moving away from the standard 100 mm front dropout width and the choice of components which use this size is slowly diminishing. One thing that has evolved is their range. A few years ago if you were talking about a mountain bike it would have 26” wheels. Now Cotic offer several of their models with a 27.5” and 29” options and have followed the trend for slacker frame geometry that make some of their original models seem positively upright. The company also support quite a few local events and are supportive of initiatives from Ride Sheffield such as Radmires and Lady Cannings trails. A lot of product testing is done on local trails which explains why their bikes are popular with British riders as they are designed for our riding conditions. I came away with the conclusion that the company only build stuff they like and would ride themselves. They also like to do what they do well. It was great to visit a small local company itself a great reputation in the world of mountain biking. The two bikes that Cy has in his garage - a Roadrat for round town and a Rocket for off road duties.
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Reconnect with Nature Words & Image: Katie Marlow (April 2020)
Group ride at Curbar Edge with MTB for Mental Health.
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ver thought about reconnecting with nature through mountain biking and how it can be beneficial to our mental health and stress levels?
We all know, this modern world of ours is leaving us less and less time to get out into nature and disconnect from our increasingly connected lives. Most of our communication these day is based on mobile phones, tablets and computers, after all this was originally a blog post to be read from your phone and I’m writing it on my tablet! We rely on our phones so much these days we forget that there is a world out there waiting to be enjoyed. So where do you start? It can sometimes take a huge effort to get yourself up and out into the world. Especially if you have depression, it can make just the smallest effort a huge deal for you. Once you get over that initial hump though the benefits of being outside and in nature are there for the taking. I know it may not work for everyone but as mountain bikers we are out and about quite often and right there in nature. As you head down the trail you may notice things that you’ve previously not had the time to, too busy getting to a meeting or too busy checking your phone to notice what’s next to you. Just giving yourself the time to be in nature and be in the moment is a great mindfulness technique. Being in the moment can free you up to notice all the beautiful things around you as you cycle along, the blossoming flowers, the call of a bird you haven’t heard before and sometimes just the silence is enough for you to let out a long sigh and relax those tense shoulders. In this respect getting out in to nature is a good way of managing the stress that can come with mental health issues such as depression and anxiety. The sheer fun that nature can bring can also have a huge positive impact in someone’s life. Tearing down a trail and nailing that berm, jump or rock garden that’s been giving you grief can be such an joyful feeling you often forget about everything else that’s happening and you get such a rush of achievement. I can’t outline enough that the sense of achievement really is key here, the feeling that you’re capable of something and that you nailed it can be so uplifting. Especially when depression is telling you that you aren’t good enough and anxiety is telling you all the ways that you can land on your face! I genuinely believe that most people can benefit from being in nature in some way or another, just to get out and appreciate what’s out there or to experience it whilst mountain biking and trying new things. Nature has a place for everyone, it won’t judge you, it won’t make out like you shouldn’t be there but it may get you muddy and send you home with a huge grin. Katie runs the blog site below, works in the cycle industry and runs social rides for mental health. mtbformentalhealth.wordpress.com Gogged Page 15
Purity
Words & Image: Dave Towndrow (April 2020)
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ack in 1988 after breaking my back in a car accident it was time to stop putting things off and start doing stuff.
Singlespeeds aren’t really just the one gear though, you have a choice of three, sitting, standing and pushing.
I bought my first mountain bike, a Muddy Fox Pathfinder, and from then on, I was hooked, riding that bike everywhere I could, not knowing the legality of bridleways ‘v’ footpaths etc, but back then I was younger and stuff like that didn’t matter.
I’ve ridden my Singlespeed all over the Peak District, round most of the trail centres and up and down the Snowdon in Wales, Ben Nevis in Scotland, Helvellyn in the Lakes and it’s even visited the Sierra Nevada montain range in Spain.
Then in the early 90’s these wonderful new bikes were coming over from America, and bought a GT Timberline. I rode for years on various different bikes hardtails, front suspension, full suspension and then with an Orange Sub5 I thought I’d found the ultimate bike. Job done, or so I thought!
The great thing about Singlespeed for me is the challenge and how you can ride far more than you think. Mine is equipped with a little luxury in the form of a rigid carbon fork, a little flex might be called suspension, I’ve tried the real bouncy type but it’s not for me. The best, I find and perhaps the most common gearing for a 26er, is 32x16, it works most people and me.
A friend of a friend came back from a period working in America with a Santa Cruz Chameleon set up as a Singlespeed and we rode together on local our loops of Holymoorside, Bakewell, Chatsworth, Hope and Ladybower; none of this fazed him. I thought there may be something in this Singlespeed lark so put a chain tensioner on an old Kona and gave it a go. You know what? It wasn’t too bad once you’ve learnt how to ride with just the one gear. It’s so different to riding gears, the lighter bike, less things to break just the simplicity of it all. There really is nothing better than riding up a hill past a guy with gears struggling to find the right one or, even better, when you unload the bike from the car in Hope and guys draped in the latest carbon full body armour do a double take. They’ll typically say something along the lines of ‘will you be ok up ‘ere on that?’ Then they joy as you ride past them pushing up the Roman Road and return the compliment with ‘morning guys, you ok up here on them?’ A true story.
