seven day cyclist - issue 2

Following Paul the Apostle

JUNKIES’ JOY RIDE 2

southcircular

There’s More to Cycling than

Riding a Bike

Products • Bike Music • Raleigh Sojourn Test & Much More!

Issue 2 • 2014£2.95

Into the Surrey Hills

RUGBY TOUR EASTER FAMILY

CAMPING ON THE CHEAP

Cover image courtesy of Andrew Brandon

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WELCOME

Welcome to 7DC

Well, if you are back after seeing the first edition then I am very pleased that you are. If this is your first look, then I hope you enjoy it and come back again. One of the great benefits of digital publishing is that back issues are easy to obtain.

Reviews, news and updates are available on the website and

alerts will eventually go out through various forms of social

media. If you don’t like or can’t be bothered with social media,

just visit the webpage to see what is new.

In this issue we have an eclectic mix of tours, with the regular

slants on cycle touring, as well as a new venture on that most

frequent tour – the daily commute. Michael Stenning goes into

lights and Mark Jacobson takes his Brompton into the Highlands,

while other folk have been all over the place.

Colin Halliday, who does the design and all the web-based work,

doesn’t get much of a mention in the magazine. So here are

thanks to him, to our contributors and to you for bringing the

spark of an idea into flame and fanning the fire of touring cycling

in all its many glorious forms.

One of the greatest things about touring cycling is that there is

no season for it. Leisure and touring is not dependent on the

race calendar and has no governing body. I don’t like riding when

it is icy, but apart from that, why stay at home? In the next edition

Michael will take a long look at preparing your bike and yourself

for a winter journey. There’ll be a look back at L’Eroica Britannia

to remind us of the summer as well as more serious pootling

about the place.

Merry Christmas

Steve

COPYRIGHT 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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WELCOME

Contents4 South Circular12 Junkies’ Joy – Part 222 Jam or Cream?30 Raleigh Sojourn38 There’s more to Cycling42 Rugby Tour

50 Brompton Goes Wild54 Tour de Jour56 Products & Tech – Lighten Up 68 Bicycle Music71 The Good Old Days74 Rear Rack

CONTRIBUTORS

Charlie FaringdonMark JacobsonJill PhillipAndrew BrandonScot WhitlockPaul Wagner

PRODUCT TESTS AND TECHNICAL

Michael Stenning

EDITOR

Stephen Dyster

DESIGN

Colin Halliday

CONTACTS

See details on www.sevendaycyclist.co .uk

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SOUTH CIRCULAR

South Circular: Dartford to HaslemereWith cycling goggling at Yorkshire, Charlie Faringdon, inevitably, headed south

Downland crossroads, Lett’s Green


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When talking to my friends in Yorkshire and Lancashire, let alone further north, they all express contentment and pride in their own cycling country, pointing

to the wide rivers, the moors, the climbs and the descents set amidst a sparsely populated, dramatic landscape. It is not that they are parochial – they explore and travel as much as the next cyclist, but most have the assurance that if they could never travel more than fifty miles in any direction they’d still have remarkably spectacular cycling.

Mention Kent and they think of the channel ports; mention Berkshire and they aren’t sure where it is; mention Surrey and a disparaging tone can creep in. Truth is that I have cycled through these counties, generally heading south or north, but rarely taking much time to look. Of course, Surrey has hit the cycling headlines in the last couple of years, too, but has been the playground of the London cyclists – and its own denizens - for even longer.

So, a circuit to the south of London, starting at Dartford, taking in some of the Surrey Hills and rounding off with a venture into Berkshire, returning via Windsor, Hampton Court and a host of other famous spots, seemed to be in order.

Dartford now sprawls out on the Thames bank a little outside Greater London. The high street still has the feel of a small Kentish town, with its flinty church, in spite of the town’s suburban growth. A forty-five minute journey from Charing Cross with a single ticket at £8.50 made it a convenient place to start, as well as a symbolic one with its famous tunnel and bridge over the great river.

NEW VISTASFinding a quiet route out of a town can be pretty difficult, but Dartford did well. Despite the school run and the early Friday knock-off from work, there was only moderate traffic on the busiest sections through Leyton Cross to the edge of Swanley. In areas like this, where there are major roads on the edge of a major city, it is inevitable that any road – even a very minor one – leading to an intersection will carry heavy traffic at times.

Beyond Swanley though, after passing under the A20, the cyclist is onto a maze of narrow country lanes that could be miles from the nearest town, let alone on the edge of London. However, this couldn’t be just anywhere. Signs of London’s presence are all about,

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issue 2 / 2014

though Chelsfield village has distinctly Kentish buildings of white clapperboard, and the extensive woodland shades the rider who heads up the long dip-slope of the North Downs.

Barely a car passed, though they were met where main roads had to be crossed. For that reason I headed for Pratt’s Bottom. It looked like a good place to get across the A21 during the rush hour. A pelican crossing had been provided, so, for once, I was right. It would have been possible start the ride nearer to here by alighting at Knockholt station. Knockholt church sits a long way off on the crest of the Downs where a new world opens up. Presumably, the station was in Knockholt parish or Pratt’s Bottom and Badgers Mount either didn’t exist or were thought inappropriate names for a railway station. “One and a half returns to Pratt’s Bottom” does have a certain ring to it.

Pleasant country now gave way to some of the finest touring lanes around. The bright sun helped. Running gently upward under arched boughs, flickering light tinging the tarmac with the lightest of chlorophyll-green tints and reflecting the roadside ponds, steady pedalling made for easy progress to Lett’s Green and up to the crest of the North Downs near the Tally-Ho pub to the west of Knockholt church.

RIDING ALONG ON THE CREST …The wooded Wealden country that stretches away to the South Downs hides the numerous small settlements in its clearings, but there are also market towns swollen by commuters and the wind may bring the sound of traffic on the M25. Those Yorkshire Dales have their rivers; Kent and Surrey valleys have their roads.

Pilgrims on their way to the shrine of Saint Thomas Becket came this way in the middle-ages and I turned west to follow the crest of the downs, up and down, sometimes in woodland, sometimes exposed to a strong headwind to follow the general direction of their return trip home.

Preserving height gained as long as possible, the time eventually came to drop down to Godstone. Avoiding the main road, I circumnavigated the village via the church and Tilburstow Hill, the later a grand climb to the underwhelming, though well-earned, height of 175 metres and a speedy descent. Around the church, were it not for motor vehicles and few other elements of modernity, one could be sitting in the sunshine a hundred years ago, or more. Though some of the buildings are old, the church is mainly a Victorian restoration and the almshouses next door are also from that period.

RIDING THROUGH REFORMBy the time I reached the A25 at Bletchingley there was

London in rural Kent

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little traffic, and in any case, normal service was soon resumed on lanes that ran across the lower slopes of Reigate Hill, through Gatton, to the Bridge House Hotel, where I’d booked lodgings for the night.

For those of a political turn of mind, Gatton was one of the most “rotten boroughs” before the Great Reform Act of 1832. From 1450 it sent two Members of Parliament to Westminster on the vote of the landowner and, at most, a few of his tenants. In 1803, in a by-election to replace a resigning MP, the election result was one-nil. It would have been one all, but the second voter was disqualified by the returning officer, in this case the very man who had resigned to allow his colleague to stand in his place. Mind you, Reigate and Bletchingley were also rotten boroughs, though not quite so notorious.

A fascinating insight into this area in the early nineteenth century can be found in William Cobbett’s Rural Rides. He criss-crossed the area on horseback studying the crops and the conditions of farmers and labourers and incorporated the venting of his political spleen into detailed description of town and country.

FOR WHAT IT IS WORTHThree important points; firstly, I had hoped to find space at YHA Tanner’s Hatch – isolated on the wooded Ranmore Common a few miles further on. There wasn’t space that night. Should have booked earlier, though

there are some good bargains to be had as there are numerous hotels touting for airport business (Gatwick is nearby). The Bridge House was very good value, found a secure place for my bike, and the gentleman in charge of the restaurant was a cycling enthusiast.

Secondly, I had been perturbed to hear Chris Boardman, speaking on the radio a few days earlier, state that whilst the roads in Scotland were generally very well kept there were some man-eating chasms masquerading as pot-holes in Surrey. The latter turned out to be accurate. There were some good road surfaces, but in places they were very rough and in others a lack of attention would have caused a spill. The strobe effect created by the bright sun in woodland made it even harder to detect such deficiencies. You could go to the CTC’s “Fill that hole” website – but you’d have a full time job to cover the lot.

Thirdly, on the lanes fringing Orpington, cowboy builders had dumped whole loads of rubble across the road. Mind your speed, especially at night.

A BROAD CHURCH“A mile before breakfast is worth two before lunch and three after,” is one of the editor’s maxims. Apart from being nonsense, the next morning Reigate Hill was so shrouded in rain and cloud that navigating to the end of the car park would have been a chore let alone a mile getting drenched on an empty stomach.

Do you see the countryside or the M25?

City of London in rural Kent

The Eden at Appleby

Ockley Church

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church and explained some of is history. I stated that I’d not seen anything quite like their chancel elsewhere, so they directed me to Okewood church, not far off, site of other interesting features. And what a lovely ride it was.

TWISTS AND TURNSRetracing my tracks a short way, I followed their directions along the first of the “twisty-turny, up-and-down roads” lanes they had informed me of. A vigorous stream cut a narrow valley filled with wild garlic and patches of bluebells. Crossing a main road, more “twisty-turny” lanes coincided with a procession of cyclists coming from the opposite direction. The ride was organised by Horsham Cycling – this is close to the Sussex border – and featured riders on all sorts of bikes, including two gentlemen dressed in plus fours, woollen pullovers and cloth caps and another with tartan cycling shorts. I asked the name of his tailor, but he didn’t hear me.

Eventually I found my way to Okewood church set on a knoll above a woodland dell with a stream running at its foot. Exterior clad in scaffolding, the interior has a choir gallery for musicians of the era before church organs became the norm, and one well-preserved fifteenth century brass.

As Cobbett observed, many of the churches around here seem overly large for their potential

A broad church porch, Leigh, Surrey

Looking to the hills

Study the maps, late breakfast, rain stopped, away for ten. A much more civilised approach in my opinion.

Speeding down Reigate Hill to the town did not take long. A grand old market town now much grown, Reigate has caves and some useful cycling infrastructure. Even on Saturday morning there was a child, I guess of less than six, cycling behind Dad, who had child seats mounted fore and aft on his bike, along the High Street. The club-riders were out, too. Many seemed to be sticking to the broader roads more suitable for folk who wish to move at speed in a group.

Skirting the woodlands south of Reigate to enter a scene of wet meadows, stunning fields of rapeseed, backed by wooded hills, the sun making the whole sparkle, I felt uncomfortably warm. The question was where to change into my shorts?

Fortunately the rustic charm is supplemented by attractive villages with churches. The church at Leigh has, like many has a lych-gate (admirable for cyclists sheltering from a shower), and a verandah rather than a porch. A whole cycling club could have sheltered there, let alone change out of warm leggings.

Newdigate was the next village, and it looked for a while that the churchyard might have to serve to reverse the operation carried out at Leigh. After an unintentional detour around Capel - apparently I was following the Surrey Cycleway and missed the sign - I arrived in Ockley. The farm shop serves tea and coffee as well as provisions. The church was open and, if you are interested in such things, has a chancel decorated in marble and mosaic of almost Byzantine style in memory of one of the many members of the Steere family of nearby Jayes Park who died in various wars. This one was killed in 1914.

A friendly couple were watering the flowers in the

in Godstone

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congregation. Though we know that the nation’s population was growing rapidly during the early nineteenth century, Cobbett – never one to be convinced by statistics – saw the churches as proof that the population was falling; medieval people would not have built huge churches if there were not people to fill them, he asserted. What he was witnessing was rural depopulation. Labourers experiencing desperate times were finding nearby London more attractive than a life of poorly paid day-labouring.

Dropping into such churches is one of the pleasures of cycle touring – especially if there is a fete or coffee morning on.

Nearby is a Gatton Manor – not the rotten one – which welcomes cyclists and walkers. I was tempted. Clear away to the north stood Leith Hill, where, I was

told there was a café in the tower which was built with the intention of topping the one thousand foot mark. Nature left Leith Hill at 965 feet above sea level, the second highest point in the south-east, pipped to the post by just a couple of feet.

SURREY HILLSThe ascent is long and steady, with a couple of sharp bursts, close to Leith Hill Place. This was once the home of the Wedgewood family and their Darwin relatives. It was donated to the National Trust by the composer Ralph Vaughan Williams, who went to live in Dorking. Nearby is a cottage offering sports physiotherapy, which seemed appropriate as a group of us puffed upward at varying speeds. A cyclist on a light-weight compact who passed me on the ascent remarked

Now that’s what I call a milepost, Cranleigh, Surrey


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InformationThe first part of this journey required OS 1:50 000 sheets 177, 186, 187, 188.

Surrey County Council produces a series of eight maps or guides which cover the whole county. Though the routes did not really suit me, they would be useful for anyone setting out to explore in more depth. They can be viewed and downloaded at http://www.surreycc.gov.uk/roads-and-transport/cycling-and-driving/cycling/get-cycling-in-surrey/cycle-guides They can be bought form the larger libraries in the county at £2 per guide or £10 for all eight.

None of the information on the Kent County Council cycling pages was of use for this expedition, but it is at http://www.kent.gov.uk/leisure-and-community/parks-and-outdoor-activities/cycling

that he was jealous of my triple. I offered an exchange provided he was willing to accept a steel frame and the touring panniers.

The road does not go to the top and a good bit of bloody-minded puffing and heaving got my bike up the steps to the summit. The only other cyclists there were mountain bikers who seemed to share the tracks quite happily with groups of walkers. The café was open and the climb was made worthwhile by a coffee and a zesty lemon ice-cream for two pounds and fifty pence. The views weren’t bad either.

Avoiding descending the steps involved following a wide but muddy track to the road. From there most height was lost and I pushed on with what passes for rapidity to my next objective: Hindhead.

There are some delightful villages on the way;

Ewhurst, Dunsfold, Chiddingfold and the Treacle Tea Rooms at the latter served a Chelsea Bun and a pot of tea worthy of a village with a green, a pond, a church and a pub all gathered together in a tableau of rural south-east England.

Getting into and out of Haslemere involved some nifty dodging of inconsiderate drivers. As an antidote to annoyance I followed one of the editor’s better ideas – waving amiably to the drivers who show consideration. They formed the vast majority. If heading that way again, I would ignore the right turn in Grayswood signed for Haslemere, rather heading straight-on to take the second right and find a quieter way into the busy little town.

With Charlie arriving at the foot of Hindhead, we’ll give him a rest before seeing how the south circular ride continued… SDC

From Leith Hill

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A PILGRIMAGE CONTINUES

On entering Engirdir, we contact Anmol on my mobile and arrange to meet him at the Hizir Bey Camii, a Seljuk mosque. We have only been separated for a few hours, but we greet Anmol and swap

stories as if we’ve been parted for weeks.We ride over more mountains and alluvial flatlands

to Konya where, on an earlier cycle tour, the ex-head of tourism offered me his contraband: girls in abundance for a fee. It soon became evident that we lived in

different ethical hemispheres. Konya is not a destination on this

tour, but a way station on the road to Cappadocia. We ride on. The miles spin beneath our wheels; the rhythm of chain ticking over cogs and the hiss of tyres on tarmac is like a mantra that sends us into a meditative trance. Days of cycling, rough camping and substance abuse (utterly legal, consisting of energy gels and other

THE JUNKIES’ JOY RIDE

Andrew Brandon and friends continue their pilgrimage to Cappadocia

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such energy boosters) have given us the unkempt, bohemian appearance of nomadic hippies. We’re all a little crazy. Cappadocia matches our mood: a Daliesque fantasy of geological extravagances. I laugh as I ride among the volcanic marvels. “This is God on acid,” I yell. “He’s conjured sorceries from rock.” For two days we explore this hallucinatory landscape: camp among the rock hermitages of the Ilhara Valley and survive its packs of wild dogs; pray in the timeless solemnity of Gregory’s basilica in Guzelyut; wander among the Open Air Museum’s surreal towers that twirl and whirl above us like gigantic ice cream cornets petrified to stone, and clamber into chapels carved from rock where Christ and all his saints gaze down on us from ancient walls and ceilings. This is a mad, holy time.

