We've just launched our new Superheroes Collection, so here's a little insight into the sketches that started us off - little designs featuring some of the most incredible riders on the road right now.
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Here we go!
It's the biggest weekend in the Flemish cycling calendar... De Ronde, more than just another race. Win Flanders and a rider's life changes forever - especially if they hail from cycling's heartland itself. This Sunday promises another epic edition - and who knows, perhaps the promised Pog - WvA - MvdP throwdown will be another race for the ages?
So without further ado, here's three of our favourite moments from classic editions of the Tour of Flanders - and some of the Handmade Cyclist products they inspired.
There's so much to love about the 2010 edition. Two great champions at the peak of their form. A duel up the hallowed slopes of the Muur with both riders resplendent in their national champion's jerseys, a visual throwback to the classic kits of the past.
And a devastating, decisive acceleration to settle the race, so violent that rumours abound to this day of artificial electric assistance in Fabian's bike. Cancellara though is clear: 'I Am The Engine'
'Tornado' Tom was the new star of Belgian cycling ever since his 3rd place on debut in Roubaix back in 2002, but in Belgium to be a great you need to win the big one. Boonen didn't disappoint, breaking clear to win solo in the grand manner. Roubaix and the Worlds would follow - but De Ronde confirmed his place in the pantheon.
A spring dream: two world champions together on the podium of one of the greatest classics of all.
For Sagan, finally a Monument to match his talent, and in the 100th edition too; for Deignan confirmation that on her day she was the finest female rider on the planet. Two great races, two great champions. If you've not seen it, the behind the scenes look at the day is an essential watch.
So, yeah - we're excited. De Ronde is about more than the racing. It's about the atmosphere, the fans, the sense that this just means more. In 2021, a market share of 84% tuned in to watch Kasper Asgreen's Terminator impression.
Whatever the outcome, whatever the route, no matter who wins, it will always be 'Flanders' most beautiful'
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Handmade Studio: a new home for artists, designers, makers and creatives in central Winchester
We've got some exciting news: we're opening a brand new studio and event space right above our box-fresh new bike cafe and shop - and we need local creatives to fill it.
Handmade Studio is a flexible space that can be shaped to fit your needs. Whether you need a tiny cubicle, a larger studio space, or are looking for an event space to host workshops, talks or lessons we can create the right area for you.
Situated right in the town centre - with amazing views and light from our floor to ceiling windows - we're a unique offer with great value rents.
So no matter if you are a lone wolf or an established business we want to hear from you - we want to create a new creative collective and bring some fresh energy to Winchester.
If you are an artist, photographer, designer or maker (or any other type of creative venture) looking for a new home get in touch: email neil@thehandmadecyclist.com
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Last weekend The South Downs Social opened its doors for the first time. We've created a home-from-home for the local cycling community. Here's what you can expect:
• Awesome coffee from our local roasters, Winchester Coffee Roasters, all made by our expert Head Barista Marta on a Sanremo Verde machine.
• Absolutely gorgeous Belgian hot chocolate - we use Callebaud, a legendary Belgian brand. Treat yourself and go for the luxury option - we love the gingerbread hot choc.
• Super-tasty local cakes and snacks. We buy our cakes in from a variety of little indie local bakers, and we've always got vegan and gluten free options available. The courgette cake and the Biscoff tiffin have been big hits so far. We're also offering sourdough sandwiches (freshly made on the premises) for now - we'll have hot food options coming up over the next few weeks.
• We've got the best selection of unique, curated cycling gifts in the South, with the full range of Handmade Cyclist products, cycling bodycare products from Veloskin (including their legendary chamois cream), a cracking selection of reading material from Pursuit Books, perfect little enamel badges from Ciclismo Badges plus a range of Victory Chimp sunglasses, socks, neckers and more. In short, if you are looking for a cycling gift, we're your one-stop-shop.
Plus we've got racing on the big screen (the World CX Champs at the end of January will be a big one), and we're putting together a cracking selection of fun events, talks, screenings and more. It's not called the Social for nothing!
