live-cycle

Spent a blustery evening at Canary Wharf yesterday with a strange mix of suits and cyclists. It was round one of the Halfords Tour Series, a one-hour spectacle in which ten pro teams battled it out on a tight street circuit. A highlight of the chilly evening was the team of cheerleaders in tiny black and pink outfits jumping about vigorously to keep warm. Try as they did, they couldn’t steal the show from the cyclists, some riding for teams whose names were more than a mouthful – I think Motorpoint Marshalls Pasta was my favourite.

Individual honours went to Tony Gibb of CyclePremier Metaltek, but the overall team victory went to those stylish chaps from Rapha Condor Sharp, with Dean Downing, Dean Windsor and Graham Briggs taking third, fifth and sixth spots respectively. The tour moves on to Durham tomorrow, and then travels around the country over the next few weeks, bringing the gladiatorial style of criterium racing to the masses.
If you missed last nights event – and I know that both of my readers weren’t there – you can catch up by watching ITV4 at 7pm tonight.

Sky, coming to a small town near you, if you happen to be in the States

Oh, the joy of cycling! This blog, as regular readers will know, is dedicated to life on two wheels. We love cycling as a mode of transport, as a sport, and as a lifestyle. We celebrate all who take on challenges, especially where two wheels are involved, and we shun those who do things by halves. Or do we?
You might recall an earlier posting abut Alex and Will, who are riding across the US to raise money for research into autism. Well, I have been watching their progress (as have you, I am sure) and I enjoy reading about their experiences, good and bad, and about the characters they have met along the way. Most intriguing is a chap called Sky, who really has decided to do things by halves (yes, there was a point to that earlier banter). Instead of  two wheels, Sky is riding across America on a unicycle. Specifically, he is riding a 36-incher, with a saddle, kind of handlebar, and a brake, which I am sure makes some of those downhills a lot safer.
What intrigues me in his blog, 36in Across America,  are his priorities: coffee, what he has eaten, and the number of dogs that have chased him. His latest post tells us that he has finally bought a dog whistle. So far, it hasn’t worked properly.

A couple of weeks ago I raved about cycling in Belgium – how cyclists are highly regarded there, and how I was impressed by the cycling infrastructure. So I was horrified to hear that five British women cyclists were injured during a training ride there when a motorist ploughed into them. Of course, such an incident could have happened anywhere, but somehow you expect it to be less likely on the Continent.

The issue of safety is always a concern for cyclists. At least it should be, especially where you are riding on public roads. Mountainbiking is probably the more dangerous code, but at least when mtb riders crash they usually have only themselves to blame. This week two cycling publications have given some thought to the issue. In Cycling Weekly  Sir Alan Sugar talks about his passion for Pinarellos. It turns out that the Amstrad founder has at least three. He used to keep one at his home in Spain and another in Florida. But now he has decided to keep them all in England because the servicing is better here. If he wants to take one away with him, he just chucks it in the back of his plane, the way we would throw our bike into the back of our car.
But the important thing is what he says about cycling in France, Spain and Italy, apart from there being fewer potholes: “I think drivers in France tend to be a bit more understanding because cycling is part of their culture.” (How often do we hear that: part of their culture?) He goes on: “The most important thing we need is to educate drivers to understand cyclists’ needs. I think everybody needs to be more situationally aware, both drivers and cyclists … sometimes cyclists don’t help themselves, especially in London, where some people on bikes give the rest of us a bad name.” Amen to that.

The American website Bicycling suggests that cyclists, when they are behind the wheel, should set a good example and show how to share the road with cyclists. The site gives step-by-step advice, which might be a bit simplistic, but certainly makes the point. It’s a pity that it is not published on the Top Gear website. If anyone has Jeremy Clarkson’s email address, you might want to pass this on to him. In the meantime, ride safely.

Some friends were talking about the Tour de France the other day when one asked: “Whatever happened to the Milk Race?”