Regretfully, we ride from Cappadocia as the sun slips its moorings in the East and glides above the lava towers and monoliths accompanied by an escort of brightly coloured hot air balloons. Our sleep muddled minds are jolted awake. The landscape is so alien and exotic that we feel as if we have crossed a forbidden boundary into another world.

Sadly, Anmol’s condition deteriorates and he can no longer continue the tour. Jon has gritted his teeth and

cycled the leg cramping mountains with commendable stoicism and not a word of complaint. His comment, “I’m enjoying this,” has the hollow ring of a death row inmate attempting to speak optimistically about his appointment with the electric chair. When pain and dysentery force Anmol to abandon the ride, Jon immediately volunteers to act as his carer and see him safe to the sunny paradise of Alanya. “I need a few days to chill out before I return to work,” he says, “I’ll go with Anmol.”

Chris and I ride with them to the otobus terminali (bus station) in Aksaray. It is hard to say goodbye. The journey has dramatically changed the dynamic of the group. We are no longer a conglomerate of individuals divided by age, ethnicity and profession, but a team. The loss of Mark, Anmol and Jon has diminished the

Regretfully, we ride from Cappadocia as the sun slips its moorings in

the East and glides above the lava towers and monoliths accompanied by an escort of brightly coloured hot air balloons.


15sevendaycyclist.co.uk

simple pleasure of the tour. As Chris and I speed on across the arid flatlands of the Obruk Yaylasi, they take the night coach to the package holiday resort of Alanya. We will meet again in a few days, but still we ride with heavy hearts and a sharp twinge of loss. Our conversation is sporadic and we are introverted and melancholy. Of the five team members who began the tour, only the old man and the boy remain.

The stars roll out above us and the wild dogs begin their nocturnal yelping. This is an empty, sparsely populated land. Lorries, lit like galaxies, thunder by and are gobbled up in the night’s black hole. The tour has whittled us down and we are the only survivors. We ride on like floating sentient islands in that precarious and interminable darkness. At 10 pm we pull into a garage and bed down on a cold marble floor. At 6.30 am we are on the road again and ride from twilight into a day of brilliant sunshine. The plain tilts upwards and straddling our path is a serrated wall of mountains. Yesterday’s melancholy is burnt off as we leave the plain’s monotony and cycle along one of the most famous roads in history. Our wheels spin in the tracks of ancient armies. Alexander marched his Macedonians through this high pass. Up, up we climb, dwarfed by the

stacked mountains that rise vertically on either side of the road. I indulge my love of military history and regale Chris with dramatic stories of Alexander’s battles

At first we share the road with convoys of lorries and coaches and fleets of cars, but at the frontier town of Ozanti a new toll road has opened and we have the scenic E90 all to ourselves. The road is steep and winding but the surface is excellent. I am determined to stop cycling at sunset (7pm). Riding though such magnificent scenery in darkness is lunacy. And still we climb.

Tenacious forests cling to mountain slopes and the setting sun gilds the high white peaks with pink. A spring bubbles up from the side of the road. I dismount, remove my cycle sandals, and dip my feet in the cold water. Soon houses straggle both sides of the road and as we climb, they coalesce into solid ranks and line our path like monoliths on a processional way. The town has no name. It evolves around us from a few straggling houses into a bustling thoroughfare of stores. The fast of Ramadan is over for the day and lamb chops sizzle on charcoal braziers outside every butcher’s shop. The smell is intoxicating. This is not the Turkey of tourism. The toll road to our west has

Evel and friends

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The Eden at Appleby

The oldest hotelier

17



taken all the tourists. This mountain community moves to a rhythm unchanged for centuries.

I approach a couple of men and ask them if there is anywhere we could pitch a tent. As is customary in Turkey, a crowd soon gathers and a heated debate begins. The butcher, outside whose shop I have parked my cycle, leaves his sizzling chops and queuing customers and joins in the fray. His conspiratorial comments to the group elicit wide grins and subdued laughter, and then he points up the hill. “Hotel,” he says. “No camping. Hotel!” His colleagues, no doubt impressed by his English locution, re-echo his words: “Otel! Otel!” I can see nothing but an ugly concrete box covered in graffiti. Chris and I are a little dubious about the wisdom of staying in a building that makes a penitentiary look like a palace. The second story of this establishment has no windows, only a jagged ridge of concrete that may once have held window frames and even glass.

“Hello!” I yell. A figure, so ancient and decrepit that

he appears mummified, leans over the improvised veranda and studies us through rheumy eyes. He beckons us up with a slight gesture of the hand. This hotelier has a security fixation. We pass through two sets of rusty iron gates into an establishment of such antiquity and decrepitude that it matches its owner perfectly. With shaking hand and fading sight, he has scribbled the word ‘otel’ on the grimy grey concrete of the building. The letters are scrawling and irregular. Why the need to scribble ‘otel’ over every wall? Is he an amnesiac who needs to constantly remind himself of his occupation? Or is this for our benefit? Does he subscribe to the maxim that repetition will convince potential lodgers that this heap of concrete glued together with grime is indeed a hotel? I carefully lower my panniers onto a rectangular object that resembles a bed and cough as I disappear in a cloud of dust. The hotelier’s rheumy eyes become cunning. He has caught a couple of tourists in his web and intends to do a little blood sucking. “Twenty million lira a night!”

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he says. I laugh. I can’t help myself. I am gripped by the utter absurdity and audacity of his request. For twenty million lira I stayed in a five star hotel in Nyssa and enjoyed a Turkish bath and an excellent breakfast.

Chris has taken a yellowing newspaper from my bed and is studying the date. “January,” he says. “That’s the date on the paper.” He perks up: “That means he had one guest this year.” I wonder if the person was a guest or a kidnap victim. I don’t think anyone would chose to stay in a joint like this without the inducement of a loaded gun. After some sharp negotiation, we agree on a figure well below his original demand. He surrenders without a fight, glad to have human company. By the time we emerge from his ‘otel’, the fast is over for the day and all the lamb chops have been devoured by the famished citizens. There’s no alternative but to go ‘veggie’ for the night. We buy cheese, nuts, olives, crisps, tomatoes, red peppers, bread and creamy yogurt and return to feast at the house of dilapidation. The hotelier is sitting in his tiny room with a blanket over his shoulders. To avert theft, an iron gate separates him from his lodgers. We scrub the dirt from the only table in sight and spread our feast upon it. He stares at the table hungrily from between his bars. We beckon him to join us with big welcoming smiles and extravagant gestures of the arms. He shuffles over bearing three glass cups and a kettle of chi. The cups have a cloudy hue that suggests they have been kept from hot water and detergent for many a year. He sees our discomfiture and tips a spoonful of hot water in one cup, swills it round, and then pours it into the next. Having redistributed the grime from one cup to the other, he carelessly throws the dregs over the side of the veranda. The cups remain opaque and stained.

Tea drinking is a Turkish ritual. He watches as we sip his chi. Chris and I nod encouragingly and smack our lips in fake approval, wishing all the time that he


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would look away so we could tip the wretched brew over his veranda. As we eat, we pry him with questions. He is ninety-one years of age and has eight children.

I have rarely approached a bed with such caution. I am terrified to lift the blanket in case I find colonies of cockroaches, dead mice and rapacious bed bugs. Instead I lay my sleeping bag on the top blanket and snuggle into it. With a fervent prayer, I fall into a troubled sleep. I dream that I sleep on a bed formed entirely from a writhing mass of repulsive, squirming creatures.

Chris and I are up and away before dawn. The old man lays curled up beneath a dirty blanket in his cage. We mumble our thanks and farewells in the hope that he will hear us, and then wheel our bikes into the empty street. We leave the town’s last straggling house behind and begin to climb through forests of sweet smelling pines. Before us is that gash in the mountains known from posterity as the ‘Cilician Gates’. Beyond these are the city of Tarsus and the Mediterranean. As dawn’s pastel colours paint the mountains, the world becomes visible around us. The road is ours alone. After an hour or two of steady climbing, we come at last to the stretch of road I’ve dreamed of throughout the tour: the drop though the ‘Cilician Gates’ to Tarsus. This is pay back for all our strenuous efforts: a forty kilometre freewheel to sea level. Down, down we fly, our cycles whistling beneath us like birds. Forty five minutes later, wild eyed and high on adrenalin, we pull in at a tea house for the first chi of the morning. There we buy plump lamb sausages and stow them in a pannier for a late breakfast. As we ride on, a backpacker materialises in front of us. His path intersects our road at the very moment we cycle by. Astonished by the coincidence, I brake savagely, turn in my saddle and address him: “Good morning! Do you speak any English?”

“I am English!” he replies. I am struck by the incongruity of the circumstance. This is the last place on earth I would expect to meet an Englishman. I’m tempted to touch this apparition to see if he’s real. Are hallucinations a long term side effect of Mark’s

magic potions? (the energy gels dispensed by a keen racer in the Seven Day Cyclist first edition). A more worrying thought occurs to me: Was Cappadocia real? I dismount and shake hands with him in that formal English manner: a perfunctory pumping of the hands across a respectable distance.

“What are you doing?” I enquire. This is not one of my most intelligent and perspicacious questions. He has a backpack, a tent, walking shoes and a long staff. He’s certainly not paragliding or windsurfing.

He ignores the silliness of my question and replies courteously: “I’m a Christian pilgrim. I’m walking to Jerusalem.”

Chris joins me and studies this saint of the road. I wonder if our two large sausages will stretch to feed three hungry men. If the Lord could feed five thousand with five loaves and two small fishes, two large sausages divided between the three of us should suffice. “Why not join us for breakfast,” I say.

“I’d love to,” is his emphatic response. I look at him suspiciously and wonder if we’re the answer to a pilgrim’s prayer.

I fire up my petrol stove under the overshadowing branches of a tree and prepare to cook breakfast. This is the cue for every teenage boy in the locality to converge on us. We had anticipated a stimulating theological discussion punctuated by reminiscences from the pilgrim’s travels. Instead I entertain a responsive audience of adolescents with an impromptu display of karate.

Goofing with the locals



Always the opportunist, I use my charisma to improve the quality of our breakfast. I dispatch one boy with Chris to buy eggs, another to bring water, and encourage the rest to scrump grapes from a nearby field. Ogled like zoo animals at feeding time by our teenage retinue, we munch through a breakfast of sausage, scrambled eggs and fried bread. Tony Dillon, our pilgrim, shows his ravenous side as he devours these wayside victuals. The Lord has provided and he is certainly not one to decline his bounty.

I walk with Tony for several kilometres and he tells me about his aspirations for the pilgrimage. I have a sudden urge to ask him if he has a Bible. “No,” he replies, “I didn’t bring a Bible. I thought it may cause problems for me in Muslim countries.”

I give him my Bible and write a hurried note reminding him to return it to me on his arrival in the UK. Chris has tactfully kept his distance as we converse; now he joins me as I pray for Tony and commend him to the grace of Christ.

As we ride into Tarsus, we acquire an escort of young cyclists. After peddling our loaded touring bikes for over a thousand kilometres across mountains ranges, the

boys are no match for us. We wind up our cadence and leave them puffing and blowing in our wake.

From Tarsus, it is a short, swift ride to Mersin, the final destination of the tour. From there we take the night coach to Alanya and are reunited with Jon and Anmal in the morning. Two days later we step out of a plane at Luton airport into a grey, damp Autumn day. We are home. SDC

issue 2 / 201422

JAM OR CREAM?

Scot Whitlock ponders life’s important questions whilst cycling in Cornwall – in the dark

jam or cream first?M

id-December and the weather was delightfully mild. We had been invited to my cousins wedding. Sarah had resigned herself once again that the ‘we’ included my bike.

We were staying in the White Hart Hotel, next to the church in St Austell, our base for a

couple of days. My immediate impression was of hills, far too many hills, extremely steep hills.

It was going to be a long and arduous weekend for my skinny legs. Did I mention there were a

lot of hills!The Hotel was happy to accommodate my bike;

allocating it a room in the basement.

convenient point to access NCR3 for my initial destination, Pentewan. The metal milestone markers for the NCR reminded me of a couple of ornate boomerangs. NCR3 is locally named ‘The Cornish Way’ and connects Land’s End to Bristol.

I planned to utilise the Pentewan Cycle trail, it supposedly runs along the route of an old narrow gauge railway between St Austell and Pentewan but could I find it, could I heck; it was definitely on the map I grabbed from the tourist office but even the locals

Mevagissey harbour


JAM OR CREAM?

SUNDAY RIDEMy first ride of the weekend was early Sunday morning. The rain was incessant, but I was not going to let that deter me or dampen my enthusiasm.

I felt I had dressed appropriately for the conditions, four T-Shirts, one base layer, attractive thermal leggings under mountain bike shorts and a stripy fleece. I was already sweating profusely whilst I awaited my bike’s arrival from the basement.

I pedalled up steep East Hill, the best and most

The old harbour, Charlestown

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didn’t even know of its existence. I stumbled upon a cycle path in the direction of

Pentewan, assuming this was the one I had been looking for. It was pretty much irrelevant as my time on the off road section was very brief, the way reverting to the B3273.

TOO EARLY FOR HELIGANClose to Pentewan, a brown tourist sign popped into view. I had read a lot about ‘The Lost Gardens of Heligan’, which offered award winning restored, working gardens, dedicated to the horticultural practices and traditions of their Victorian predecessors, but because of the time of day the place was deserted and closed.

Pentewan is a lovely small village with an enclosed harbour dating back to medieval times. The village is dominated by the large ‘Pentewan Sands’ caravan site The holiday park has direct access to the beautiful Pentewan beach and bay, a mecca for surfers. The village accommodates a bike hire shop offering a large array of bikes and accessories for both hire and purchase, importantly they also carryout repairs (www.pentewanvalleycyclehire.co.uk).

On the topic of bike services, I later discovered a great bike shop in the Market House opposite the Church in St Austell. I needed a cable tie and the owner spent ten

minutes checking his stock room for me, I was slightly embarrassed that I detained him so long, but his search was a success.

I enthusiastically began the gradual climb out of Pentewan towards Mevagissey; pausing half way up to admire the stunning views. Even in the limited light the silhouette of the landscape looked absolutely breath-taking, if slightly sinister.

MEVAGISSEY TWICEThe descent to Mevigassey was exhilaratingly quick. I weaved my way through the narrow streets and rested by the harbour. I could hear the water but could not see it. The only light was from the dimly lit street lights.

Even at this hour and with the lack of natural light the place looked idyllic. There were several places to eat on the waterfront, but they were shut. The harbour was full of boats moored up waiting for the day to begin.

I took a tour of the village, the place was deserted; the whole area oozed a quaint charm with its confined streets and wonderful gift and craft shop connected by narrow alleyways. I just fell in love with the place even though it was dark, wet and closed!