So come down, hang out, grab a coffee, drop a massive hint to your family about what Christmas gift you want - and come and have a chat about bikes. It's what we're here for.
The South Downs Social is at 3-4 Kings Walk, Winchester, SO23 8AF. Open 9:30-5pm, Wednesday - Sunday.
See more:
Instagram: @southdownssocial
Facebook: @SouthDownsSocial
Twitter: @SocialDowns
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A mix of your best-ever bike cafe and post-ride hangout, with amazing coffee, gorgeous food and really cool, interesting, hard to find cycling products: the finest apparel, cool tees, great art. The sort of stuff that would make your ride buddies say 'where'd you get that?'.
We'd show all the big races and put on talks, discussions and events. And upstairs would be an office where I could sit and design new art and goods (all with one eye on the Tour).
A space that for riders and non riders alike feels like a home from home.
Well, it's happening.
Introducing The South Downs Social. Our new home in the heart of Winchester, right near the start and finish of the King Alfred's Way and the South Downs Way, nestled on the edge of the South Downs National Park. There's great riding here: road, gravel, MTB.
We want to create a space that's right at the heart of the local cycling community, a place to come together. We'll be showing every major race on the big screen, hosting cycling talks and events, organising rides. We'll have secure bike parking inside the space, downloadable routes hand-picked by the most knowledgeable local riders and a wall of fame for every customer who's completed the King Alfred's Way or South Downs Way. And we're working flat out to make the space feel like the sort of place you've always wanted to hang out in, but never quite found.
We're calling our approach 'pop-up to permanent': this side of Christmas there'll be a few rough edges (and paper cups), but we're in this for the long haul and we'll close briefly in January to fine tune the gearing before roaring back to the front.
The countdown is on. We've got less than two weeks to transform this space before we open the doors on Friday 3rd December.
Want to know more? Here's how:
CLICK HERE to sign up to the newsletter for news, events, offers and more.
Follow our socials:
Twitter: @SocialDowns
Instagram: @southdownssocial
Facebook: @SouthDownsSocial
The South Downs Social will be at 3-4 Kings Walk, Middle Brook Street, Winchester SO23 8AF.
Come and see us. We'd love to chat bikes with you.
Neil
Founder, The Handmade Cyclist
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The Handmade Cyclist is ten years young this year - my how time flies when you are having fun.
We've spent the past decade striving to create art, design and products that dig a little deeper into the most beautiful sport of all, with stories, details and subtle touches that hit hard. The home of original cycling art, since 2011.
So, without further trumpeting, here's a collection of our greatest hits. Some you may be familiar with, some may be new to you, but this our our personal edit of some of the prints that mean the most to us.
And to celebrate our 10th birthday we've got a cheeky little offer for you: 10% off all prints in our collection, for the next 10 days.
That's easy. While there's a whopping nine designs in the Routes Collection, from La Fleche Wallonne to Sa Calobra, one stands head and shoulders clear - just like its real-life counterpart.
Our Mont Ventoux print might just be our simplest print of all. One thing's for sure, there's a lot of you out there who have climbed it, want to climb it, or just enjoy watching Ventoux's majesty every time the Tour takes on its brutal slopes.
Our design philosophy is that less is definitely more. We prefer ideas and atmospheres, we pare back and remove unnecessary detail to get to the very heart of the story.
But here's three tales from the peloton where the opposite was definitely true. The Panache Collection features quite possibly the three boldest, bravest, biggest rides in history. Cycling, maximised.
And if you were to ask us what our personal favourite print in our whole portfolio is? Well, it might just be Hinault '80.
One of the most welcome - and overdue - changes in the past decade has been the resurgence in women's cycling. There's a long way to go (we're old enough to remember when there was a full women's Tour de France that ran alongside the man's race) but giant steps have been made and the return of a proper women's Tour in 2022 is long overdue.
The Queens of Everything collection was our own tribute to four British women who have inspired us in road, cx, track and MTB. With so many more heroes finally getting the exposure (and races) they deserve it feels like it may be time to add to the collection once more.
It sometimes feels like our lives are one big juggling act. Work, family, responsibilities, kids - and if we're lucky, time for a bit of riding squeezed in around the sides.