Why not try it, you might like it, ‘Singlespeed is the Future’ you’ll exclaim. But after you spot the eagle-eyed riders glancing at the rear wheel be prepared to be called a nutter, a freak and a weirdo. By day Dave sells fashion in Chesterfield but once the shop is closed he can be found encouraging young riders at Rother Valley Riders and linking together bits of gravel across the county.
We Salute You
Words & Image: Adam Copley (April 2020)
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s a Coach, and mountain biker fitness is a huge part of my life. As is being outdoors. So, when the opportunity came to share my passion with you while supporting Ride Sheffield I jumped at the chance. Create an article that relates to yourself, other people, and the local area? Challenge accepted. Now, I want to start by saying I am extremely grateful to the city we have and our surroundings, I love the fact that so many user groups can enjoy them in their own way. Due to this. I am writing this blog without thinking of the current situation we are in because I am a firm believer in looking forwards, and not being stagnant. I want to focus on the positives and talk to you about three passions of mine, fitness, self-development, and cycling. More specifically about the opportunities Sheffield, and Ride Sheffield have given us. So, let’s get to work! We have some absolutely fantastic places to enjoy all three of my above passions right here in the city, whatever side you are on. From the flowing trails of Greno to the gradual descents at Lady Cannings and the perfect training loop at Parkwood Springs. We are lucky. But how can you spend time on these trails working on your fitness and selfdevelopment? Easy, let us start with self-development: When I think self-development, I think about three things. Developing your skillset, developing your knowledge, and developing your mindset. Developing your mindset, for me is all about taking time for yourself and realising what is truly important to yourself, it is also about understanding the value that you give to others. And in my opinion, there is no better place to do this than the outdoors. We have so many beauty spots around our area that are accessible by bike. The views of the Derwent Valley, the natural woodland of Wharcliffe, the high-rise views looking out of Parkwood Springs. There is something for everyone when it comes to sitting down, taking in the beautiful surroundings we live in and reflecting on the above. This is the same when we talk about developing skills on the bike. The team at Bike Track have done an amazing job of creating rollable tabletops, progressive gap jumps and drops at places like Parkwod, Greno and Lady Cannings. They have sculpted berms into the trails that flow. so beginners can work on things like outside foot down, look at the exit not at the front wheel. We have some amazing places where we can develop our skills on the bike. Challenge: Close your eyes for a second, think of a trail section you have, or can learn from and write it down. Chances are you will think of more than one! Self-development is key to making yourself feel motivated, energised and good about yourself and my friends, there aren’t many better ways to do that than being outdoors, on a bike!
Moving onto something that I have a huge passion for now, fitness. Fitness has always been a huge part of my life but, I discovered cross country mountain biking three years ago and wow! My life has never been the same. I absolutely love the feeling of dropping into a descent at 160bpm, the power you put down on the hills and the feeling of achievement when you complete a race is for me, the best feeling on two wheels. But what if you just want to get a bit fitter, you’re not fussed on lycra. Can you still do that? Absolutely, and once again the guys at Ride Sheffield have done an amazing job of catering for us here too. Parkwood Springs provides the ultimate mixture of fun, and fitness with a small loop that is not a nightmare of a climb, but is also full of rollable jumps, fast corners and fun times. It is also a brilliant all-weather trail and stands the test of winter, every year. Likewise, Lady Cannings has so much going for it when you want to get fitter. Three laps of both trails work out at 10 miles and again will get your heart rate up, your lungs blowing, all while enjoying some fantastic flowy riding. When you think of Sheffield, and the opportunities we have hear for riding bikes you would be forgiven for never visiting a trail centre. We have so much choice of both man made and natural riding that it is easy to not actually know where you want to ride. So please, raise a glass to the folks who have made this possible. To Ride Sheffield, Bike Track, Sheffield City Council and Keeper of the Peak. We salute you! Stay safe, be nice, say hi. Adam Copley is a personal trainer of 10 years, working with people who love being outdoors, and want to stay fit to carry on doing what they love. Adam has worked with a variety of clients from professional athletes to people who just want to move more. In his spare time he rides for Tresk Sheffield and pushes himself on the bike to be fitter, faster and a better version of himself. Regularly on the forums, Adam loves getting people talking. Sometimes causing controversy but speaking with a strong background, and willing to accept the opinions of others too. Adam loves mountain biking, Sheffield, and the opportunities that this amazing sport has given him over the years. adamcopleypt.com IG: @acopleypt
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Changing Seasons Words: Sam Capper (April 2020) Images: Darren Ellis
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ravelling around the UK in the Cotic Demo Van and riding all year across our beautiful Island, I have become very in tune with the changing seasons, and their effect on our riding. We get a full spectrum of weather here, and mountain biking is one of the few outdoor pursuits that is possible at all times of the year in Britain. Every season has it’s ups and downs, and each one makes you appreciate the others.
Summer. For many, Summer is the most sociable time of year. It’s the season of festivals, races, holidays and evening sessions. The annual pilgrimage to Aonach Mor in June for the Fort William world cup or the long awaited week in the alps for chairlifts, dust and long days on the bike with mates. It’s the season where you don’t need to take a jacket on a ride, and even if you do get caught out the rain is refreshing and brings that damp earth smell with it. You haven’t washed your bike for weeks, and most rides end in a beer garden or a BBQ; sometimes with a number board on your bike, sometimes with all your camping gear strapped to it. Evenings are spent sessioning jumps, or a couple of corners egging each other on and pushing your riding to new levels. I always ride better when I’m with my friends. Some trails are off the menu though, as Bracken grows so thick it blocks them off, and brambles tear at your exposed arms as you fly past. The air is thick with bugs and after a descent so are your eyes and often your throat. It’s extra protein right?