Propelling myself south on the B3273, my ultimate goal was Gorran Haven. At first glimpse Gorran Haven looked like a picturesque village, situated in a secluded

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cove on the Roseland Peninsula. From my vantage point I could see plenty of people enjoying the lovely beach, the views were stunning. That is my total experience of the Gorran Haven, I chose not to venture into the village, being expected back for breakfast and I wanted to detour to Charlestown before hanging up my helmet for the day.

I retraced my route back into Mevagissey, The early morning haze had cleared and the sun was now shining. I checked the map and located what I believed was another road north, near to the coast which didn’t look as steep My eyes completely deceived me because the incline was draining, my progress was slow and ultimately energy sapping. Eventually I reached the summit and rejoined the B3273 just on the outskirts of Pentewan. My cycling experience of Cornwall could be summed up in four words ‘labouring up’ and ‘plummeting down’.

ALPINE CORNWALLSt Austell is one of the largest towns in Cornwall, its growth was and is still entirely due to the discovery of China Clay deposits just to the west of the town. Today the town is dominated by this industry and this has created a unique landscape locally referred to as ‘The Cornish Alps’.

After a well-earned coffee, I pedalled in the direction of Charlestown which is in touching distance of St Austell town centre. I had only previously seen the village in the darkness so I wanted to see if it looked as appealing with the sun shining.

My progress was gradual as I dropped down towards the seafront and headed in the direction of Charlestown. Charlestown is an unspoilt working port and there were two stunning squared rigged boats happily moored up this morning. I debated whether to ride to the cottage where some of my relatives were staying and satisfy

my childish nature and participate in an early morning session of ‘knock and run’ but the vision of the fuzzy headed incumbents shouting obscenities through the letterbox was not that appealing. The pleasure I imagined would only be short-lived.

Charlestown is popular as a film location; parts of Tim Burton’s ‘Alice in Wonderland’ were filmed here, as well as countless television programmes. I was intrigued by the Shipwreck, Rescue and Heritage Centre which has the largest collection of shipwreck paraphernalia in Europe.

It was time to move on, so I retraced my path back up towards St Austell. On the road out of the village I noticed at the end of a private driveway a tree trunk expertly carved into the image of Poseidon. The detail was amazing. I was surprised I missed it on my way in.

BREWERY AND BREAKFASTSt Austell’s Brewery has been operating since 1851 and owns over 170 pubs throughout the South West. Tours are available and there is an interactive museum, explaining the history of their beers and allows the visitor to experience the whole brewing process. You are also given the opportunity to sample some of the produce.

I cycled into the main courtyard entrance to the brewery, took a picture of the entrance and its impressive Christmas tree and pedalled off down the hill, past the busy train station. The White Hart and its patio garden was only a short distance away. I checked my watch and I had got back just before the breakfast sitting was about to finish. More luck than judgement.

The next morning I was up slightly later than normal. I had decided to cycle eastwards towards and Fowey, returning via the Eden Project, St Blazey and the clay pits.

PAR, FOWEY AND LOSTWITHIELI followed the empty railway line into Par, a place

Time for a brew, the St. Austell brewery

Dial for sunshine, St. Austell

Saints and sinners, Mevagissey

Mevagissey cross

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I immediately like; it has plenty of white stone cottages and a rather large harbour, developed in the mid-nineteenth century, for the export of China Clay. The beach is a nature reserve and has an abundance of wildlife, making it extremely popular with twitchers. I cycled through the beach car park, continuing until the tarmac ran out. The panoramic views of the landscape and the sea were absolutely stunning; the vistas were only marred by the metallic funnels of the nearby port.

From the beach I retraced my way to the A3082. Just outside Fowey stands a monument. Initially it resembled a seven foot tall twiglet stuck on a stone base. It bears a weather worn Latin inscription. A plaque by the path translated; ‘Tristan here lies of Cunomorus the son’. Believed to have been erected around 550, it is said to mark the grave of Tristan, nephew of King Mark of Cornwal and lover of Iseult. Their story probably predates and possibly influenced Arthurian Legends of Lancelot and Guinevere.

Fowey was a short distance from the twiglet. Its cobbled streets brimmed with pastel coloured houses and there were coffee shops to keep the weary traveller happy. I pedalled down to the quayside, the streets were surprisingly free from vehicles. The town’s one way system allows pedestrians and cyclists to wander relatively unhindered.

I had read that Fowey was famous as a residence of,

Dame Daphne de Maurier. The town’s atmosphere stirs creativity. A festival is held every May to celebrate her life and work.

I left along the estuary north of the town, next destination Lostwithiel. I steadily pedalled to reach the B3269 and then the A390.

Lostwithiel is a relatively small town lying at the head of the Fowey Estuary. It is famous for its wonderful array of auction rooms and antique shops. I wanted to find Restormel Castle which is a little north of the town centre in a substantial wooded area. Owned by English Heritage, it consists of a Norman stone ringwork and bailey, with a shell keep enclosed by a deep ditch. It was once the home to Edward, the Black Prince.

Pentewan beach

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Room for bikes, too, Mevagissey

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ROUND CARLYON BAYI decided to head back to base via Luxulyan and Came Cross, through some lovely wooded areas. The sun was now shining and the riding was extremely enjoyable. As I approached the busy roundabout at the junction with A391, I was amazed by the glorious panoramic views over Carlyon Bay. I jumped on the well signposted cycle path and gradually free wheeled into the town centre and eventually I was sat on a wooden bench in the welcoming patio garden of the White Hart Hotel.

The next morning I reacquainted myself with the bike and headed north in the direction of St Blazey. The ride was relatively stress free apart from encountering the occasional busy road.

St Blazey attracts a large number of tourists due to its proximity to the Eden Project. As I pedalled along the main street I noticed the best presented Lloyds TSB branch office I had ever seen. It was housed in a lovely white stone building similar to an old school house and just oozed Cornish charm. From the centre of town I climbed eastwards towards the Eden Project.

EDEN PROJECTThe Eden Project is located on the outskirts of St Blazey and allows visitors to explore the relationship between man and nature. It boasts the world’s largest rainforest in captivity as well as stunning display gardens and an array of sculptures and art. I opted to not visit as I wanted to rack up the miles, but I am confident that I will return.

Leaving the Eden Project through the small hamlet of Trethurgy, the views were stunning, to my right was an imposing grassy mound, similar in shape to a pyramid, and on the left was lovely panoramic views of the fairly flat landscape. I took the A391 signposted to Bodmin and the China Clay Museum. The landscape reminded me of pictures I had seen of the moon with its lunar hills and craters, I followed the China Clay Country Park signs south on the B3274.

On the outskirts of Ruddlemoor I stumbled on the Wheal Martyn China Clay County Park and its welcoming car park. I sat and rehydrated on a grassy mound directly opposite the entrance to the visitors centre. My only company was half a dozen life size figures of locals dressed in Victorian attire, they were cast in a white stone which unfortunately gave them an eerie, ghostly presence.

PITSA leaflet from the visitors centre told me that the park offered indoor interactive displays. It’s also home to

Cornwall’s largest working water wheel and preserved Victorian china clay works with a range of machinery used to extract the clay.

I stopped a short distance south west of Polgooth, on Chapel Hill, near Sticker. South Polgooth was the location of an ancient mine with records dating back to the sixteenth century. An engine house, built for a combined pumping and stamping engine, still remains. In the eighteenth century it was celebrated as the ‘greatest mine in the world’ and the richest in the UK.

Leaving the history, I retraced my route through


JAM OR CREAM?

Polgooth, before turning onto the A390 at St Mewan, eventually returning to St Austell. I had read of the fine viaduct to be clearly seen from the Bodmin Road. Several timber clad buildings on the way were originally sawmills providing timbers during construction. Bodmin Road is on a slight incline revealing the structure’s imposing clean lines.

My last leg of the day was through an archway to the Old Cemetery, now a secluded park. In the grounds was a rather modern sundial which commemorates the dead whose graves are now

located in the boundary walls.

THE UNSOLVED MYSTERYSo is it cream or jam? I never found out, but it’s a passionate rivalry between Devon and Cornwall. In Devon they argue it’s the clotted cream first, followed by the jam; but their neighbours are adamant it’s a layer of jam and then the cream. I had read that scientifically the Cornish way is best as the jam prevents the cream sliding off. However, if you are sitting in front of a scone in Salcombe or St Ives, please just tuck in. SDC

NCR3, near St. Austell

Poseidon

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raleighsojournSeductive Sorcerer? Michael Stenning spells it out


RALEIGH SOJOURN

raleighsojourn T

he Raleigh Sojourn is something of departure from the traditional 700c tourer, not surprising since it was originally a US home market machine and one I’d been itching to swing a leg

over since catching a glimpse of it at Eurobike back in 2009. Semi sloping geometry and disc brakes are obvious nods in mountain biking’s direction widely adopted by the like of Kona, Jamis and Surly’s long haul trucker. Far from gimmick, this configuration is here to stay and enjoys some obvious practical advantages - generous clearances accommodating spiked tyres without

ditching mudguards while cable operated discs keep maintenance low and stopping predictable no matter what. So, let’s see how far £1,100 gets us.

FRAMESETThe Sojourn is a passionate tryst between road going tourer and high-end rigid mountain bike. Thoughtfully, its adopted almost every conceivable braze-on from both parents - three sets of bottle bosses, pump/chain pips, four point carrier fixings, low rider and disc mounts, full compliment of cable guides. Spoke caddies complete with two spares riding shotgun on its right hand chainstays earn additional brownie points on a mixed terrain beast where disaster has more potential to strike miles from civilisation. Even brazing’s relatively low temperatures puts additional strain on the host tubing. If “Made in Taiwan” emblazoned across the head tube doesn’t give traditionalists palpitations, tubing choice just might, though it’s an extremely sensible choice for these applications.

The main triangle is Reynolds 631 whereas the rear is lowlier 520. In bespoke circles, fillet brazing the former to 725 is the preferred option but 520 withstands TIG welding, not to mention accidental denting and corrosion better - a consideration on bikes in hard service. Nonetheless, a liberal helping of Waxoyl sloshing around the inner walls keeps said silent killer academic.

Both are butted, rather than plain gauge, which theoretically results in a livelier, more engaging ride without feeling whippy or compromising strength. In stark contrast, intricate cutaway frame ends look decidedly delicate but closer inspection confirms you’d have to be really unlucky to misalign, let alone bend one proper.135mm mountain bike spacing is another boon, offering excellent scope for future upgrades, or replacement should one’s freehub decide to blow its

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guts mid-tour. Now let’s take a closer look at these forks…what’s

this? Long, curvaceous 4130 Cro-moly blades complete with tidy ends, cable runs, low rider mounts and an elegant semi-sloping crown with intricate lugwork. An interesting, slightly eclectic marriage on paper, especially when disc mounts are thrown into the equation but one that works remarkably well, permitting 42mm spiked snow rubber (though 35mm sections afford more breathing space with full section guards). Raleigh has long enjoyed an enviable reputation when it comes to build/finish quality and the Sojourn’s no exception. TIG welding is widely recognised for its neat, even nature that can be left raw but these are uniformly tidier than most.

Slackening the seat bolt sees the no-name black post glide effortlessly fore and aft courtesy of a properly reamed seat tube with sensible slathering of grease. Random extraction of carrier, bottle and low rider fixings confirmed proper paint shop protocol, although threads were bone dry-easily cured with a drop of wet lube. Powder coating is increasingly default these days, though Raleigh have opted for a rich, glossy wet-spray stove enamel with gold lining and decals hidden beneath and equally luxurious clear lacquer Steel mudguards are given the same treatment and have remained completely unscathed despite

relentless blasting from that abrasive ballast poured into sweltering summer tarmac.

TRANSMISSION/DRIVETRAINSome people might baulk at Sora/Tiagra on bikes commanding £1,100 but having overcome this, Shimano’s lower end groups are continuously evolving to the point they’re within sniffing distance of more prestigious family in terms of reliability/shifting performance. In this instance, Sora brifters command sibling front and cousin Alivio rear mechs. All play very nicely together, are cheap enough to replace in the even of a traumatic tumble and standards of paint/electroplating should retain their youthful vigour until bushings/linkages finally turn sloppy.

That said, while seemingly unflappable, Sora controls only chug the worthy but unremarkable KMC chain singly, whereas Tiagra and comparable emergent brands manage multiples. This might not seem like a big deal outside of racing circles but there have been times when I’ve been frustrated by its pedestrian nature when breaking away from danger round town, or caught out buy an unexpected gradient with trailer en tow. Being brutally honest, while it wouldn’t have the same popularist appeal, bar ends and mid range Tektro levers would be a more practical choice for expedition stuff, especially with dirt and fire roads thrown in for

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good measure. I’m a big fan of Alivio, it’s relatively cheap but extremely cheerful and our nine-speed version has whispered unfalteringly across the sensibly spaced 11-34tooth block, which by the way is this derailleurs’ maximum capacity.

Don’t be fooled by the transparent pie-plate, these might lack street cred but will prevent you crashing to earth like a tangled mass of spaghetti should something untoward happen with routine maintenance. Sora continues up the front, courtesy of a nicely finished front mech doing its thing without undue hesitancy. More noteworthy is the 50/39/30 crankset’s adoption of Hollowtech two-piece technology - well, partially at least. Unlike 105, the arms are solid, which along with ferrous inner rings contributes to the relative heft but placing the bottom bracket bearings outboard displaces the load better, while simultaneously entertaining bigger bearings, thus optimising longevity.

Satin silver contrasts beautifully with the predominantly black effect and Raleigh have sensibly graduated length according to frame size. Our 55cm was blessed with 175mm arms but 170s hang on the smaller 50/53cm models. Speaking of shiny, the cassette’s electroplating seems pretty luxurious and steel rings make a whole heap of sense, wearing much slower, especially through salt n’ slush compared with their 6061/7005 counterparts.

This little lot equates to a very comprehensive and moreover, useable spread of gears between 23 and 123 inches that cope commendably in all imaginable scenarios. Having established that there’s nothing I’d dismiss single-handedly, regular readers cannot have failed to note my preference for industrial looking galvanised/similarly hardwearing chains. Therefore, I’d be inclined to pension the brown KMC off at around

250, maybe 300 miles, getting my money’s worth without leaving a pronounced imprint on the other, more expensive components.

BRAKINGMountain biking is oft honoured with the widespread adoption of disc brakes, yet they’ve been popular amongst tandemists, recumbents and other niche’ markets for a good twenty five years. Cable operated systems lack the outright refinement of hydraulics but have simplicity and similar levels of dependability in their favour. Avid B5 callipers seem an odd choice though. Before the editor’s inbox burst at their proverbial seams under vituperation, these are commendable performers on many levels but their thirteen year old B7 siblings are much better behaved, easier to fettle and more becoming of this price point.

Rant over; real world stopping prowess has been above adequate in most contexts mated to 160mm Shimano discs with no trace of will-it-won’t-it fade when scorching down 1 in 4s laden to the gills and in monsoon conditions. However, closer operating tolerances compared with pretty much any rim, or indeed drum system means the importance of bedding before embarking on serious mileage should never be taken lightly. Some initial stiction was remedied with well-timed squirts of heavier viscosity PTFE lube followed by pumping the levers on/off ten times.