So this one was for the night riders and early risers, who - like us - find the only way to keep fit, happy and sane is to get the miles in outside the pressures of day-to-day life. And if that means there's just the stars, silence and owls for company, all the better.
How do you capture the madness of the biggest race in the world? The endless climbs, the impossible sprints, the suffocating pressure of riding for GC where every single second counts, for three long weeks?
We pared everything back to what matters: just the lone rider and the vastness of the race. The Convicts of the Road.
Did you see those mad Lotus bikes at the Olympics? Just the latest in a long line of innovations that we captured in The Hour collection.
From Eddy's incredible Mexico benchmark to Wiggins' modern best via Moser, Boardman and Obree, these were the rides, riders and machines that shifted the dial and redefined what is possible for just one human, one bike, one track.
It feels like a lifetime ago, only yesterday. Our classic Alpe d'Huez print was one of a collection of three designs that set the ball rolling for us and laid out our design style: simple design, subtle textures, crisp typography and those little details that really resonate with the cycling lover.
There's been a fair few hairpins on the road between then and now, but one thing has remained constant: our customers.
Thank you so much all for your support for the past decade. We hope we've made you smile and helped remind you why we all love this sport so much.
If you haven't already, do join in the conversation on our Twitter, Insta or Facebook, or just drop us a line: we're always up for a chinwag about bikes.
Another ten years? Oh, go on then...
Neil, Wendy and all at Handmade Cyclist.
With Brexit now a reality we have updated our tax settings for customers outside of the UK.
If you live anywhere outside the UK you won't be charged for UK Value Added Tax at checkout. When you enter your address on the Shipping page you'll see the total to be invoiced automatically adjusted down for you.
Of course, you may still have to pay local taxes and / or import duty when the goods arrive in your country. Please also note that we are hearing reports of lengthy delays in customs from many of our customers, so please do allow plenty of time for your order.
We'll always aim to get your order in the post within 48 hours, and we can offer a variety of tracked and express services on request. If you need any more information or have any special requirements just get in touch.
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The Handmade Cyclist is celebrating its 10th anniversary.
To mark the occasion we're creating a new series of 10 limited edition prints featuring 10 riders who shaped our world. The greatest, the most charismatic, the most controversial, the most fun male and female riders who have inspired and entertained us through our cycling lives.
We'll be releasing a new print every month between March and December, each strictly limited to 50 copies. When they're gone, they're gone!
This first one is a personal hero.
Growing up in Ireland in the 80's, we were not Laurent Fignon's biggest fans. Too uncompromising, slightly austere, stubborn... his main crime was not being one of our local icons Stephen Roche or Sean Kelly.
As time passed and our world-view widened, our view changed. We came to appreciate what a phenomenal rider he was, capable of utterly dominating even Bernard Hinault on the road to winning two Tours, or winning Milan - San Remo twice. That stubborn streak was in fact a ferocious will to win, the uncompromising nature an honesty and directness that eventually won more friends than enemies before his untimely death from cancer aged just 50.
Always ready to take on his opponents head on, our favourite quote came when confronted by someone rather cruelly asking him about his most infamous defeat, losing by 8 seconds to Greg Lemond in the 1989 Tour de France.
"Hey, aren't you the guy who lost the Tour by eight seconds?"
"Non, monsieur. I'm the guy who won it twice."
Icons Series 001: Laurent Fignon is available now.
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In the first of our HMC Clubhouse series we shared a virtual brew with cyclocross champion and former Olympian Nikki Brammeier to talk about navigating the motherload, and how she has adapted her training to balance bikes and babies.
Thanks for chatting with us, Nikki. First, what’s the biggest challenge when it comes to balancing motherhood and cycling?
Making time to recover. It’s hard to try and find that balance you need to ensure you have enough time for the baby, your cycling and yourself. The best thing I would say is just be kind to yourself, and if you do find you just don’t have the energy or time to get out on a particular day then remember there is always tomorrow, be kind to yourself.
What piece of advice would you give to your pre-pregnant self to prepare for life as a Mum (and cyclist)?
