Seven Day Cyclist - Issue 5

Issue 5 • 2015 £2.95

The Great Mistake:

Careless map-reading

FRAMES AND FOOD: AN INTERVIEW WITH AWARDWINNING DANI FOFFA

THE END OF AN IRISH JIG: MORE FROM HISTORIC ULSTER

a family hack in

Cheshire

Products & Tech • A last taste of winter in the Dales

W E LC O M E

Welcome to Seven Day Cyclist, March 2015 I am trendy. This is not official. However, it seems that I am or rather that I do something which is “the latest trend.” Anyone who knows me will recognise that this is the first – quite probably the last – time in my life that the epithet “trendy” will be applied to me or what I do.

Many of you, too, are included in this. Ever carried all the gear for camping, or hostelling or moving on each day or every now and again?

Then you are it! Bikepacking is the “latest trend” in cycling. This was relayed to me, though he too had been equally surprised to hear it, by Peter Bird, renowned frame and bicycle builder, currently joint owner of Bicycles by Design.

So, there we are. There are a lot of bikepackers about. Take a look at the web and you’ll find all sorts of blogs by cyclists carting their gear on their bikes around the world, across continents, on LeJoG, away from home for a year, a month, a week or a weekend. Whether all of these are aware that we are all spearheading a major cycling trend is not known to me.

However, it is good to see that cycle touring seems to be on the up.

The whole business of carrying camping equipment, or, at least all the gear one needs for a multi-day or multi-week trip, goes back a long way.

As soon as the safety bicycle conquered the high wheeler it became apparent that a good deal of luggage could be carried. Eventually, combining cycling and camping allowed working-class people to enjoy extended cycle tours without the expense of hostels or hotels.

A growing interest in cycle touring in all its glorious variety should come as no surprise. As we know, there’s no better way to travel.

The articles in the magazine reflect that, as we go along happily, even when we go wrong. I hope you enjoy them as much as all those springtime miles.

Steve

Seven Day Cyclist Copyright Statement: all material contained in Seven Day Cyclist magazine and on this website, www.sevendaycyclist.co.uk , is protected by copyright. No material may be copied, reproduced or used in any format or medium without express prior written permission from the publishers.

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W E LC O M E

CONTRIBUTORS

Mark Jacobson Paul Wagner Tom Hunter Kevin Walker John Campbell PRODUCT TESTS AND TECHNICAL

Michael Stenning EDITOR

Stephen Dyster DESIGN

Colin Halliday CONTACTS

See details on www.sevendaycyclist.co .uk

Contents 4 14

Irish Jig – Part 2 Wheeling Down the Western

Front – Part 3 22 Products 29 Snappy Dressing 32 Tour de Jour 36 There’s More to Cycling

40 46 50 54 58 64 68

Cheshire Hack The Brompton Goes Wild Pressure Tested Interview With Dani Foffa The Great Mistake The Good Old Days Rear Rack

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IRISH JIG

GLENVEAGH NATIONAL PARK FOR ONE The National Park at seven a.m. on a Sunday morning; the thunder, lightning and rain which briefly woke me overnight gone, replaced by lovely sunshine.

There is no traffic. It seems I have the Park’s 40,000 acres all to my lonesome, and what acres they are. Natural beauty abounds, vast tracts visible for miles over the open moorland, reminiscent of the far North of Scotland.

As I make progress into the very heart of the park, the Derryvagh mountain range, and in particular the mighty Mount Errigal, Derryvagh’s highest peak at 2,466 feet, is visible long before the road reaches it. It swells in grandeur, its quartzite composition giving a silvery-white tone to its slopes, as I get ever closer to its base.

DUN LUICHE FOR ME A pattern emerged after a semi-circumnavigation of Errigal. Cycle 30 yards, stop, camera out; repeat. Truly breath-taking panoramas of Slieve Snaght, the Poisoned

Glen, and, just before the village of Dun Luiche, a ruined church at the head of the lovely Lough Nacung, made pedalling sporadic.

Through Money More and onwards to Gweedore, the Loch finally peters out to resemble a canal. At Gweedore be sure and look behind you to take in Errigal’s full bulk.

The N56 from Gweedore is a great road, twisting and turning all the while to religiously follow the contours, interspersed with the hamlets of Crolly and Loughanure. The latter presumably named after Lough Anure, another beautiful lough, this one windswept, the first evidence of the proximity to the sea and the moods of the Atlantic as I edge my way south westwards to Dungloe.

THE SILENT G That’ll be Dungloe with a silent G. I found that out whilst

AnIrishJig, Parttwo John Campbell continues his jaunt around Ulster, having cycled around the coast of Antrim and headed into Donegal – and he wakes at his wild camp to prepare for the third day of the tour 4

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IRISH JIG sitting in Roarty’s cafe in Dun Luiche. The owner whilst chatting to me over coffee enquired of my road and put me right on pronunciation.

Dungloe, sits on a steep hill. I parked the bike and went for a wander. Perhaps Dungloe, is a shopping hub for the surrounding area. Considering the town’s size, seeing no fewer than four supermarkets and a healthy mix of other shops, amazed me.

Perhaps, it’s the sheer volume of visitors attracted by Wee Daniel. The perennial housewives favourite Daniel O’Donnel has his very own visitors centre here. It wasn’t quite One Direction mania – no groupies, no crowds but it was early, perhaps they were still recovering from there afternoon tea from the day before!

GWEEBARRA

three weekend warriors rolled up behind me, kitted out in their colourful Team Tinkoff-Saxo gear – the presence of Nicolas Roche in its World Professional Team influencing their choice of outfits. It was great to chat with these guys and like every other cyclist they enthused about the bike scene and what it meant to them. We soon parted company as they were quite clearly holding me back! Their fair play to you – good luck on the rest of your tour messages a nice touch.

The town of Maas doesn’t reveal its charm till you have passed out of its single street. As you do an impressive bridge over the Gweebarra River and the full vista of the bay of the same name open out. At the nearby junction I went right, choosing the more tranquil R261 over the option of the N56 to Glenties.

Good choice. An undulating road full of character

Continuing south along the N56 from Dungloe,

Glenveagh, forty thousand acres and all mine

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IRISH JIG

Killymathighs Pass or Glengesh

and features, a few stop off’s to picture an old thatched cottage and Maghros More Bay, and, before too long, I was up and into Ardara, a renowned weaving and knitwear town, complete with diamond centre where a memorial stands to John Doherty ‘fiddler on the road’, a folk fiddler of some repute, born there in 1900.

BEST IRISH VILLAGE CRITERIA A sign, well quite a few actually, declare Ardara was voted Irish Times best Irish Village to stay in for 2012.

The place has its charms. I am not familiar with the criteria applied in the competition, but perhaps they are weighted to how many pubs you can cram into a single street- the place is rammed full of them.

No pub in Ardara for me though, I had serious quarry next in the shape of the R230 Glengesh Pass, a towering monster of a road, intimidating you for an age as you can see what lies in store long before you try.

I was doing well, which is to say I was still pedalling, albeit very slowly, when a mixture of new surface dressing and steep switchbacks had me in trouble, a brief walking interlude followed then the gradient eased (all relative) and I managed to pedal the rest finally flopping in a heap at the car park viewpoint – Glengesh Pass? More like Killyma’thighs Pass.

Despite both this, and the Mamore Pass yesterday, getting the better of me, I would remove neither from my route if given the opportunity to do so. These are 6

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the roads worthy of your efforts, and regardless of whether you cycle or walk, the views from both are awesome and shouldn’t be missed for the sake of a bit of hardship.

FIT FOR A SAINT What goes up must come down. A sustained and lengthy descent followed, spoiled only briefly by a long but more manageable climb out of Meengary. After this a plunge to the coast and into Glencolmcille, a village of spiritual importance and linked with St. Columba, who as well as having links all over Donegal, founded monasteries at Derry, Durrow and Iona in Scotland.

Having explored the surrounding valley there were two things that impressed me most. The first was an ancient stone, adjacent to the single track road signposted for St.Columba’s chapel, the other the terrific and unspoilt sea cliff views you can easily attain by parking your bike near the end of this road and crossing a field on foot. Looking out to sea, next stop America is inspiring, but, for me, inland, towards the much lauded Slieve League is just as grand.

TOP OF THE LEAGUE A stiff climb out of the village, all height gain immediately extinguished by a hurtling fall back down to sea level, all the while dominated, to my right, by the imposing but unloved landward side of Slieve League, the largest sea cliffs in Europe.

IRISH JIG To get to the ocean side of the cliffs however, you must get to the pretty village of Carrick, then the hamlet of Teelin, where swinging off the road onto some shingle, to capture on camera a shot of the estuary, I heard the sickening hiss of a puncture.........

My first puncture of the year so I suppose I couldn’t complain, but, never the less, I did.

Finding myself in this situation I use a few simple, but to me invaluable items, which make the whole process cleaner and quicker. I carry a few pairs of latex gloves, you know the kind dentists and medical staff use. These are brilliant for keeping your hands from getting caked in oil and the detritus prevalent on touring wheels.

The other will save you pumping like a madman, as you attempt in vain to get the wheel back to the pressure so easily attained by the track pump back home. A Genuine Innovations C02 connector (other makes are available as they say) and gas cartridge will have your wheel back at your desired PSI in less than two seconds. If you haven’t tried one yet be prepared to be impressed when you do.

Talking of impressed - Slieve League is most surely top of the league for sea cliff views anywhere. It’s a climb from Teelin and if like me you choose to leave your bike chained up at the car park, you’ll have a walk of about a mile to get to the Bunglass Point viewing area. Despite, a large party of Americans walking and whining about it, the walk is easy and even if it were not, there is no

That’ll be Dun Luiche

one who could fail to be mesmerised by Slieve League’s rugged face and colouration upon arrival.

Simply stunning. The evening sunlight enhancing the already magical scene.

RUSTY’S AND SHAUN’S On the way back down, I dropped in to the thriving Rusty’s Bar – traditional music pumping out of the open windows into the beer garden. I supped a half pint of Guinness as I was joined at my table by a French Family I had met at the League earlier. As I didn’t have the French, nor they much English, we

Distant Errigal

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IRISH JIG

Lough Eske and the Blue Stacks

smiled a lot and laughed.

Back via Teelin, Carrick and out via the coastal road I headed out towards Muckros Head and Derrylahan camp-site / hostel. Expertly run by Shaun McLoskey, the place is beautifully situated overlooking the bay. For the princely sum of 8 Euros I got a tent pitch (I was the only camper), full access to the extensive kitchen and sitting area, showers, toilets and fresh eggs from the farm.

MAGIC CARPETS Within minutes of setting off along the N56 next morning through the steep and pleasant little village of Kilcar began a one and a half mile hill climb, before the views opened out to reveal Fintragh Bay, the extended finger of land, St’ John’s Point and Donegal Bay. Sadly, all of my views were limited due to low cloud.

However, it was not all bad. Just before Killybegs, I came across typical Irish humour. There I was, plugging away into the cycling nemesis, namely a strong headwind, 8

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when a guy standing at the road, hitch-hiking, sees me coming down the road, jumps up and starts thumbing me for a lift, whilst grinning from ear to ear. I pull up and say if only I had a wicker basket on my handlebars he would have been welcome to join me...... We get talking and he tells me he’s heading south to Sligo to meet a girl he met a few nights previously. True love.

Killybegs, my next port of call, was full of narrow winding streets and a multitude of trawlers in the harbour. Although well known for its large fishing fleet, it’s possibly more famous for the manufacture of Donegal’s carpets which adorn the palaces of the world and Dublin Castle.

Had I been in possession of one of these magic carpets, I would undoubtedly have taken my leave on one and flown over the next stretch of road. The eighteen miles from Killybegs to Donegal proved to be the only section of road on the whole journey I was disappointed with. On the map it looks as though it’d be

IRISH JIG

glad I am to have done so, to deviate from my planned route to take in the intriguingly signed Lough Eske beauty spot, a sign I had spotted on the way into town.

The contrast between the Killybegs to Donegal Town road and this little country road couldn’t be more stark.

Not a single vehicle, nor sound, nor power walker for that matter, penetrated the tree secluded single track as I pedalled along. Thankfully signs pointed the way ahead amongst the maze of little roads shooting off in a number of directions.

Lough Eske took my breath away. Its sheltered surface reflecting the stunning tree and flower-lined banks and the impressive bulky Blue Stack mountains in the background. I have always had an affinity with water; there is something special about sitting in its company, very special when the package is one such as this. Be sure to visit if you are fortunate to come this way.

NO BORDERS?

a good one. The reality is, devoid of any coastal views, places of interest and, to boot, incredibly busy. I was delighted to get to Donegal Town.

FOUR MASTERS Sitting in the town’s central diamond, I gazed up at the substantial obelisk which commemorates the four monks who wrote the annals of the four masters, tracing the history of the Gaelic people from 40 days before the great flood and the end of the 18th Century.

I then wondered why the locals were in such a hurry – a power walking frenzy was all around me. I began to wonder if it was some kind of Stepford Wives phenomenon, dozens of women (some sporting unsuspecting babies in prams and dogs) all darting about under some sort of crazed cult spell.

Following a wander down by the quayside, a coffee stop and still more power walking - from the wives not me - I deemed it time to leave. I made the decision, and how

Leaving mesmeric Lough Eske, the busy N15, towards the Barnsemore Gap, has a lovely section of road beside a yellow hatched line which nothing but me and a tractor use. Numerous heavy vehicles offer no threat and I doddle along, enjoying the mountain views on either side.

Just prior to Lough Mourne, I turn eastwards towards Castlederg. Most of us, I know I do, have favourite country lanes, were the chemistry of road, landscape and easy cycling, without worry of vehicle intervention, combine in perfect harmony. So soon after my luck with the Lough Eske road, I find it hard to believe I am once more on such a road; a road which takes me from Euro to Sterling by stealth!

Unannounced, the road signage changes in appearance and the denomination reverts from kilometres to miles, a fact I only really noticed when I wondered why it was suddenly taking me so long to get to Castlederg.

My eventual arrival coincided with an almighty thunder storm. Seeking shelter and sustenance seemed a sensible option, so I ensconced myself in a café while the storm blew over.

VAGARIES OF THE WEATHER AND KINGS It was bizarre to see how localised the bad weather could be. I travelled on sections of the road which had clearly had not a drop of rain, only to go round the next corner and be confronted with floods and driving rain, then back onto dry road, all in the space of ten minutes.

Ardstraw mid-way between Castlederg and sevendaycyclist.co.uk

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IRISH JIG

Donegal Town

Newtownstewart, my next port of call, was one of the dry area. The sun was penetratingly warm as I decided to swing into the towns supermarket for more water and gaze upon the impressive six-arched stonewalled bridge spanning the River Derg.

By the time I had reached Newtownstewart, the showers had become increasingly prolonged and fierce, but the town had missed them all. I set out to find not one, but two Castles.

The first, from which the town takes its name, Newtownstewart Castle was an easy find; the only remain a single wall, albeit impressive in height. The Castle owes its sparse of remains to King James II who stayed in the castle before and after his failed attempt at the siege of Derry in 1689. Upon leaving his men set fire to both castle and town.

The second, Harry Avery’s Castle is a 14th Century Gaelic stone structure, considered unusual, in that Irish Chieftains of the time rarely built stone castles. Believed to be built by Henry Aimbroidh O’Neil around 1320, it has fine views over the town, more than worth the climb.