Good factory prep and precise cable length/runs ruled out any mushiness, especially at the rear, although there’s been surprisingly little call for its services. My bedding in technique involves finding a subtle, little trafficked descent, accelerating and gently engaging the brake for ten seconds or so, permitting moderate heat build-up before a minute’s cool-down. Ten repetitions

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should pretty much do it, although time-poor/impatient folk might like to know adding traces of grit to the disc rotor can cut this by 30%. Asking your chosen shop to upgrade the pads in favour of something sintered/aluminium based is another shrewd move.

WHEELSThe old adage that a gram shaved from the wheels does more for a bike’s ride characteristics than losing a pound from the frame rings true here. Packhorses require stout hoops and careful balance needs to be struck between engaging and dependable. My leanings are toward 26inch mtb or 650b when it comes to expedition fare since they afford the most comprehensive (and sometimes the only choice outside mainland Europe) range of rubber, accelerate faster while being proportionally stronger than their

700c counterparts. That’s not to say I’ve anything against the latter in a touring/everyday context. Raleigh have opted for 32 hole Freedom Ryder 23 double wall “trekking types” with neatly executed black anodising, machined sidewalls and smooth welds. Not the most important considerations on a disc braked rig perhaps but bodes well for strength and reliability given potential rider plus kit weight exceeding 250lbs, inclement surfaces with the odd kerb hop engineered into proceedings.

These are laced two-cross via 14gauge stainless steel spokes to Shimano’s M345 disc specific hubs with a system of centre locking splines to resist twisting/related forces exerted by discs. I’ve nothing against the latter per se, at least in practice but once again, no matter how good the contact seals, or smooth press fit n’ forget factory types get, they’re what I’d expect to find on a commuter scoot as opposed to serious


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mile muncher. 35mm Vittoria Randonneur ‘cross tyres complete the package and having previous racked up thousands of winter miles on their trail siblings, should prove dependable thanks to corpulent Kevlar belts and rugged sidewalls. Thoughtfully the latter boast a dedicated dynamo track, encouraging excellent connectivity with bottle types. However, while offering a magic carpet ride over battle scarred tarmac and loose forest trails, 70psi maximum operating pressures and 1500g girth command considerable rider effort to overcome considerable rolling resistance, thus achieving passable speeds negates any benefits accrued from using fewer spokes. Gripes aside, the package hasn’t given a moment’s worry, allowing us to float across fire roads at 20mph with single wheeled trailer and OEM rack laden to their maximum 35 and 18 kilos respectively. Deliberately riding through wet, silty stretches littered with grit and broken glass

couldn’t induce the dreaded hiss either, so on some levels there’s an argument for getting one’s moneys worth and upgrading accordingly. However, to my astonishment swapping them over for Schwalbe’s comparable section Marathon plus induced a more sprightly nature (despite nudging 900g apiece). Those wanting to cultivate a friskier persona without sacrificing reliability might find Continental’s Gatorskins strike the best balance.

FINISHING KITSomething of an institution, Brooks B17 requires little introduction, although contemporary versions seem pre-softened, thus removing masochism from the moulding process - I felt minor discomfort during our formative voyages but this pretty much evaporated once we’d passed the 75mile mark. Recent years have seen the firm expand into other markets, most notably handlebar wrap. Our colour co-ordinated cowhide is a marked improvement over previous incarnations having now adopted single piece, perforated construction. Not only better by aesthetics, it’s stronger and improves comfort.

Having run this and assorted competitors on various bikes in all weathers, with six weekly proofings and basic care, these should look and feel fantastic for many years. Playing devils’ advocate, some might suggest such are a careful ploy to distract focus from more mediocre spec. Perhaps but the Sojourn’s largely in house/unbranded goodies are unusually cheerful and meet the design brief commendably. Judging books by their cover, the crude looking micro adjust clamp implies bargain basement but closer scrutiny reveals good machining and comparable standards of anodising.

Carbon and similar exotica has been the standard by which all others are judged for several years but

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unless you’ve cultivated a fetish for having shards of composite extracted in A&E, or have a high end tag along blessed with rack mounted bracket they’re no use whatsoever for donkeywork. A couple of moderate outings with said budget genre confirm its superlative rigidity subjected to combined 150 kilo assault, ergo the latest generation of gargantuan quick release saddlebags won’t raise a flicker. Not convinced? Well, being 27.2 there’s a tsunami of lighter ferrous/composite alternatives to suit all pockets.

The cockpits’ another nice surprise too, featuring some sensibly proportioned Avenir anatomic bars with moderate 10cm drops. Oversized diameters have been an increasingly popular, albeit breathtakingly obvious phenomenon amongst touring bikes, rigidity here means the bike’s more rewarding and less tiring to pilot, especially with full ensemble. 44cm is pretty much spot on for most occasions, offering sufficient leverage without inducing sharp intakes of breath when negotiating tighter gaps in traffic. Top sections provide reasonable parking space for handlebar bags, blinkies, computers and similar creature comforts. That said, some silicone encased examples were visibly straining - a consideration for seeking to perform wholesale accessory swaps from a more traditional steed. Given my proportionally shorter torso and Sojourn’s 58cm top tube, little surprise to discover the 12cm stem left me slightly stretched - nothing a decent dealer wouldn’t address. Substituted for an otherwise compatible ten confirmed this particular hunch. Depending who you speak with four bolt face plates are either wounded stars, responsible for holding everything blissfully still or devil’s friends causing premature, sometimes disastrous handlebar failure. Much of this urban myth evolved from over zealous clamp tightening, so thoughtfully subtle torque (in this instance 5nm) reminders are lazer-etched into the unusually glossy noir finish.

Most headsets, like this oversized 1/8th offering with aluminium cups, common or garden balls and adequate seals behave in good proportion and can be unobtrusively worn out in between annual servicing, superseded by something with buttery smooth needle roller bearings and O ring seals. Pedals in this instance are Wellgo M21 complete with resin straps-standard fare that get you going and compatible with most types of footwear, thus great for newbies and returnees, though my preference without exception errs toward the platform/SPD types allowing me to bowl along clipped in for efficiency, using the flat side when performing quick dab downs, scooting to the shops-or indeed as a mid-tour contingency should cleat/mechanisms unexpectedly fail. Until a few years ago, mudguards were Chrome plastic almost without exception but the fixed gear scene and retro revival has witnessed a quiet reintroduction of steel and aluminium to proceedings. An odd choice perhaps but Raleigh has gone the ferrous route.

Beefy mono-stays maintain rigid, almost rattle-free tenure while their shorter Rubenesque profiles offer reasonable protection against spray, though rubberised mud flaps would overcome the need for overshoes and bottom bracket areas getting blasted with silty, gritty stuff during the darker months. For all their advantages, discs aren’t everyone’s cuppa, not least as they’ve traditionally limited options rack wise. The Sojourn sports a strangely alluring Tubus homage. Ample for commuting/weekend and utility riding perhaps but eighteen kilos (Clearly embossed within the top plate as useful reminder) isn’t particularly generous by expedition standards and single tier designs can make pannier access/removal tricky when combined with rack bags. Credit where due 6mm rod is surprisingly rigid and arguably the perfect host for Rixen Kaul/similar standard luggage. Laden within 500g of maximum payload, it’s remained rock steady without


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any hint of heel clearance woes even entertaining two twenty-litre bags. Fatigue eventually claims even the best 6061 examples but longevity is easily optimised by dressing the rails in high quality electrical tape and resisting temptation to lay the bike down on its luggage wherever possible.

RIDE/HANDLINGA combination of 14 kilo girth, stodgy tyres and long wheelbase means the Sojourn is something of a culture shock coming from a typical ‘cyclo cross or Audax build but by no means an unrewarding ride. Swinging a leg over the top tube and setting off along the lane it felt very soft, almost subdued as I trickled across the cassette, steady increasing momentum. Tourers by definition have a soft, forgiving persona but the Sojourn sits at the far end of this spectrum and reacts with a sullen disinterest to explosive efforts. Short bursts of harsh acceleration required considerably more impetus for markedly less progress, which became decidedly wearisome given three miles of mini roundabouts and similar stop/start urban assault course.

Chasing down, or indeed keeping pace with similarly matched riding companions on lighter fare also had a tendency for leaving me wide eyed and metaphorically legless. Long-haul laden stretches and those widely spread gears bring about a complete transformation.

Cupboards bare, it was time to tether my faithful mono wheeled Yak pattern trailer and trundle eight miles to Tesco. Revelling in said torque it wasn’t long before we’d crept up to a respectable eighteen mph, frame and wheelset ironing out the carriageways’ lumps n’ bumps like a sprightly steamroller.

Supplies harvested and decanted into said beast of burden, it was time for some serious fun, cobalt skies promising to temper two sweltering weeks’ of unbroken

sunshine. Trickling through the car park and rejoining the flow of traffic, the Sojourn was in its element, not a hint of flinch or squirm as we swept gracefully right at the roundabout, that stiff chassis transferring my every pedal stroke into forward momentum.

Sixteen, nudging seventeen mph coincided with a massive thunderclap, scattering pedestrians lemming fashion into our path, gently nudging the right lever saw pads bite sintered discs-danger effortlessly averted. Back in motion, rain ricocheted in stair roads as sauntered along at 15mph. Sudden rainfall following long, dry spells makes for viciously slippery surfaces as residual oils, diesel and unspent petrol rushes to the surface. No so worries as we entered the first descent, tester dabbing the discs before engaging top. Hunkering low, tubby tourer handling akin to being on rails, I pushed things to 34mph and tried to cajole a shimmy. Try as I might, it wouldn’t turn bandit, holding its line faultlessly.

VERDICTSpeaking subjectively and with minor misgivings aside, I steadily fell under the Sojourn’s spell. For the most part it’s my perfect daily driver that will laugh at ludicrous loads and foul weathers. However, while there are some genuinely beautiful touches, I find myself struggling with some surprisingly low-rent spec- specifically hubs and disc callipers. Otherwise, excellent manners, generous clearances and rugged build bode extremely well for outings along hostile winter roads with spiked tyres. Upgrading those Avid to B7s, adopting bar cons and introducing a dyno hub in exchange for less prestigious saddle and handlebar coverings aren’t particularly outlandish, or expensive changes but would, in my opinion bolster its appeal amongst UK consumers. SDC www.raleigh.co.uk

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MORE TO CYCLING...

Almost ten years ago l wrote about an excursion that a group of our “Informal” cyclists made to Sleap aerodrome for a rather unusual day out. We enjoyed this, to us, unfamiliar

environment tremendously - an unexpected development led to another visit, and our visits became an annual event that is quite possibly unique in cycling circles.

Now you might think that in light of my active promotion of the informal way of cycling what follows amounts to an abrogation of my principles, but it doesn’t. There’s nowhere more formal than the sharp end of airfield operations, but if we are to enjoy a day out under their umbrella, some rules have to be followed. Apart from that it’s the usual free-for-all!

There’s More to Cyclin g than Riding a Bike Free and easy cycling

meets its match, as Paul Wagner and friends, head off to Sleap

AIRFIELD ADVENTURES - THE CIRCUIT OF SLEAPIn the miserable depths of winter one year, I joined Shrewsbury Technical College to brush up on my computer skills, and by the strangest coincidence the tutor turned out to be Bill Sharpe, company secretary of the Shropshire Aero Club - the very club that had given us such a good day out back in the summer. I took to Bill immediately. He’s an expansive, friendly chap, a Navy man and a totally dedicated flyer, and l asked him if we cyclists could go to the airfield again, to learn a bit more about it: wartime history and current operating methods, and to ride a complete circuit of the perimeter track, an activity not normally available to visitors.

Why did we want to bike it all the way round? I’ll tell you later.

Bill readily agreed to my proposal, l made a formal application to the committee, and in due course a very encouraging letter was received asking us to choose a time and date. Word got round and come the day, twenty-six cyclists presented themselves for the outing, in spite of a threatening weather forecast.

Sleap, formerly a WW2 RAF training base for bomber crews, has been home to Shropshire Aero Club for more than fifty years. Well over a hundred aircraft operate out of here and the club is thriving. Bill’s as keen about planes as we are about bikes, and having been club secretary for eighteen years he has a broad knowledge of the field and its history, so who better to look after us during the visit?

He met us at the gate and took us to the operations

Airfields and bikes: WW2 at East Kirby, Lincolnshire


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room where, for security reasons, we were required to sign in. Sleap has a good cafe so we had agreed to arrive at lunchtime. We bombarded Paz, the delightfully extrovert caterer at that time, with orders. Her all day breakfast was as overwhelming as her bacon sandwiches, (you still get very well fed here now), and we sat in the comfortable first floor lounge eating and talking to club members - an animated buzz flowed through the room and we rapidly found out that this is a very friendly place.

When we’d finished chin-wagging, things got a bit more formal. Bill took us up to the radio cabin on the roof to explain the club’s present day modus operandi, pointing out features of the aerodrome and drawing our attention to prominent landmarks both far and near. And what a panoramic view there is - right round from the south Shropshire hills, along the Welsh borders and up to the Peckforton Hills in Cheshire.

Despite it being decidedly draughty and cold upstairs, we were given a riveting description of how the afield was constructed up to its completion in 1942, and its subsequent operational history.

Bill’s enthusiasm for his club, flying, the history of Sleap, and life in general, shone from his every word. We were brought firmly down to earth when we learned that in two separate incidents within a fortnight in 1943, two out-of- control Whitley bombers had struck the control tower on which we were standing. In those incidents, eight people were killed and at least eleven more injured. We needed no greater reminder that even here in sleepy Shropshire, far from the active front, war had destroyed lives, and we decided that any further organised visits we may pay to the airfield would be silently dedicated to the personnel, both uniformed and civilian, who had served here during the war.

Sleap has an excellent museum, run by an

On the roof for the first time

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Issue 2 / 2014

association called the Wartime Aircraft Recovery Group. It’s housed in a group of wooden huts and they have a fascinating variety of aircraft relics on display, as well as a three-quarters size replica Spitfire. The museum was opened up for us, providing a diverting hour for everyone before we lined up for the main event of the day, a complete cycled circuit of the perimeter track.

Those of you of a certain age will know that some airfield perimeter-tracks were used for cycle racing both during and after the war - in fact bicycles played a big part in airfield activities as records prove, and it was with a leaning towards this particular aspect of local history that our circumnavigation was to be made.

Jim Leach, friend to all, local historians and honorary “Informal” cyclist, was with us - he had gained a creditable eighth place in such a race at nearby RA’F

Shawbury over half a century ago, but today he would finish back in the bunch!

You can’t just ride round the airfield unescorted. It simply isn’t the kind of place where the uninitiated can wander at large, as, apart from being private, it’s dangerous, so Bill preceded us in his car, keeping us out of the way of incoming and outgoing aircraft on the runway flight lines, while explaining what the various hangars and other buildings were for, and showing us where still extant relics of the wartime operation can be found.

None of us had ever been on the far side of the airfield before and it was remarkably disorientating, even though it lies close to roads and landmarks that are familiar to us. We were convulsed by this vast amount of open ground, which is just far enough out of level to increase the confusion, and we couldn’t get our bearings at all.

Paul G fixes Pam’s Mercian

Posing outside the control tower

Airfields and bikes and trikes; the Shuttleworth Collection, Old Warden, Bedfordshire

By bike, by plane, Ann gets her first flight certificate

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Way over in the outfield we had conversations with a couple of local farmers who have rights of access to pieces of land within the boundaries, by dint of the fact that it was their family property that had been requisitioned to build the airfield in the first place. They still had a distinct air of resentment towards the then powers-that-be which it was felt had sold their Dads short when the land had been requisitioned.

