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Wheel MARKS
Autumn 2010 no. 62
Subscribe to Wheelmarks Just ÂŁ5.00 brings you the next four issues of Wheelmarks in the post. Contact the Membership Secretary Sally Ralphs 01743 350 481
BACK ISSUES Back issues of numbers 40 to 61 are available at ÂŁ1:00 each. Ask the editor Ken Knight Jordan Cottage Picklescott Tel 01694 751 270 Numbers 40 & 41 were originally in A4 format, reprints are reduced to the present A5 size.
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Wheel MARKS
Whilst I’ve been slowly easing myself into the present century with some modest upgrades to my bikes others have taken the great leap forward into titanium, carbon and sixteen spoke wheels. I haven’t been quite able to bring myself to trust this new stuff, my best frame is fifteen years old, two other bikes I use regularly comfortably predate both the commercial production of titanium and the invention of carbon fibre. So I was planning a new steel frame. Then I heard first one report of a broken steel frame, then another, then stories of earlier breakages and even of breakages leading to serious injuries. So what to do now? Wood?
From the Editor
There’s a funny thing At Edwin’s 25th wedding anniversary party I heard an amusing tale. Two of the guests, accomplished cyclists with an RRA record or two between them, were riding near Nottingham when they passed the Raleigh special projects factory. As they passed two riders in full Raleigh strip and on matching Raleigh bikes drew up behind them. ‘Poseurs’ they thought and set about seeing them off. The pace quickened and then quickened more. The poseurs were still on their back wheels. A glance to each other and the record men put the hammer down hard. And the poseurs were still there. As our friends legs grew heavy and their strength was done the poseurs drew along side. “You try to drop us? You cannot drop us” one said with a smile, a Dutch sort of smile. It was Gerrie Knetemann and Jan Raas, the then World Champion and a former World Champion trying out Raleigh’s new team bikes.
Ken
No. 62
Autumn 2010
Wheelmarks is published twice annually by the CTC Shropshire Member Group of the Cyclists’ Touring Club
Editor Ken Knight Jordan Cottage Picklescott SY6 6NR 01694 751 270
Cover The woods time forgot Sue Collinson
LA BELLE ÉCHAPPÉE (or “the beautiful breakaway” I think) Bryan Roberts
away in the depths of the Normandy countryside.
If you should ever find yourself in the area around Alençon in Northern France, an excellent cycling area by the way, you may like to know that there is a rather extraordinary cycle museum tucked
become rather crowded. “Beaucoup d’ Anglais” said the site manager.
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It was pure chance that I learned about it. We found ourselves on a campsite just north of Le Mans in the week running up to the twenty four hour race this year, so we decided we needed to be away from our base towards the end of the week as it was likely to
I called into the local tourist office to see what they could offer and there I found a leaflet on this wonderful attraction,
located in the tiny village of La Fresnaye sur Chedouet, about 15km east of Alençon.
exhibition space contains a fine collection of early bikes of all types, some of which are unusual
The museum was built with the financial help of several local authorities and national organisations and departments, but the collection of bikes, bits, and bobs it holds is the life’s work of just one man, Ivan Bonduelle, a collector of cycling memorabilia who is well known throughout the cycling fraternity in France. One of the advantages this has given him has been access to the stars of the Tour de France and signed photographs of all the winners, right from the early days to the present, hung all around one wall of the main space, are evidence of this.
to say the least. For instance, there is a recumbent, very similar in design to what is available now, but built in 1935.
Apart from the signed photos, some of which can be seen in my photograph above, the main
Moving on to the next, and largest, area we find that the focus has turned to the Tour, because here we find racing bikes from the earliest days to some of the most modern, accompanied by all sorts of unusual and interesting items. You’ll find an example of the first derailleur gears, approved for use in the Tour for the first time in 1937 and which gives the rider a choice of four gears. Not much, but better than just being able to turn your wheel around to climb a hill!