SPERRIN By way of the B46, the bike and I continued our quest eastwards, soon confronted with a road sign declaring entry to the Sperrin Mountains, an area of great natural beauty. Thereafter the town of Gortin came into view.

Sitting underneath a ramshackle corrugated iron bus shelter, the timetable indicating two buses a day this way come, I assessed my options. Originally, I envisaged spending my last night under canvas high up in the Sperrins, before making my way to Derry the 10

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next morning. However, in the driving rain and with the end of the street not even visible, never mind the mountain tops, I decided to take the B48 north, skirting the mountains, in the knowledge I was making progress towards the city, and should the weather improve I could stop somewhere along the way.

This countryside route had me locked into a sequence of hurtling down into a valley floor, swiftly followed by a crawl back out up an incline.

This was typified by the village of Plumbridge, where the riverside seating area would have offered a most welcome stop on a drier day.

THE WISE OLD OWL Finding myself in Donemana, a place of little charm and a steep main street, a mere 11 miles from the city walls and still no respite from the rain, I was contemplating my options when just before the ridiculously named town of New Buildings, the wise owl came calling.

Perched on the road side a huge carved, owl sat as if waiting to proffer an ear to undecided travellers.

I explained how I always camp but was considering a stay indoors due to a distinct lack of camping opportunities and atrocious weather. Like all good listeners, the owl remained silent while I worked things through. Indoors it would be.

Perversely, after making my mind up on staying indoors, the rain stopped as I looked out from a nicely located viewpoint on the River Foyle, complete with sculptures intended to represent fish and signage for the Faughn Valley Cycle track which would take me straight into the city, along the River Foyle. This turned out to be nothing than the pavement adjacent to the N5 – no thanks.

I came into Derry/Londonderry by way of the Craigavon Bridge, past a symbolic sculpture of two individuals offering each other their hand in friendship. I made my way into the walled city, up to the impressive war memorials. Erected in 1927, it seems it was originally made for the City of Sheffield.

It was 7.30pm. I decided on a quick look at the walls, then a quick circuit of the surrounding area to assess

IRISH JIG my accommodation options and clarify my route to the train station, in preparation for tomorrow’s journey back to Belfast.

The walls are one mile in circumference, 26ft high, 30ft wide in places with 24 original cannons standing sentinel. Completed in 1618 to defend against the marauding Irish Chieftains, they remain impressive.

Towards the Foyle embankment the Guildhall, resplendent with coloured water fountains, looked great as I passed it heading towards the Peace Bridge.

The Peace Bridge, another symbolic linking of unionist and nationalist communities on either side of the river, was being well utilised by yet more power walkers, amongst others, as I cycled across and passed a number of unionist murals, one reminding me of an Iron Maiden album cover, on my way to the station.

COLUMBA AGAIN Back within the walls I came across the small St. Augustine’s Church. On this very site St.Columba built his Abbey circa AD 543, and departed from Derry down the River Foyle with his supporters to the Island of Iona in AD 563. My final brushing of shoulders with a man who has shadowed me much of my way.

The four star Tower Hotel, the only hotel within the walled city, is my choice, as much through necessity, as anything else. Bike safely tucked up for the night in a locked room, I headed to mine. Most comfortable, with what you would expect of a four star hotel- the two chocolates on the double bed demolished as I ran the bath, thanking the wise old owl.

THE TOWN I LOVED SO WELL After a sumptuous breakfast, my early arrival allowed time to walk unhindered by bike. Indeed, with many

steps around the walls I’d recommend going bike free.

Out of the hotel, down Butcher Street and less than a minute later I was in The Bogside, made infamous by the events of Bloody Sunday at the end of January 1972. A series of eleven murals reflecting the events of the troubles, adorn the gable ends of buildings and a memorial declaring I was entering Free Derry, and a memorial to H Block prisoners, sit side by side.

The Fountain, probably two hundred yards away, shows the viewpoint from the other side – red, white and blue kerbs and lighting columns combined with more murals not to mention a very large perimeter fence protecting this enclave of residential houses and a turreted war museum.

The need for both camps to demonstrate such loyalty to their beliefs is something I have never seen so forcefully, and openly portrayed before. A side of Ireland I saw nowhere else in my travels.

As I re-enter the walls I come across a panel with the words of Phil Coulter, an Northern Irish musician, songwriter and record producer who was awarded the Gold Badge from the British Academy of songwriters in October 2009, titled the town I loved so well; But when I’ve returned how my eyes have burned, To see how a town could be brought to its knees by the armoured cars and the burned out bars, And the gas that hangs on to every breeze.

Now an Army’s installed by that old gas yard wall and damned barbed wire gets higher and higher, With their tanks and their guns, Oh my god what have they done to the Town I loved so well.

I realise for some this blatant marking of territory in the City will be distasteful, but ignoring it will not make it go away.

Glencolmcille

Cannons in Londonderry

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Barnesmore Gap

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IRISH JIG

Olderfleet, one last castle

Joined up journeys

Derry to Belfast by Train is no hardship. A mix of estuary, beaches, sea and countryside make the two hour journey pass in no time. Coming into Belfast I got a good view of the Titanic building. before disembarking, walking all of five yards over to the next platform, and, within 10 minutes, heading towards Larne.

Tucked down towards the harbour, and within yards of the P & O Ferry terminal entrance, I noticed signs for a final Castle for me to investigate. Olderfleet Castle, built in the 13th Century looks fairly low key these days and only two walls remain intact, but Queen Elizabeth I once considered the Castle of huge strategic importance, such is its location on the Lough’s shoreline.

As the ferry pulled away from the quayside, I reflected on the discussion that took place in the bike shop of Troon, when Alan rightly said if forgetting your water bottles is the worst that happens on your trip, you’ll have a good one.

How right he was – the ashes of memories from this trip will glow for a long time.

INFORMATION P & O Ferries: Troon – Larne is a journey of just over two hours by fast track ferry. Two ferries daily, each way. 0870 242 4777 Bikes are carried free. £61.00 return. www.poferries.com Translink; Northern Ireland Train Service – very reasonably priced www.translink.co.uk Bikes carried free but NOT allowed before 0930 Monday-Fridays. No need to book. Only £11.40 from Londonderry/Derry all the way through to Larne on a single ticket (a combined journey of three hours).

Shops: I never seemed to be far away from some sort of shop. Almost every petrol station has a shop, and in every town or village there was at least a small grocers/newsagent and in many, supermarket MY ACCOMMODATION CHOICES Night Three: a few miles outside Carrick, and terrifically situated for Slieve League, I stayed at Derrylahan Hostel and Camp-site. Camping was 8 Euro with no additional charges for the showers. Tel 074 9738079 e-mail derrylahan@ eirecom.net Night Four: Tower Hotel, Butcher Street, Derry.

Within yards of the centre. 90 rooms, all en suite. Lovely room, double bed, a soothing bath and a great breakfast selection for hungry cyclists! I paid £77.00. Tel 028 7137 1000 e-mail reservations@thd.ie www.towerhotelderry.com sevendaycyclist.co.uk

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T H E W ES T E R N F R O N T

WheelingDownthe

Western Front Part Three: ‘Sombre’ and ‘Somme’ A sunny day on the Somme and a wet day to Compiegne, complete Stephen Dyster’s ride along a part of the Western Front. having spent a rainy day amidst the flatlands of northeastern France, a day on the Somme promised little more cheer

‘S

ombre’ and ‘Somme’ chime together in the mind-set of the descendants of the British and Empire soldiers who fought there. Yet, the whole region of which the memory is so black is a cyclist’s delight. Resplendent fields of wheat rolled over the soft contours of the hills, spires dotted the horizon where the gold met the blue, on a very fine day.

ILL-BEFITTING WEATHER One of the company remarked that the drizzly rain of the previous day would have been more in fitting with the mood that the name “The Somme” generally

Rolling through Artois

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engenders. As we pedalled the first few miles from Arras into rural Artois, we knew that July 1st 1916 had been a sunny day. Yet, it was the blackest that the Army had and has ever suffered. Away to the south, the French – the Somme offensive was a joint operation undertaken to take the pressure of the French army around Verdun – had one of its best.

Forget the Great War for a moment. Enjoy the peaceful villages, immerse yourself in the ordinary; there would be nothing of great spectacle here were it not for the works of war. It occurred to me that we see the Great War, yet the farmer has made a greater mark for centuries and will continue to do so, though their plough shares still harvest the fruit of conflict.

T H E W ES T E R N F R O N T

Getting together, Arras

This was the shortest day of the ride. In aid of ABF The Soldiers’ Charity and organised by Green Jersey French Cycle Tours, this was the type of organised cycling I had been wary of in the past. Yet, with several serving soldiers amongst the participants, there was the opportunity to view the battlefield through their knowledge and experience.

EASY PHYSICALLY

The Scottish Memorial at the sunken lane

Around Gommecourt the cemeteries and memorials began to appear on the route. A short extract from the route book gives a flavour: Imm before farm building on R, track leads up to Sheffield Memorial/Pals Battalion memorials at the copses; Luke Copse CWGC, Railway Hollow CWGC, Serre Road No 3 CWGC, Queens Rd CWGC. Within half a mile were Serre Road No 1 CWGC and Serre Road No 2 CWGC, the largest of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission Cemeteries on the Somme front.

There is a health warning to this sort of ride, in my opinion; try not to become a cemetery tourist. These are the graves of real people and there are fascinating stories buried with them as well as sadness and admiration.

At Serre Road, Andy Robertshaw, historian, broadcaster and trench archaeologist with involvement in excavations along the Western Front, continued sevendaycyclis t.co.uk

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T H E W ES T E R N F R O N T

Serre Road No2

his explanation of the Somme offensive. He had already pointed out that in several places the British forces in this area did reach their objectives, but that successes were matched by failures and so the attack ground to the usual halt amidst counter-attack and desperate attempts to reinforce.

He also told a fascinating tale of a German soldier found during an excavation close to the road along which we had cycled. Identifying the body and tracing relatives was undertaken at considerable trouble. The relatives did not really want to know; they blamed the dead soldier for bankrupting the family business and deserting their mother. For them time had moved on.

Standing in the sunshine with the rows of bleached gravestones stretching away, one needs a little humour as did the front-line infantryman, so there was another tale of heroism with a definite touch of ‘Allo, Allo’. During the German occupation of France in the Second World War, the caretaker of these cemeteries always showed German officers around. At the end of the war the Communist French Resistance demanded he be tried and shot for collaboration. The Free French Resistance refused and the man survived. He showed the officers around to detract attention from the fact that, in the tool shed, he hid escaping Allied airmen.

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AND EVER ONWARD …

Riding on we mounted a low ridge passing yet more cemeteries. Yet this was genuinely beautiful country and, mixed with good company, this was a fabulous ride. We met again as a group at the Scottish Memorial.

This is a famous spot. The official cameraman took the famous and oft shown footage of the mine under neighbouring Hawthorn Ridge being blown in this vicinity. To aid the advance and give a better chance of success to the Scots as they went up the hill towards the German trenches, an underground tunnel had been dug, emerging a little way from the sunken lane one can still see. Unknown to them was that a short sharp drop was just the other side of the lane. The infantry officer I walked the ground with pointed out that this would have been invisible from the British trenches and too small to show up on a map. The Germans had filled the dip with barbed wire. A small cemetery marks the spot.

Still, for us, it was up the short hill to Auchonvilliers where the Ocean Villas tea-room laid on lunch in the sunlit garden. Around the back is a genuine trench running into the cellar of the building, a mysterious pit and piles of barbed wire that Andy Robertshaw had helped to lift out at some time in the past only to find that they had been placed to prevent access

T H E W ES T E R N F R O N T Ocean Villas, Auchonvilliers

Thiepval, the missing of the Somme

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Could be Surrey, a few miles from the end

to a tip of gas shells. The tea-room also has guest accommodation and would make an excellent base for exploring the area that has great cycling as well as Great War sites.

THREE SITES After lunch we began our approach to three major sites; Newfoundland Park, famous for its Canadian connections, but witness to action by many others, Ulster Tower, and the landmark memorial to the missing Commonwealth soldiers of the Somme at Thiepval.

Newfoundland Park can take some time. A leaflet guides the visitor around the site, explaining the action and what can be seen today. Amongst the graves in The Welsh Memorial, Mametz

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Y Ravine CWGC cemetery are some to men from the Royal Navy. I asked about these and was told, by a retired army officer, with some reluctance, that actually as far as he had heard the Royal Navy had done a pretty good job when drafted onto land.

After Newfoundland Park the country becomes a little stiffer. Crossing the River Ancre after a speedy descent, there is a good climb, by the standards of the region, to Ulster Tower. This is a replica of Helen’s Tower in County Down where many of the Ulster Division had trained, including some 5,000 who were killed or injured on July 1st, 1916; about half of those sent into action. There is a small museum of memorabilia and a café. This is an oasis of calm with a friendly welcome before a brief cycle takes one down the track to the visitors centre at Thiepval.

The Thiepval visitors centre has a museum re-telling the story of the Somme and some of those who fought.

Do not get the impression that you’ll receive a less friendly welcome that at Ulster Tower; it is just on a larger scale. The same applies to the great memorial to the missing of the Somme which thrusts skywards combining strength with elegance and light with shade. Visible from many distant parts of the battlefield, the scale challenges the notion that, in the years immediately after the war, these lives were regarded as wasted, but with each name carefully carved and listed in the register conveys the tragedy of each lost loved

T H E W ES T E R N F R O N T In Y Ravine cemetery, Newfoundland Park

breakfast. As dawn slowly lit the clouds we set off and found that the bakery did not open as early as we expected. Were we down-heartened? Actually, quite a bit, but we knew there’d be opportunities to feed, if not from a shop, on the cake and goodies at the first feed point – organised riding does have distinct positives.

MANY MEMORIALS

one amidst the gratitude of Empire. I sought the name of a friend’s grand-father who served in the Shropshire Light Infantry.

THE BAKER’S CLOSED It is but a short run into quiet Albert. The Golden Virgin still looks over the town from the vantage point of the basilica tower. The statue of the Mary holding her child aloft was secured at an improbable angle after the basilica was hit by shells in early 1915, and there it hung on. The superstition developed that the war would end only when the virgin fell. In spring 1918 the Germans captured the town. The virgin stood until British artillery knocked her off her perch and the town was retaken.

Three months later the war ended.

As a centre for cycling Albert would be grand, though it offers surprisingly limited accommodation options, having all the facilities of a small French town.

The weather forecast was not especially promising for the final day and there were ninety odd miles to cover with, for the first half, much that would be on the battlefield tour list. So, the Heavy Brigade (those without lightweight bicycles and intent on stopping at almost every opportunity) decided to set off early; before

Initially undulating the day developed into one of contrasts. To begin with the route followed a contorted line, reflecting the movement of the lines between July and November 1916. From the depths of Lochnagar mine crater just outside Albert, we wound past CWGC and German cemeteries, most famously the hidden Devonshire Trench. The Devonshires advanced, suffered heavy casualties and the dead were buried where they had set off from; “The Devonshires held this trench; the Devonshires hold it still” state the plain words engraved in stone.