Back at the tower, we were all a bit sad that our first ever circuit was over. It remained for us to thank Bill and his committee for allowing us such unusual access, and then he sprang the surprise of the day by telling us that our names would be put in a hat and the first one drawn out would be given a free flight in one of the club aircraft. It was an extremely generous gesture typical, we felt, of the whole operation here at Sleap. Bill told us that if we wanted to come back we would be welcome

and we already knew that we’d return.That’s a short record of the original event, from which

our annual Circuit of Sleap event sprang. The ride home on that occasion was a passage of chattering delight, so enjoyable had been our day, and to put the cherry on the cake, the threatening weather forecast remained a threat, not reality!

And we will hear a bit more about cycling with Special Branch, a right royal landing and a good few drams, as there’s more to cycling than riding a bike next time. SDC

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RUGBY TOUR

The London Midland rail service direct from Crewe to London Euston via Stafford and almost all stations north of Milton Keynes, may not be the most rapid available but has the benefit of

carrying bikes without reservation and generally having plenty of space as far as Rugby.

With an eye to longer camping tours, Stephen Dyster, wife and son, set off on a camping tour of relatives’ back gardens – very peaceful and very cheap

rugbyTour

So, the tour began at the much redeveloped railway station at Rugby, departure delayed by one of those annoying inevitabilities with heavily loaded panniers; they never seem to fit quite so well the second time round.

Confident though we are that our son can ride safely on the road under supervision, the relief provided

in urban areas. Thus NCR 41 runs right past the station, wiggles round a couple of side roads and skirts the town on that staple of Sustrans’ work, the former railway line.

In this case the surface is generally sound, though the wet winter had clearly caused damage in the deeper sections of the cutting. The majority was adequate,

Kenilworth, the Abbey Fields


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by a good dose of traffic-free, though not totally concentration-free, riding is important for all. Child gets to ride off and parents aren’t quite so twitchy at the sound of every aggressively roaring engine.

One of the declared aims in the creation of the National Cycle Network was to demonstrate that cycling, supported by good infrastructure is possible

Not too heavily loaded, but the barriers

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issue 1 / 2014

but the necessity of an appeal to sponsor a mile was manifest in one or two places.

ON ROAD, OFF TRACKMissing the sign to leave the track we emerged on a minor road and needed to consult the map to regain the traffic free shared path at the side of the B4429 and A426. The path was well-used by cyclists as far as the point where the main road had to be crossed on the edge of Dunchurch. It is a little disappointing to find no central reservation or controlled crossing at this point, but a kindly motorist halted the stream of traffic to allow us to cross. Cycling with children seems to make this kind of behaviour more likely.

Dunchurch is an attractive, functional village with a history suitable for an important stopping-off point on the A45, once the Portway, between Coventry and Northampton. Dunchurch would have been known to travellers between those two important places since the age of Lady Godiva. Though by-passed by NCR41 and the less interesting M45, had it been later in the day we would have sought refreshments there.

In any case, our lunch stop – the train journey had taken up a good chunk of the morning – was only a little way off, at Draycote Water. NCR41 reached the reservoir via a neatly continuous section of country lane, bridleway and track; NCR layout at its best, with only one pesky gate to dull the joy. Since we had stopped already to look in surprise at a herd of alpacas

looking in surprise at two heavily-laden and one lightly-laden touring bicycles, we could not really complain. On family trips the journey needs to be broken up with planned and spontaneous stops.

The planned stop was at Draycote Water. The visitor centre, where stands the vital café, play-park and ice-cream stand, was two kilometres in the wrong direction, but it is remarkable what the prospect of ice-cream and tea does for some folk.

MOTIVATIONDraycote Water is dammed on two sides. The approach to the visitor centre crossed one of the dams on a long causeway, thronged by walkers, cyclists, scooterists,

Two Boats, Long Itchington, perfect for a pint and a pie

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skateboarders and a couple of equestrians on this sunny spring lunchtime. Water and sun are a special combination and the views over rural Warwickshire to the higher ground of Northamptonshire were delightful.

In fairness to my son he had not been complaining of tiredness, yet one of the mysteries of cycling is how bombing round a play-park with a bunch of kids can rejuvenate the tired limbs of a child but quickly fatigue those of their more seasoned cycling companions. It was good to see lines of bicycles of all sizes leaning on the fences – the official cycle parking was full – and that I was not the only cycling parent suffering the indignity of getting out-run by a child. Some people just belong on bicycles.

Fuel consumed, we retraced our tracks and made the short trip round to the far side of the reservoir. At the turning – the route was well-signed throughout – we came across one of those bizarre signs. The track was clearly marked as NCR41, but cyclists were warned that it was dangerous to cycle along it. Apart from the odd rut there seemed to be little hazard, but as a permissive section of the route it maybe that there are genuine reasons for the warning.

A little wiggle on a country lane and a nasty, uneven, steep track took us up to the old railway line which will, it is hoped, eventually carry NCR41 to the Grand Union Canal towpath between Offchurch and Leamington Spa. At present the Lias Line soon joins the road to Birdingbury.

This was the hilliest section of the day, though nothing to worry about. Even so, we covered it rapidly. Son had been trying to do front wheel lifts, to the displeasure of his parents. The resulting reprimand – not unreasonable given that he had panniers on – motivated him to speed up the hill to escape those backward thinkers who did not appreciate his skills. Must remember that one when we go to the Highlands.

CANAL PUB CRAWLA rewarding descent leads to the Grand Union Canal at Stockton Locks. The next two miles is well surfaced and easy with three pubs to refresh the boaters labouring through the flight. Stopping briefly at the Two Boats in Long Itchington – one pub was enough for us – we soon encountered one of those mystifying combinations of obstacles that are sometimes encountered on a cycle route. A flight of steps led upward with a narrow kissing-gate at the top. Cyclists had forged a narrow gap to the right, but it was overgrown and rough, making it very awkward with a touring bike.

The family disappeared into the distance along the disused railway line as I ranted stupidly.

A combination of country road, disused rail and canal brought us to Leamington Spa. The canal can be followed all the way to Warwick, but NCR41 and our route head down some more steps from the canal to the main road – blink and you’ll miss the sign – and into Newbold Comyn Park, via some more awkward barriers.

Local knowledge of back roads and cut-throughs took us to our destination.

DAY TWO; THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE VERY GOODThe next morning Leamington was busy. The centre is easily negotiated, though NCR41 was ignored in

A helpful barrier – if we must have them

A variety of cyclists, near Warwick University

Setting off up the Coventry Canal to Nuneaton

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favour of cutting across the grassy area next to the famous Pump Rooms, which houses an interesting museum and tea-room, to cross the Leam and the next road and emerge at the Railway Station. A short way along the busy A425 the canal towpath can be accessed - down a few steps. NCR41 wanders around on the way to Warwick – and if you haven’t been to Warwick the centre is well-worth some of your time – but the canal towpath is perfectly good. It was followed all the way to the A429.

Heading north, there is a fine cycle path alongside this busy road. In a short while this becomes NCR52. Country lanes lead through Leek Wooton and to the edge of Kenilworth, where estate roads and a short traffic free stretch emerge opposite the entrance to Abbey Fields.

Cycling is not allowed in the Abbey Fields, despite the fact that NCR52 runs through it.

Kenilworth is most famous for its castle, a ruin that runs the gamut of castle design from Norman fortress to the palace of a medieval magnate – John O’Gaunt – and the Tudor fancy of the Earl of Leicester, determined to impress Elizabeth I. However, the remains of the Abbey and the surrounding parkland are very popular.

A café, swimming pool and play-park make it a good place for a family stop and there are picnic tables, too.

After more running about, we set off on what turned out to be one of the best laid out sections of largely traffic free cycle route around. Firstly, a section through a residential area, then another former railway line and finally a purpose built path, with easy passage over mini-cattle-grids through gates, took us all the way through the campus of Warwick University.

STARLEYS IN THEIR EYESA set of iron bicycles and riders reminded us that this area has some claim to be the home of the bicycle in Britain. Avoiding the urge to lecture the family on The Starleys and others – though this might have made for rapid forward progress on the part of wife and child – I satisfied myself by remarking that Warwick University houses the British Cycling Collection of memoirs, papers and so on. In any case, I knew that there was a statue of James Starley at which I could “get” them a little farther on.

The NCR signs disappeared, replaced, it turned out, by cycle signs to Coventry City Centre. These mixed shared path with residential streets and offered

Traffic free route as it should be


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Over the dam at Draycote Water

National cycling hero, James Starley’s monument, Coventry

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surprisingly easy access to the city centre for a family used to cycling in light traffic. A single system of cycle signage would be useful.

The City Centre is defended by a ring-road that was designed when traffic was light everywhere. It is easily passed under or over in several places. We stopped by the Starley statue before the others escaped and we ran round the outskirts of the city centre to the plaza next to the Transport Museum.

Coventry was one of the most important towns in medieval England and a surprising number of isolated examples of what it was like before the blitz remain. However, the modern buildings that dominate have left room for large public spaces and the famous remains of the bombed-out Cathedral next to its striking modern counterpart, with its stunning use of light, make for a fascinating mixture.

The Transport Museum is very interesting, but we had visited before. Refreshing ourselves outside, we watched a Church Group mark Good Friday by hauling a cross onto the bridge whist other members of the congregation sang and danced. A group of

skateboarders whizzed around them invoking the name of Satan, seemingly unaware that the objects of their derision were happily turning the other cheek and ignoring the provocation. A flyer was handed to us offering, “Free Gift – Eternal Life.”

Escaping the centre of Coventry means crossing the inner ring road, again. Easily achieved, the big problem was to find the way north. Signs to the city centre are easy to follow, but even with the map it was not easy to decide how to head out of it. NCR52 is not complete or signed through the city. So, after slow progress amongst traffic that was becoming increasingly weighty and impatient, we joined the Coventry Canal towpath. Not all the towpath is “official” cycle route, but the surfaces were good though some of the barriers annoying. At least it made for an easy ride to the garden campsite.

DAY THREE: ROUGH WITH THE SMOOTHCanal towpaths can make for excellent progress even when they are not part of a cycle route. Equally they can be appalling and make handling a heavily-laden bicycle a matter for fierce concentration. Even asking for advice does not help, especially if that advice is from an irregular cyclist – expectations and standards vary so much.

Thus the decision to avoid the main road north to Bedworth, towards which we hied our merry way late the next morning, and use the towpath instead turned out to be only moderately well-advised. Between Bedworth and Nuneaton, the surface was much better. It is part of the NCN – not always a guarantee of good going – which joins the towpath at Marston Junction.

Being late in the morning we found refreshments a little way off the towpath at Chilvers Coton, in Nuneaton. This is George Eliot country. Mary Ann Evans, who wrote under the name of Eliot, lived here, though her family took a dim view of her writing and her relationship with her publisher that went well beyond contemporary notions of decency.

Back on the towpath, we faced that awkward proposition of finding the right place to branch off on our own and leave the signed route. Local signing, where it exists, is not always useful, so we resorted to counting bridges. It worked, and we faced the long and busy climb to Hartshill with steady equanimity. It was not enjoyable, but it needed to be done. Shortly beyond the village and further up the hill is Hartshill Hayes Country Park, where a kiosk sells good value refreshments. We had to stop.


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Beyond here our way to the outskirts of Tamworth undulated, but was generally on country lanes. This is rolling agricultural land with limited evidence that it was once a landscape of collieries. Baxterley is a particularly attractive village with an enticing pub amongst its trees and grassy spaces. The colliery was only closed in 1989, yet there is little immediate sign that it was ever there, though there is a memorial to the miners at nearby Baddesley Ensor. A special thought may be given to the thirty-two men and boys who died in the underground fire of 1882.

The Baxterley village website states that the area is a very beautiful one. It is, in my view, correct. However, bound for the end of our journey, we pushed on, eventually rolling down from the hills to pick up traffic free routes that ran all the way into the heart of Tamworth. Sadly, they don’t quite link up all the way to the railway station.

So, a short tour over, and proof that we could manage the camping gear and other requirements without a trailer (frowned upon by most of our rail companies) and child only carrying light equipment (his waterproofs, some clothes and his stash of sweets).

All set for a tour abroad soon. SDC

FurtherInformation:We deliberately planned the route to fit in with railway stations that could be useful in the event of appalling weather (not a little rain, but there is always the chance of a deluge in April). Travelling light, we had plenty of pannier space for stocking up on food. Adults took one set of clothing for wear and one for spare, child had a little more. We carried a Vango three man tent and all necessary camping gear comfortably in two front panniers, four rear panniers, and a couple of dry bags. In addition, child carried some light gear on a seat post rack with two small panniers. We practised in advance to teach him the impact load carrying can have on handling.

London Midland Trains have a cycling policy, but we had no trouble fitting all our bikes on one way or another. We caught trains outside of peak times.

We used numbers 16, 20 and 21 of the pocket sized guides to the National Cycle Network. These maps were more than adequate. They take less space than the OS 1: 50000 series, have larger scale maps of selected urban centres and suggestions for day loops. At 1: 110000, the scale is fine for cycle touring on marked routes and roads. They are available from the Sustrans online shop, sometimes a part of discounted packs.

www.sustrans.org.uk/shop

Tamworth, end of the tour

Inverasdale

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THE BROMPTON GOES WILD

My first folding bicycle camping tour, and I chose the Highlands of Scotland! All my kit packed into the Brompton front basket, within a bag for weathering the storms, and a large

holdall to sit on the rear rack. Strapped to this was my bagged tent. Taking the overnight National Express coach landed me in Inverness for a late breakfast, after which I rode to camp at Contin for an afternoon snooze, to make up for sleep-loss on the coach.

Next day took me past the Rogie Falls and on, following the railway along to Achnasheen, a long, gentle climb, then descending easily to Lochcarron for two nights camping. An easy 43 miles covered under load.

For my ‘rest’ day, I chose an unladen ride over the notorious Applecross Pass. For the 6.5 mile climb I pushed a mere quarter mile. My bottom gear only matched that of the lowest in the middle ring of my

The BromptonGoes Wild

in the Scottish

Highlands, with Mark

Jacobson in the saddle

Prime pitch at Poolewe



tourer. Descending from the summit at 2053 feet was much faster. Taking the northern loop around and back, I lunched late at Kishorn Seafood Bar. 58 miles covered.

Moving on laden, I took the valley route back to Achnasheen, against the breeze, averaging 8 mph. Tailwind thereafter and top gear was engaged! Descent through Glen Docherty to Kinlochewe was at a stable 37 mph. Continuing took me past the Victoria Falls, not the African one. I finally arrived at Poolewe, tired, at three pm, 57 miles done.

Two days later I moved on to Ullapool. For the last four nights I had shared the same campsite with a Dutch couple on tour. This day they passed me, and set up a coffee stop in a lay-by! After refreshing me, they gave their home address with an invitation to stay, which I did some years later. Coming to Corrieshalloch Gorge I saw a German Rotel, a coach towing a sleeping trailer of coffin-like boxes in tiers. Arrived at Ardmair Point campsite 2:30 pm, tired from breezes and hills! 55 miles covered at 10 mph average.

A word about climbing hills and energy loss: some climbs are 5 miles or so; my lowest pedalling speed proved to be five mph, below which I could push at 2 mph. Pushing the laden Brompton is easier than my tourer, as that has panniers obstructing the pushing legs, while the Brompton bag stands vertically. For a five mile climb, this takes one hour cycling with effort, or two and a half hours pushing.

Moving on again next day started with a puncture to repair, in windy rain! Lost about an hour in all, but I still took the scenic route (i.e. hilly, coastal) to Lochinver,

to camp at Achmelvich. Lunch had been had at the Fishermen’s Mission in Lochinver. The afternoon was spent visiting the Bay of Stoer at Clachtoll, the sea a deep green washing on to white sand.