Autumn. The summer is always over far too soon, but Autumn brings fresh delights. The spectacular colours never fail to stop me in my tracks, leaves turning to a vibrant mix of yellows, oranges and reds transforming even the most familiar of trails. Sure it’s a bit more damp, but this is the season of hero dirt. Just enough moisture in the earth to soften up the trails and bring levels of grip and trail feedback you never get in summer. Those skills you gained on summer evenings in the woods are put to good use railing turns and sending chunks of loam flying into the air. The vegetation has started to die back, which opens up trails you couldn’t get down in summer. These trails are the best, you can’t ride them whenever you like, which makes them so special when the conditions come together a few times a year. Sure, it’s getting colder though. Long sleeve jerseys are pulled out of the drawer, and you need a jacket for the post ride pint. The rain isn’t as welcome and refreshing as it was either, and it seems more frequent. There’s a creeping feeling that each ride might be the last before you need to commit to waterproofs and base layers, you make the most of every ride in Autumn.
Winter. Winter is the worst season, there’s no point trying to deny it. However, it’s not without it’s charms. Snow rides are brilliant fun, especially under clear blue skies. A crisp winter ride makes you glad you got outside, and the cold air is welcome as you realise how overdressed you are half way up the first climb. I love riding round the Hope Valley and Ladybower at this time of year, snow on the hills is stunning round there. Perhaps you’ve dug the hardtail out? The more direct and engaging feeling makes the less interesting trails more fun, and they cut through the slop well. Those trails you enjoyed in Autumn are a no-go again, far too boggy.
chocolate in a cozy cafe, or a pint by the fire in the pub always feel well deserved after a winter ride. Pulling on a bobble hat and down jacket after a ride so everyone knows you’re the outdoor type. Despite all this; winter is wet, cold, renders many good trails too filthy to ride and drags on for far too long every year. It’s hard to maintain the stoke, but its worth keeping the pedals turning. Winter miles for summer smiles.
Spring. In my opinion, Spring is the best season. After months of mud, the first dry ride feels amazing. Rolling down the trails feels effortless compared winter, and you no longer have to hose off all the filth before you can step foot in the house. The first ride of the year in short sleeves is a special one, winter blues blown away in a single ride. Grip is returning to the dirt, a concept you’d probably been struggling with for a while, and you’d forgotten what it feels like to go for a bike ride without wearing waterproofs. Bikes freshly serviced after a tough winter, everything feels new again and your desire to ride is peaking. It’s a season of rapid change, purple carpets of Bluebells one week, dazzling yellow Gorse flowers the next. Those temperamental trails you’ve been avoiding over winter are in prime condition, loamy and clear. Get plenty of laps of these in before the Bracken gets going again. One thing to watch for in Spring though, is the extra speed you’ll have on that first dry ride. I suspect more injuries happen on that first uplift day after winter than any other time of year! The first run doesn’t count, you’ve got a whole summer ahead of you. Sam is the ‘Demo Guy’ at Cotic bikes and is lucky enough to travel the UK riding bikes for a living.w
Every Boxing Day I go on a ride with my family, usually at Gisburn Forest, and it’s one of my favourite rides of the year. Peddling off the festive indulgence in the cold is always nice. And it’s a good excuse to eat more Pigs in Blankets. A hot Gogged Page 23
Peak 200 ITT
All The Best Bits of the Peaks in 35 Hours Words & Images: Joanne Gibson (May 2020)
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hen we leave the van in front of the Penny Pot Café we know we won’t see it until tomorrow. I glance back and wonder if it will be in a cloud of elation or the sticky emotions of defeat; for now, 158 miles of Peak District grit and limestone stand in the way. I’m no racer. Neither is Dave. But there is something about an independent time trial (ITT) - the challenge of covering such a sweep of epic geography in such a short space of time (the limit is 40 hours) – that speaks to my journeying spirit and perhaps my more masochistic one. Time lends the journey purpose. We set off when the sun is a pink blush around Mam Tor, inverted cloud crawling home through the Hope Valley. Sheep, raise their heads as we grind metal and rock on our first climb to Hope Cross. We don’t stop to breathe or look, we just move steadily onwards. Potato Alley, the Screaming Mile – iconic Peak District descents – are passed in this way, always looking ahead. At the mist shifting above the water of the Derwent Reservoir, the sun rising behind it and the stirrings of human life, as walkers tagged with numbers emerge from Fairholmes, striding purposefully past a banner emblazoned, ALPKIT. We weave through them, our thoughts on Cut Gate. The premise of the ITT is fast and light, so I’ve abandoned the big suspension, the pads and the flat shoes in favour of a carbon cross country bike. Even weighed down with sleeping gear, tools and wet weather layers, it is a blessing to push up Cut Gate’s steep grit stone climb. But the plastic soles of my SPD shoes are not. They skid repeatedly on the rock until I resort to walking with flat duck feet for purchase. I am frustrated, fighting the landscape and the blinding sun, slanting over the shoulder of the hillside. Hailed by some as the greatest trail in the Peaks, Cut Gate is our gateway to the north, following the disused railway line of the Longendale Trail in the direction of Hadfield and Charlesworth. The bellies of planes bound for Manchester roar above and the skyline of the city shimmers in the distance. I am not sorry when we turn south, eager for the familiar territory of Roych Clough, that will lead us to the White Peak. It’s mid-September and there is a crispness to the afternoon sun, perfect for the mellower undulations and train track drags of the White Peak. We make The Royal Oak at Hurdlow for dinner, eat pie and Thai curry, washed down with beer. We jostle and chat with drinkers at the bar on the way out, explaining our journey, justifying the dust and dishevelment. ‘But where do you…?’ The lady with the tan and the good teeth doesn’t need to finish. ‘Pubs and cafés,’ I smile before heading out to the bike. Part of me longs to stay, to be that pristine woman and warm my insides and my worries with a glass of wine. I knew this journey would be won or lost in my head. So I nursed myself on day one - because in this respect I am still a baby - reminded myself to ride with care, drink, nibble, simply to pedal, because my best effort is good enough. But the sun sets as we leave the High Peak Trail, heading into an unknown dale; on its steep shoulder I lose myself. We’re
off track to start with, the trail is in the dale bottom, Dave points out. Down there are great squared off boulders on the slick narrow path that make it a treacherous ride. So, I’m walking, helmet banging from my handle bars as I tear at my hair to shift the midges feasting on my scalp. Doubt and helplessness find an open door. I sob, but continue to push. When we emerge we find the moon hanging large beyond a cluster of silhouetted cottages. Tarmac and man-made light bring unexpected comfort. But as we pedal the roads and tracks towards the Chatsworth Estate, I sense we are changed into something dark and surreptitious, creeping beyond the lamplight, liquid crystal television screens and the warm hearth of normal life. I feel furtive and while part of me longs for the security and sureness that comes from the walls of buildings, I am grateful to have escaped them, just for a short while. Before bed, we surge across the land in front of Chatsworth House, weaving between dark outlines of deer and sheep. Electric eyes follow us. Shall we sleep here? Has been the question on our lips for the last hour. But we decide to go a little further, above Baslow, above the revellers the pub has kicked out, onto the edge, a room with a view. The morning is dank and my 06:00 alarm makes me sink further into my bivy. I don’t know how many miles are left to cover, but I know the places; Curbar, Froggatt, Blackamoor, Lady Cannings, Stanage, Whinstone Lee Tor, The Beast and on and on. The rounded stones and threaded trails of the edges, the fragile ashy earth of Blackamoor, these places make up the highlights of my regular Peak District rides but today we will see them in exhausting succession, as we pedal to beat night fall. It’s 15:00 when we reach Whinstone Lee Tor. There may be four hours of daylight left but the mist gathering above the trees that crowd the Ladybower Reservoir below spell out the end. Edale is a valley away but each mile is hard-won amongst the grit stone. The land is haunting, deserted, as Sunday afternoon prepares to turnover into evening. And, while there is still that ticking pressure, we know eventually we will make it. The light has died as we finally roll the slab decent from Mam Tor. Lamplight reflects against the damp stone; the air is moist, the rain is coming. The damp and the dark are enough to make our final descent to Back Tor Farm more challenging than I want. Slippery, rutted, steep in places, I could (should?) just get off for this final section. I have reminded myself it’s ok to do so. But I don’t, this is the final push. At the bottom, when I swing the farm gate shut, resisting the urge to hug it, I know the thing is done. All the remains are the road miles to Edale. It’s after 19:00 when the bikes are tied up in the van. We drink one beer at The Rambler Inn before heading home to begin the week ahead. Now, the last 35 hours can seep through us as the alcohol oozes in.
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Cycle Campaigning... And why sometimes things can’t get built! Word & Images: Alastair Meikle (June 2020)
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n old railway line leading away from an existing busy railway station which after about half a mile becomes a cycle route which could potentially lead into the Peak District. The obvious advantage of this abandoned line as a cycle route is made clear during a cycle audit by the local authority but it will be expensive, requiring at least one new bridge. A local Sustrans volunteer ranger meets regional Sustrans managers for a cycle around the area looking at infrastructure, towards the end of the trip they look at the railway and everyone agrees what a good cycle route it would be. A few months later and Sustrans suggest that with match funding from the local authority a bid for the route could be piggy backed onto another local authorities bid for access to stations. Match funding is agreed at around £500,000 each. The design stage begins but there is one big sticking point, the old railway line runs very close to the existing main line and (at the time) the potential for electrification Network Rail say there isn’t enough room. A long drawn out negotiation starts and eventually it’s decided a second new bridge will be required, obviously more money needed which the local authority come up with. The first new bridge is needed because when the line was abandoned it was too low for standard minimum height so was removed, luckily two other more modern bridges were retained otherwise it would have been a non starter. So this bridge required small embankments being built so the height underneath met modern standards. Time passed, the route was cleared, tarmaced and the bridges arrived ready made and were dropped into place. Fantastic, the route is now used for around 300 cycle journeys every day and forms a strategic link north and south. Now a little bit further along this route it crosses a relatively busy road, ideally there should be some sort of crossing for cyclists to make it safer but! Very close to the crossing place is a traffic light controlled junction. In between the crossing place and the lights the road goes over a bridge crossing a river.