Near Mametz, a diversion down a dead-end – strangely fitting given the appalling casualties suffered by the Welsh Division – took us to the figure of a dragon, snarling at the woods it had taken two weeks of bloody fighting to capture. A hidden spot, but one that should on no account be missed; the memorial stands out and the scenery is remarkably pretty.

There had been some debate as to whether, given the ever-more glowering clouds and the spotting rain, we should take a more direct route to Peronne. Truth is that there is so much to see (some could have been seen the previous day), from Delville Wood (South Africa), Pozieres Mill, Courcelette (Australian), the memorial to Lt. Bell VC (professional footballer) and the crucifix peppered with bullet holes near Bazentin Le Petit, bunkers and more that the tourist options were numerous. Some remained pure to the route, others sought shelter and ate paninis.

This is good cycling country with sufficient undulation to make life interesting, many country lanes and little traffic. One could forget the war!

The rain became heavier, slowly turning into a downpour on the way along the main road into Peronne. The River Somme should have been more attractive. It was a damp group of cyclists who pulled up outside the castle, which houses a fine museum of the Great War, and realised the selflessness of those who had cut the corner. They had sampled the food and could recommend it. They had got wet, too.

Shortly before the main road, a particularly delightful run across as series of steep-sided valleys had taken us through Maurepas. Here the British section met the sevendaycyclist.co.uk

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Stop for lunch, Peronne

French. I have never explored the French section of the Somme and this trip was to be no exception. At Peronne the route swung towards Compiegne and the end of the ride.

FIN DE CYCLE There comes a time when one feels that a tour must draw to an end. Even so, there was a long way to go and some pretty scenery, but after lunch there was a distinct fin de cycle feeling. With drizzle and cloud and one biblical downpour the end of the ride was anticipated with something approaching glee.

A shame really, as the countryside was most attractive, with a grand hilly section between Thiescourt.

Akin to the Chilterns, wooded ridges requiring hardpedalling on the ups and care on the twisting descents, the route made for very pleasant riding.

The approach to the Clearing of the Armistice, in moderate rain for a change, negotiated a semi-urban road with more roundabouts than Milton Keynes. And there, almost unexpectedly, despite the signs, was the luggage wagon and the Wheels on the Western Front Banner.

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last, the museum was shut and the crowds had longgone off home. The remains of the rail tracks sit at the centre; here stood the carriage in which the armistice was signed. The end of a war that had cost so many lives was brought about by a few strokes of the pen. Yet, it was also here that France surrendered to Germany in 1940. For us it was the end of a bicycle ride. Yet, we had scraped the surface and had barely touched the French sector, let alone the Argonne area where the US Army went into action after 1917. Another day.

REFLECTIONS I’d been sceptical about joining a large scale organised ride. Reflecting on my experience, it is certainly something I would consider again. Green Jersey French Cycling Tours had taken the logistical and routeplanning strain. Whilst these can be part of the fun of the fair, it was especially useful to have “knowledge”

T H E W ES T E R N F R O N T

Armistice Clearing, near Compiegne

Information

Almost all of the ride through Belgium and France can be found on Michelin: 200,000! map number 236.

For more on Green Jersey French Cycling Tours see www.greenjerseycycling.co.uk For more on ABF The Soldiers’ Charity see www.soldierscharity.org Nations, regions and Department, as well as cities, have their own tourist information and it is extensive.

of routes into and out of urban areas and, especially, through the industrial belt of to the north-west of Lens.

There had also been excellent companionship, levels of knowledge and understanding of the military aspects of the war and the country we rode through, that I could never have had if I had organised a solo ride. Yes, there were times when I would have ridden on, and other times when I would have stopped; sections of route for riding quicker or slower; the inevitable compromises of enjoying the company of others.

As for the Pashley Roadster Soveriegn? It will not become my touring bike of choice. However, it did show that a three-speed can cope with a good number of ascents of varying degrees. The big wheels rolled over the flat lands almost without effort. Occasional jealousy of the Light Brigade’s flying machines gave way to the pleasure of sitting high, moving steadily along at a gentler pace – most of the time. On reflection,

If you plan to explore the battlefields as opposed to ride through them, it is well worth doing some preparatory reading. There is a vast volume of information about the Great War, and the Western Front in particular. Still difficult to beat as a detailed guide to what is on the ground is Rose Coombs’ “Before Endeavours Fade”, now available in colour – a book for the pannier rather than the pocket – and possibly a bit dry by modern standards. There are numerous other guides, amongst which Tonie Holt’s guides to the Ypres Salient and the Somme are popular, whilst that by Gareth Hughes has received very good reviews and is aimed at the non-specialist.

None are specifically cycling guides.

There are many works by professional historians. There are too many to list and there has been a recent surge in new works which, in some ways re-evaluate and challenge commonly held views. A quick search on the web will throw out numerous results. My recommendation was be to look for something modern and consult the list for further reading!

You could do a lot worse than start with something by Andrew Robertshaw – and that’s not just because he was on the trip – or Gary Sheffield’s “Brief History of the Great War” or anything by Hew Strachan.

it was a happy machine to ride some long days on. A change of pedals from flat rubbers to SPDs had helped and, future use of the Pashley for this type of ride would see a change of saddle. SDC sevendaycyclist.co.uk

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System EX Crankset 669g £59.99

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ystem EX crankset is a nicely executed, wallet friendly option for road biased fixed, single speed and indeed, some hub gear builds too.

Despite fixed’s surge in popularity over the past decade, crank choice remains distinctly polarised between top flight track fare and bargain basement.

Fine for pampered pedigrees or “hammerite n’ p clip” town hacks perhaps, though neither are ideal ingredients when cooking up mid-range trainers/club builds. These need to be inspiring to ride, without being so alluring that riding in November rain, or locking up outside on a café’ stop induces palpitations.

A penny shy of sixty quid buys shapely, cold forged 6061 aluminium arms - any length you fancy so long as they’re 170mm. Shorter/taller than average riders will, with some justification cite production costs as the main motivation. However, longer arms can ground out when cornering hard-say at roundabouts or sweeping bends; especially on conversions with lower slung bottom bracket shells.

44 tooth 6061 ring is standard issue and similarly

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agreeable, making it easy to achieve sensible ratios with contemporary hub or fixed transmissions, though aftermarket options include 40, 42 and 46. In any case 130bcd is relatively popular, thus sourcing a 48 (for flat terrain or TTs) shouldn’t prove particularly taxing.

I was surprised to learn ours was genuinely polished,

T ES T I N G T I M ES

Cinelli C Ribbon 55g £9.99

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since at this price point, effects tend to be painted or anodised. Waxed periodically using good quality polymer product, said brightwork should retain its lustre without resort to Autosol. Alternatively, opt for the black or white powder coated versions that are virtually maintenance free and easily repainted or blasted clean should they eventually attire.

Being pedantic, detailing around the inner spider and tapers isn’t quite so impressive but better than I’ve seen on some long established European competitors commanding similar cash. Speaking of which, 107mm axle lengths are almost default among this genre and proved optimal on track/traditional road framesets but chainline and Q factor proved impeccable despite my cross inspired fixer’s broader chainstays and 110mm host.

Firmly in middleweight territory at 669g, lateral stiffness is excellent by square taper standards, accentuating that taught, and responsive persona when accelerating away from the lights, honking along relatively steep gradients with my full seventy odd kilos dancing on the pedals. While chain quality plays a part, the ring proved very accurately machined, overcoming tight spots or disconcerting squirm under transmission braking, leaving me to enjoy that serene swoosh and concentrate on maintaining brisk tempo.

Michael Stenning Verdict: Minor imperfections aside a shrewd choice for mid-price training/everyday bikes.

inelli C Ribbon is the Italian marque’s timeless cork wrap designed to muffle road shock while offering optimal controlwhatever the gods bestow. Befitting then that ours was black but there’s a wealth of other colours, including a full blown Italian tricolour! Bursting open the packet revealed two generous lengths of wrap, end plugs, finishing and “cheater strips”. (the little offcuts overcome the headache of hiding lever hardware). Subtly embossed with the Cinelli logo, it extrudes a uniquely Italian panache.

It’s fairly agreeable stuff to fit too, the adhesive backing has just enough bite to prevent it unravelling like the proverbial snakeskin, while still allowing easy revision. Thoughtfully, the ends were pre-cut for that really smooth, seamless effect around the tops, giving good tenure to the sharp Cinelli branded finishing strips.

So, did it feel as good as it looked? You’d expect cork to dull vibration – and it did. Riding bare-handed on some chilly days the bars were held comfortably and with no slip. Wearing winter gloves, the experience was luxurious. In pouring rain there was still no problem with grip. Bare-handed outings failed to create sweaty palms. Successive sessions on the indoor trainer with thermostat turned to tropical failed to induce uncomfortable clamminess either, suggesting it genuinely breathes quite proficiently.

My favoured riding position – on the hoods – has sometime in the past induced slippage with bar tape rucking up or spreading out to reveal unsightly patches of handlebar. After around two hundred miles there’s no sign of this. The adhesion that enabled me to have a second bash at putting the tape on seems to be quite capable of resisting the pressure imposed on it.

There were useful installation instructions on the packet – distinctly handy. Length of ribbon was generous. Traditionalist as I am it only had to cover traditional bars, thought there’d still be plenty for more modern over-sized models.

I have to say, that this is amongst the most comfortable bar tapes I have used and will feature on my birthday lists in future.

Stephen Dyster Verdict: What more can one expect?

www.extrauk.co.uk

www.chickencyclekit.co.uk sevendaycyclist.co.uk

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Cinelli Chubby Ribbon £17.99 67g

Btwin wet lubricant 100ml £2.99 Long term test (6 months)

B

twin wet lubricant is designed to withstand the worst Mother Nature can dish out- we’re literally talking hell and high water. If these characteristics take precedence, then frankly, it’s hard to see where you’d go wrong, especially at this price.

Produced here in the UK, we’re talking a water repelling blend of synthetic oils brewed to seep deep inside the chain’s inner sanctum and stay there. Low viscosity formulas also have predictable pouring in their favour, which translates as

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maximum economy, minimal mess when introduced sparingly.

Aside from taking recipients on tours de solvent bath, application’s literally a matter of dribbling a drop to every link while turning the cranks and wiping away any excess. Higher viscosity oils infiltrate parched chains quicker, so expect a few revolutions before that familiar refinement strikes.

This translates well to grease substitute contexts - saddle cradle, crank bolts, pedals, derailleur threads/hangers and cleat hardware being prime examples. Shy away from mechanisms though-ours gummed up very quickly during some extended forest frolics, compromising release/entry.

Whereas modern semi-synthetic engine oils are easily dismissed given just a few hours-especially when thundering along wet lanes

T ES T I N G T I M ES

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inelli Chubby Ribbon is the Italian marque’s classic cork with a distinctly modern twist.

Reckoned thirty per cent thicker and softer than their iconic wrap, the dual compound was apparently developed for long distance races and is particularly suited to riders with big hands. Hmm, well it hasn’t disappointed over the past six weeks but achieving pro effect requires patience and dexterous digits.

Cinelli were charmingly evasive about the compound’s exact composition but apparently it’s a microfiber which “creates small bubbles for cushioning effect” while absorbing sweat.

Embossed with the Cinelli logo, there’s ample for really big drops. Before dressing the Univega’s moustache bars, we did a dry run with some 46cm oversized ergonomic models and there was plenty-even with decent overlap. Each roll has been thoughtfully pre-cut ready to receive the finishing strips for that really sharp factory fresh effect.

The soft compliant nature makes it easy to work with, especially starting off, although the adhesive is very gentle and had an annoying tendency to unravel just as I was perfecting the overlap. Getting the best from it requires a very firm, consistent rhythm and keep a

or tackling long grass, our first application managed 230 miles with some shallow river crossings thrown in for good measure. More arid conditions towards summers’ swansong meant 600 miles and six weeks or so between replenishment.

Boggy trails/winter cross meets seemed very enticing to organic gloop. Again, this disappeared with some gentle garden hose persuasion, while the useful lubricant remained firmly ensconced without subsequent top ups. Weekly cat-licks of rings, derailleur cages, side plates are an absolute must unless you want these cultivating gungy beards with cannibal tendencies.

Ultimately, sophisticated ceramics run cleaner in comparable conditions and its PTFE fortified cousin more conducive to snappier shifting in everyday contexts. However, riders needing an inexpensive, tenacious lube won’t be disappointed.

Michael Stenning Verdict: Heavy duty lube that’s light on the pocket but clean excess/contaminant on a weekly basis.

strip of electrical tape ready to tack at the tops while scrutinising for any imperfections.

While I was able to get the polyurethane M-part bang on in fifteen minutes, the chubby wrap needed 45mins and three revisions. Thankfully the end plugs seem a better fit than most, ditto the finishing strips but it pays to set aside some quiet time. Tactile to touch, the texture is very different to traditional corks, though offers impressive levels of purchase in gloved or bare hands.

Long steady miles on the Univega confirmed its damping prowess, despite the moustache handlebars concentrating more weight upon the wrists. Suffice to say I’d done several 50 mile mixed terrain rides without succumbing to tell-tale tingling or numbness.

That said; round trip commutes of twenty five miles were my limit in bare hands.

Control was consistently good using different gloves and while lacking the outright tenacity of some polymer tapes in really wet, wintry conditions, it’s much lower maintenance. I certainly haven’t managed to lose my grip, even when tiredness struck like a sledge hammer.

Grimy finger marks don’t show and mucky spatter was easily dismissed with a medium stiff brush dipped in lukewarm sudsy water. Talking of which, it never became waterlogged, even riding through two hours rain and dries fairly expediently afterwards. Having allowed it to weather for six weeks or so, there’s been no problems rewinding it when re-tethering a cable to the bars and ours remains in extremely rude health despite regular brushes with rendered brickwork/similar everyday carelessness. Michael Stenning Verdict: Ddependable, low maintenance bar wrap with favourable price tag. Highly recommended for day rides, sportives and club runs.

www.chickencyclekit.co.uk

www.decathlon.co.uk sevendaycyclist.co.uk

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Btwin Teflon Lubricant 100ml £2.99 Mid Term Test (3 Months)

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twin Teflon lubricant has vastly exceeded our expectations over twelve weeks in a variety of conditions and contexts.

Superficially, we’ve a “plain Jane” everyday chain prep that closely resembles another popular brand in terms of colouring and viscosity.

Not that I can reveal a great deal about its exact composition - save to say it’s a blend of oils fortified by the mighty, friction busting polytetrafluoroethylene (PTFE) that’s been an integral part of our lives since its accidental discovery in 1938.

Fast forward some seventy odd years and all you need do is whisk chains through your preferred solvent bath to remove pre-existing lube and/or contaminants that might react mischievously. Dry; then dribble a little into every link, catching any excess in an old rag/kitchen towel, otherwise the relatively runny consistency will adorn rear wheels, not to mention pretty flooring! That aside, there’s no waiting around for space age petrochemicals to cure-one can literally just scoot off.

Thankfully, its stocky enough for lubricating jockey wheels, old fashioned freewheel/cleat mechanisms and in a pinch, doubles as a grease substitute for simple fasteners (mudguard, bottle and stem plates being prime examples). Avoid cables and derailleur pivot points mind- they’ll just gum solid, necessitating water displacer bypass surgery.