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Miguel Indurain’s Pinarello team bike from 1987 is there, along with Laurent Fignon’s Bianchi from 1993, and Laurent Brochard’s Cyfac from 1991, to
Also on display, in well-lit cabinets, are all sorts of memorabilia, such as Tour giveaways, beer mats, models, pictures, posters, jerseys, toys,
inspire you to greater things, but I have to admit that, looking at them, they reveal no clues as to how it was possible to ride them so far, and so fast, for so long.
games, advertising material and other rare items, such as razor blades carrying pictures of the stars. Also there are yellow jerseys, including those of Lance Armstrong and of my all time
hero, Fausto Coppi. But I could go on and on. Instead I would merely say, if you’re in the area, don’t miss it. It’s more than just a museum; it is a shrine to the greatest cycling event in the world and has been visited, not only by ordinary members of the cycling fraternity,
but also by many of the greats. Once there, you’ll certainly enjoy it and, who knows, you may rub shoulders with Lance. Finally, there are more pictures and more information on the website, and, if you click on the Union flag, you can get it in English.
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Cycle ride in the Algarve June 2010 Sue Collinson
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While on holiday in ‘The Old Village’ Dad suggested that we could spend one day out on a bike ride. ‘Seems like a good idea’ I said. I decided that rather than borrowing a bike from his friend Dick (I do have a nasty little habit of falling off bikes and didn’t want a borrowed bike from a friend to be damaged) I would go with the hired option. We viewed the bike and it was dropped off on the Wednesday night with, as requested, the SPD pedals. I checked the bike over, spun the wheels to be sure they were true and all seemed good. We set off early in the morning to get the bulk of the miles done before the heat of the day. We shouldn’t have worried as it was raining! Dad saying ‘it never rains here in June’ cut little ice with me who had left all her waterproofs at home! The route wound up through the foothills to Tonica where we stopped for coffee and a pastry. They
have the most lovely pastries out here. We continued to climb through orange groves and avocado trees, Dick showing me the best ones where he would come scrumming in Jan when they were ripe! Beats scrumping for apples any day. We climbed up to Font of Alte to look at the source of this big river. We returned to Alte for lunch winding our way through little cobbled streets that could rattle the fillings out of your teeth, but it was a delightful ancient town and at last we had some sun. We climbed up to our high point and travelled along a lonely ridge towards the wind turbines. We had hoped to see bee eaters (magpie sized colourful birds), but alas they had moved house. We descended fast dropping 1,600ft back to sea level via hair pin bends but we still managed speeds in excess of 40mph. We reached sea level and flew along a road that was dead straight and it was here that my back wheel blew out with the most amazing noise. As I was on a straight road I was able to bring the bike to a stop without falling off. We repaired the puncture and patched the canvas of the worn tread with a bit of old tyre that Dick just happened to carry with him, otherwise goodness knows what we would have done as we were miles from anywhere. It left us all feeling a little sick when thinking about the fast descent minutes
before. I then had a slightly bumpy ride back to Vilamorea. We followed the coast back through orange and lemon groves well off the beaten track to Algoz where we had coffee and more pastries. Well it had to be done as it was Dick’s birthday after all. Fortunately the rest of the journey was without incident. The moral of the story don’t hire a bike, use your own. And if you
do hire check every last inch or it might try to kill you. I did get an apology from the hire shop and a full refund. The trip was 58.5 miles with an average was 12mph. The weather was drizzly rain and cloudy in the morning and sunny/with cloud in the afternoon. We had as strong force 6 south west wind and temperatures of 23C
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Weighing in with my opinion Well it’s more of an observation than an opinion. There’s always been a lot of emphasis on the weight of a bike. The whole history of sports bicycles has gone on under the sobriquet of ‘Lightweight’. Manufacturers proudly proclaimed their weight conscious credentials - ‘Macleans Featherweight’ comes to mind, a prestigious north London builder We’ve had ‘Airlight’ hubs and ‘Racelite’ frames. In sporting circles today it’s all about carbon. Certainly the stuff is startlingly light. Lightness is not everything of course. Other properties of the material are equally important. Stiffness, resilience, shock absorption, all important factors in making your ride faster, easier, more comfortable. But let’s focus on weight just for now. A clubman of my acquaintance borrowed a quality carbon fibre machine and took it on a ride around the south Shropshire hills. He was delighted. Never had he felt so strong, never had he ridden so fast and never had he praised more the responsiveness of the borrowed machine. It was so light. But how much of that lightness was due to the fact that the carbon wonder bike was stripped of all the touring paraphernalia he normally attached to his steel framed machines?