On the other side of the crossing point is a busy sandwich shop and row of terraced housing (on road parking for the shop and residents) and to complicate things further there is a bus stop straddling the crossing point on the shop side of the road! Taking each of these in turn this is why there is no protected crossing; The traffic lights can’t be moved back to the crossing point and incorporate a Toucan crossing because they would be too far away from the junction. The cycle route can’t make a dogleg to the lights on shared paths because the footways on the bridge can’t be widened! One idea was a raised table at the crossing point but that can’t be done because you can’t have a raised table within a certain distance of bridge abutments because they aren’t built with the idea of taking the weight of heavy vehicles bouncing down! The sandwich shop doesn’t want to lose the two parking spaces outside the shop and the residents don’t want to lose any of their parking spaces. The yellow line delineated mandatory bus stop can’t be moved due to the parking and it precludes any other marking being put in to show where the crossing point is! So we are left with a great cycle route but an unsatisfactory crossing of a road, it works OK for adults but families, the young and old might find it more intimidating and this is exactly the sort of problem that needs fixing to get more people using bikes an an everyday basis. Finally, there was one concession - ‘Keep Clear’ was painted on the road next to the bus stop, but often ignored by drivers! Alastair campaigns tirelessly for all Chesterfield cyclists. To get involved in the Chesterfield Cycle Campaign visit: chesterfieldccc.org.uk
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n+1=3
A typical bikeography Words & Photos: Paul Chapman (December 2020)
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’ve been reflecting on the bikes I’ve owned recently, it’s a story like many others I suspect but a little different from anyone starting the journey today … plus I think I might be guilty of ‘making do’ for longer than many manufacturers would be happy with! My first mountain bike was a Raleigh Mustang Mk1 purchased from Halfords in Nottingham in around 1985, not much of a mountain bike, more of a simple sit up and beg riding position, 15 ropy old gears and 26” wheels shod with skinny tyres. I reckon I have 35 years of off-road cycling under my belt, and that was the bike that got me started. As a younger child I rode with the guys at Sherwood Cycling Club for a bit, again on a Raleigh, a Europa, but I never felt at ease with these guys. I was from an inner-city suburb, quite a rough one at that, don’t get me wrong, mum and dad made sure I never went without, but we weren’t well off. I felt out of place with the Sherwood guys, too many rich kids getting lightweight stuff and me on a bike made of, what felt like, solid steel and my only cycling kit … a pair of road shoes, with no cleats… I can hear your tears plop onto your Rapha jeans.
I bought the Mustang as a young working man, I windsurfed on Nottingham’s inland waters for quite a few years and almost everyone who surfed owned a mountain bike for when the wind didn’t blow. My uncle worked at the Raleigh factory, so I’ve been through quite a few of their bikes as a youngster, even a purple Chopper at one point. That Mustang got me out and about, it was put on the roof of my mini and I racked up quite a few miles in Nott’s country parks, but it wasn’t built to take the abuse riding off road dishes out. Next up was a Claud Butler Spectre, Reynolds frame, Shimano LX 21 gears, my first real mountain bike, purchased from sShokwave in Nottingham (they’re still going),
I felt so cool! Things were moving on at a pace and I was riding with the Nott’s All Terrain Society in the Peak District at weekends, I was getting better at what I did, So, when the opportunity came to pick up a Marin Pine Mountain, I jumped at it. Components were getting better, gear ranges expanding but unless you had mega-bucks you were still riding rigid forks and cantilever brakes.
I’d seen this fancy new elastomer suspension being marketed to us in the magazines, there was no internet and we still read things printed on paper, a bit like this! I was now working at Boots head office and earning a bit more, so I helped out Pace Cycles and spent as much on a set of 50mm travel carbon forks as I’d spent on the Claud Butler, it felt like madness, but what a game changer. Next up was a visit to Leisure Lakes in Daventry to buy a basket full of bits I couldn’t afford that contained a Marin Team Issue frame. An afternoon spent with a good friend in the back garden and I had what must be the lightest mountain bike I’ve owned. This thing was a beauty, all shiny steel and lightweight components. Things went well for a while, that is until I started glancing at a hand-built frame in sShokwave. It wasn’t long before I was the proud owner of a Mountain Goat Whiskey Town Racer, a hand built Canadian steel frame and the one bike I really regret selling. Another back garden rebuild in the sun one day and I was in love, this thing was great, it felt so spot on, light, unique and all handbuilt! Marzocchi Bombers forks added, purchased
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in Whistler whilst snowboarding one year, I was never very downhill, much happier cross country and this was just right. Oh, hang on, what’s that, rear suspension I hear, it’ll never catch on! Next up, one of my only two full-sussers, a Specialised Enduro, not sure what year we’re at now but, adding Pace Carbon Air forks and it was great, still lightweight and ideal for the longer Peak District rides that we were doing now. It was only a matter of time before I became tired of swapping shocks and bearings, so a new frame was called for. My LBS, Igloo Cycles in Chesterfield, had a Lapierre Zesty 414 reduced in their end of year clear-out and it was my size … uhm. This was 2014 and feels like it was just a few weeks ago. Problem with the Zesty was, it was so nice I didn’t want to trash it, so I bought a £400 Charge Cooker from ebay to ride to keep the Zesty nice and neat. This was the first time I’d owned two mountain bikes; I’ve always had a road bike but there’s not been so many of those as they seem to stay well so much longer than a mountain bike, I wonder why? The Charge and Zesty have both served me well. The Charge now sold and replaced with a Sonder Frontier which I will admit is now my main ride, the Zesty just doesn’t get used anymore … perhaps it’s the 26” wheels? So, there you have it. I haven’t mentioned all the kid’s bikes, road bikes and the tandem, but they weren’t so numerous, and to be honest I reckon I’m one of those who don’t swap bikes too often… I also reckon three is the magic number, n+1=3. Hardtail, full suss and a road bike … although perhaps a commuter and a gravel bike as well, oh shit this is how it starts isn’t it? What do you think? Paul is just a guy who rides bikes for pleasure and does what he can to encourage others to do the same.