Dry lubes by definition are more responsive than their stodgier counterparts, so no real surprise to learn shifts have felt perky and transmissions slick in pretty much all contexts. A diet of wet weather commutes, river crossings and coastal roads hasn’t dismissed it, or turned wide ratio triples to gungy congealed messes.

Most foreign bodies simply float away on the surface, although side plates and derailleur cages appreciate Photo: after three months use

fortnightly cat-licks. For this reason road/trailside replenishments lack the outright convenience of dry/ emulsion types but haven’t required degreasers/solvent primers-just evict any loose/gooey stuff first. Miles per application ranges from a modest 135 to 1,000 miles plus during a predominantly arid, British summer.

Michael Stenning Verdict: Slick, yet relatively durable everyday lube with a down to earth price tag.

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T ES T I N G T I M ES

Revolution Coolmax Socks (3 pack)

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evolution Coolmax socks are a great three seasons’ staple that will entertain most feet and genres of footwear thanks to comprehensive sizing and clever deployment of materials.

They’re made from varying densities of Coolmax-a polyester yarn widely used in active/outdoor clothing, though jerseys, synthetic chamois pads will be most familiar to cyclists. Wicking and odour gobbling tenacity isn’t quite on par with merino mixes but the thicker tog weight feels decidedly less synthetic than common or garden weaves.

Designing a sock capable of performing in all contexts and with minimal compromise is a pretty tall order. Talking of which, there are three groupings-small for feet between 3 and 6.5, medium 6.59.5 and our large (9.5-11.5) A distinctive, yet just-the-right-side of neutral, black/ red/grey livery with tyre n’ star motif compliments pretty much the entire wardrobe, without blowing one’s cover in more formal settings.

Reinforced toe box coupled with Y shaped heel combines cushioning and retention, so they won’t run Nora Batty fashion during the course of a long ride, or lose elasticity with regular 40 degree tours de Zanussi. Fit is bang-on and mirror street sizing pretty accurately, taking the guesswork from virtual purchases.

This theme has prevailed whether stepping into leather retro race slippers, cross country, Audax or indeed casually styled commu-tour pumps. However, cuffs are sufficiently low-slung to avoid obvious fashion faux pas with sandals.

Our changeable mid-summer test period hasn’t presented any nasty surprises, although, predictability, performance is optimal with genuine leather uppers.

That said; niffs/heat rash have remained well within socially acceptable limits despite several hours spinning along at 20mph in 28 degree heat wearing leatherette

mesh models.

Sharp showers and accidental dab-downs in deep puddles evaporate given twenty five minutes or so, minimising risk of catching a summer chill. Generous cushioning has earned my respect during mixed terrain and green lane adventures aboard my rough stuff tourer and pedigree cyclo cross mounts, although cuffs offer nominal defence against long grass or prickly foliage. Michael Stenning Verdict: Brilliant everyday socks for most genres of riding - highly recommended.

www.edinburghbicycle.com sevendaycyclist.co.uk

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M-Part Essential Bar Tape SRP £12.99 56g

A

ccording to the blurb, M-part Essential bar tape is used on Genesis bikes and “Ideal for use in all weathers, so particularly suited to daily commuters and winter bikes”. After several hundred early-season miles I’m inclined to agree.

Available in three timeless colours (black, white or brown) it’s made from a tactile, hard wearing leather look PU (polyurethane) which has excellent damping properties. There’s plenty of it too. Rolls are generous enough for oversized 46cm drops and PU also has oodles of give, so can be wound really tight for crisp, overlapping effect without risk of tearing.

Tacky, rather than tenacious, the backing adhesive on our sample proved a little prone to unravelling during the formative stages but that was easily kept in check with a firm hand and steady rhythm.

This also means mistakes are easily corrected and the tape stands a sporting chance of avoiding the bin following cable replacement (Ours has been refitted after six weeks’ winter service). Unusually, even the end plugs look classy and are a really good fit too, so shouldn’t come adrift easily.

Padding density sits just the right side of medium, offering decent cushioning from intrusive washboard tarmac but on narrower/shorter drops, it’s possible to double up in key areas to increase comfort without unattractive bulk.

I really liked the rich, glossy effect. Classy, timeless visual allure aside, its delightfully practical - rugged too.

Regularly rested against rendered brickwork and stone walls, ours still shows no obvious signs of wear.

A damp cloth is sufficient for removing light mud and watery spatter. Grimy finger marks following roadside mechanicals required tepid, sudsy brush treatment but only stodgier petrochemical stuff demanded more enthused scrubbing.

Grip is excellent - especially in the wet. Several early rides in snowy, sleety mid-January were testament to this, although gloves with high quality leather or extensive silicone detailing throughout the palms certainly help.

Either way, the surface never became saturated and the pores genuinely seem to breathe, which should help temper nasty niffs in between washes - good news for those who regularly train indoors.

Up to fifteen miles, comfort is reasonably good in bare hands but even with bog standard winter gloves, ultra-modern corks only started showing their superiority past the forty-five mile marker. Nearer seventy miles, fatigue became more apparent, so this wouldn’t be my first choice for Sportive/ similar events. However, I’m struggling to find fault for training and general riding.

Michael Stenning Verdict: Lovely low maintenance tape for everyday riding but there are better choices for regular sportive/Audax and serious touring.

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T ES T I N G T I M ES

Snappy Dressing:

Fitting & Caring For Handlebar Tape – Michael Stenning Investigates

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ar wrap might be a functional necessity to some, changed when worn, damaged or performing pre-season cable replacement. However, there’s a bewildering array of colours, materials and characteristics which offer the last word in comfort or personalisation.

Ingredients: Bar covering of choice, end plugs, good quality electrical tape, mild degreaser. Tools: Scissors/ sharp knife, clean rag. Time: Approximately 30mins.

STEP 1 Specialist and classic bikes aside, concealed cables are standard issue on drop bar builds, so that’s what we’ll focus on.

Start by removing the old tape – if appropriate.

Weathered adhesive can prove extremely stubborn and it’s essential to dismiss all residual gunge. A gentle scrub using a brush dipped in bio-degradable solvent/ bike wash is the most effective method. GT85, WD40 and similar maintenance sprays have a high solvent content, which does a good job of dissolving adhesives on metal bars.

immediately. Refresh electrical tape that has seen better days too and introduce aftermarket cushioning/cable tunnelling strips if so desired.

With the exception of plastic ‘Benotto” tapes, most employ an adhesive backing. Unroll one side, expose the centre strip and peel a few centimetres adrift.

General consensus suggests creating a formative loop just proud of the bar’s end (on bikes without bar-cons, obviously!) and then tethering upwards. (Benotto tape is the exception and should be applied top-down) Alternatively, introduce two or three centimetres inside the end before layering commences. Weave upwards in the same direction, using firm, even pressure. Better quality wraps will withstand remarkable tension without splitting. That said; tight – not with all your might, I’ve witnessed some hilarious fails – especially with cork and space age polymers.

STEP 2 Dry thoroughly with a clean cloth or kitchen towel. Now inspect brake and gear cables for kinks, splits or similar damage. Replace these and any sub-prime inner wires sevendaycyclist.co.uk

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STEP 3 Most kits include two separate ‘cheater” strips which are designed to sit beneath, masking the brake/Sti lever clamp. Either trim, peel back the lever hoods and apply, (avoiding indentations) or forgo completely. Sometimes said strips require some gentle clamping to assist their adhesion (oversized clothes peg/similar composite instrument work well).

STEP4 Continue around the curves, fully covering strip, or clamp as appropriate. Having reached the top; look at

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the bike front on and give everything a quick visual once-over. Unwind and correct should you spot gaps, lumps or unsightly imperfection.

Satisfied you’ve enough length, cut a diagonal taper in the strip closest to the stem and tack in situ with some electrical tape. Scrutinise; then assuming you hadn’t already done so, deliver the end plug to prevent your handiwork unravelling. Repeat as before on the other side.

TIPS N’ TRICKS Some brands, including Lizard Skins offer two-tone effects but crafty types can blend their own unique patterns. However, this requires practice to perfect, so a few dry runs is best, especially if you’ve bought something decidedly pricey.

Tourists/ Audax riders or those who simply prefer drops on their mountain bike may find two layers offers optimal cushioning from numbness. EVA cork tapes make superb underlay (unappealing colours can often be found at discounted prices). Once instated, roughen slightly using a very fine glass paper – this improves the top layer’s purchase.

OEM bar plugs are generally serviceable. However,

T ES T I N G T I M ES I prefer aftermarket expanding wedge types. Always keep a few spares and stash one in a wedge pack just in case. Wine corks will do in emergency and are infinitely preferable to losing an eye during a nasty spill.

Placing a laminated piece of card detailing name, blood group, phone number and date of birth inside the ends can be a lifesaver, or lead to a bike’s recovery in the event of theft.

friend’s father effected smart, temporary repair using some yellow electrical tape, inspiring compliments and constant enquiry about the brand!

I tore this polymer wrap but was able to resurrect using a trace of super glue and overlapping. Depending on location, this salvage technique works well with standard ‘plasticised” /leatherette types but not corks/cottons.

BASIC CARE/MAINTENANCE Save for crashes and discolouration bar tape tends to be pretty low maintenance. A gentle tickling with a medium-stiff bristle brush dipped in tepid sudsy bike wash/water solution every few weeks (more frequently on bikes in hard service) should suffice.

Darker corks generally respond well to this technique. Whites, creams and similar light liveries look really sharp initially but sully with alarming hastebest saved for best bikes.

Leather has many excellent properties and is very hard-wearing. A quick lick of Proofide or similar hide food

!&%&!!!!

In most cases, minor; or even major mishaps can be rescued simply by unwinding and starting again.

Embossed or logo emblazoned wraps look really sharp but demand meticulous technique for crisp even effects – especially if you like to double wrap the tops for old school shock absorption. Gummy rather than leachlike adhesives are a serious plus here and can often be salvaged several months down the line, should cable (s) require replacement.

Keep everything within easy reach (Including a bin/ bag), chucking stuff as you go. Sometimes lever hoods spring back at the wrong moment-lash these down with cable ties beforehand.

Finishing strips can look very smart but a choice of colour coordinated/contrasting electrical tape adds another uniquely personal touch. Some cheaper foam grips/sleeves can split in extremes of temperature-a

every six weeks will retain its lustre and supple texture.

Those impregnated with specialist coatings require kid gloves-even soft bristles will cause irreparable damage. Massaging the pores with clean rag dipped in mild soapy water, or bike wash is as vigorous as it gets and requires patience but works a treat. SDC

sevendaycyclist.co.uk

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TOUR DE JOUR

You Could Buy a

Convertible C Kevin Walker changed jobs but did not want to change his commute

ycling to work, just four miles or so into King’s Lynn was easy. Flattish, no main road, partly along a properly surfaced former railway line and a park, to emerge in the old part of the town; a genuinely lovely ride, especially when the daffodils were out and there was no northerly wind. Norfolk suffers when the winter blows in from the north.

The Castle at Castle Rising (Courtesy of Shutterstock/ Richard Bowden)

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Then in a burst of ambition, I applied for a new job that amounted to a significant promotion and found that, successful as I was, I had to go to Norwich each day. Being single I could be pretty flexible about time and place. Though I intended to move house eventually, in the meantime I would drive each day. However, after a couple of drags along the A47, I became acutely aware that there was a gap in my life. It was not my old job, nor was it love or religion; it was the daily cycle ride that for the past four years I had taken for granted. I felt more stressed, less fit, flabbier. Above all, I just missed the sun and the wind. As buying a convertible was out of the question – how could I carry the bikes when I went on holiday - there was one option available; get the bike out.

Norfolk is not well-blessed with well-designed, “improved” main roads – indeed there has always been local opposition to a motorway into the county – and travel can, for the motorist, be dire. The network of country lanes, some beautifully ignored by all but farm traffic, and convenient B roads is magnificent.

Looking at the map, there were several routes using minor roads and B roads with access into Norwich via traffic free routes or along roads parallel to the main drags. Perfect. So, I dropped a week’s worth of clothes off, sought a local laundry and ironing service, found, to my delight, that there was a shower in my new workplace and planned to ride the route and back the following weekend. It emerged that there was also a large store room where my boss was happy for me to store my bike.

It turned out to be a bit far for a commute; forty-four miles each way. I can happily cycle that far, but even the prospect of being super fit failed to motivate me to rise at five each day, snatch a quick breakfast, and return for half-past eight in the evening and get a quick dinner. I managed the whole lot a few times; and what a fine ride it was, especially as it often covered both dawn and dusk, when the countryside is so glorious. Nor did I have to do it if I did not want. Bus was slow, train round-

TOUR DE JOUR

The Great Ouse at King’s Lynn (Courtesy of Shutterstock/ Graham Taylor)

a-bout, but I did have a car in reserve. Other options emerged, too.

On a ride day, passing through Castle Rising was a good start. The Castle consists of a strong stone keep, squat but imposing in its bulk, and a high earthwork that surrounds it. In fact, the earthwork obscures any view of the keep, so a passing commuter doesn’t get a look. However, the old almshouses next to the Church were lovely, with hollyhocks soaring over the flint boundary wall in the summer sun. Trinity Hospital was established by Henry Howard in 1614. The ladies who have occupied it ever since, must attend Church on a Sunday (dressed in their scarlet robes), be single, over 56, and forbidden to haunt alehouses and inns.

After crossing the main road, that skirts the village, and passing along a wooded lane, a short stretch of the A148 brings the rider onto more proper Norfolk lanes into the villages of Roydon, Congham and Grimston.

Each seems to overlap a little. I’m sure locals know exactly which is which and may even stage inter-village competitions, but I could never work out where the boundaries were.

After Grimston the long, gentle run up to Great Massingham begins. The valley narrows and the climb steepens, by the standards of West Norfolk, the closer

you get to the village. Great Massingham is famous for its ponds and, if you have time, is a pleasant place to sit about; a huge village green surrounded by flint-walled cottages with the Church standing on one corner, all centred on a pond that even the largest village could be proud of. Watch out for the ducks!

Bearing right a little way out of the village to pick up the B1145 for a couple of miles before heading on narrow lanes around Tittleshall and on to Stanfield, Brisley and North Elmham. The latter was the site of an Anglo-Saxon cathedral. The remains, which are quite modest, are at the northern end of the village – off my route. The village is also on the Mid-Norfolk Railway line, which might be of use to a cyclist – check the timetables. The rest of that stretch feels very remote and could be a bit of a challenge on a windy day.

Around here always felt like half-way. Norwich stands on the River Wensum, where it joins the Yare. Just after North Elmham a lovely bridge crosses the Wensum for the first time on my route, so it felt very much like the start of the “home” run. A couple of miles further on the river was crossed again and a right turn took me along a beautiful country lane with the forlorn ruin of Bylaugh Hall (I commuted this way several years ago and the hall has since been largely restored) on the left and sevendaycyclist.co.uk

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TOUR DE JOUR

the Wensum winding slowly in the valley to the right.

Bylaugh Hall was completed in 1851, using steel girders in its construction, quite a novelty at the time.

A hundred years later it was abandoned and stripped of roof and fittings. During the Second World War it had been used by the RAF and, as with many stately homes, its owners had no use for such a large property after the war. That is an outline, but the full story of the origins and demise of the house would have made Dickens or Trollope proud had they written it. Built on an estate supposedly won in a card game, inherited before it was built by a man who did not want it and refused to build it until the court of Chancery made him do so, and built with the latest engineering techniques, it has quite a tale behind it. Take a look at http:// thecountryseat.org.uk/2013/02/22/bylaugh-hall-thehidden-history-to-a-remarkable-restoration-opportunity/ if you’d like to know more … and there’s much more to know.