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Let’s see. First the wonder bike: A typical carbon frame bike spec using light mid to high priced components Carbon frame & forks Headset - Stronglight threadless Bars & stem—Cinelli Graphis Ksyrium Wheels Elite 09 - pair Conti GP4000 tyres (pair) Conti ‘Race’ tubes & tapes Shimano Ultegra Chainset (double) Bottom bracket Front mech Rear mech (short cage) Pedals Shimano A600 Chain Cassette Brakes mechs STI levers Seat Pin - Cinelli Graphis Saddle - Fizik Arione Cables, tapes etc. allow TOTAL WEIGHT
grams 1135 90 430 1550 410 208 833 110 89 190 286 280 250 317 445 260 225 250 7.4 kg
All of these components are lighter than those common on a regular clubman’s bike, some markedly so. Apart from the carbon frame the wheels are 500 grams (1 lb) lighter than a normal pair of 36 spoke wheels, the tyres are again 500 or more grams lighter. Even the saddle weighs in at 300 grams less than a standard Brooks B17. Let’s compare the tables line by line.
My good friend’s regular bike: A typical spec using modestly priced components *grams 531 frame & forks 1600 Headset - conventional 120 Bars & stem—Cinelli 600 Conventional wheels Mavic A119 on 105s 36 spokes 2068 Conti Top Touring tyres (pair) 980 Conti tubes & tapes 300 Shimano Tiagra Chainset (triple) 950 Bottom bracket 180 Front mech 110 Rear mech (long cage) 230 Pedals System X 446 Chain 304 Cassette 270 Brakes mechs 350 STI levers 500 Seat Pin - K Alloy 285 Saddle - Brooks B17 525 Cables, tapes etc. allow 250 TOTAL WEIGHT (STRIPPED)
10.1 kg
* Some weights are guesses, Manufacturers are not so forthcoming about the weights of their cheaper lines. If you took the steel frame but fitted it out like the carbon wonder bike you would be save about 2.7 kg (6 lbs) and be riding a bike only 500 grams or about 1 lb heavier than the 16 lb carbon framed version. You might think that’s not much gain for a rather a lot of bucks.