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Dr. Bike in Lockdown! Word & Images: Alastair Meikle (June 2020)
he fantastic weather of March and April weeks has now gone and having breakfast before our first Dr Bike workshop of the year due to Covid-19 its pouring with rain!
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A couple of no shows from our list of bookings which is disappointing but find out later that a chain snapped on one bike on the way down, we sort him out a few days later!
Need to get to our storage containers where we hold our workshops early because to aid social distancing we’ve set up a booking system with twenty appointments and they all went within 48 hours!
If only bike owners would use a few drops of oil on their cables! Most of the problems we see, especially with gears are corroded cables not moving easily through the outer cable.
As I get my bike out to cycle down the rain stops thank goodness and I’m first of the three volunteer mechanics to arrive.
As well as the repairs both booked and just turning up we have a few people come to look at the bikes we have available. Despite quite a bit of interest on Facebook only one is taken on the day although one lady swaps her bike for one of ours and a couple of days later another person who couldn’t get there asks for a bike.
Tasks on arrival; •
Get the donated bikes out and on display, they are available for anyone and we just ask for a donation.
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Get the gazebo out and ready to put up when the others arrive.
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Tool kits sorted and ready.
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Workstands out.
Soon the others arrive and we get the gazebo up, we’ve worked out a plan so that we can social distance and each of us still have access to the stock of spares and more specialised tools. An addition is a bowl and soap and one of the mechanics has brought hot water for us to wash with luxury! Its 9.30am and our first appointments start to arrive. For the next four and a half hours we three are constantly busy and we have another helper who chats to people when they arrive to ‘triage’ their bikes. Its mainly fairly basic stuff - adjusting gears and brakes, occasionally replacing cables and brake blocks. Sometimes a more extensive repair is needed which we will do if we have the parts but more likely our mechanic who runs his own repair business will give a quote.
As often happens just before we are scheduled to finish at 1.00pm several people arrive with bikes that need a lot of work and we finally finish just after 2.00pm after twenty eight bikes checked, adjusted and repaired! Then it’s pack everything away, lock up and back home. We’ll be back next month. Dr Bike in Chesterfield has been running for three years now with eight workshops per year, the smallest number of bikes we’ve had on a very wet day was twelve and we regularly see twenty plus. We all really enjoy it and it serves a real need for those who probably don’t consider themselves as ‘cyclists’, they just use a bike to get around. Chesterfield’s free Dr. Bike surgeries takes place in Queens Park, Chesterfield on the first Saturday of each month between 9:30am and 2pm.
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The Distance 2018 Peak District Words: Sandy Meek (2018) Photos: Stephen Smith Photography
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he Distance is a unique cycling event that came to life in Galloway in 2017. I fell in love with it from day one, so I was keen to return in June 2018 to experience this special weekend of riding on my own doorstep. Organised by Andy Williamson from Focal Events, The Distance is a semi-supported mixed surface cycling event that is best described as ‘bikepacking with benefits’. All you need is an off-road capable bike, a shelter, sleeping bag, and a sense of adventure. Maps and directions are all worked out for you beforehand, and the Focal Events team are stationed at various locations to keep an eye on everyone’s progress throughout the day. The benefits come in the form of a hot shower, food, and a bar serving gin and beer to welcome the riders to the overnight camp. As it was being held locally, I’d decided to ride out to the start on the afternoon before the event. The 40km from Sheffield to Buxton via Houndkirk and the Monsal Trail was a good warm up for the riding that lay ahead. I was amongst the first to arrive at the event HQ (Buxton Rugby Club), but soon an eclectic mix of riders and bikes began to
assemble, ranging from a former winner of the Highland 550 to bikepacking first-timers. Beards and flannel shirts were popular attire, but not mandatory. After a hearty breakfast served at the rugby club, the riders gathered for a short briefing and to be handed their first map and brevet card (to record set points they pass through), before heading out in small groups. Each rider followed the same route initially and was required to visit a series of checkpoints throughout the day. There were up to three route options available at every checkpoint and the rider’s arrival time determined which routes were open to them. Riders who wanted to push themselves and ride hard would be given longer routes and ultimately ride further. However, the flexibility of the route allowed those who wanted to stop at a café or enjoy the scenery to ride at a more relaxed pace. The carefully crafted route took riders on a journey along some of the best bridleways, byways, trails, and quiet lanes that the Peak District has to offer. The routes were designed to be suitable for a gravel bike, but those riding a
mountain bike faired just as well, and maybe had a little more fun on some of the gnarlier descents. Common to all riders, no one knew the route they would be following until reaching the next checkpoint and the final destination remained a secret until the time of arrival. This was truly a magical mystery tour of mostly White Peak riding, heading in a clockwise direction from Buxton through Miller’s Dale and along sections of the Limestone Way towards Castleton at the most northernly point, before turning southwards and climbing to the mast on Shatton Moor. From there, riders meandered their way through Abney, Great Hucklow, and Eyam, before continuing onto and beyond Chatsworth. I’d set off as a solo rider in the morning but throughout the day I’d chatted to other riders and marshals along the route so never felt alone till late in the afternoon, 85km into the ride. I’d ridden a fair amount of the last 27km from the top of Sir William Hill without seeing another rider and was now searching in vain for the checkpoint in Rowsley. Like the shopkeeper from Mr Benn, Paul from Focal Events magically appeared clutching the final map that would lead me to the overnight stop. I headed off, and soon met up with a couple of Welsh lads to complete the last 10km to our final destination as a trio.