The hall was restored, and became a popular wedding venue, in the early years of the twenty-first century. However, the banking crisis means that it is now back on the market. Got one and a half million?

Well, it’ll get you much more at Bylaugh than it would in London and you could commute to either Lynn or Norwich by bike!

A right turn at the next crossroad and I would cross the Wensum again at Mill Street, before passing through the beautifully named Fustyweed and on to the large village of Lyng. Rising gently into the wooded slopes south of the river the quiet country lane ran all the way to Ringland. This, for me, was where Norwich began ….although there were still a few miles to go.

Norwich Castle (Courtesy of shutterstock/Brigida Soriano)

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A word on Norfolk hills. These are not high, nor are they steep; they are present, with one or two exceptions, as short, gentle undulations. The major effect on cycling time comes from the wind. There is often little shelter. A north-easterly can be particularly harsh.

As ever, a variety of routes into the city centre offered themselves. On the odd occasion I would divert a few miles south to Bawburgh to access a traffic free route and quiet residential roads via the University of East Anglia. This added a few miles, so the usual route went through Taverham or Costessey. From the latter, a route could easily be found into the city centre or up to the aforementioned route at the UEA. Norwich has a fine city centre, though, at that time, it was not especially cycle friendly. It is an old city centre

TOUR DE JOUR

Pull’s Ferry, Norwich (Courtesy of Shutterstock/Meirion Matthias)

gathering its narrow streets and ancient pubs and shops under the protection of its box-like castle and the soaring spire of its cathedral. There are parks and riverside walks, but time was normally pressing on, so it was straight to work, via the shower.

On a road bike of moderate light-weight I could do this ride in around two and a half hours, if necessary, though three made it a more pleasant affair. One winter day, an easterly gale got me home in just over two hours. However, starting the eighty-mile there and back commute in summer as I did, by late summer I had found that it was pleasant to stay with new friends once or twice a week. My employer agreed to let me work from home on a Monday or a Friday. As autumn drew in, these stays became more the norm than the

exception and the train sometimes took the strain as far as Ely or, by changing there, all the way back to Lynn.

Monday’s I rode to work, Friday’s I rode home, with the occasional necessary visit during the week. Other evenings, I explored around Norwich and East Norfolk.

The Tour de Jour had become the Tour de Semaine, and, in winter, far from every week.

Then the housing market bucked up and I sold my house in Lynn and, having changed job again, moved to Cardiff, where I continue to commute by bicycle. Now cycling in South Wales is very different to cycling in Norfolk, but the joy of a daily commute is just the same.

If you have never cycle-toured in Norfolk then do not be put off by its reputation for being flat. With its miles of country lanes, long coast-line, pretty towns and villages it will repay you well. SDC sevendaycyclist.co.uk 35

MORE TO CYCLING...

There’s More to Cycling than Riding a Bike

Paul Wagner seeks the ‘vital edge’

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ack in June I found a word that was new to me – “untailored”. It means “informal” or “laid back” and not only was the derivation easy to figure out but I realised how well it describes the bunch of amiable humourists that I ride with when I’m feeling fit enough to keep up with them - the undeniably informal Wednesday Lot. At the same time, quite by coincidence, I also read about Team Sky’s “fastest ever bike”, designed for the 2014 Tour de France. A profile in The Times explained its aerodynamic advantages over previous models, showing how actual riding performance has been Eric’s state-of-the-art pressure relief saddle.

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improved here, there, and everywhere by attention to its shape and constructional material. It set me thinking about whether any of this could be applied to my friends and their miscellaneous mounts.

A MINOR DISSERTATION ON THE RELEVANCE OF WEIGHT SAVING AND AERODYNAMICS TO THE CASUAL RIDER Let’s dissect the new Team Sky bike first, to see what we are up against. It is blindingly obvious that it differs in many ways from the average bike ridden by The Wednesdays. For a start its on the road price to normal punters is £12,000, a sum that would keep our lot in beer and sandwiches for months.

Then we have to digest the fact that Jaguar Cars, who’s “Computational Fluid Dynamics Department” had a hand in the design, found that by slightly lowering the position of the second drinks bottle on the seat tube, and redesigning the seat post, they could reduce the bike’s overall drag by 84%. (47% according to The Mail). But the payoff is that not only is the new bike quicker through the air, but it’s also all of 120 grams lighter than the old one. There are 28.35 grams in an ounce, so the weight saving is 4.23 ounces in old money.

Hmmm - that really is critical.

“It’s like a knowledge war,

MORE TO CYCLING...

Peter and Paul, testing their new skin shorts.

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MORE TO CYCLING...

Paul’s aerodynamically calculated accessory array.

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MORE TO CYCLING...

everyone’s looking for that vital Mike, contemplating a small but possibly vital edge,” said Sir Dave Brailsford, vissteak sandwich. a-vis this bike development caper.

Perhaps that’s what my informal friends and I are missing - the vital edge. We’d better start looking for it.

So let us compare and contrast, as they say. For a start, the 2014 Sky bike hasn’t got bag loops on its saddle, (if saddle it can be called), and to all intents and purposes the bike is, equipment wise, naked. Our bikes, on the other hand, are mostly old, some of our frames were built by plumbers - and we carry luggage.

Our saddles do have loops fitted to them and the canvas Carradice bags attached thereto contain medication, spares, cameras, tools, sun tan lotion, Lillistone was a regular Sunday rider, and he went on jackets, hats, more medication, Mars bars, and much to represent GB on the track in the Olympics. More else. As for bike nakedness, ours wear mudguards, recently, we have enjoyed the company, on hostel lights, bells, map carriers, pumps and sturdy, virtually weekends, of Melanie Grivell, who represented our puncture-proof tyres. country twice in the Tour Feminin (the international To make things even worse, our clothing tends to women’s stage race that used to be contested in be bulky. On a really warm day it’s possible to spot us parallel to the men’s Tour de France). Mel could - and wearing our own version of racing strip, but I venture to still can - crank a loaded mountain bike up a hill faster suggest that voluminous shorts are somewhat heavier, than l can ride an unladen lightweight down it, and I’m and miles less aerodynamic, than Sky’s skinny Lycra. happy to say that as she lives just down the road from me, we still have a lot to talk about - in fact I was in LOADS OF CARBS her shop last week and she sold me another of those And don’t even look at the Sky rider’s physiques - svelte, lightweight Schwalbe Marathon tyres. athletic racing snakes to a man. In contrast, most of our THE VITAL EDGE BLUNTED lot (there are exceptions, it is true), are un-slim. Not for us the doubtful delights of sucking at a tube of fantasy So how can the Sky/Jaguar technology be applied to gel and being handed up energy fluids. Rather do we our bunch? After much deep thought, I don’t think it carb-load on full English breakfasts, fish and chips, lamb can. We are pretty much a lost cause. We are untailored shanks and the like. Rhubarb crumble and custard in every sense of the word, and our mind-set is different. might come into it in season and, taken as a whole, this We don’t want to go quickly, we don’t have a back-up fondness for victuals often has a detrimental effect on car full of mechanics shadowing our every move in our post-prandial performance. But there’s good in all case we have a problem, we certainly don’t possess things - it usually slows us down yet more, the better to ultra-light bikes, and our clothing is no more unruffled enjoy the scenery. and shiny than the bodies contained therein are A couple of our riders have even gone to the extent unruffled and shiny. of buying electric bikes so that their enjoyment isn’t To be honest, this racing business is as much of a marred by too much physical effort. Have Sky riders mystery to us as our kind of riding would be to the Sky ever considered using a bit of covert battery power? guys, and if we worried unduly about carrying an extra You’ll have to ask Sir Dave.

4% ounces we’d never bother to get our bikes out of Strangely enough, one or two riders within our the shed. We enjoy ourselves the comfortable, relaxed groups of old would have been happy in the company way, and we have learned, over many years, to be at of the Sky team. A good few years ago a young Simon ease with that. SDC sevendaycyclist.co.uk

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CHESHIRE HACK AND BACK

Cheshire HackandBack A secret that is no-longer kept beckoned for a family visit. so Stephen Dyster and his close relatives set off for sunny Crewe – on different days

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idden away amongst the pond-pitted pastures and timber-framed farm houses of south Cheshire is a shocking reminder that the whole lot could have been blown to kingdom-come in the flash of a nuclear explosion. Turn down the lane from Sound to Hack House or approach via French Lane End and pass Hack House Farm. Both buildings date from the early seventeenth century 40

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and stand peacefully for prosperity in agriculture.

By contrast the none-too-secret bunker at Hack Green is a brutal block built to withstand a nuclear explosion and act as the seat of regional government and authority. The site had previously been a RAF base and a decoy for German bombers hoping to hit Crewe’s important railway junctions.

This area is much-loved by cyclists from Cheshire, north Shropshire and Staffordshire. It is delightful, so

CHESHIRE HACK AND BACK

The information age

Wybunbury

when the family decided on a visit to the bunker it was merely a question of selecting date suitable for all and a route. Failing in the former, parents took the opportunity for a recce on the tandem.

Not-too-early one morning whilst the sun was still shining, we headed up the familiar bank that marks our quickest exit from the valley of the River Trent towards Yarnfield. If you have ever worked for BT, you may well know Yarnfield. Whenever I mention Stone in conversation it is almost a tradition that someone will pipe-up about their time at the BT training college at Yarnfield.

What on the map looks like a country lane can be

quite busy. The whole area beyond Yarnfield was used as a munitions factory during the war and the huge “halls” are now occupied by a military training area – don’t worry about the gunfire – a prison, a land-fill tip, and units containing a vast array of various weights of industry. Some drivers feel that their progress to or from work is obstructed by cyclists and some play follow my leader when overtaking, regardless of anything coming in the other direction.

Whilst this is all too familiar as the start of almost any ride to the west, it is pleasant countryside that rolls gently on well-connected country lanes crossing the main arteries of modern day travel. The Swynnerton Estate belonging to Lord Stafford is touched upon, though there is only a distant view of the grand house, before turning away into a land of more modest farms and villages.

Eventually a long lane takes riders from Standon to the pretty village of Maer, sitting in a valley at the foot of the Maer Hills. The height of these hills is not remarkable; the names are, with one being topped by a hillfort obscured by thick forest. The hills mark the southern edge of Lyme Forest; Berth Hill (possibly derived from Saxon Burh Hill), Camp Hill, King’s Bank (crowned by a burial mound), War Hill. Seems like a lot once went on here, whilst on a pleasant morning, as this was, the eye is taken today by the colourful blossom around the churchyard and the old hall.

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CHESHIRE HACK AND BACK

Maer

and it is always with a gentle sigh of relief that I get off them and arrive at the perplexing cross-roads under the slopes of Camp Hill. Approached from the direction of Baldwin’s Gate, sight into any of the other roads is limited and, consequently, three of the four have stop lines. It is not a busy junction, so arguments over priority should be few.

There follows an undulating road to Madeley, a large village with a history of milling. At the head of the large millpond in the village centre stands an old watermill, the benches by the waterside making a

Shhh!

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good place for a break.

Leaving to the north through a modern estate brings another encounter with one of those rural A roads. We saw not one car that morning. Two pubs serve Wrinehill and, on the way from Madeley to Wybunbury you will pass both. One building you won’t see in Wrinehill is the Old Medicine House. Built in the sixteenth century it had become derelict by the nineteen-sixties. In the early nineteen-seventies the owner planned to demolish it. A last minute purchase for £1 saw the house moved some seventeen miles to Blackden where it stands today.

Apparently moving a timber-framed house was by no means uncommon in the middle-ages, but less usual in the nineteenseventies.

After leaving Wrinehill the county boundary is crossed and the going becomes even gentler.

Good old south Cheshire.

Wybunbury is a pleasant ride along a country lane away. It

CHESHIRE HACK AND BACK

is one of those inescapable villages that seem to be on every route one takes in an area. Contemplate its wonders on the approach. The leaning tower is all that remains of a fifteenth century church demolished in 1833. They get through their churches hereabouts, with two replacements suffering a similar fate. The tower was stabilised by under-excavation, which is almost all that the Leaning Tower of Pisa has in common with it. Cyclists may have more interest in the village pubs, but should one wish to keep the group moving one might resort to the legend of a headless horseman and, especially for children, the news that Ginny Greenteeth is supposedly resident in Wybunbury Moss. An evil looking hag determined to drag the elderly, the young and the careless to a watery grave in the mire. At least she doesn’t seem have a particular dislike of cyclists.

For the curious, and in case you need to ask the way, I am reliably informed that the correct pronunciation of Wybunbury is “Wy-ben-bree”. I await the inevitable corrections!

Bearing left at a small green at the western end of the village, another pleasant lane deposits the cyclist close to the outskirts of Nantwich. The town is defended by a ring road, but cyclists have the advantage of some traffic-light controlled junctions and a few useful bits of infrastructure. Once in the town then you’ll probably get off and look round. Nantwich and Crewe are close neighbours but worlds apart. Whether you seek a café or a church or somewhere to sit about, it is a place to stop for a while.

I always seem to find it hard to get the right road out of the town. Today was easy as we pedalled over the railway line close to the station and took the A530 out of town. Just after some signs giving the number of deaths and injuries on this road in the last few years a happily-met lane branches off to the left. We actually overtook some fellow tandemers and saw more cyclists along this stretch than we saw the rest of the day.

We popped down to the secret bunker and established that it would be a good visit for the family that would not immediately petrify the youngest.

From there the return to Stone took in a tea and cake stop at the Priory Tea-Rooms in Audlem. “Popular with cyclists” is not really the right phrase; more like, you’ll be lucky to get a seat half the time because it’s full of other cyclists.” There is also a bike shop in Audlem. Thence to Norton-in-Hales, Loggerheads and home along a maze of lanes that never cease to require at least one check of the map.

An so, when Mum went away for a weekend, It was time for the lad’s to go on a Cheshire hack. Of

…but you can park your bike

Idling about 1

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CHESHIRE HACK AND BACK

Audlem from the Priory

course, using the tandem would have meant we could have ridden there and back, but no self-respecting nine-year old wants to do that when they could ride their solo. In any case, with Mum away, a good bit of flat straight road we could aim for a bit of speed. Thus, it was the train to Crewe.

There are several ways of reaching Nantwich from Setting off up the Coventry Crewe bicycle, including a traffic free option.

Canalby to Nuneaton However, from the station, we decided to head out of town as rapidly as possible by following the B5071.

Functional rather than beautiful, this soon took us to a right turn on a sharp left-hand bend; just the sort of spot where a bit of careful group management is needed with young riders. However, the drivers behaved most courteously and we ran quickly along a narrow lane and soon found ourselves at Nantwich’s fortified ring-road. In fairness, had we approached via a different junction life would have been easier; one of those occasions when the cycle route to town centre sign one ignored because it headed off up some unpromising track haunts the mind as one waits for the chance to make a move for the central reservation of a busy road.