Definitely take the time to recover after birth, don’t rush getting back to riding and remember to try to make time for yourself when you can. Accept help off others and accept that you might not have the structure you had pre-baby for a while, but it does get easier.
What top tip would you give to mothers to encourage them to keep riding and not feel guilty about taking time for themselves?
Sometimes just 30 minutes to an hour can be all you need to feel like you’re doing something for yourself. That space can give you a sense of freedom and your happiness - wellbeing is just as important as your babies. Happy mum, happy baby!
Which taboos do you feel still need breaking down for women in cycling, and do you feel progress is being made by advocates such as you who have a voice in the industry?
I think women are finally showing it’s possible to take a break from the sport to have a baby and then return. Having a child shouldn’t be seen as something negative, it is one of the most wonderful experiences you will ever have. It doesn’t mean you need to change who you are, you are stronger than you might think.
What pieces of female specific kit have been worth the investment?
I didn’t really need to change much of my position on the bike other than put my handlebars up and point my saddle nose down slightly to remove some of the pressure later in pregnancy. It’s very much dependent upon individual needs and you should do whatever you feel is comfortable is right for your own body. The only thing I did invest in was a support band for my stomach as I ran throughout my pregnancy, and found this super helpful to give me some extra support.
Name the one ride or location you would love to share with your daughter in the future?
I love Girona, I lived there for a huge chunk of my career, there are plenty of rides I would love to share with her.
When you’re time poor what are the top training tips you would give to maximise training?
One thing that always helped was getting dressed in cycling or running kit as soon as I woke, this meant as soon as Ida had gone down for a nap I could get out quickly. I would also say having a turbo set up to jump on is a great idea.
Name the one race you look forward to spectating most in the season.
I haven’t had that chance yet, but as soon as we are allowed to spectate again we will be over to Belgium in a flash to watch some of the cx and see some old friends.
What’s the best mother’s day gift for a cycling Mum?
I think the best thing is just to be pampered and cared for, we spend so much time caring for everyone else that simple things like having breakfast made, flowers, a nice meal, and a fun planned bike ride or walk would be all that’s need to make that day special.
You can read more from Nikki on her brilliantly candid and informative Instagram posts, and on her blog at Mudiiita.com. Nikki offers bespoke coaching services and training plans for athletes of all ages, so if you want to improve your riding make sure to check her out.
Shop the Story:
Nikki was the inspiration for our Cyclocross print, part of the Queens of Everything collection. The print began life as a custom commission for Nikki, for her to give as a thank you to her friends and helpers as she celebrated the end of her racing career.
With her permission, we're able to offer our customers a version of this unique print, alongside a series of other artworks celebrating iconic female riders.
You can view the Queens of Everything collection here.
Can you become the Armchair Cycling World Champion?
We’re launching a fun, new season-long competition - all you have to do is choose who you think will win key men’s and women’s races in the pro cycling calendar.
There’s great prizes for each race, and the overall winner gets an amazing prize package including the coveted Armchair Cycling World Champion’s jersey.
Stage 1: Strade Bianche is now live.
Playing is simple. Just head to the Armchair Cyclist and choose who you think will win Saturday's men's race. You'll get points depending on where your pick finishes. Guess the winner and you'll be in the draw for the Stage victory.
Your points go towards your total for the season - keep playing and you might be able to win the overall GC!
You can see the full Armchair Cyclist calendar here.
We've partnered with our friends at Veloskin, The Road Book and Victory Chimp to create some great prize packages for Stage winners - and the overall winner will get a bumper bundle of cycling goodies. So what are you waiting for?
And that's not all.
Armchair Cycling can be tough. So we've included some great content for you, including nutrition guides, mental training games and a form guide to help you choose the winner.
We'll be adding more articles and fun stuff through the season, so you can go into every race fully prepared to immerse yourself in the greatest sport on the planet.
Good luck!
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If you are anything like us, you've left your Christmas shopping to the last minute, again.
Make sure you don't miss out. Here's the last postage dates for your area - and if in doubt, send it early!