Our overnight stop was at Barn Farm Camping. There was food and drink aplenty, and time to relax and relive the day talking to anyone and everyone about the experience we’d shared on the hot, dusty trails. The camp site’s resident peacocks ensured it was an early start on Sunday morning for everyone within earshot, so after a quick breakfast it wasn’t long before we were setting off again in small groups. Everyone would follow the same 35km mixed surface route north-westwards that included a section of the Tissington Trail, where the café at Parsley Hay became the official unofficial ice cream stop for most of the riders, before rolling out to complete the final few km of the journey back to Buxton. Back at the rugby club, tired but satisfied at completing The Distance, the reality hit me that I still had to ride back to Sheffield … Photos courtesy of Stephen Smith Photography. Further images from the event can be seen at adobe.ly/3gjm6JC For details of the event organisers please visit: focal.events and thedistance.cc
Finding ‘his thing’
From caveman to mountain biker
Words & Photo: Bruce Jones (December 2020)
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ork has been non-stop this week, I can’t seem to clear my head of it! I wish I could get a decent night’s sleep, I’m always so tired! My head is so busy at the moment. Perhaps some of this internal monologue sounds familiar to you too… Don’t get me wrong, I know how good we have it nowadays. Thinking about what my grandad went through in the war, I have no end of respect for what he dealt with and it can be a sobering comparison to modern life. But does that mean that we all have it easy? I recently picked up ‘Sapiens’, a book that details the incremental evolution of humans over millions of years (bear with me this will become relevant). Right at the end of that journey is an almost instantaneous shift to modern life. Suddenly the cave man, who evolved for millions of years to hunt, gather and do all his other cave man affairs, was sat in front of a computer screen for 8 hours a day (and glued to his phone the rest); a modern life presenting a whole new set of challenges. I wonder sometimes if this affects people more than they realise. Looking back on my last few years, I have spent a lot of it worrying, it became my biggest hobby. I think it all started with poor self-esteem, then came what felt like anxiety, followed by crippling tinnitus. Pair these with a very unhealthy relationship and illness of a family member, everything got a bit too much to handle. My inner cave man had a lot of modern life on his shoulders. A recent study published in the International Journal of Environmental Health Research examined the effect that a visit to an urban park has on visitors’ well-being. The study found that the participants scored a 64% improvement after only 20 minutes. Maybe the anxious cave man needs to leave these four beige walls he calls home to clear the head. Perhaps getting the heart rate up might also help out the anxious cave man? In Daniel Lieberman’s book ‘Exercised’, he shows how health and well-being are benefited greatly through exercise. So right now I’m thinking nature, trees, hills, epic valley views sort of nature. Maybe a run in said nature? Sounds great, but I know me pretty well, and I reckon he will come up with a very convincing excuse to convert that run to a walk after five minutes. What about a feeling of adrenaline? You know that “Jesus-H-Christ let’s do that again” kind of adrenaline. I reckon that could adequately camouflage the pain of a 160bpm heart rate. Flashback to a regular Sunday in 2018, a row ensured with the “better half” (I think it was something about washing vegetables, which nicely defines the “unhealthy relationship” for you). I mounted my not so noble steed, an old Merida Crossway I used to ride to work and headed out to the Peak District for some air. After a bit of googling, I ended up heading for a place called Lady Canning’s Plantation, a small selection of trails out in the forest. Needless to say, I was a bit of a mess, no gear and no idea. I remember the D-lock rattling furiously on the rusty frame as my 63mm forks relentlessly bottomed out. But Christ on a bike, the bug, it bit. At the time I couldn’t quite nail down why, but I remember the feeling of elation that lasted well after the ride finished.