This Saturday morning, Nantwich was busy, meaning the traffic moved generally slowly. As we wanted to have food stop anyway, we walked the bikes when we reached the town centre. The sole incident being when a bloke driving a sports car amazed all on-lookers by 44

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screeching down the street then keeping everyone guessing whilst they waited at a roundabout or to cross the road in a demonstration of how not to drive. A lady, waiting in close proximity to our bikes, described the driver in such exotic language that child learned at least four new words. Still, she wasn’t too wide of the mark.

Eventually we found the bridge over the River Weaver that links the town centre to Snow Hill (no snow, no hill).

We picked up the road to Ravensmoor, which apart from being signed as cycle route 75, is quiet and flat.

The caution of urban riding could be largely discarded and it was time for the promised speed. Ignoring the shorter route we kept ahead slowing only for the bridges over the Llangollen Canal.

Spirit rejuvenated by cookies

CHESHIRE HACK AND BACK

Information

For Hack Green Nuclear Bunker see www.hackgreen.co.uk OS 1:50 000 maps 118 and 127 cover both the rides outlined here.

It is possible to use a traffic free cycle route from Crewe to Nantwich www.cheshireeast.gov.uk/ highways_and_roads/cycling_in_cheshire_east/ connect_2.aspx This was developed as part of the Sustrans Connect2 project, however it is not especially convenient for Crewe railway station.

Refreshment opportunities are numerous, especially in Nantwich. There is a cafĂŠ at the bunker and many pubs along the way. As ever, with rural pubs, do not assume opening each lunchtime or, even, evening.

Speed, as ever, relaxed. After turning for Sound the route wiggled round several junctions before reaching the secret bunker from the east. Two hours later, we emerged from the bunker. A good visit? Very interesting and informative, though we skipped the room where the noise and vibration of a nuclear attack were recreated. Neither of us like very loud noises.

Despite this, the whole content is both fascinating and rather upsetting. The prospect that this place should ever have been used in earnest is just too awful to contemplate. It took a couple of chocolate cookies and drinks at the cafĂŠ, not to mention a bag of sweets for the journey, to restore our spirits.

The ride back to Crewe was easy, despite having some sections of road that looked nasty on the map.

Following the A530 into Nantwich and skirting the town on a nicely made shared path segregated from the road, we were able to cross the A51 at traffic lights and shortly get back on the country for another burst of speed back to Wybunbury. Speed abated when a grassy triangle with trees to shade came into sight at the next T-junction.

Dithering around for a while and finishing the sweets, we decided to take the B5071 back to Crewe. This time the traffic was much busier, though never threatening or aggressive. We made good speed and caught an earlier train than expected; sadly no time to buy more sweets for the journey. SDC

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THE BROMPTON GOES WILD Approaching the coast for Ullapool

The Brompton Goes Wild

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tornoway behind me was grey and damp: the sea the same colour. Not too far from our course out of the bay one could see the spar identifying the Beast of Holm, on which the HMV Iolaire foundered, so close to the shore, on January 1st 1919.

Gradually the land mass grew; small, until ahead came peaks protruding from the sea. These were well lit by sunshine! The predominant peak to port is Ben More Coigach; ahead lie the lesser peaks of Easter Ross below the distant Beinn Dearg; to starboard the lower Beinn Ghobhlach in the fore of An Teallach: mostly unpronounceable to the Sassanach!

There is a camp site in Ullapool, on the edge of Loch Broom. My tent fitted well into the corner just by the sea wall, away from those larger, more rigid camping structures called caravans or motor campers. It was not too long a walk to the excellent facilities. Expecting to be away well before the office opened next morning, I posted my dues as directed through the letter flap, 46

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With Mark Jacobson in the wild and windy Hebrides and Highlands, Part 2

having first ascertained the correct amount: the published list gives the prices at a high level and, only right at the end is there the deduction to be applied for a single camper!

NOT SO WILD AS EXPECTED From Ullapool the road gradually climbs all the way to the Braemore Junction, and the turn-off for Poolewe. Cheerful gorse coloured the verges while running steams chuckled over the stones on their downward journey. The cuckoo called frequently.

The Braemore Junction has a high aspect since it is above the Corrishalloch Gorge, cut by the River Broom through the softer underlying rock. Here are the Falls of Measach and the National Trust has made a bridge over the gorge so that visitors can look down on the river in the depths below, in safety. It is a very impressive deeply cut narrow gorge, well worth the walk down from the car park on the A832.

My route now climbed steadily before descending

THE BROMPTON GOES WILD

towards the shores of Little Loch Broom, and before then I came across the Dundonnell Hotel – time to stop for refreshments. A coach party of bird watchers was in the lounge, so I was comfortably accommodated in the breakfast room. Continuing onwards I soon saw a cafe at the roadside, so there are other places of refreshment before coming to Poolewe on this 40 mile stretch of road from the Junction.

Not much further along two motorists called me to stop: they were of the bird-watchers party, and had spotted a cuckoo perched on the overhead wires, an uncommon sight. Neither lent me their binoculars for a better view. Further on, near Gruinard Bay, I had been passed by a lady out on a training run, who was now turning around to head back; she was interested in my cycle-camping Brommy, as she used one for commuting in London. Then rounding a bend I was cheered on by some bystanders, who happened to have seen me at the Dundonnell Hotel as they were of the bird-watching fraternity.

After midday I passed the Inverewe Gardens site (which is open to the public) and soon reached my Poolewe camp site for the overnight stop. Surprisingly, I was allocated the same pitch as I had when on my very first cycle-camping Brompton trip in 2000.

WETTER THAN EXPECTED Next day came with a hump: the 5 miles from Poolewe to Gairloch entail crossing a lump of a headland, first thing in the morning. However, the descent to Gairloch is very beautiful, with the view across Loch Gairloch towards Skye being very fine. I also came across an excellent shop, a McCalls supermarket, with goodies and even a drinks machine, so a refreshment stop was engaged. It was unlikely that I would have another before Kinlochewe, although I did come across the Loch Maree Hotel and another over the road half-way there. Reaching the Achnasheen Hotel in good time for an early lunch gave me thoughts of my journey onwards: I was expecting to camp at Lochcarron but, despite the development of occasional showers and a stretch of old single-track road, I was close to that not long after 1400h, too early to go into camp. Knowing that there were a number of camp sites in the vicinity of Kyle of Lochalsh, I decided to press on, little realising how much climbing would now be involved, and how much rain would be catching me unawares. The first climb over a ridge near Attadale is hard, matched by a sudden drop. Again the road climbs from Stromeferry for a number of miles, with a dip in the middle! During the final long ascent the rain caught up with me;

Gorse en route to Braemore Junction

Camping at Ullapool

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THE BROMPTON GOES WILD Gorse in profusion, Loch Carron

Poolewe camping: the same pitch!

Corrieshalloch Gorge falls

unable to leave the road to stand the bike against some upright object, I did not don over-trousers. The rain lashed down while I wound my way up, slowly.

After a very wet descent I turned for Balmacara.

Through torrential rain we cycled, Brommy and I. The road was awash, spray thrown high by the passing vehicles. Neither the camp site there, nor the one at Ardelve appeared to offer much in the way of campers’ shelter, so I decided to push on to the Caravan Club site at Morvich, where I knew there to be excellent facilities as well as a drying room. Two things now happened: one, the hub gear started rattling like a tin can full of stones; two, the sun came out! I assumed that the rain had washed out the hub grease.

Tent up, I first made tea: it was 6 hours since my last refreshment, and 87 miles covered. Then I showered and took trousers, socks and shoes to the drying room.

There, overnight, they dried beautifully. I ran oil into the hub to help with the supposed shortage of grease.

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THANK HEAVEN FOR A BROMPTON Next morning there were some showers, but I was soon on my way again, well dried and rested. The hub gear still gave a rattling noise. Eventually reaching the Cluanie Inn, I decided all was not well with the gearing.

Using the hotel bus timetables, I could see that there was a bus for Fort William, my next destination, within an hour. Decision made, I had some coffee. Having a folding bike as well as the bike cover makes all the difference, otherwise, no bus option. I reached Fort William in time for lunch.

That night I camped at the Glen Nevis site. It rained quite a lot, and next morning the midges came out.

Despite midge repellent, I did have some bites: who says midges do not bite in May? Instead of following my intended plan of cycling to Oban for my return train on Monday, I now caught the Sunday train to Crianlarich, where the two meet and join, and so on to Glasgow. Arriving at Glasgow Queen

THE BROMPTON GOES WILD

Information: Street station I took my time walking to the Central station as I had been given a two-hour wait for my connection. However, there I discovered a train about to leave. Asking the platform staff member if this was indeed the train for London Euston (via Birmingham), he asked if my bike was a folding one? He then said, “Jump on, it’s about to leave!” I hoisted all aboard the carriage and then took the bags off and folded and covered the sturdy bicycle. Good old Brompton!

www.calmac.co.uk for timetables and the Island Hopper ticket, which cost £35.50 for the whole journey of Oban - Barra - Eriskay - Harris/ Stornoway - Ullapool www.gatliff.org.uk for the three Hostels at Howmore, Berneray and Rhenigidale. www.ukcampsite.co.uk/ for information on campsites

HAPPY NEW GEAR A few days later I was able to dismantle the Sram hub gear, which, in fact, is stamped Sachs. There was no water ingress: instead, some of the ball bearings had fractured and they had scored the cone and driver beyond repair. Not being able to obtain spares parts for these, I then upgraded the rear wheel to the newer Brompton Wide Range Sturmey-Archer gearing. It is still less bother than a broken frame. SDC sevendaycyclist.co.uk

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T ES T I N G T I M ES

Pressure Tested Michael Stenning talks inner tubes

I

nner tubes are largely forgotten until we’re nursing a roadside flat having left spare(s) holidaying at home. However, they have a surprising effect upon bike performance, handling and of course, reliability.

MATERIALS

Broadly speaking, materials fall into two camps - Latex or Butyl.

Twenty five years back, Latex were revered by a hardcore of time trialists and road racers who craved minimal weight and rolling resistance without the glue and stitch drama associated with tubulars. Latex also introduces a uniquely supple ride quality to high-end wheelsets in much the same fashion triple butted Cromoly trumps plain gauge framesets.

However, Latex can prove a little high maintenance.

Unlike butyl, it doesn’t block UV light and degrades quickly when exposed to extremes of temperature including that generated during braking – oil and similar contaminants. Being porous means it loses pressure fairly smartly too. Popular mythology suggested daily inflation. In practice, we’re talking ten psi, not pancake flat but nonetheless undesirable for commuting, let alone a weeks’ tour.

Oh yes, and before some of you reach for the mighty 50

Issue 5 / 2015

CO2 inflator, their nitrogen component accelerates this pressure loss! Contemporary versions now employ specialist sealants minimising this without muffling the performance advantages and when on song, they’re an absolute joy.

Care is needed to counteract their creeping tendencies too, since they have been known to seep between rim tape and valve drilling, inducing bulges and ultimately heralding blowouts! Curiously, bog standard flats are convincingly repaired with feather edged patches, or cannibalised offcuts of old tubes.

Intrigued? Expect to part with £10 apiece.

T ES T I N G T I M ES

BUTYL Butyl; or Isobutylene Isoprene Rubber is a stodgier synthetic that’s been with us since the Second World War. Pretty ubiquitous, bargain basements cost less than a pub pulled coke whereas ultralight versions command £12 plus. Size and valve stems aside, these seem pretty indistinguishable to the untrained eye.

However, sizing, quality and therefore performance can vary quite wildly.

Fussy folk (myself included) might check and re-inflate every fourth day but pressure retention is superior to Latex, irrespective of price - we’re talking a week, longer in some cases.

Anecdotally, this longevity of pressure seems most apparent with thick-walled ‘builder’s hose’ thorn resistant models, although these carry a serious weight penalty (exceeding that of some well armoured 35mm touring tyres), which has noticeable effect upon acceleration.

Hardly desirable on a pared to the essentials road bike but really handy for utility riding, or rough-stuff touring - hence their wider 38mm and 1.9inch sections. Middle weight ‘standard’ density versions such as Schwalbe are available to accommodate most genres of machine without adversely affecting performance.

Those touted at £2 apiece (even less when bulk bought) sound an absolute bargain; although construction quality isn’t so reliable and they’re pretty much bin fodder should a puncture strike. Standard models from premium brands range from £6 but are generally speaking, receptive to repair.

Aftermarket ‘goo’ can also be introduced retrospectively to standard tubes with removable valve cores. Experience suggests this genre perform reasonably well, to a point when talking flints and little sharps. More aggressive glass, thorns or indeed nails can induce cataclysmic, sticky demise.

Similarly, the sealant component degrades, becoming less mobile/effective, sometimes spurting from the valve. Arguably if you’ve managed a years’ hassle free hustling to work and back, they’ve been a roaring success and won’t owe a penny. Nonetheless, always carry a traditional spare just in case…

Vitoria even offer a form of emergency wheel-in-a-can, imaginatively called the pit stop, which works on pretty much any genre (including tubulars). It injects a liquid Latex solution inside the valve, while the propellant component doubles as an inflator. Vittoria quotes between 100 and 200psi, though my own experience suggests this is closer to 60psi with 32-38mm touring rubber. Nevertheless, it spared me a very long walk home!

Staying with prevention, tyre liners are an old fashioned defence that retains a quiet, yet loyal following. Essentially, these are thin strips nestling between tyre casing and inner tube, deflecting sharps.

However, careful installation and regular checks are essential or they can slip, thus becoming ineffectual, or inducing precisely the flats they supposedly prevent.

Some report accelerated tube wear and diminished responsiveness but I’m yet to find any conclusive proof.

SELF-HEALING Then of course, we have self-healing models impregnated with a congealing sealant that races to fill minor holes.

Weight and rolling resistance have definitely improved in recent years-the last set I reviewed nudged 265g each (26x1.75) and some brands now offer sportier 25mm diameters.

VALVES Like materials, these fall into two camps, Presta or Schrader (although the odd Woods crops up every so often). Price aside, all patterns are generally reliable, though can succumb to leaks, tears and other irreparable damage. Particular care’s required with giaffe esque stems primarily intended for deep section sevendaycyclist.co.uk

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T ES T I N G T I M ES

‘aero’ rims.

Vittoria still manufactures Presta with replaceable cores, which are really convenient but irrespective of design; invest in a ‘track’ (floor) pump for home.

These can whip a flaccid set of tyres to optimum pressure with nominal effort and within a minute.

Expect to part with £15 upwards for something solid and watch as you recoup this modest investment countless times, optimising tyre life, rolling resistance while minimising punctures.

Frame fit and mini pumps have also made quantum leaps over the past decade, with some genuinely achieving 115psi plus in a few minutes.

While essential riding companions, many struggle past 70psi and demand a smooth rhythmic momentum, so I’m inclined towards CO2 cartridge systems for rapid road/trailside recovery.

Extenders that screw atop the head, allowing easier pump connection are another boon - especially if your spare’s vertically challenged. Rims drilled for Schrader (car type) stems are easily converted to run Presta.

Some argue that car types are a better choice for

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touring since you can hook up to a roadside garage’s compressor.

However, there are specialist converters that allow any pump to fit. It’s worth remembering that while pressures may be higher, garage airlines are designed for much bigger volumes. Pop on for literally two seconds and test - you’ll pay dearly for any distractions!

Periodically scrutinise rims. Often a spate of unexplained flats can be attributable to slipping tapes sidewall wear, or burrs around the valve drilling.