But that’s not all. My good friend regularly and sensibly adds the extras you really need for a Sunday ride. *grams 600 550 750 450 1000
Mudguards Rack Saddlebag Waterproofs Drinking bottle (full) TOTAL EXTRAS
3.4 kg
So the typical ‘lightweight’ on a club ride weighs 13.5kg or 30lbs As far as weight goes this is your choice:
• A ‘carbon wonder bike’ 7.4kg or 16 lbs, go light, get wet. • Put some quality modern components on a steel frame, 7.9kg or 17lbs but you’re still at the mercy of muck and mire. • Adequately equip the carbon bike (or for that matter the steel one) with nice light wheels and tyres, a saddle that’s not out of the ark and perhaps some higher spec components. Add what you need for a comfortable day’s ride and you weigh-in at 11 to 11.5 kg or 24 to 25 lbs. • Stick to what you’ve got, it’ll weigh 13/14kg or 30/32 lbs but you’ll be able to afford lunch! KK
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Further aspects of weight A comment from John Nowell written whilst packing for air travel I found the ‘Weighing in.’ article most interesting and having just gone through the process of packing our bikes for air travel, have been conscious of their weight for reasons other than just ease of riding. The bike allowance on Virgin is only 23kg. A purpose-made hard case (generally accepted to be the best way to ensure your bike arrives
The Specialized Roubaix
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unscathed) takes up a good proportion of that allowance; adding a touring bike pushes it well over. Most cases are designed to accommodate road bikes rather than touring bikes – and necessitate a fair bit of dismantling to get the bike in. When you add racks, mudguards and other touring necessities,
things get very tight if not impossible. I got round the size and weight problems by modifying standard cardboard bike boxes to allow the bikes to be carried with rear wheel, mudguard and rack in place. Front wheel, mudguard and saddle have to be removed and bars turned but the resulting package came in at 21kg. Do the boxes do the job? I’ll let you know when we get home…. Other aspects of lightness Ken is correct of course, lightness in the frame is not everything and certainly the part played by top quality components in reducing weight should not be underestimated. However, the most eye opening aspect of my time with a borrowed Specialized Roubaix road bike was not just the speed, acceleration and easier hill climbing – all of which I would have expected when comparing the bike to my Longstaff tourer. No, the big surprise was the amazingly compliant and comfortable ride. The shock absorption and resilience of a well designed carbon frame is a big plus of these bikes. Now if I could only find one that would take guards and perhaps just a small rack…
Hold on a moment …. Now I don’t doubt for a moment that the Roubaix is a very good bike and I know several owners that are quite delighted with their £2000 plus purchase. I don’t doubt that they find it very comfortable.
You see I’ve seen it all before.
But so does Rob find his 2 cwt (an estimate) Gazelle comfortable. And so does Richard find his very un-light Thorn Nomad just the thing for a comfortable day in the saddle. What do these bikes have in common? I’ll tell you. They are all very well made, very well designed and use top quality components. But what worries me is . . . those little kinky bits in the forks and seat stays of the Roubaix.
There was Hetchins curly stays (circa 1935 but still available today) Bates Diadrant forks (circa 1950, earlier versions from 1935 but these first kinky forks were found to infringe an earlier patent) None of these twists and turns and many others less well known have stood the test of time other than as curiosities. You’ll never see one in the Tour de France or even between the thighs of a serious English time trialist. Little kinky bits worry me. Maybe it’s just another marketing gimmick. KK
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Picklescott village, hidden in the heart of the Shropshire countryside, is a must visit for any tourist who wants to see the British countryside at its best but the silence that greets you in this sleepy village fools you into a false sense of peace and tranquillity, that is until its secret is unleashed - The Long Mynd 100k.
Long Mynd 2000m
A lesson learnt the hard way