Naturally, when you talk about a successful sporting venture in a foreign country, many people immediately try to find some local equivalent. (Some events just don’t have an equivalent, but that is another matter.) And so, in our conversation, our discussion swung to the great British cycle stage event – the Milk Race.

So, we ask ourselves, what did happen to the Milk Race? Well, the easy answer is that it was killed off by the European Union. This answer would please quite a few bigots (sorry Gordon, no offence), but that is not quite the whole truth.

Like so many events – think (again) Milk/Littlewoods/Rumbelows/Coca-Cola/Worthington/Carling Cup – it continues in another guise. Yes, the Tour of Britain, totally unbranded, is the event that was once the Milk Race. But why do so many still remember it as the Milk Race? Obviously the Milk Board struck a note that the current organisers are unable to match, so no one recognises the race in its new guise.

Perhaps a brief history might help. A “Tour of Britain” has existed in some form since 1945, my researcher at Wikipedia reliably informs me. The event became the Milk Race, sponsored by the Milk Marketing Board, in 1958 and was amateur until 1985, when it became pro-am. In 1987 it gained a rival, the Kellogg’s Tour, which was for professionals only. The last Milk Race took place in 1993, won by a local lad, Chris Lillywhite.

This is where we are able to blame the EU – blast you, Brussels – because that year the Milk Marketing Board was wound up as a result of European monopoly laws.

Well, Kellogg’s might now be the sponsor of our most successful Olympic cyclist, but it didn’t last long as sponsor of Britain’s premier cycle tour, because the Kellogg’s Tour ran its final course in 1994.

For two years, 1998 and 1999, we had the Pru Tour, and the nothing for five years. In 2004 the Tour of Britain was unveiled, and this is now the country’s very own Tour de Farce, because no one seems to have heard about it. Well, now that you know what has happened, get out and watch it. This is the 2010 itinerary:

11 September 126km Rochdale to Blackpool

12 September 160km around Stoke-on-Trent

13 September 150km Newtown to Swansea

14 September 171km Minehead to Teighmouth

15 September 176km Tavistock to Glastonbury

16 September 189km Kings Lynn to Yarmouth

17 September 151km Bury St Edmonds to Colchester

18 September 100km around London.

Well, now that I’ve gone to all the trouble to find this out, I hope to see you all crowding the roadside to cheer the riders as they go by. Who knows, maybe if Bradley decides to compete, the race in its current form will have its first British winner. On yer bike, then.

As someone who is always up for a challenge, I have to admire others who go that little bit further, who push themselves just that bit more. For me, 750km in eight days is about my limit, so I take my helmet off to Alex Willan and William Rudd, who set off yesterday to cycle 5,000km across the United States. Alex and Will are riding unsupported from New York to San Francisco – the equivalent of London to Baghdad, if you’re inclinced to such comparisons. The ride will be an endurance mission, mentally and physically, and they will climb from sea level to altitudes of over 11,000ft in the Rocky Mountains, taking three months to complete the journey.
The pair aim to raise £25,000 – £5 for every kilometre that they cycle – for Research Autism. They are doing the ride especially for Will’s cousin Jamie, who is severely afflicted by the disease – he is 13 and cannot yet talk.
Let’s hope that Will and Alex succeed in all their efforts, and that in doing so they have a wonderful adventure. You can follow their progress on their blog. Even better, you can support their efforts by giving to their cause on Justgiving.
Good luck, chaps. I envy you.