Skimping on tape is another false economy. Several layers of decent quality electrical tape make excellent substitutes for times when the bike shops’ shut. Plugs are neater alternatives, especially for weight-weenies - I’ve been suitably impressed by Velocity’s. Assuming rims haven’t succumbed to early weld failure, stout tapes found in tubeless conversion kits can also form additional defence for those plagued by flats.

SIMPLE STEPS TO HAPPY TUBES Regardless of preference, careful installation goes a long way in optimising their life. Inflate gently (a few strokes from a hand-pump will suffice) before applying some baby powder – this prevents it sticking.

Pop the valve stem into the rim, screw threaded washers loosely and slip everything in situ, avoiding tyre levers or other implements. With both tyre beads ensconced, add pressure gradually – 30%, 50% and 70% of that stamped on the tyre’s sidewall. Deflate and reseat should you detect any signs of bulging or creeping.

Resin/composite tyre levers are a must and cheap as chips these days, although I’ve been smitten by long handled workshop versions that make short work of even the most stubborn tyres and give change from £15.

Don’t penny-pinch when it comes to repair kits either - buying aftermarket glues and feather edge patches can make world of difference. Self-adhesive types are undeniably convenient but more expensive and with variable tenure.

Avoid attempting repair by the roadside. Having purged the invading culprit(s) get a fresh tube ensconced before mending the wounded party at a rest stop or similarly convenient moment.

This is particularly significant on winter rides, especially those with children in tow. Discard those repaired more than twice.

Integral pump gauges vary in their accuracy, standalone units can also be slipped in jersey pockets/ luggage for roadside checks.

Digital models are most precise and brilliant for a large fleet; though analogue designs seem reassuringly

T ES T I N G T I M ES

accurate too. Storing bikes off the ground not only frees floor space but reduces pressure on tyres and therefore tubes.

TUBELESS These work to the same principle as car and motorcycle tyres and have found progressively greater favour within mountain bike circles since they can be run at very low pressures (for increased traction, say when climbing in slippery conditions) without succumbing to ‘snake bite’ or pinch flats. These originally required dedicated rims, though time has brought with it highly competent conversion kits.

Modest amounts of Latex sealant occupy the space where you’d expect to find a tube and proponents say 99% of punctures won’t happen. This concept is beginning to catch on amongst road racers and cyclo-crossers too, so I’m guessing it’s a matter of time before wider 32-40mm 700c touring versions come on stream.

specialist breaking tools.

However, 25mm sections upwards make excellent chainstay protectors, defending them against chain-slap/similar impact damage – especially offroad. Talking of which, a strip of thin (thus super springy) butyl can be used as a makeshift/belt n’ braces strap for GPS and other gizmos that can be ejected over rough surfaces.

Headset bottom races and seatposts are particularly vulnerable to wet, scuzzy stuff – especially on bikes without mudguards. Fashioning a snug fitting boot and slipping in situ keeps mother nature from flushing grease from bearings, or inducing galvanic corrosion (seizure) where quill stems or posts enter the frame (rear facing seat collars anyone?). Eventually, these will perish but I’ve usually managed eighteen months before they truly deteriorate.

Luggage and other accessories fail pretty infrequently but old tubes (mtb versions in particular) double as excellent emergency straps, or indeed, makeshift bungee cords should one bust in the back of beyond.

This even applies to car mounted bike carriers.

In emergencies, butyl will also burn very proficiently should need dictate lighting a fire in very wet/damp conditions. (However, fumes are relatively toxic, so keep away from cooking/meal preparation contexts and enclosed areas) Sometimes rubberised shims supplied with light/ computer brackets, mudguards etc aren’t quite host compatible. Simply trim that tube; bind in place and hey presto!

Small wedge bags or phone cases are another relatively straightforward weekend project for those with a few tubes, glue and basic seamstress skills. SDC

REINCARNATION Tubes are often damaged to the point they cannot be patched but that needn’t mean consigning them to landfill. The most common redeployment is as frame protection typically along the top-tube to prevent scratching or denting, or just as a dress-down disguise when locking up. I have even been known to use this on locking barrels to stop hard core thieves casing the exact make/model of U-lock and coming back with sevendaycyclist.co.uk

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DANI FOFFA

Foodand

raleigh Frames Michael Stenning chews things over with Dani Foffa

D

ani Foffa gave up a promising city career to become CEO of his own brand of classically inspired urban bikes. Five years on, he welcomes Michael Stenning down to his Bermondsey base for a chat and some distinctly Italian hospitality.

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street furniture nearby; I’m suddenly conscious of a distinctive figure weaving gracefully through the bustling crowds. Standing six-foot-four, his elegant tailoring is in stark contrast to my Levis, polar neck fisherman’s ribbed jumper and dealer boots.

Greeting me with a warm smile and firm handshake, he spirits me off along a series of side-streets and archway. He’s curious as to my background, the

DANI FOFFA magazine and though focused, he clearly has a fascination for people. Several minutes later, we arrive at a chic, yet welcoming Mediterranean café’.

MS: So, Dani, Foffa bikes, bit of a departure from a relatively lucrative and stable career in financial services. What inspired the change-full fridge but under-nourished soul?

DF: (Laughs) Yes, something of a stereotype perhaps but cycling is deeply ingrained in Italian culture and one of several enduring passions. I’ve always had an eye for classic stuff, so began a cottage industry from my one bedroom flat, buying and renovating old bikes. This became successful to the point where I was having them delivered to my workplace, using their garage space as a pop-up trading hub during breaks/lunch hours.

Soon enough, people began to notice and get a little suspicious! Having amassed sufficient capital, we opened up a shop, offering a line of three basic models, with various build options to suit individual tastes/budgets.

MS: Quite a bold move given the overheads

involved, especially in a relatively trendy locale?

DF: True and towards the end of this chapter in our history, rent and related on-costs certainly put a dent in our profit margins. Having established the Foffa brand, we closed the shop and reverted to virtual trading. Even with a strong fiscal plan and business background, the first four years were a particularly steep learning curve.

Having broken the ice and running the risk of insulting my host, I try a more provocative tack.

MS: Talking of virtual trading, not everyone’s been quite so charitable towards the Foffa marque.

Some forum threads assert your original range was ridiculously overpriced - bought only by hipsters who didn’t know any better.

DF: It is important to listen to criticism - at least where it’s constructive and factually based. The internet has given everyone a voice and unfortunately, in some cases sneering cynicism seems the default response to online debate. Clearly many forum participants have sufficient mechanical knowledge and available time to source bargains. From this perspective, it’s very easy to cast scoff at our prices.

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DANI FOFFA However, these detractors fail to factor the overheads associated with running a shop in London and maintaining stock levels. On our bike builder, we had 400million options for one machine, which is phenomenal. This was the main reason we closed the premises, switched assembly to the Far East.

Complete machines are now shipped to a distribution centre outside of the capital, which enables us to pass these savings on to consumers.

Our mission during that phase was to create a range of stylish, affordable, moreover functional bikes with a classic, minimalist theme at the most competitive prices we could offer.

In keeping with most contemporary manufacturers, our frames are fabricated in the Far East and until recently, we’ve opted for slightly Plain gauge Cromoly tubing. However, we are looking to introduce a premium range, with double butted 4130 Cromoly and upgraded components. Equally, as you pointed out in your recent review of the Urban; less glamourous tubesets are more resistant to denting and similar, everyday damage, while still delivering a fairly engaging ride.

MS: I’ve enjoyed the fixed gear revival in terms of road orientated component availability, benefitting from the falling costs that increased supply brings.

However, this genre remains very much a niche and one that might restrict your commercial appeal?

DF: We were acutely aware of this hence we equipped ours with flip-flop hubs as standard. Novices who weren’t confident about riding fixed in congested city traffic, or more experienced riders in hillier regions could pop the wheel over - best of both worlds with

minimal maintenance and weight.

At the other extreme, the mountain bike boom meant consumers tended to expect widely spaced 3x8, 3x9 or indeed; 3x10 derailleur transmissions as standard. Fine for touring but high maintenance and ludicrous around town.

Therefore when designing our Iris, we opted for a simple, though equally rugged three speed Nexus hub gear with revoshift twist-grip. Its 7 speed counterpart seemed a logical progression for the Urban.

MS: So what’s new for 2015, I hear a rumour you’re introducing some new liveries/finishes?

DF: Yes, we are offering the (fixed) in cream, which might not be the most fashionable but is a classy, timeless and dare we say, iconic colour”. Then of course, there’s chrome-under a very thick clear coat lacquer to preserve its gleaming lustre all year round. Other revisions include uprated bottom bracket, brakes, hubs, rims, headset and stem for a mere £15 extra.

We’re looking to revise our geared range too. The Urban has proved particularly popular. There’s a lot to like about Fordist black but for 2015, we are offering a choice of granite grey, navy blue and pearl white.

The premium version will be matt black, with Avid BB7 disc brakes and the 8spd Alfine hub, which enjoys greater mechanical efficiency and wider ratios.

Standard models will sport Tektro dual pivot callipers and retain the current 7 speed Nexus unit.

MS: (Nodding in agreement) Had looked into Alfine for a high end workhorse cum project based around a made to measure fillet brazed Columbus frameset

we are looking to introduce a premium range, with double butted 4130 Cro-moly and upgraded components. Equally, as you pointed out in your recent review of the Urban; less glamourous tubesets are more resistant to denting and similar, everyday damage, while still delivering a fairly engaging ride.

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DANI FOFFA

finished in dove grey. Alas. I couldn’t justify such on the grounds of space, maybe as an eventual successor to my Univega...

DF: Smaller improvements elsewhere include sealed bearings - retaining square taper bottom bracket but metal cups, while Tektro dual pivot brake callipers and machined sidewalls take care of stopping.

front and seven year old Brooks’ leather saddle.

The second is a fairly upright, leisure orientated build based around the Ciao (which I designed three years back for people wanting Dutch-inspired charm but without the weight) frameset. A two speed kick shift Sturmey Archer transmission and tubeless tyres being the most notable features.

MS: E-bikes have made quantum leaps since the days of heavy hi-tensile step through frames and enormous lead acid batteries. Have you any intentions to incorporate something power-assisted within your range?

DF: Yes, we certainly haven’t ruled this out and the river of technology runs very much in our favour.

While there’s a distinctly classic narrative to our machines, I’m enthused about incorporating a powerassisted model, though good design means it needs to be sleek, efficient and unobtrusive.

We have been in close talks with the guys at Copenhagen Wheel for over a year now. (The Copenhagen Wheel is an intelligent, lightweight power-assist system that analyses rider style, effort and theoretically integrates additional power seamlessly).

Dani’s natural curiosity is endearing and we digress slightly, discussing my somewhat eclectic fleet of seven plus machines, the wisdom of running an 81 inch fixed gear year round and the perils of safe, indoor storage in big cities (where space is scarce and comes at a premium).

While I wouldn’t say machines are extensions of their owners’ personality, they can still reveal a lot, often unconsciously.

MS: There’s a rumour, you’ve a clothing range in the pipeline… Care to tell us a little more, I presume we’re talking street inspired threads, not Lycra.

DF: (Laughs) Definitely not Lycra. Obviously, we’ve nothing against it but Foffa is urban. We want people to incorporate riding into their everyday activities.

With prices starting at £30, the collection is designed to be affordable, while featuring ‘technical’ fabrics for comfort on and sans bike. Whether scooting to the office, doing the school run or attending business social events, you’ll always arrive in style.

MS: So then, what’s in your stable?

DF: Due to constraints of space, I restrict myself to twoboth Foffa of course!” My tourer features carbon fork, Rohloff hub transmission with a Shimano dynohub up

MS: Well, you certainly have my attention, when will these launch - is a women’s range on stream, too?

DF: The men’s collection will be available in Summer 2015, whereas the women’s won’t come on stream until 2016. You’ll forgive my relative lack of candour, only we’d rather not reveal too much at this stage.

Glancing at the clock, it transpires we’ve been talking for almost six hours and decide it’s time for settling bills and heading home. Dani escorts me back to the tube station, shakes my hand and then vanishes seamlessly into the bustling metropolis.

I join the procession of harassed rush hour commuters through turnstiles, down escalators and pile sardine fashion into packed tube carriages. Nose pressed against tube doors/fragrant armpits, it’s a timely reminder that two wheels are by far the most fun and convenient way of navigating the capital. SDC sevendaycyclist.co.uk

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THE GREAT MISTAKE

T

he far north –west of Scotland; there are few better places for cycling. The mountains rise starkly from lochanbespeckled moorland and the coast is battered by the full force of the Atlantic Ocean. The roads are quiet, very quiet, often single-track with passing places, and are so few in number that the road cyclists should have no trouble finding the way. I left my GPS at the holiday

chalet and set out having noted the few turns of my planned route and taken the distances from the OS 1: 250 000 map of Northern Scotland.

The gradients, for the most part, in this area are moderate with the odd steep one popping-up every now and again. However, there was a degree of trepidation in my heart and my legs, as the first stretch of my ride from Culkein, near the Point of

The bulk of Quinag (courtesy of shutterstock.com/Stephen Meese)

TheGreat Mistake Tom Hunter was having a great escape in the north-west highlands, when a simple mistake made for a classic day out

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THE GREAT MISTAKE Stoer, involved riding along the B869. The bland designation gives no indication of what this road is like as it loops round from Lochinver to Newton via the coastal settlements of the Stoer peninsula; a genuinely beautiful and highly varied trip.

The northern section of the road has another name; Breakdown Road. An outbreak of little black chevrons pointing in different directions shows clearly what to

expect. It had to be done, but I thought I’d get it out of the way early in the day. The Lochinver end of the road has its small share of chevrons, and that had not been too difficult. As it turned out those little black chevrons can have many degrees.

NERVOUS BREAKDOWN Breakdown Road was hard work, very hard work, as it

Loch Shin (courtesy of shutterstock.com/ Stephen Meese)

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THE GREAT MISTAKE

Ardvreck Castle, Loch Assynt (courtesy of shutterstock.com/Targn Pleiades)

builds to the climax of a series of twisting descents and ridiculously steep ascents. One hit me like a wall, it appeared almost vertical, though, of course, it was not and I nearly lost heart as I ran down the opposite side of the valley to the foot of this ludicrous climb straight up the hillside. However, the art of riding this road is never to stop at the bottom of the hill though twists often limit momentum. Keep heart and turn the pedals and, if you get a moment, take a look at the island dotted bays that occasionally come into view and the looming mass of Quinag rising steeply to the south as the prospect of relief comes closer.

broad well-surfaced road felt almost ecstatic. This is a wonderful spot, with Lochs Glendhu and Glencoul fork into the mountains and Loch a Chairn Bhain stretches away to the west. There are hotels and a cafĂŠ on this stretch. Close to the bridge is a memorial to the XII Submarine Flotilla (X-craft and human torpedoes) who trained in the waters of these lochs.

Beyond Kylestrome the cyclists, on a fine day like this one, is beset by miles of rolling roads that, in the right weather, will spin by. Scourie is the next place where supplies are available and there is no shop between here and Lairg.

BLESSED RELIEF

EASIER THAN IT LOOKS, HONEST

Relief arrives as the A894 approaches. All else will be easy, one feels not without some justification.