Although having moved on for consecutive days, I moved on again for Durness and a rest. To avoid the really hilly coastal route northbound (this is known as “breakdown road” and some of the hills are ferocious), I returned towards Lochinver and took the eastbound road to Skiag Bridge, then northwards to Kylescu, Scourie and Rhiconich. The last stretch was very wet and windy. Seeing the excessively windy campsite, I opted for the SYH for two nights. Later Jason Patient came in, having put his black Brompton against my black one in the bike shed! He was doing a piece for Bicycle magazine, on using the Brompton coupled with bus and post bus touring the same area as I. We relaxed indoors while the wind howled and rain splattered, I tired after 59 miles at less than nine mph.

Next day proved calm and the MOD would only start their shelling a day later. So the Keodale ferry was in operation. I crossed early and then beat the minibus to the lighthouse. Regrettably this is unmanned, so

A word about climbing hills and energy loss: some climbs are 5 miles or

so; my lowest pedalling speed proved to be five mph, below which I could push at 2 mph.

Rotel at Corrieshalloch

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no tea was available, although I hear that there is now a resident living there, who runs a small cafe. It was a worthwhile experience, the wind and water far below, both bellowing and pounding the cliffs. Later, in trying to reach Balnakeil Head, where the road crosses the beach for about a half mile, I had to lift the front wheel and drag the Brompton through the sand, as the small wheel kept digging in: small wheel, large angle of attack, comes to a stop in anything soft!

Riding next day to Lairg was also difficult. After a good run to Hope, I turned into the wind for the rest of the way. The road around Loch Eriboll (Loch ‘Orrible’) is very scenic. Towards Ben Hope I encountered a Highland bull standing in the road, but they are relatively tame, and he moved off as I approached. Further on I stopped to examine the Broch, a well preserved structure of ancient times. The climb up to the Crask Inn, said to be the most remote in Britain, took a lot of energy. Even the descent into the wind took effort, so my arrival at Lairg campsite was a relief. Before even able to unpack and pitch, adjacent Dutch campers took pity on me and set up tea and cake on a

picnic bench! What hospitality. This had probably been my hardest day’s riding, 63 miles at 9 mph.

Next day saw me ride to Dingwall, stooping to view the Shin Falls. Crossing Bonar Bridge I climbed up to Struie Hill viewpoint. Here was a convoy of vintage Rolls Royce cars, on tour around Scotland from America. The owners had had them shipped over in containers for their tour. After a visit to the Touchstone Maze (a planting of all the types of rock found in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, up to 3,000,000,000 years old), tea was taken in Strathpeffer before pitching my tent in Dingwall. It had been an easier day of 54 miles.

With a forecast of SW gales and showers, it was time to leave. The return to Inverness was via Beauly and time spent in the city prior to catching the overnight coach home. It had been a worthwhile trip and the Brompton had performed rather better than I, but, for a first trip, who else would select the toughest terrain?

Load carried: bicycle 28 lbs, front bag 14 lbs, rear bag 34 lbs (12.7, 6.35 & 15.5 kg, respectively)

Total distance cycled 595 miles. SDC

www.visitcapewrath.com

Dun Dornaigil Broch

Inshore wooden bridge nr Cape Wrath

Corrieshalloch Gorge



Inverness_awaiting the NE coach

Cape Wrath Light

Road to Balnakeil Head

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TOUR DE JOUR

Work? Stress? Exercise and a mind on nothing more than turning the pedals are perfect therapy.

I have always cycled to work. I know, though, that I am lucky. Country lanes,

traffic free paths and an ever-growing knowledge of the back roads and cut-throughs in the city have made my commute a pleasure almost all of the time.

Others face an intimidating battle amidst heavy traffic, which they either brave or avoid by leaving the bike at home. It should not be the case; campaigns from all direction demand change, but the reality is that cycling to work for many can be as stressful as the challenges of the day. For the lucky ones it is a pleasure.

SOME TIPS1. Do some research; you are unlikely to have to cycle along the same roads on which you drive.2. Recce the route at a quiet time, maybe a weekend, in particular locate good places to cross main roads.3. Give yourself plenty of time and, if you can, commute before or after the main rush.4. If you can’t do it every day, don’t worry.5. If combining public transport with cycling, be sure to check that you can get your bike aboard. A folding bike is great, but some bus and train companies insist on a folder being bagged, whilst rigid bikes are often banned on rush hour services.6. Find somewhere secure to park, and carry a good lock. Does your place of work have proper bike parking? Why not? Healthy people have less time off work.7. Try storing a set of clean clothes at work. Does your employer provide a shower room?

TOUR DE JOURMy current tour of the day is a joy. I access the canal

towpath a few hundred yards from home. The surface is deteriorating, so I use a road route after wet weather and mail the relevant organisations hoping they can find some money to repair it.

Stone is a small town, so it does not take long to reach the countryside. A grand upgrading of the Trent and Mersey Canal towpath has been undertaken between the north end of Stone and Barlaston. The new section is well-used, so is already showing signs of wear. There are the usual low bridges and vegetation that insists on growing, but the surface is, for the moment, good.

Care is needed when swans and geese plonk their broods in the middle of the way, but they seem to be increasingly happy to allow cyclists past under a beady eye rather than a full-blown wing-beating display.

The main factor influencing the time my commute takes is the number of pedestrians, especially dog-walkers. I have become acquainted with many of them and a ring of the bell and a pleasant good morning generally elicits an equally accommodating response.

Shortly after Barlaston is the Wedgewood factory and visitor centre in Barlaston Park. In the midst of the country one cannot escape the Potteries.

Leafy Trentham marks the southern edge of Stoke on Trent. So leafy is the towpath that the roots have ripped up through the surface. Repairs urgently needed. After Trentham the countryside is re-entered – a gap, typical of the city, in the urban development. On one side was one of the many collieries of the North Staffordshire coalfield. All have now closed and, except for one, disappeared.

The Britannia Stadium, home of Stoke City, comes into view and the city’s remarkably attractive incinerator, too. Leaving the canal and passing the station, on a busy but easily cycle-able road, I pass the university campus and run up a side road to Hanley Park.

tour de jourCycle-therapy:

Stephen Dyster introduces a new feature which he’d like to pass over to the readers

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The by-law forbidding cycling in the city’s parks has been withdrawn. Stoke on Trent has a lot of green spaces, amongst them six lovely Victorian parks (each of the six towns that were combined to make the city had its own park, a reflection of the civic pride and prosperity of that period). They are all beautiful and the City Council has found funding to start to restore them. Hanley Park is grand, but will be magnificent when the process is finished. You can almost hear the music from the bandstand as you pedal past the lake.

Cross over the Cauldon Canal which bisects Hanley Park, look back out over the city to the wooded hills and head for the office. Ten miles full of interest, beauty and relief from the cares of the working day.

Urban landmark …. an old burner

YOUR TOUR DE JOURMind you, I think I am lucky. We’d love to hear about your Tour de Jour be it frustrating or joyful. Send it to [email protected]* including a couple of images and fascinate us all with what you see most days. Remember most of us will have little knowledge of places that to you may appear familiar, even dull. SDC

* please check contact details on the welcome page at www.sevendaycyclist.co.uk as there are some teething problems with that email

Food on the go Potteries style

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TESTING TIMES

Being bright and having the right light for the journey is a serious business, but relax and let Michael Stenning illuminate you way.

Lighting is a legal requirement for any vehicle used on the public highway between the hours of sunset and sunrise and this will of course, be open to interpretation. Traditionally, the focus was upon being seen by other road users and before the mountain bike boom, largely a choice between dynamos and simple battery powered filament lights. These days, there’s no excuse for not being super conspicuous thanks to the explosion in remarkably inexpensive, frugal, yet eye-catching LED “blinkies” while high power rechargeable and dynamo systems have evolved at a similar rate.

LIGHTING & THE LAW (SEPARATING TRUTH FROM FICTION)Twenty years back I was stopped by a policeman who drew alongside me in his patrol car for a chat. Despite making very positive noises about my standards of illumination, he became very insistent that a fixed gear (run with two cable operated brakes) and dynamo lighting were illegal! Having diplomatically debunked

these myths (quoting their respective sections of road traffic act) we parted on excellent terms and opposite directions.

While the law is constantly evolving, at its simplest under Road Vehicle Lighting Regulations (RVLA) machines must sport lights and reflectors. Up front, lamps emitting a white light must be fitted centrally or offside and to a maximum of 150cm from the ground.

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One23 Atom Pro Twin Pack LED set £32.99

One23 Atom pro twin pack LED lighting set are a nicely executed set of “bobby dodgers” bijous enough for best bikes or as tertiary

companions to dynamo/high power systems. Boasting 40 lumens front, 15 rear they command nominal handlebar/seatpost real estate and weight a feathery 33g apiece by our scales.

Neatly machined aluminium bodies house single diodes, circuitry/switches and you guessed it, rechargeable li-polymer cell. Aesthetics aside, aluminium is sturdier and disperses heat better than composites, giving internals the best hope of returning between 900 and 15,000 hours service. By this point cells will have cashed in their chips and won’t owe anything. Zero to hero charging takes 2.5hours and must be performed before first use too.

USB types have traditionally used simple rubber plugs, which remain more vulnerable to water/ingress. However, these screw into the base cum mount for maximum protection. Despite some initial trepidation, ours passed my hosepipe test pretty convincingly; though add a lick of silicone grease to the threads for peace of mind.

Incorporating lens and positive switch in one means they couldn’t be simpler to operate, even on the fly wearing stodgy duvet type gloves/mitts. Click once for high, again for low and a third prod prompts flashing.

Rubberised hook brackets are similarly user-friendly, although benefit from some judicious pre-stretch and while limpet-like in their tenure, ours showed signs of serious indigestion when embracing oversized diameters. At the other extreme, these presented no

issues on pencil thin tubing Output is proportionally impressive, rather than

ground breaking but then again these are contingency/complementary units.

Up front, 40 lumens are certainly conspicuous in sub/urban contexts up to approximately 100 metres on a clear night, the rear nearer 75, dipping to 60 and 35 respectively in low.

All give plenty of visible warning when juice starts waning, thus under normal circumstances being plunged into darkness is unlikely-we’ve returned a consistent 2hrs 47, 5hrs 41 and 23.52. Peripheral punch is better than size implies though comparatively weak, hence flashing has been my default when negotiating roundabouts or otherwise joining traffic flow. That said; it blinks at just the right pace, swiftly snaring driver attention and to around 100/150 metres without getting suffocated by neon malaise through town. Michael StenningVerdict: Aesthetically pleasing blinkies with good build quality and excellent power to size ratios.www.todayscyclist.co.uk

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One23 Flash Front LED light £37.99

Superficially, there’s little distinguishing one23 flash front light from a wealth of competitors. However, while many boast

five modes; few produce 300 lumens in top or offer a super frugal 59 hour flashing option.

Measuring 66x29x22mm and tipping the scales at a barely there 50g, materials and standards of construction are equally impressive. An aluminium alloy body is flanked by polycarbonate and ABS plastics-sturdy stuff that optimises output and diode life.

Internally, we have a super bright, single Cree LED fuelled by an equally dependable lithium polymer cell that requires a full 2.5 hour, “hibernation” charge if being left unused for three weeks or more. Cabling is a little short but also ensures discrete topping up at work.

According to the blurb, its watch type strap accommodates fork blades or handlebar/brackets between 20 and 40mm in diameter. Hmm, for the most part I’ll agree but oversized models proved challenging. Removal, say when parking in the street was similarly frustrating in gloved hand.

By contrast, the positive centre mounted switch cum charge indicator is absolutely bang-on, easy to read and use. Depressing for two seconds

Those emitting a steady beam must conform to BS 6102/3 or CE equivalent and blinkies must produce at least 4 candela.

Rear light must be red, positioned centrally or off-side and between 35 and 150 cm from the ground, aligned towards and completely visible from behind. Those emitting a steady beam must conform to BS3648, BS6102/3 or CE equivalent. Those only capable of producing flashing beam(s) need to be at least 4 candela.

The law is also an ass. While I understand the need for standardisation/guidelines, read literally, many high-power rechargeable systems do not comply with BS, something that a smooth-talking lawyer might try to exploit when defending an intoxicated or otherwise unfit driver in the event of a collision.

By the same token, these increasingly affordable uber-lumen models will often match some small car headlamps - brilliant for navigating forest tracks and deserted rural backwaters at warp speed in the wee

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unleashes the full 300, which are refreshingly free of halos/similar imperfections. Navigational clout is sufficient for tackling unlit suburbs/ less challenging semi- rural contexts at a steady 18/14mph respectively.

Sensibly proportioned side windows afford excellent peripheral presence too. However, this curbed run times to 53 minutes- tops.

Medium and low are better bets through city limits, sipping reserves at 2hrs 53 and 5hrs 51. That said; quick/flashing modes are by far the most extrovert-snaring driver attention at around 160 metres (further on clear, starry nights).

These have been my default pre standlight dynamo companions, returning 11hrs 47 and 58hrs 48. The super frugal setting is slightly softer, identifying me as a cyclist when cosied up to my uber lumen rechargeable system along shared use or forest tracks. Both are very distinctive and performance differential essentially boils down to economy. Nigh on twelve hours translates as two weeks middle distance commuting, or marathon night rides/Audax, whereas the latter is perfect for forgetful types, or long haul winter touring. Michael StenningVerdict: Versatile backup light with powerful settings but a longer mounting strap and charge cable would be welcomed.www.todayscyclist.co.uk

small hours but require discretion (and several settings) to avoid dazzling other road users-especially through sub/urban locales. That said; statutes are seldom enforced so long as one is clearly visible and complying with the basic front/rear stipulations.

WHAT TO LOOK FOR, WHAT TO PAYWith these last sentiments in mind, it is important to sit back and evaluate your needs. For example, I always carry a front and rear seen-by blinkies in the wedge packs of my summer specific bikes in case that early evening saunter should evolve into something longer. By contrast, my four seasons rough stuff tourer sports a high end hub dynamo capable of producing 800 lumens from around walking pace - ample for navigating moderate trails and rural backwaters to around 18 and 30mph respectively.

Whatever route you decide, look for good peripheral illumination to prevent blind spots - especially at roundabouts/junctions. Mounting brackets vary too, though there’s been a trend for O-ring type silicone straps, which will entertain the full spectrum of handlebar/seatpost diameters with leach-like tenacity, while saving a few grams to boot. I’m a four seasons night owl but winter is the most obvious one, so check brackets/switches are easily commanded in duvet-

LONG TERM TEST (12 MONTHS) : One23 Extreme Bright 1,000 Rechargeable front light 414g £79.99

One23 Extreme bright 1,000 front light is a budget see-with uber system that sometimes stirred mixed feelings but,

nonetheless, represents excellent value for fast paced nocturnal road work.

The 6061 aluminium alloy headlamp is surprisingly well-finished for a package commanding less than eighty quid. Not just a pretty face, it dissipates heat extremely efficiently. Generous cooling fins help keep delicate circuitry, diode and switchgear temperate, giving the best chance of achieving their 50,000hour potential before becoming recycling bin fodder. Things turn slightly toasty given thirty minutes yet never strayed into singed digit county - even after several hours’ continuous use.