The Tour of Flanders, with its cold, wet cobblestones, might be one version of cycling hell, but Belgium itself is cycling heaven.  Unlike England, cycling there is a respected sport, pastime and means of transport. Wherever you go, large town and small, there are bicycle shops that sell what I would call “proper” bikes. We stayed in a tiny town called Viane, just south of Ninove, where the Tour finishes. It has only one school and one restaurant, and it sustains a bike shop that sells everything from kids’ bikes with training wheels to bikes that would cost thousands and make a pro happy.
Everywhere that you go, main road or back road, there are generous cycle paths, clearly marked and well used by cyclists of every ability. There are no silly cycle paths that run for a few yards, then stop for whatever obstacle has caught the road engineer’s eye. These are cycle paths created by cyclists for cyclists.
The Tour of Flanders, a one-day event, even has its own museum, in the town of Oudenaarde, which is at the centre of the race area. We visited the museum and had lunch at the café there. Because it was the day before the race it was  very busy. Cyclists of every age, gender and hue stopped to soak up the wonderful atmosphere. We couldn’t miss one middle-aged chap who was sitting there – everyone wanted their photo taken with him. “Who is that?” we asked the waitress. “Johan Museeuw,” she replied, as if we ought to know – he is, after all, one of cycling’s greats. Everyone here knows him and reveres him. A short while later, while eating our lasagne, we see Museeuw cycling past the museum on his racing bike, wearing jeans, no helmet, and a plastic bag of shopping hanging from the handlebars. You wouldn’t see Sir Chris Hoy doing that, would you?
That night, back at our little restaurant in Viane, the owner’s wife, who speaks no English, is fascinated that we are able to converse when I talk in Afrikaans. My accent is obviously quite weird to her, but we can communicate, and when she hears we are in Flanders to ride in tour, she rushes off and returns with a picture of her, in this restaurant, with Tom Boonen, the Belgian champion who was to finish second in the pro event on Sunday. The pride is obvious. In Belgium, you don’t have to be a cyclist to love cycling, and cyclists.

My friends at Boardman bikes tell me that they are on the expansion trail. Andy Smallwood, the man responsible for Paul and me riding Boardman Pro hardtails at the Absa Cape Epic last year, is joining the business in the new role of Director of Operations. Andy hinted at this change when I saw him last month at the launch of the new Boardman/fi women’s bikes.
Andy was Halfords’ project manager for premium bikes and he played a pivotal role in helping to get the Boardman brand off the ground. He has a vast knowledge of the bicycle industry and a huge passion for cycling. In his new position at Boardman, Andy’s initial task will be to fine-tune the 2011 range but overall he will play a wider, all-encompassing role in expanding the business.

Camera shy: that's Andy on the right, with Chris

Andy is no mean rider himself, although his activity might soon be curbed by impending fatherhood. No doubt he will soon be back, on-road or off-road, with childseat attached.

After the ride ... a load of cobblers

Want to ride the Ronde van Vlaanderen? Fancy tasting a slice of riding like the professionals? Paul and I rode the 155km version of the Tour of Flanders on a cold, wet and windy Saturday and, I have to admit, it wasn’t the hell that I expected. We survived to tell the tale, a little shaken, perhaps, but quite stirred by the experience. We set off from Ninove at about 8am and it wasn’t long before it began to rain intermittently. The first 50km were flat and fast, and we covered the distance comfortably in two hours. It was at about this time that the sun finally put in an appearance, and stayed with us for the rest of the next 20 minutes. The cold and wet were what worried me most but because we kept a good pace, we stayed warm enough. It is, ultimately, the cobbles that are most to be feared.