Turning north, to head for the spectacular bridges that link Kylesku and Kylestrome, the descending on a

You’ll notice a couple more chevrons between Scourie and Laxford Bridge, but a veteran of Breakdown Road will sneer at such things. At Laxford Bridge a right turn onto the A838 begins a long ride to Lairg. With

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THE GREAT MISTAKE

Kyelsku Bridge (courtesy of shutterstock.com/Joe Gough)

Ben Stack to the right and Foinaven and Arkle to the left, this feels more like mountain country. Passing Achfary, a tiny settlement, where on a subsequent trip a local was kind enough to fill my water bottles for me, commenting that they had plenty of water and it was not often so hot, the single-track road skirts Loch More as the valley narrows.

For all the world, it looks as if a major mountain pass is coming, but the defile between Loch More and Loch Merkland barely raised further sweat. A note on weather, this was a fine summer day ideal for cycling, calm and warm. Rain, hot days or strong wind would have made my “mistake” more serious.

OUR HERO SPOTS AN ERROR So, what was my mistake? It was pure stupidity born of using a folded map and not paying enough attention. I had simply forgotten to add the mileage

from Laxford Bridge to Lairg; thrity-seven miles, roughly. The half-way mark of the ride should not have been arriving so early; I thought about it as I rode by Loch Shin and realised what I had done. GPS for me next time, no doubt.

Of course, every cloud has a silver lining and, on such a lovely day I did not really care, though I knew there’d be a bit of fretting at the chalet when I was late home.

Nothing to do about it but pedal on; limited network availability at that time.

The countryside around Lairg is much gentler than the first section of the route. Hay was being cut and Loch Shin is backed by gentle, cragless slopes. The village itself is attractive and functional, but is no mertropolis. Taking the opportunity to refuel, I turned onto the lumpy A839 which climbs over moor and through forest to beautiful Strath Oykel. sevendaycyclist.co.uk

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THE GREAT MISTAKE

GLENS AND LOCHS AND A SHORT DIVERSION This is a personal favourite, a long steady gradient amongst attractive forest and farm. There’s a shop at invercassley and an hotel at Oykel Bridge.

Climbing away from the glen the road eventually passes the Altnacealgach Hotel. In the late afternoon sun, the loch shore was lined with a thin rank of anglers, their waders immersed to different degrees. The

Lochinver (courtesy of shutterstock.com/ David Woods)

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midges seemed to have massed here, so I pedalled on to Ledmore Junction and headed north for Loch Assynt, with views towards Suilven and Canisp in some gathering cloud. The sun was now appearing sporadically amongst shower clouds, so Loch Assynt sparkled and glowered in turns as I approached Inchnadamph (where there is a hotel) , its white buildings standing out from the wild hills behind, and by the isolated lochside ruins of Ardvreck Castle.

The A837 skirts Loch Assynt. Very shortly before

THE GREAT MISTAKE entering Lochinver, the southern, “gentle” end of Breakdown Road, heads for the hills. Being very late, but full of euphoria after such a wonderful ride, it seemed advisable to take a peace offering. An additional mile or two saw me head for home with Prosecco and chocolates weighing down the saddle-bag.

The road home ran through a rocky, twisted land of tiny lochans, hidden bends and sudden vistas. Lunar, with water, is an apt description. A road of minor revelations until the gentle coastal strip is reached with

its beaches and crofts, a pastoral end to a stunning day’s ride, and much of it down to human error. I reiterate, GPS next time, every time, or would that destroy such serendipity?

Anyway, the family were on the beach. So I drank the Prosecco to rehydrate. SDC

Information

For me this was a tough ride. It could easily be broken down into sections, but I am pleased that fortune compelled me to complete the whole in one go. Do not forget to keep stocked up with food and drink. There are cafes and hotels and shops along the route, but opening times can vary with season and local conditions. This is a long ride and after dark you’ll need powerful lights to negotiate some of the roads safely at more than snail pace. Mind you, the prospect of riding on a starry night through such country would be enticing.

The OS 1: 250 000 Northern Scotland Sheet should see you safely round. Just mind the folds!

There is a station at Lairg, but that is only of help in reaching the area.

Distance: 126 miles (202km) Total Ascent: approximately 10000 feet (3050m)

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THE GOOD OLD DAYS

U

pper Ribblesdale was in angry mood.

The mountains were cleaved into ridges by grey mist-banks, borne on the cold easterly winds: the trees, deprived long since of their clothing of leaves stood alone or in open groups, naked and miserable; the brown moors even seemed to sulk at the day, and here and there terraced limestone, dirty grey, ran with water. There were hamlets that huddled as if sheltering each other, but with scant success, and isolated farms that pressed their stone sides against the wind and the rain. The road was hard; interminable little hills ascended to points where the free wind swept across unhampered, and where the rain it bore along in a horizontal track stung like a whip.

Well, we have all felt the lash of icy rain this winter, but Charlie Chadwick and his friend, Fred were built of stern stuff as the crossed the Dales in winter, 1930. How was your winter?

Now, when winter ruled above, there was no place for man; only swirling water that did not stay, and darkness that never moved. There were vast places where light or man would never go, and in them beauty grew unknown, fated never to be seen.

Can it be wondered then, that as we slowly pressed our way to Ribblehead, the elements and these 64

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thoughts occupied our minds. We had been out at morning, and had faced those elements all the day except for a rest at Worston, near Clitheroe. Dusk overtook us at Ribblehead, where we turned for Hawes, along a metalled road that abandoned to the night. A good, metalled road, yet deserted as the windy fell tops themselves. Man had graded it carefully, lest his road across those hills should not bear its worth, but his winding tilts were devilish hard that day, and we were glad to walk long stretches of it. There was snow near the summit and the cold rain held sleet. We passed the fork-road where through the mist a single fingerpost pointed ‘Dent’ towards the northward wastes, then in a little while a window gleamed its light and we sought shelter and tea there, at the ‘Inn’ at Newby Head.

A hundred years had brought two changes there. We had tea at an old, misused sideboard in a large room. In the open hearth a peat fire burned but did not spread its warmth to us; the floor was flagged and sandsprinkled; the roof (or ceiling rather), was supported by massive beams of oak; food lay on the bare table – the remains of a meal; and three young children crawled on the dilapidated rug that constituted the only floor covering or ran up and down the sanded floor with iron-shod clogs. The two men-folk were busy giving each other haircuts all the hour we were there, while the woman; middle aged wife of one, sat sewing clothes

THE GOOD OLD DAYS

that would long have passed out of ken in town. The two changes – a Ribble bus company timetable, and a fine wireless set that gleamed new in such a careless, ancient room. There at 1,400ft, miles from the nearest village and isolated by gale-swept moorlands, we heard the sports results from throughout Britain, the weather report from Manchester, and the news bulletin relayed from London.

We went out from that big room cold, but the outer void was colder. It was black, welded into a frozen whole, in which the nor’easter played unhampered.

For a space we could not pierce the black because our acetylene lamps had frozen; the first blue flame announced our success at last, but we had only shifted the zone of activity – we almost cried with frostbitten fingers. Our haste to get down to the sheltered valley, five miles down the night, received a jolt when

brakes too easily jammed the wheels, which slid quickly off the perpendicular. The road had become a sheet of black ice.

Two miles below the wind growled to a silence and the road was again wet. Rain began. The steep end of Hawes with windows pale through curtained light assured us we had come to rock bottom at the head of Wensleydale. We only required that assurance of Hawes, and we left the bulk of its one main street behind with less than a glance. We crossed the dale to Hardraw. The Buttertubs Pass begins its ascent at Hardraw (you can hear the roar of the Force from the buttressed road); I had crossed the Pass once, on a broiling Bank Holiday weekend, when crawling cars crossed too and people covered the moors almost like maggots on choice Limburger after long isolation, but not so admirably camouflaged as the insects

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THE GOOD OLD DAYS

are. We expected nothing moving on the Pass, except the northeaster, and its sleet, and we were right. The gradient is easiest from Hardraw, but at a thousand feet we reached snow. A sludge at first till the Pass proper, then the snow deepened, hung on our feet, jammed our wheels. The going got hard at 1,500ft, for the nor’easter was gusty with frozen sleet slashing at us, and the deepening drifts under-wheel.

A mist came down or else we climbed up to it, and our lights came back at us. The road then was buried with nothing to tell its boundary from the moorland bog, but the faint track of a cart that had crossed hours before. We were lucky, for that was our only guide to the summit. Our slow plod was rewarded with a final drift three or four feet deep through which we almost swam to the cart track, faint but still faithfully present on the other side. That was the summit at 1,726ft.

The descent began, hardly easier, but for a time sheltered. I could smoke a cigarette at last! The snow underfoot got us in the legs which became heavy, wearied. On the right a grey gaping nothing kept us to our solitary cart tracks; on the left the tousled white of the bank must be eyed with suspicion. Once in a flash of memory I found a loose piece of independent rock and threw it into a snow cornice. It sped through, awakening a hollow cataclysm of noise in the depths of the hill. “One of the Buttertubs”, I said to Fred, who grimaced and suggested a closer attention to the friendly cart tracks. The cart tracks certainly saved us from complications. Half a mile further down, the road shook itself clear of snow and slid down like a precipice to the Swaledale valley road at Thwaite, just above Muker. Four miles, four hours!

The next three miles climbing round Kisdon Fell put the finishing touch to us. We admit quite frankly that we were ‘knocked’. Cathole Inn at Keld was hailed with relief. It was built with the one purpose to receive us on that Saturday night. The dales-folk knew their business; cyclists often arrive like we did, starved, tired, wet, and no questions are asked – requirements are known. There was a fire in the front room, deep armchairs, books, and from the blackened roof-beams huge bacons were swinging, the table was very old and heavy, and on one snug end of it a festive supper was laid. Various food and good, with strong coffee to stimulate yawning reaction; the food was home produce or stored for this very night – for us, we felt.

The dalesfolk make you feel like that.

With half an hour to midnight we went to bed. Up above, on Buttertubs, the nor’easter was driving sleet 66

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into the drift. A grey mist possessed the wilds; the tracks of a single farm cart lumbered over the Pass. maybe now they were buried under the new snow. At the undefined roadside slender cornices of snow hung over silent pits to launch the wandering sheep into oblivion. We went to sleep.

The bedroom window abutted over the road. Fields of wearied green beyond, and moorland fellsides hugging them within narrow limits; the sky was grey and cold like the mist had been last night, and the nor’easter was still blowing, not so hard, perhaps, but the wind was only resting and in a few hours would renew his power – perhaps with rain or snow – or sleet.

February was here now. Yesterday had still been the

THE GOOD OLD DAYS

first month of the year, but today was a definite stride ahead. Old people and weaklings dread the month, for February kills, but Spring is cradled too, and lower in the dales the snowdrop – the crocus too if the month is kindly – will push through the winter earth. There was a stride forward in that grey Sunday morning, for February had entered the dales.

The ‘Cathole’ did us well. Breakfast was the result of years of close study as to the basic needs of cyclists about to cross Tan Hill. Not that Tan Hill is such a terror to face; it is hard – any mountain crossing must be hard, and it is long, but we knew that deep snow lay on the way – un-trodden, maybe, and the breakfast fare laid for our assimilation was calculated to help us, to fortify us. The threat in the sky came to pass at that breakfast table; rain settled down, and capes and sou’westers came out. We faced the mountains again after the merest introduction to the infant Swale, bawling along on its deep-set course down to gentler meads.

Progress at first was not severe, for after the stony road had taken one leap out of Swaledale head, it settled down to a gentle tilt along a moorland depression – Stonesdale – to the snowline. The snowline was definite; one minute the road was clear, the rest we floundered across a drift, and thereafter the ‘Cathole’ breakfast proved its worth. There are some old ruins at Ladgill; we missed the road and found the ruins, for no friendly cart tracks, not even single footsteps, had left their marks on virgin snow.

We found a ditch too, with a stream underneath, and the water was cold to the feet. The road regained, our pace settled down to a long slog, with many a stop to scrape the stuffed snow from between the mudguards and the wheel, or to debate which was road in the unbroken expanse of white. The rain ceased. Then ahead a black speck showing against the snowy folds of moorland resolved itself into Tan Hill Inn, the highest in England (1,732ft) and we reached the fork road just beside it. From this point we anticipated a long series of swoops to the Vale of Eden, but the snow was the best scotch of the day. Riding was a farce, unless it was done for fun down the steeper parts, for heavy drifts across the road always concluded in a hectic skid. Snow is soft; often it received us hands first in wild dives, but it is never conducive to speed unless skis are used. We didn’t carry skis, but shall do so next time! A wild descent round an elbow called Taylor Rigg placed us in lower, clearer climes, but the road wriggled uphill again almost to its original altitude. Views were blotted by the grey mist that hung two hundred yards ahead,

waiting for night to call it nearer. Just above Barras the road became visible underneath a thinner coating, and we slipped down to freedom in an exhilarating glide.

Kirkby Stephen at 2.30pm, five hours, 14 miles. We thought we had done well!

We had lunch in Kirkby Stephen, and changed our stockings, our only contribution to a dryer existence, for the rest of our clothing would have to ‘dry’ on. At half past three we toiled up the long climb on the Sedbergh road. After that we drifted, the nor’easter had regained its old power, but now pushed us from dead behind; the road was all falling down a winding stream-fed dale with billowy fells bright with snow-tops, couchant on each side. It was beautiful. At Cautley the spectacular waterfall, Cautley Spout, lying back in a ravine, was a glassy line of spate, then we drifted through Sedbergh, and sat back waiting, it seemed, for village after village to be ‘lapped back’, and for familiar scenes as lovely as ever to unroll themselves and roll up again behind until we came again. The final stage of Lunesdale was by lamplight, we climbed up through Lancaster to tea at Scotforth. Contrast? Morning miles, 14 in 5 hours: afternoon, 43 in two and a half hours!

The going continued good, and Preston receded to Walton-le-Dale. At Bamber Bridge, Fred forked off for his Wigan; I endured many thousands of setts towards Bolton in company with a Manchester lad who was ‘all out’. The kind of fellow who rides a ‘stripped’ machine and gears up to 85”. He had done Blackpool the previous afternoon in half the time we had taken to cross the hills from Newby Head to Keld. I crawled with him for many miles enduring his talk of a speed he could not even then strive for, and at length, as my way turned from his, I decided that he would never see the Dales by his own power. Blackpool, perhaps, but...

February 1930 SDC

Information

‘Rough Stuff’ volume one of the pre-war cycling diaries of Charlie Chadwick and ‘Further Adventures’, the second volume are published by the Veteran Cycle Club and the John Pinkerton Memorial Publishing Fund.

Charlie Chadwick’s diaries were rescued

by David Warner who has also edited and promoted them. Seven Day Cyclist is grateful for permission to publish extracts. Additional editing by Stephen Dyster.

The books can be bought from V-CC Sales at www.v-cc.org.uk

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R E A R R AC K

As the Seven Day Cyclist of March disappears into the dusk, rear light flashing, what can we anticipate for April – edition six.

Well, we talk to Martyn Brunt from Sustrans. He is manager of the National Cycle Network, which this year celebrates its twentieth anniversary.

The Brompton meets a Camel.

We check our speed.

And we take a ride in the flatlands.

Publication April 16th, 2015 See you then, but keep an eye on www.sevendaycyclist.co.uk and https://www.facebook.com/Sevendaycyclistmagazine 68

Issue 5 / 2015