This mounts atop handlebars or helmets via the appropriate kit. Bars employ a choice of “doughnut” rings, which seem pretty rugged, although most tenacious on oversized diameters - we’ve experienced some minor slippage across

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dense full finger gloves/mittens. Children are arguably the most vulnerable, yet

unintentionally destructive group. Therefore ensure theirs are super user-friendly. Most of the time, young proteges will be accompanied but will want to begin exploring independently at 9, 10 and 11. I have found the bigger shop-branded blinky types encased in silicone blankets work particularly well, though cable tied two kidney shaped models to the front and rear of my son’s helmet in case the bike mounted versions were swiped or met an unfortunate end. Talking of which, tagalongs and trailers must also sport independent lighting. Look for units with a large surface area-something like the Fibre Flare is ideal .

A simple twin pack such as the Smart commanding the lion’s share of £35 (online) may be perfectly adequate for scoots through town and suburbs between 12 and 18mph, where being seen is of greater significance than seeing with. AA batteries are available pretty much everywhere from corner shop to petrol station forecourt; rechargeable cells make running costs even cheaper. These torch type designs also dis/mount in seconds, slipping unobtrusively into pockets or luggage when locking up in the street.

washboard surfaces on the increasingly quaint 25.4 and 26.0.

The portly rubberised centre mounted switch cum battery life indicator is an absolute cinch to command-even wearing winter “lobster” mitts without accidentally engaging in rider/bike mounted luggage. Simple “traffic light” signals change from green, blue and red, enabling effortless monitoring of battery slurpage. To date, I’ve never been plunged into darkness and in everyday terms, only the most myopic (or reckless) should encounter systems failure. Its’ pretty well sealed from Mother Nature, resisting torrential rains and hosepipe torture testing without missing a beat.

Battery bulk has always been a sticking point, especially amongst clutter-phobes, though its’ heavily padded relatively bijous 8x5cm 8.4v 4ah lithium ion unit nestles nicely beneath the top/head tube interface without annoying sway or marking delicate paintwork. Genuine replacements are available for £30 - less on some online auction sites, extending system longevity, or just extending playtimes. We’ve also discovered compatibility with other marques including Magicshine - back to back, dusk till dawn Audax anyone?

When helmet mounted, these li-on cells tended to bound around uncomfortably like the proverbial playful Labrador puppy in jersey pockets. Cabling is just a little on the short side too-so hydration packs or cycling specific rucksacks make better hosts.

1,000 lumens is certainly bright but despite a relatively pure white arc, those lower rent optics cast halos and similar imperfections. These can prove

misleading when used solo for forest frolics/green lane fun-especially once rider fatigue begins biting. Silva’s range with a much lower output but superior lenses proved more effective in these contexts; ditto my 800 lumen dynamo lamp.

Road duties are where its strengths lie - unlit rural backwaters with their heady mix of holes, ruts and homicidal rodents have been easily navigated at around 28mph - with thirty metres warning of approaching hazards. Low seems just the ticket for semi-rural and suburban contexts, tickling the retinas of oncoming traffic to around 300 metres, while delivering sufficient navigational bite for seriously spirited canters. SOS cuts through dusk and to around 450 metres-great as a secondary back up, late summer evenings, or just hustling through the concrete jungle. 17hrs plus from a full four hour charge equates to a fortnights middle-distance commuting, dipping proportionately in steady settings (3hrs 53/11hrs 53 high & low respectively) Michael StenningVerdict: Powerful, well made wallet-friendly system but better suited to road biased riding. www.todayscyclist.co.uk


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At the other extreme, models such as Cat Eye’s EVO are absolutely huge, unleashing a very obvious arc with similarly generous side windows-great for being seen with through town and around, though bulk may be an issue-especially with handlebar mounted luggage/accessories. Solar powered rechargeable designs that usually employ nimh batteries, refuelled using the sun’s rays sound amazing and can often accept AA/A cells too. In practice these work reasonably well and prices have plummeted, although seem better suited to Majorca than Macclesfield - especially during December!

Tyre driven dynamo combinations remain another good option with cheap n’ cheerfuls retailing for around £35 - easily recouped within six weeks of hourly commuting. More expensive systems of £90 or so are extremely efficient and better equipped, thus obvious

choices for Audax, touring and longer training runs. Reduced drag, standlight technology (preventing them dimming at very slow speeds-say entering the flow of traffic, or going out altogether when stationary at roundabouts/junctions) are but two noticeable advantages.

Increasingly simple blinkies are slipping the secondary/contingency noose and delivering much greater punch than simple twin packs. Typically fuelled by USB rechargeable plug in sticks, they usually return 500 charge cycles before internal cell and/or diodes become bin-fodder. However, these favour desk bound commuters, so thankfully designs running from AA/A cells remain justly popular and very contemporary. These make excellent dynamo companions for touring or riding in really foul weathers since, with some notable exceptions, plug-in ports remain more

Teko Ultralight M3rino socks £14.95

Teko ultralight M3rino socks are made in Italy using a responsibly sourced merino wool/nylon mix, woven on carbon neutral wind-

powered machinery. Mountain bike tags will turn some off and admittedly, I’m not endeared to the “Armstrong” look when worn with traditional Lycra shorts. However, calf length designs compliment messenger knickers and old school plus fours handsomely for that authentic, retro continental club rider effect.

Ultralight is another way of saying they’ll entertain most conditions and footwear. Standards of performance have been uniformly good on chill mornings having donned road/mtb booties, or churning along in summer’s haze wearing super stiff Audax slippers. Plain black yarn avoids any coordination faux pas but the red patterning isn’t simply decorative, rather denotes a series of

retention zones located at the Achilles and instep. Known colloquially as the “dynamic premium fit”

these prevent slippage and subsequent, painful bunching. Reinforced toe and heel sections are similarly well-conceived, striking the right balance between cushioning and bulk, reducing premature wear, blisters and other ailments. I’m notoriously hard on socks, thanks in part to a deformed big toe but there’s no hint of a hole several weeks and four hundred mixed terrain miles hence.

Manufacturers have been relatively slow in adopting left/right specific socks, which seems highly irregular; afterall, other footwear has always been left/right. Another, very persuasive argument says women’s feet are typically narrower than men’s; ergo the need for specialist cuts, not simply smaller sizing.

Either way; having used foot specific models for countless thousands of miles, I can confirm they


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vulnerable to dirt and ingress. Recent seasons have seen the evolution of

“commuter plus” torch types that start at around £50 and are fuelled by integral rechargeable li-on cells. Various settings allow one to toggle down to flashing or lower steady through town; saving the higher modes for navigating semi-rural stretches at a reasonable pace.

Arguably, these are double-edged swords capable of delighting and frustrating in equal measure. On the one hand they will suit suburban/city riders looking to inject training runs into their commutes but are noticeably underpowered in the sticks, so false economy if you were primarily looking to blast along pitch black, or semi lit lanes at serious tempo, while having a clear view of potholes and similar hazards looming up ahead.

HIGH POWER RECHARGEABLESOnce upon a time old school lead acid systems were the benchmark by which high power units were judged. Slowly but surely, smaller sub £100 Far Eastern imports began creeping in, boasting resins instead of CNC machined lamp shells and brackets, which had implication for bulb and switchgear longevity. These were also a little whippy and fed from super hefty top tube or cage mounted batteries but single 10watt units were pretty effective for sticksville and increasingly common sights on winter/club bikes during the darker months. Nowadays, models such as Magicshine (right of picture) deliver 1,000 plus lumens, winter glove friendly switchgear and a comparatively discrete strap on lithium ion battery for approximately £90.

make a world of difference; although I still get caught out when bleary eyed and throwing on togs for a traffic-free dawn blast. Others will baulk at 52% nylon content but this helps retain shape and worry free tours de Zanussi without overly diluting the natural fibres’ justly revered fast wicking, bacteria neutralising/odour gobbling properties.

Blessed with super sweaty feet, there’s no doubt

that genuine leather uppers improve matters but mine have remained socially acceptable even after a days’ pottering in street styled Suede/Codura types. Proficient moisture transfer also facilitates dry feet following accidental dab downs into deep puddles and stormy summer rain. Nonetheless, they’re no

substitute for overshoes over asphalt or genuinely waterproof models during the darker months-especially on muddy meanders. Michael StenningVerdict: Sturdy, well-fitting long socks with excellent moisture management and environmental credentials. www.tekosocks.co.uk

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Wandering around the web and a certain auction site in particular, it’s possible to procure 1,000 lumen models for £25! However, aside from the issue of EU compliance, in common with traditional budget torch types, beam quality can be relatively poor - other road users will certainly see you but halos and similar imperfections can render them pretty impotent navigation-wise. Nocturnal mountain biking tends to require two settings-flood for casting a broad, “watchtower” pool of light, while a second, spot captures the finer detail.

Serious forest frolics also demand comparatively powerful helmet mounted lighting (500 lumens upwards) directing light where you’re looking. Relatively inexpensive models can be had for around the £50 mark but their resin cases get decidedly warm, especially at moderate paces and middle-weight ni-cd battery packs tend to bound around like playful puppies in jersey pockets.

Diminutive models such as this Silva Trail come in two versions (producing two clever flood/spot beams running simultaneously), 500/600lumens in top modes and weigh under 200g! These are also incredibly useful for minimalist road builds, occupying nominal handlebar space while offering an extremely useful pool of light that easily trumps some “master blaster” units boasting twice the power. Hub dynamos have enjoyed

a phoenix like revival over the past fifteen years, though headlamps were slower to take advantage of improved efficiency and since these require building into a wheel, initial outlay is relatively steep.

Outputs vary too - an important consideration, especially if you were planning on upgrading. For example, while most 6 volt 3 watt systems are genuinely compatible with low-mid and top drawer lamps, low mechanical efficiency of older designs (Including Shimano’s venerable but now discontinued NX30) are relatively poor.

Compared with its loftier cousin, NX30 demands 6.5 watts of rider effort (with lights turned off) against 2.2 of an Ultegra grade DHN72 unit, in part due to the latter’s superior bearings. Every so often a 1.5 watt Shimano or Sanyo unit crops up- usually accompanied by temping price tag. Alas, these are the proverbial white elephant- output is strictly of the glimmer variety (even lower than the classic Sturmey Archer units, which produced 1.8) - assuming you can find a reciprocal lamp(s).

LED, FILAMENT & OTHER BULB TYPESFirst and foremost LED’s have been the greatest advancement in lighting technology these past twenty odd years and have improved immeasurably to the point where they’ve become ubiquitous in a wealth of other applications too.

Colour has evolved from yellow and blue hues to a crisp, brilliant white (red for rear, obviously) and firms such as the aforementioned fibre flare (employing fibre optic and LED technology) offer some seriously innovative, versatile illumination in a variety of eye catching liveries. However, it remains technically illegal for non-emergency vehicles to sport flashing blue lights.

Personally, LED wins on most counts and high end lamps can be cost-effectively rebuilt with fresh diodes. Those fancying a challenge can even build their own home-brewed designs. Despite this, filaments retain a small but cult following. Schmidt still manufactures an E6 halogen unit, which offers commendable wallop from relatively slow speeds.

Metal Halide, sometimes referred to as HID (High intensity Diodes) are now increasingly common in car headlamps but have also been prevalent in £300 plus mountain bike trail systems for some time. Akin to LEDs in terms of output are technically a bulb employing gas in place of a filament and induce a very powerful arc of white light. Price is their main drawback but the arc requires time to reset itself and its lifespan is more obviously affected by the number of ignition (i.e. power up and shut down) cycles.


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One23 Wrap LED Lights twin pack (119g pr) £63.99

One23 wrap LED twin pack is another fairly innovative set of secondary/contingency lights boasting three modes and a modest

sounding 40/15lumens respectively. However large surface area and distinctive patterns mean they’ve exceeded my expectations in semi/rural contexts.

Resin bodies house a simple, ultra reliable lithium polymer cell, positive switch gear and a huge colony of small yet mighty diodes. Supple, though sturdy hook type brackets are easily adjusted for vertical/horizontal mounting, which is great news for congested cockpits, stops thighs catching at high cadence while maintaining sleek aesthetic. However, and in common with their Atom cousins, persuading them around oversized 31.8 bulge/post diameters required more concerted effort.

Thankfully, once tethered, they remain firmly ensconced. These also need pre-fuelling for 2.5hours before maiden voyages to avoid premature expiry and should manage 300 charge cycles-several years in low/flashing and with basic care.

Charge ports lurk behind in snug but easily accessible rubber covers, which are weather resistant in the everyday sense, thus not subjected to my hosepipe torture test. Holding the positive centre mounted switch for two second engages highest setting and a very pure arc of white/red light, subsequent prods induce low and flashing, respectively.

Easily performed in stodgy winter gloves, there’s been no hint of unwanted power-up when holidaying in jersey pockets or bike mounted luggage. Flashing is my default option, especially paired to pre-standlight dynamos and/or when negotiating

roundabouts/junctions. Generous surface areas, 180 degree lenses and

perky oscillation captures driver attention at around 180 metres round town, nearer 220 along open roads on clear, starry nights. This setting is also rather nifty when flanking uber lumen rechargeable lamps- identifying oneself as a cyclist to oncoming traffic. At the other extreme, 40 lumens steady produces sufficient bite for navigating partially lit cycle paths to approximately 14mph or so and clearly visible at around 85 metres. Low is useful in terms of economy, brighter than some other brands and just about adequate for the suburbs/or if limping home with another blinky but otherwise, slightly redundant. Li-polymer cells are incredibly precise too, so I wasn’t surprised to find run times consistently faithful to those quoted returning 2hrs 52 (high) and 5hrs 54 (low/flashing). Michael StenningVerdict: Distinctive lights with decent output and build quality but no less than I’d expect given the ticket price.www.todayscyclist.com

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WATT THE LUX AND LUMENS ?From a consumer perspective these different figures serve only to confuse matters and it’s easy to appreciate why some people urge standardisation. However, the old motoring adage of horsepower selling cars and torque winning races is loosely applicable here. For example, it might be inferred that a 20 watt system is incredibly powerful.

Ah, but watts are a measure of consumption, not output/efficiency. Lux (Sometimes referred to as luminous flux) is a measure of light cast over a prescribed distance, which is very useful in terms of establishing how far you can see ahead and crudely how fast you can ride while still maintaining a clear view of conditions/potential hazards. Lumens are a measure of total light and are increasingly perceived as a benchmark (in the same fashion megapixels are considered indicative of a camera’s quality).

These are only half the story. Lens, reflector quality and other features remain crucially influential to a light’s performance. Earlier, I touched upon beam angles-flood and spot. Well, beam angle is another way of exploring this. Aside from ensuring the headlamp is positioned correctly to avoid dazzling

other road/trail users, a narrower arc tends to create hot-spots of intense see-by light, whereas a wider less intense angle casts a wider, softer arc.

TERTIARY/PERIPHERAL ILLUMINATION With the exception of sunny days’ playthings, I advocate using main and backup configurations which usually involves two-blinkies. However, retro-reflective stickers dotted strategically along mudguards, tyres with reflective sidewalls and Sam Browne belts/helmet bands are phenomenally effective. Look for gloves with Scotchlite detailing around the cuffs and fingers to accentuate hand signals.

CARING FOR YOUR LIGHTSWhatever you purchase, take time to thoroughly digest user instructions, especially when it comes to charging/battery life. Many blinkies with sealed li-on cells require a sleep/hibernation charge cycle to preserve them in storage (periods longer than a month). Observe charge cycles and use only the designated charge unit.

Lead acid batteries are relatively uncommon now (but replacement cells are readily available as aftermarket

LONG TERM TEST: Revolution Continental Clipless Pedals 356g £19.99

I’ve been running these Revolution contact pedals for two consecutive years and am decidedly impressed by their performance.