Shaken up, but only slightly stirred

The first time we hit cobbles we were moving quite fast. Rapidly we lost momentum as our teeth took a jolly good rattling.  Riding on cobbles is no fun. Extremely uncomfortable, in fact, and there is no right or wrong way to ride – hold the handlebars loosely and you lose control, hold too tight and it’s like hanging on to a jackhammer. I wouldn’t be surprised if riders here suffer vibration white finger.
Our first climb was on tarmac, and was easy enough, but the second was the dreaded Koppenberg, a 925 metre climb on muddy, slippery pave with a maximum gradient of 14.5%. To tell the truth, I did climb off and push a bit on this climb, as well as the fourth of the 14 “cols”, but I did manage to ride the rest. Most pleasing was that I made it up the penultimate climb, the heart-stopping Muur-Kapelmuur, where many riders slipped and fell on the steep, wet cobbles. Paul made all the climbs without a foot touching the ground, and was doubly pleased the following day to see some professionals pushing. We finished the ride in about 7.5 hours, including 50 minutes of stopping for food, drink and checkpoints. We were hungry and ready for some Belgian beer, but otherwise none the worse for wear. In fact, the only casualty was my cycle computer, which gave up the ghost at 100km, a victim of the wet wet wetness.
So, you still want to ride? I have three pieces of advice:
1. Don’t do it if it is raining. If it’s wet, head for the nearest pub and watch the event on television while enjoying the fine selection of beer that is on offer.
2. If you must do it, ride a mountain bike with front suspension and road tyres. (If you want full suspension, you’re a cissy and should be doing the off-road event.)
3. Don’t give in to the roadie style mafia: take a backpack or Camelbak and go prepared for all eventualities. You will, after all, be on the road for anything up to 12 hours if you do the 250km route.

Sauser and Stander on their way to time-trial vicotry

The 2010 edition of the Absa Cape Epic has just passed its halfway mark, and it looks like one of the toughest so far. At the end of today’s time trial, the fifth out of eight stages, only 462 teams remain of the 600  that started on Sunday. About 70 riders finished as individuals, having lost their partners along the way. The attrition rate is high, testimony to an uncompromising course designer known unsurprisingly as Dr Evil. Paul and I are following the race daily, and despite the apparent harshness of the course, we both wish that once again we were there. The Epic has a strange attraction, like a cruel mistress who beats you and mistreats you, and still you yearn for more. Or so I’m told. I’ve never had a mistress like that, or like anything else (that bit is especially for the attention of Mrs Rink).

The current race leaders are Karl Platt and Stefan Sahm, who won last year, but if I were a betting man (I can’t afford to be, so it’s all moot) I would put my money on Christoph Sauser and Burry Stander. On the first couple of days the pair suffered illness and mechanical problems, but have come back to win the latest three stages and are up to third overall, seven minutes behind the leaders. They have clearly thrown down the gauntlet and, barring mechanicals, they could well be on the top step on the podium by the weekend.

This year’s Epic has been touched with sadness – on Tuesday morning James Williamson, a 26-year-old from Australia, died  in hospital after his riding partner was unable to rouse him. James, who edited a mountain bike magazine, and his partner had been riding well and were in 18th position. I am sure that all the riders will make their continued participation a tribute to James.

This delicious little handbag comes with a designer label . . . not Mulberry, nor Louis Vuitton, but Boardman. Yes, that’s right, Chris Boardman. Believe it or not, this miniature marzipan number carries the tag of the Olympic cyclist, world record holder and, lately, designer and developer of the eponymous bicycle brand. Well, sort of. Here is what happened. Today we enjoyed tea at the Berkeley Hotel in Knightsbridge, hosted by Boardman and his associates. There the assembled hacks were served the most delicate of sandwiches, with all the crusts removed, followed by the most colourful sweets that you could imagine, including the little number above. Pink champagne made this press do more Carrie and the girls from Sex and the City than the launch of a new  line of bicycles available from  Halfords and its Bike Hut chain.

But that is just what it was. It turns out that the Boardman backroom boys have noticed that women are built differently from men. I don’t mean the fact that they come perfectly formed, and have curves in all the right places (okay, go on then, slap me), but that they have different requirements when it comes to bicycles. So now we have boardman/fi (female informed), a range of bikes with geometry designed specifically for women. The range includes a road bike, carbon road bike, hybrid and hardtail (doesn’t sound that feminine, but live with it), which will be on sale in a couple of months.

Chris did explain what the differences are between men and women, but we were all so absorbed by the confectionary that we missed the detail, so you can check it all out shortly on the Boardman website. But what is most important is the fact the range should appeal to women, the discreet pink detail notwithstanding. And as long as it is another way of getting more people on bikes, I like it. Come on girls, get on yer bikes and keep the revolution going. And congrats to Chris for making cycling sexy.