So, two years and three mountain bikes later, I think its safe to say I’ve found my “thing”. I’ve never really had a “thing” before, and I for this I consider myself very lucky. Frankly, I don’t think it matters what your thing is, it could be drawing, cooking, running, singing, extreme ironing. But what I do think is that finding your thing is one of the most worthwhile things you can do for yourself. Something that makes you jump out of bed in the morning, a passion that pushes you to improve and time spent creating good memories. For me, mountain biking offers it all and then some. It gives my busy head some time to put the screens away and shut off. It chucks me out in the most breathtaking scenery I’ve ever seen before, mountain peaks, giant valleys, old forests. Inadvertently it’s made me the fittest I have ever been, pushing myself to get to the top without that break I needed last time. And arguably most of all, it delivers an incredible adrenaline rush every time I nail the next gnarly descent or land that gap I daren’t even sniff at six months ago. I’m not breaking any records, but I couldn’t care less, on the bike I am winning regardless (although I might need reminding of that next time I wrap myself round a tree). It has also given me a whole new social group, based mainly on biking but something that now far outreaches this. Needless to say, these are benefits that keep giving after I dismount and have hugely impacted my well-being. I recently summited Helvellyn on the bike; 3700ft of gruelling pushing, climbing and panting. I very nearly didn’t summit, it had been a tough days riding the day before on the Nan Bield pass, but there was no way I wasn’t getting to the top, sunny days in the Lake District are seldom seen. I remember the last push up from Lower Man, the one thing that kept me going was the increasingly epic view of the sun basked valley behind me. I summited and took in the breath-taking view of the ridge line hugging the tarn below. Now it was time for the main event. Over the next 90 minutes we faced some of the most difficult and high stakes riding I have ever done. From the narrow ridge line of Lower Man, to the jarring boulder field descending down Raise and the winding and incredibly fun descent through the valley of Sticks Pass. Finally, we faced the terror-inducing descent of Seldom Seen, over a mile of rocky descending, most of which presents a deathly drop to one side. At one point I nearly met my maker after my front wheel caught on a boulder. Luckily it was the boulder and not me that ricocheted its way to the bottom of the valley. Riding down into the nearest pub we could find; I was filled with an indescribable feeling of elation. Never had I ever faced something so brutal, testing and rewarding. So next time you’re feeling down, bored, frustrated or anxious, go find a thing and do it.
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Becoming Dad
Reflection on one of life’s changes Words & Photos: Paul Chapman (April 2023)
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hen my wife was six months pregnant with our first child, I decided to fall off my bike for some reason. It was almost the end of the ride, there were three of us barrelling down the roman road into Hope, next thing I know I’m in the bath at home! I have no idea what happened, and other than a chipped elbow and a mild concussion I was alright, my wife, Nicola, insisted I go to hospital to be checked out. Over the years I’ve probably been quite lucky, the odd fall here and there but apart from this one, I got up every time, maybe wiped up a bit of blood and off I went again. Following the Hope fall I changed. I’ve never been extreme but always ridden off road, even before MTB’s existed, I rode with a pair of straight motorbike bars on my Raleigh Europa and would take to tracks and trails away from the main roads of Nottingham. After the fall, I slowed down. I started riding differently, I was about to become a father, I had new responsibilities. My son, Joe, arrived first on 31 March 2006. The next year was a real blur, bikes were something in the garage to hang things on, they certainly weren’t something I used much I seem to recall. 26 October 2007, Sophie arrived all wide eyed and lovely, we were now a proper family unit, all we needed was a dog.
It was in Austria on a summer holiday that I purchased a balance bike from Intersport 2000, a ‘Brumi Bar’ for €40 I think it was. We gave it to Joe for his second birthday. It was too big for him, so we took the seat off and zip tied one of those chamois window pads to the frame, and he was away. He did miles on that bike, us walking with Sophie in a back carrier, not put off by snow or weather, he was unstoppable. When he moved to an Islabike, Sophie was handed down the balance bike and it wasn’t long before they were both pedalling. A ride up and down the Monsal Trail, a lap around Ladybower, they both loved it. Sophie was perhaps less into it than Joe, but my task was done, I’d created little cyclists. They loved mud too and now they are 13 and 14, one of them still has a real love for his bike, he has his own Instagram account and has taken to the jumps, and one has fallen out of love with the bicycle but with a sound grounding may one day return, I hope. Now I love cycling and nothing gives me more pleasure that going out for a ride with Joe, but a new feeling has arrived. Dread. Recently as we dropped into Oxton Rake Road he was leading... now remember, I’ve said elsewhere that I’m not very extreme! Jumping, leaping and crossing up his back wheel at every opportunity!
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Concern started to cross my mind. That looked a bit sketchy, watch the rut, gravel, slow down, however he skipped and hopped down the trail as if it was a bouncy castle of a trail, full of joy and showed no sign of worry or concern. All the time I’m behind trying to keep him in sight thinking how will I ever face my wife if anything happens? It’s a real mix of emotions this being a Dad thing. He’s now into climbing as well and not being able to drive yet, heads off on his bike climbing mat on his back to boulder spots around the Peak District. This and cycling are great pastimes but as I say, do nothing for Dad’s blood pressure! As time progresses though I’ve become more at one with his abilities, gap jumps are just something he does, wheelieing at speed isn’t anything to be concerned about, dusty berms are there to railed. It’s not quite how I ride but I worry less. It’s great being a cycling Dad, there’s a love of the outdoors that we’ve helped create, and we share a quiet unspoken love and understanding about why we ride. Being a Dad, I can recommend it. Paul is just a guy who rides bikes for pleasure and does what he can to encourage others to do the same.
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