Owing to this being what I class as an away day event from my home in Swansea and noting the organiser's warning of limited car park space at the village hall, I set off at the ungodly hour of 3.30am for the 9am start. This was naturally to allow for time lost due to traffic problems (there were none) or just getting lost (only difficulty was finding the village off the main A49). All things taken into account myself and another rider, Spencer from Nottingham, arrived at the hall at 6am. Hence a two-hour sleep in the car before any further life arrived. At this time I had thought the organiser had over emphasised the problem with parking but by 9am it was proving troublesome to get all the starters out of the gate whilst squeezing between all the parked cars. A quick note of thanks to the couple serving the drinks and food in the hall. Loved the jovial banter between them as well as the service. Set me up for the ride. The early shower of rain had made the road surfaces on the country lanes tricky to negotiate. On the climb out of Picklescott on the
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by Gordon Jones
single-track lane the mass of riders had to avoid various debris, which included the gravel from previous downpours, mud left from the tractors, fellow competitors with locked up gears (at least one faller) as well as each other. Thankfully the mad rush of adrenalin for many riders petered out as the climb continued and everyone got into their own rhythm. The first 9k was a continual undulating climb to the first summit control point. Then the fun began. The next 11k included a series of sweeps downhill and short brisk uphill climbs with additional obstacles to overcome, namely, never ending cattle grids. At one stage there seemed to be one every 200mtrs and I felt like a James Bond cocktail, shaken but not stirred. I joined a group of three, Cyril, Bob and Ian, who were mountain bikers but had entered the event as it was good for their stamina. They were setting a good pace and all was going well till the umpteenth cattle grid finally punctured my front tube. Now trying to change a tube at the best of times can be irritating but when you've got the added distraction of the farmer's two sheep dogs trying to assist, concentration
friendly. They decided I wasn't interesting enough for them after a while as bike after bike came flying past and they retired to the farm for some peace. As I began to ride on, lucky for me, my concentration returned and I had the feeling I'd forgotten something. As I looked back, there on top of a wooden gatepost sat my only other spare tube. Phew, one more puncture and I would be certainly cursing myself for leaving it behind. At the back Suffice to say, I was now at the back and riding like fury to catch sight of someone, as added to my tale of woe, I'd been following the others without actually knowing where we were on the map. Fortunately a downhill section allowed me to see well ahead and after spotting some brightly coloured cycle tops among a sea of green fields and hedges I managed to tag onto the last man, coming eventually to a second control at Just Kirsty's cafe at Bishops Castle. Now to get to this cafe you descend a steep High Street and you find it down a side road. There was no need to ask anyone in what direction you went after this stop as riders were climbing back up the High Street to continue their journey. I rejoined the group of three in the cafe and we continued towards the next control at 44k, which was at the summit of another steep climb. From Bishops Castle the climbing continued unabated and I now found I was going quite well and enjoyed a good chat with Ian at the front with Cyril and Bob just behind.
We finally descended to a main road where Bob and Ian went on and I tagged on to Cyril's back wheel. Bob was moving particularly well on the flat and only Ian stayed with him and I was only just hanging on at the back behind Cyril. I had been warned of the next climb and tried to save some energy for it. The 5k climb was steep at the start and this was where I made another mistake. I was feeling especially fresh and started to climb as if this was the only hill on the ride. Passing several riders I kept going hard all the way to the top. Ian and Bob were still way ahead but Cyril was behind. At the control point on the summit we were met with a table of goodies including bananas, cakes and drinks. With Bob and Ian already there I looked back down the hill for Cyril and noticed for the first time a lady rider in a black and white cycle top who hadn't been in sight behind us before the climb but was now seemingly floating up this hill. Bob also commented at how easily she seemed to climb the hill. Cyril wasn't far behind and so it was after a brief break that I realised I'd pushed too hard at the 44k mark. I began to feel cold, even though I had several layers on and told the others I would go on to keep warm. I knew they would catch me up soon and so I started the descent alone following a few meters behind another small group. Now I can be a little lazy on descents and on the flat and so it didn't take long before first Ian flashed by followed shortly by both Bob and Cyril.