Essentially homages to Ritchey’s iconic WCS series, albeit only available in Fordist black; some folk will sneer dismissively at the mountain bike tag. However, this low-profile, dual-sided design moots ground clearance woes-especially through town when cornering hard on machines with long cranks/lower bottom bracket heights. Robust materials and decent weather seals lend them nicely to winter/cross builds too.

Since we’re on the subject, powder coated aluminium bodies are neatly executed showing only superficial scarring – inevitable with repeated dis/engagement. Despite prolonged exposure to

salt strewn winter roads, corrosion hasn’t festered beneath though these can always be blasted bare, or repainted to taste following a seasonal strip. Internally we have ultra-reliable Cro-moly axles turning on serenely smooth cartridge bearings that remain so when annually repacked with fresh Teflon/marine greases. Access is via 6mm caps, which also benefit from a little bother blocking paste.

Entry/release tension is easily tweaked via similarly accessible 3mm Allen screws. Quick, fortnightly squirts of PTFE based sprays certainly help during the grottier months, especially off road. Cleat compatibility is universally good with all Shimano patterns a blessing should you require replacements mid tour. Subjected to daily service, our OEM cleats lasted seven months before turning vague but I was


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from DIY/electronic wholesalers and of course, online retailers). Heft aside, avoid discharging them wherever possible-switch off and rely on a secondary system once the lamp begins dimming-accelerated by falling temperatures. Fast chargers might seem like a good idea but don’t scrimp since cheap ones will at best shorten their life, or ruin them completely. Always store lead acid batteries fully juiced; ideally in the house.

NiMH batteries don’t appreciate being run flat either, so pop these on charge when output begins dimming - there’s no risk of “memory” or indeed overcharging (but only use the dedicated charger and never attempt improvising with a li-on unit, or vice versa).

Li-ons are largely unaffected by temperature

astonished to discover Exustar, Btwin, Wellgo, VP and others have behaved even better than a certain Japanese giant’s.

In performance terms, there’s little separating these from models twice the price. Powering away from the lights is much easier on a fixed while there’s been preciously little flex when cantering along seemingly relentless climbs. Painful hot-spots have also been conspicuous by their absence; although speed orientated road/mountain bike footwear have proved superior pairings. Street styled touring/commuter models with softer soles often benefit from a broader platform and tended to induce slightly unnerving phantom squeaks.

Ultimately, entry level Shimano only cost a few quid more and would be my preference in situations where spares availability was paramount but bang for buck, these are very hard to fault. Michael StenningVerdict: Commendable budget pedals with much wider horizons than cross country mountain biking.www.edinburghbicycle.com

fluctuation, or being fully depleted but avoid habitually doing so wherever possible since doing so can affect long term performance - regular top-ups are by far the kindest treatment. Store these and NiMH models in a cool, dry place when not required. Eventually all batteries will fail - around 300 charge cycles is typical. Habitual night owls can extend their life by purchasing a second and alternating between the two.

Run times are generally 2.5hrs in full mode and up to six or so in the medium settings. Most now have a “traffic light system” which automatically kicks down to conserve power, thus being plunged into darkness are in write home about territory.

Remove disposable dry cells on other designs to safeguard against leakage (this is comparatively rare nowadays but often ruinous). Even with decent weather seals, winter can prove incredibly callous.

Corroded switches are often the culprits in intermittent power-ups. Opening their cases and giving the circuitry a quick blast of WD40/similar while gently pumping the button often works a treat. Always carry a spare set of bulbs, AA/A cells with blinkies or more basic torch types - just in case.

Keep a close eye on wiring. Better quality stuff and careful installation render most problems academic but repair any damage promptly using high quality electrical tape or mouldable silicone putty (such as Sugru). SDC

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ost musicians find driving between gigs and the nightly ordeal of packing themselves and their equipment into a vehicle a sufficient logistical challenge, but Richard,

already renowned for his innovative music, has turned his inventive spirit towards a musical cycle touring. He undertook his latest 1,000 mile tour around England, on a specially adapted bike and trailer. Jill Phillip spoke to him.

As well as being a celebrated musician, Richard is also a passionate cyclist.

Guitarist Richard Durrant gave the term ‘on the road’ a whole new meaning when he embarked on a nationwide tour last spring.

“My love affair with cycling started early and I’ve always regarded cycling as my favoured form of transport, as well as an enjoyable recreation. When I was an impoverished student at the Royal College of Music, I regularly cycled there from my home in Brighton,” he explains.

But the initial stimulus for his latest idea arose more from Richard’s concern over the environmental, as opposed to the financial, costs of music touring: “Touring musicians tend to leave a fairly massive carbon footprint. During an average year I travel around 35,000 miles within the UK, added to regular forays into Europe, plus an annual visit to South America. So, for me, this is payback time. But, as a musician and a cyclist, I also wanted to see where a tour by bike would take me, geographically and physically.”

And he certainly set himself a stiff challenge. Kicking off in Shoreham-on-Sea, the tour moved along the south coast, before heading north through the Midlands, into Yorkshire and then down the east coast. The dates in Yorkshire were arranged to tie in with preparations for Le Tour, and Richard’s youthful experience of riding from Sussex to the capital stood him in good stead as he and Sean, his support rider, joined the London to Brighton ride when they returned to Sussex later in the summer.

What made this itinerary even more astonishing is that Richard is not just another acoustic guitarist, with a couple of amps, a few spare instruments and some lights. Presentation is a key part of his performance, so with the lights and projections involved, he and his technical manager usually travel in a seven-seater people carrier: something of a contrast then, to the panniers and trailer that transported his guitar, speakers, CDs, clothes and necessities needed on this tour.

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and distance galvanised Richard’s natural resourcefulness. Not content with using a bike to travel by day, he also used it as a lighting stand for his performances in the evening. Each component and individual piece of equipment had been carefully chosen for its adaptability, with front bike lights doubling as the main spot lights on stage, where images, usually viewed on a bespoke screen, were projected on to the top of Richard’s guitar. Even his clothes, eventually selected from Endura’s Urban range, had to be versatile enough to perform well when riding, but also to look good on stage.

The other star of the tour was his bike, a Giant Escape City 2: “Essentially it is a hybrid, with good load-carrying ability and a rear pannier rack already fitted, plus fork mounts for front pannier racks,” describes Richard. “A comfortable riding position is an absolute and I like the ALUXX aluminium frame and its wide range of gearing. Its 700c wheels and stable frame geometry are ideal and also provide a bit of sporty pace when necessary.”

On important modification made by Richard’s friend and local bike shop owner, Rod Lambert, was to fit puncture-resistant tyres, filled with latex solution. But Rod also used his technical expertise to adapt the bike to suit the unique demands of Richard’s tour: “Richard is a virtuosic player and, as such, it was essential he arrived at each venue in the best possible physical condition, given that he was cycling around 30-40 miles over several hours each day, with a loaded bike and trailer. In particular, it was vital that he doesn’t suffer from numb, or sore, hands, so we fitted ergo handlebar grips and bar ends and provided him with specially padded gloves,” says Rod. He has also supplied Richard with a Top Peak Journey trailer; a model already

successfully provided to the South Downs National Park ranger team.

Richard’s unique amalgam of music and cycling can be enjoyed in a new album, Cycling Music, that was released to coincide with the tour. An atmospheric blend of acoustic and minimalist music, Richard quips it might be more accurately entitled: ‘Steve Reich Meets Bradley Wiggins.’

Despite the apparent novelty, this musical/bicycle symbiosis has always

been a serious and integral component of Richard’s work and is now enhanced by his expertise with specialised software programs. “Riding a bike is totally inspirational and my cycle training has been key to these new compositions. I write the music in my head on the bike each day then type the notes into Sibelius when I get home,” he explains. “I then import the notes into Logic where the sounds are realised - think of it as a more sophisticated version of Garageband. Finally, I add the guitars and bicycle sounds and finish the arrangement on ProTools. It is a fascinating process that has produced music that seems to travel along, cycling as it goes.”

Pedal heads have always claimed that cycling is as much about the soul as it is about the body; Richard Durrant might be providing us with more positive, and tuneful, examples in the future. SDC

FurtherInformation:There’s more about Richard at: www.richard-durrant.com/pages/about-richard/7048

Issue 2 / 201470

THE GOOD OLD DAYS

THURSDAY, JULY 3RD, 1924CASTLE HOWARD AND RIEVAULX ABBEYLeft Scarborough on the Seamer road. It seems all Seamer road. From the village I joined the Malton road via Staxton, and along the foot of the Wolds to Sherburn and Heslerton, East and West. There was a terrific breeze troubling me, but the road and scenery were quite good through Rillington. It got

The Good Old Days

quite commonplace near Malton, a town with no special interest. Just beyond Malton, at the top of the hill on the York road, I turned right towards Castle Howard. Near Trigger Castle, on a grass-grown track, I had lunch on the grass – I am economising – then made off towards Coneysthorpe. The narrow road, now undulating, became very pretty, whilst the hedges were gorgeous. Honeysuckle heavily scented the air, wild roses were predominant, and amongst the tangle

In July 1924, Charlie Chadwick was holidaying in Scarborough with his brother, mother and father. Charlie had a bicycle, the others used public transport and a motorcycle. The touring bug got the best of Charlie, in the end ….

to Helmsley, and the Kirkbymoorside road. Beyond Kirkbymoorside, at a village called Sinnington, I got a good tea at a little cottage.

WHAT THEY DO IN WIGANThen a beautiful run to Pickering, through the narrow streets and on to the open road again. For some time now, the sky had blackened, then came a heavy storm. I sheltered a bit, but as it did not slacken, I donned my cape, and sailed off to Thornton-le-Dale. The villagers stared at me, I don’t think that they had ever seen a cyclist with a cape on but no headgear! The wind had now shifted, getting in front of me, and the rain was as hard as ever. I settled down to it, and did pretty well through Allerston, Ebberston, Snainton to Brompton. By now my feet had become sodden, and I tore my oilskin. Beyond Ayton, on the unprotected Seamer Moor, I struck a thunderstorm, and the rain came down in a solid sheet. Yet there was a queer fascination in it. Just beyond the boundaries of the road, a thick blanket of mist overhung, screening the valley on the right, and even the racecourse, which was not ten yards away on the left. In front, I had just enough light to see the roadside and about ten yards of road in front and behind. I lingered a moment – I could not help it – and conjured up a vision of what the sea in front would be like tonight. I remembered


THE GOOD OLD DAYS

of bracken and nettles, foxgloves of different hues added to the colour scheme, and the fields blazed with poppies.

BRIDESHEAD NOT VISITEDConeysthorpe reminds me of a model village, old world. I turned through a gateway here, catching a glimpse of Castle Howard across a lake. It is a fine, domed building, but it seems to be more mansion than castle, and rather modern. It is residential. Now I was riding through a sylvan wood, a beautiful scene, and I saw above one squirrel and several hares. Rabbits were out en masse. I was in the park of Castle Howard, and amongst the Howardian Hills, and the pastoral, wooded scenery was far above standard. Terrington was the next village, a picture set in fine surroundings. At the head of this village I turned right along a deteriorating road downhill, then left through more fine woodlands to Scackleton. Now my ‘road’ became a mere track and descended steeply with a water splash at the bottom – the second this week. I negotiated the ‘ford’, then started climbing along a sunken lane to Coulton, where I joined a moderate road, which, in turn, put me on a first class metalled road at Gilling. Then on to Oswaldkirk, where I climbed a ridge, then started dropping spasmodically. Below me now, was Helmsley, and on the roadside was a large dilapidated stone gateway to the memory of Viscount Lord Nelson, and giving access to Duncombe Park.

HELMSLEY AND RIEVAULXA dash downhill brought me to historic Helmsley, where, for the first time in East Yorkshire, I saw a half-timbered house. This is no modern imitation, as a close look will reveal, and extremely beautiful it looks, with creepers climbing the ‘black and white’ walls, and the unusual (for a timbered place) red roof. It stands just opposite the ancient Market Cross. I took the route past the Castle, where a stream runs in the middle of the road, then uphill for two miles, and along a wooded path to a terrace, where I obtained a truly amazing view of ‘Ryedale’s Chief Jewel’, the surpassing beauty of Rievaulx. Then I descended down a steep path to the road, and soon reached the village of Rievaulx. I surveyed the extensive ruins of Rievaulx Abbey from near the post office, but I did not enter, as it was now 5pm, and I had yet to have my tea and travel 30 miles. Buying some postcards, I sat down by the wayside, and wrote one to Tom, then pushed the bike up a steep incline to the road again. Then two miles down

the old slogan of Tom and I – “What should we do if it rains?” “Like they do in Wigan – let it”! I passed an abandoned motorbike and sidecar, then started rushing downhill. It was a queer sensation, rushing towards a black nothingness, which, however, never allowed me to catch it, always remaining that ten yards in front. When I entered Scarborough the mist had gone, and the rain was just showing signs of decrease. After some cautious going over the slippery tramcar setts, I reached Moorland road and was soon having a change of clothing. Today has been excellent, but I’m getting a little fed up with Scarborough itself.

82 miles

SATURDAY, JULY 5YORK, TADCASTER, LEEDS AND BLACKSTONE EDGE TO BOLTONWell today, I am going back. For once in a while, the holiday has been long enough. I have made a vow that never again shall I spend a week – if only in nights – at a holiday resort, however seductive it seems to be. The district has been good, and something entirely new, a fine coast, quaint villages, good roads, very pretty lanes, and some fine moorlands, but it is not scenery that I grumble about, it is that having to get back every night, having to leave on miles of road that were not, in themselves, in good surroundings, and soon became painfully familiar. The loneliness of it also did not add to the scenery. With a chum like Tom, I could talk on any subject, we could (and do) criticise things and in such ways we get the best out of what we see. Also, “Two pairs of eyes are better than one”, and in this way, we miss very little. Yes, for me at any rate, it is touring – or stay at home – in the future. Touring, every time, for all time, that wonderful variety and fascination which, once it has captured the heart, holds it to such an extent that the very thought of a week at a notorious resort like

Scarborough is enough to make one shudder. But I am concerned with the return journey – and to say ‘return’ is to put it mildly. A very strong west wind was blowing when we left Scarborough at 11am.

Eventually, Charlie reached home in Bolton, one hundred and twenty miles over the hills and into the wind.

Nest time, some sound advice from the Good Old Days. SDC

Issue 2 / 201472

THE GOOD OLD DAYS

FurtherInformation:“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 (in bold).

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


REAR RACK

Next time, the intrepid Mark Shelton gives his account of L’Eroica Britannia, the equally intrepid Mark Jacobson continues taking his folder to campsites new and

Charlie Faringdon finishes his ride round the south of London.

7DC Issue 3, January 2015

For some people cycling ceases during the winter months, though there is no real reason why it should except for personal preference. So, if you are looking forward to spending your time in the armchair planning a big trip

for next year or enjoying looking back on this year’s journeys or warming up by the fire after a winter ride. As ever, armchair cycling can be jolly good fun.

In the meantime, wishing you ice-free roads and no blackthorn cuttings in your tyres

StevePS News, reviews and occasional freebies will appear on the website, competitions, too

Michael Stenning has been working on restoring something like this......whilst testing all sorts of things and giving us the benefit of his knowledge

and experience of keeping the winter elements at bay in every way.

And a final thought, if you know where this is?

You’ll probably have stopped for refreshment in England’s highest pub and thoroughly earned your

pint – or whatever you had to drink. We will have something on getting

there before too long.

seven day cyclist - issue 2

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