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be the last time I would see any of them before the end. I passed the small group ahead and rode on alone, passing through Lydbury North with no one in sight ahead or behind, hence a good study of the map was required. My next mistake was to misread the directions. There were two turn offs for Edgton and I took the first. It wasn't till I reached a five-way junction with Edgton signposted right that I realised I was on the wrong route. Instruction here was to take the left fork signposted Edgton (hmmm). I backtracked and looking above the hedgerows I spotted several riders carrying on along the main road. As I scrambled to catch this group up, now climbing another hill towards Church Stretton, I began to feel the strength going out of my legs. I was annoyed with myself for having pushed too hard too early and I would suffer all the way back from this point. Every hill became a mountain. I passed the group ahead, which included the lady who floated up hills, but only because they were waiting for someone further back. I began the climb towards Church Stretton, where after 2k we were supposed to take a turning left for Hamperley. This road meandered its way uphill but no sign of a turning materialised and I began to feel I was on the wrong road again. Finally it appeared at just the same time as the floating lady caught up and stopped for the others in her group to catch up. Onward and upward to Minton, I reached the information control, where,
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due to not being sure that I was looking at the right clue, I awaited the following group’s arrival to find out if I was correct in my assumption. After several minutes everyone agreed and on we pressed towards Church Stretton. Now at 84k and feeling legless the last thing you want to hear is that the biggest climb of all is just round the corner. The group decided they were stopping for tea at the Ragleth Inn but I and another hearty soul rode on, probably realising that if we got off our bikes now we'd probably never get back on. Well that could be true to a degree because after starting the climb out of Church Stretton to The Burway and the final control I did get off and so did my fellow rider 100 metres further ahead. I can only applaud any riders climbing this monstrous hill, especially with a gale force wind blowing in your face. I remounted halfway up but even with 32T in rear I couldn't get the strength to turn the pedals and off I came again. Finally I managed to cycle the last few hundred metres to the summit where the control table and food were nearly blown away. I was so exhausted by now that when I picked up a piece of cake the gale almost blew the cake and me over. It was 3.30pm with about 10k left. At least half of this was downhill. Descending the mountain with its hairpin bends I managed to avoid being catapulted to oblivion firstly by four female ramblers blocking the whole single track road, then two young mountain bikers who decided to take up the entire road on their
ascent and finally a police car who ascended seemingly in pursuit of the road-hogging mountain bikers. At the base of this mountain, after lifting the bike over the final cattle grid, I decided to take a break. Totally exhausted I devoured any food and drink I had left so that I could make the final 5k. Unfortunately it wasn't the last cattle grid or last hill but after somehow surviving this, the final descent to Picklescott was met. Encountering one more puzzle at the end of an excruciatingly hard journey is enough to send any sane man over the edge. So when one of the final directions tells you to turn left signposted Picklescott at the next crossroads, you hope this will be simple. No, no, no. This crossroad signpost has only three signs. Guess which one’s missing? I stopped a motorbike coming towards me and he said he was going to Picklescott and hoped it was left, even though there was no signpost. Add to this conundrum the arrival of the floating lady who disagreed and thought we should continue to the bottom of the hill. Any tired, exhausted man with suicidal tendencies would hang himself from the nearest signpost. (Well he would if there was one.) Thankfully the group arrived and one of them said “It's left” very positively and so we finally rode into Picklescott and the village hall. Cyril and Bob gave a hearty cheer as I entered and laughed when I stumbled into a chair saying, “never again.” Another welcoming sight was to see
the couple serving teas and cakes, etc. They were still smiling after what must have been a long day to them as well. As for the organisers . . . I would like to thank them for putting me through one of the most gruelling rides of my life but one I am glad to have ridden. I hope many more take on this challenge in years to come. As for me, once is enough but it was worth it. The A note for any other Floating newcomers Lady reading this article. I learnt Vicky many valuable lessons on Cuddy this, my second audax. Even at 58 years of age you can still learn from mistakes and I found the most important one was not to get carried away with the pace. Keep to a pace that suits you. You get there just as quick, if not quicker. Oh, final stat. It took me an hour to ride the last 10k, which included half of it being downhill, and yes, the group that caught up with me at the end were the group that stopped for tea at the Ragleth Inn.
Footnote: The always smiling couple serving tea were of course Graham & Jenny. The article first appeared in Arrivée
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In September Ken & Marion, and some friends spent a few days in a cottage in Port Isaac
Scraps from a Treats on trikes
Today we rode the Camel trail, dodging wobbling holidaymakers on hired bikes. Starting at Poley Bridge the 18 mile converted rail track runs in deep cuttings through wooded hills alongside the Camel river. It is narrow at first (scarcely two abreast) and views are limited by the trees. Nevertheless the bubbling and ever growing Camel provided pleasant parts in which to linger a while. Below Wadebridge and for the last 5 miles the trail opens out to reveal splendid estuary views towards Padstow and the fiefdom of Rick Stein. ‘Padstein’ as they quip, is a sweet little fishing port that has been transformed into a fishy goldmine by Rick’s posh and expensive restaurants and not so posh but still expensive fish and chip shop. We conserved our funds and ate pasties on the harbour wall whilst watching a party of school children, close packed along the slipway, dipping for crabs. The Trail Society has made a huge commercial success not least in spawning numerous bike hire businesses. We saw at least 500 hire bikes out on an off-season Thursday and at £10 upwards for a day’s hire that is good pickings. One enterprise not to be missed is Treats on Trikes. This young lady pedals down the trail offering tea and cakes from her tricycle kitchen. Whether she is making a nice living or is just plain crazy we never established but we did have a nice cup of Earl Grey.
Haute cuisine and grand larceny
Tonight it is Scallops Newburg followed by Myrtle’s Turbot the latter being a recipe from one of Rick’s books. I like a bit of cooking and am never happier than when beating egg yokes into double cream to pour over sweet seafood flamed in fine brandy. In the small and unfamiliar kitchen with limited facilities to devote to the fiendish
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Cornish kitchen complexity of the Newburg sauce Myrtle’s simple method of serving the turbot will provide a practical balance as well as a satisfactory contrast of textures and flavours. We were attracted to this spot partly by the fish merchant who trades on the slipway. On this occasion he provided both the scallops and a decent sized turbot for hardly more than a king’s ransom. The turbot recipe does however demand some fresh herbs a little beyond the range of the local Co-op.
The view from our kitchen window
Yesterday we cadged some mint from a local gardener but it seems a bit much to go back and demand parsley, bay leaves and chives. So we set off to scour the narrow streets and passages tightly packed with cottages that do not lend themselves to much in the way of gardens. We had some difficulty in locating our quarry. A bay tree was found but I couldn’t reach the leaves from the path. Besides the cottage window was open and I feared being apprehended. An ample parcel of parsley intended for a local restaurant proved accessible and before long a more favourably sited bay tree was found. The chives eluded us but we thought we might nick them from the vegetable garden of a nearby NT property which we are to visit this afternoon. (Oh come on . . . we’ve paid our NT subscription for years and hardly if ever recovered it from admission charges.) The fish was delicious.
des(s)erts Just des
Myrtle’s Turbot
For those who need to know, grand larceny is the theft of goods to the value of more than one shilling - like herbs. Today my just deserts have turned out to be well and truly grand. Our car hit a loose rock on the road that destroyed a near new tyre which took us three miserable hours and £92 to replace. Does He not move in mysterious ways? KK
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Old Warrior You must have seen them. Thousands of them streaming into factory gates on grey, foggy mornings in bleak northern towns, captured by Pathe News
They were uniformly black with big wheels and upright, grimly clad and grimy faced men astride them, cruising and cursing their way to work, to spend their day
before, during or just after the war, supported by some stiff commentary about pulling together for the war effort and then for rebuilding a demolished country.
at the controls of hefty machines turning out machined parts for aircraft, cars, trucks and whatever. Just as those days of mucky, heavy industry in the UK have vanished in all but celluloid and
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Rob Fris
occasional TV flashbacks, so have those bicycles. But now and again, one turns up, hauled out from amongst the clutter at the back of the garden shed: a museum piece, a white, or rather black, elephant. Scrap?. Who’d ride such a machine today, with our lightweight bikes, multi-speed derailleur gears? Well, it so happens one such bicycle came to light recently. Paul Wagner retrieved it from his collection, and offered it to Paul Roberts, who gratefully accepted it. So with this 70-year old relic, Paul set out to find out what really did make these bikes tick, and if they are up to day-touring, rather than a grind to work and back. First though, let’s just see what the bicycle is made of. Twenty eight inch steel wheels, a steel frame with green coach lines, swept-back handlebars, threespeed Sturmey Archer hub, rodactuated rim brakes, rather rusty rims, steel mudguards, an enclosed oil-bath chain-case, a rear rack and . . . wait for it: a luxurious Brooks leather saddle slung between myriad springs. And an awful lot of weight. With our concept of maintaining a high cadence, we would find this bicycle very highly geared. I estimated that third gear is way above 72 inches, perhaps nearer 84, with first around 50 inches.
Maybe men’s legs were stronger then, conditioned to low-speed, high-force pedalling, rather than lightly loaded ‘spinning’. And usually only for relatively short journeys. So what did Paul do? He took to riding it on weekday and Sunday rides, largely unfazed by Shropshire’s exuberant terrain. I rode many of these rides with him, observing how this manmachine combination got on. First of all, he did shun the very steep stuff simply because the rod brakes with very bendy levers just don’t have enough stopping power, and none in the wet. (The rusty rims initially devoured a set of brake blocks on each ride.) But climbing was another matter. Somehow, despite the painfully high gearing, he climbed gradients in the saddle that had me on the limit in my already high 43 inch bottom gear. There’s got to be a secret to this, so I had a couple of very short test rides to try to find out: one around The Square, the other on a hill. Getting it rolling the first time was a formidable task, until I realised I just had to be patient. Easing the pedals round, I found it inevitably moved forward, gathering speed and momentum at a leisurely pace. Stamping on the pedals the bike just ignored me, shrugging its shoulders, going its sweet
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way, refusing to be hurried into anything as vulgar as sporty acceleration. This is a bicycle that does dignity, and a sweeter ride than anything I’d ridden before. And that saddle just melted beneath me. That was on the level. But uphill? No beating up-hill, thrashing the bike side to side against the pedal strokes. Again, calm, patient dignity is what it responded to. Yes, I was applying a lot of force to the pedals through as much of the pedal stroke as possible, made easier by the upright riding position. But then the momentum stored in the wheels kept it rolling between pedal strokes, allowing me to micro pause the legs between those strokes. Leisurely, as if climbing a steep hill on foot, I kept it rolling. Ah, this must be the secret. I was using much the same muscles as I do for walking, and at much the same rate. It’s just that my effort was amplified to higher speeds. Some time into Paul’s stewardship of the bike, he realised that it would be prudent to replace the age-wrinkled tyres. Axle nuts, axle adjusters and enclosed chain cases don’t lend themselves to snappy
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wheel removal and refitting. And so Paul found: five hours it took, though this did include several stops for prandial fortification. Taking a little less time to fit was a warm-sounding, ding-dong bell. Seventy year old gears pushed to the limit on hill climbs may be forgiven for succumbing to exhaustion sooner or later. And so the rear hub did the expected. On the return leg of a Wednesday ride to Edgerley, the gear change mechanism in the hub fell apart, spewing bits onto the road. We retrieved the parts, and Paul tried refitting them. But failed. He was now stuck in third gear. Grange Bank, that half-mile slog between Montford Bridge and home, stood in his way. He climbed this completely in the saddle, winning himself the ‘Hero of the Day’ award. So, it can be done: day touring on a factory-gate roadster, and a septuagenarian one at that ‑ with the reward of supreme comfort and an unforgettably sweet ride. Perhaps many of those factory workers did the same on their days off. If they didn’t, Paul knows what they missed.
Black Trek Bike, with mudguards and rear carrier. Ideal commuter bike (bought for £175 when my frame broke in May) £100 o.n.o. Jenny Leese 01939 232061
by kind permission of Jim & Janet Willis
Gorgeous Cheddar - on the itinerary of the 2011 Easter tour.
17A Hills Lane Shrewsbury Tel: 01743 343 775 www.stanjonescycles.co.uk
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