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Our new Winchester pop up store is just the ticket. Nestled in the heart of the city centre we've been joined by some of our favourite brands to create a little slice of cycling heaven.
There's everything from sunglasses to coffee, jerseys and vintage Italian bikes, from Victory Chimp, Look Mum No Hands, Pasche Design and more - plus of course cycling art, notebooks, apparel, tees and the finest cycling ceramics on the planet from Handmade Cyclist.
Free back issue of Rouleur magazine with every purchase while stocks last.
Come along and have browse, or just a chat about bikes. You can find us at 3-4 Kings Walk, Winchester, S023 8AF until 22nd December.
Opening hours
Tuesday - Friday 11am - 5pm
Saturday 10am - 5pm
Sunday - 11am - 4pm
[Closed on Mondays]
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It was one of those moments when you have a second or two of clarity. Was this really a good idea?
100 miles to Winchester. A glorious Saturday morning in Eastbourne, for sure, but here we were: me and my son (Monty, normally known on our socials as HMC Junior), a pair of cyclocross bikes, and a century of ancient tracks stretching before us. And hills, lots of hills - over 3000 metres of climbing. Oh, and for reasons of convenience, we were doing it the ‘wrong’ way, east to west, a decision I was rapidly questioning the sanity of as the headwind stiffened.
But we were committed now, and we were off.
I only have a partial history with the South Downs Way, despite the fact it starts (or finishes, in our case) in Winchester. We’re at the ‘low’ end, where the hills are shallower and the paths easier. I’d never travelled further than Chichester along its route, so we set of with blind hope and not a little foreboding.
This was to be my annual micro-adventure with HMC Junior, which generally are built around a bike ride, an overnight and and very tired young lad by the end of it. This was a step up though, and with him just turned 13 I was worried it was a big ask. HMC Junior is a font of positivity about these things though, a well he would need to dip into liberally across the weekend. As a nod to the intensity of the ride we’d sacked off the initial intention to wild camp en route, and so we had the luxury of Mrs HMC and my daughter acting as support in an amazing VW California camper van (blagged for the weekend from a friend at Marshalls VW), for greater overnight comfort and the option to call in an airlift as needed.
We were settled in for the long haul. Lots of stops, a proper break for lunch, tons of fuel. Ah yes, the fuel:
One big pack of:
• Werthers Originals
• Wine Gums
• Skittles
• Jelly Babies
• 10x rice cakes - the Allam Lim magic ones that are the best bike fuel ever
• 8 x cereal bars
• Sandwiches
• Magnum ice cream
• Massive Mr Whippy
• Coca Cola
...Comfort eating on the bike basically, a constant grazing through the ride - the best way to celebrate ticking off a milestone or cresting a hill.
And what hills they are. Not the highest - just 270m at Butser Hill - but steep, and constant. Despite their low(ish) level, the views are frequently staggering, especially looking north across the Weald to the North Downs and Surrey Hills. The Way follows the ridge of the escarpment, so the views are many and frequent. All of which leads to a glorious ride - pockmarked with deep valleys riven through the chalk by rivers, leading to the saw-tooth profile of the ride, its biggest challenge.
It’s also remarkably wild for a ride that never strays more than a few miles from the coast. You need to carry your fuel, because you’ll not pass so much as a petrol station along the way, with the exception of the cafe at Queen Elizabeth Country Park, the pub (and the view, what a view!) at Devil’s Dyke and an ice cream van at Ditchling. Other than that, you’re on your own.
On. Keep moving, even if slowly. Some tough, steep, rocky descents that tested both our Forme Calver ‘cross bikes and our nerve. Some tough, steep, rocky climbs where we ran out of gearing and cursed and lusted after e-bikes in equal measure as we pushed our way up.
A long, hard slog of a day, six hours total and 35 miles complete. We knocked it on the head at Devils Dyke, just 5 miles short of our planned campsite: we could have made it, but day two loomed large and I took the decision to call in the VW airlift. HMC Junior was asleep within a minute of getting in the van (and had recovered enough to play football as soon as we reached the campsite - turns out a 13 year old’s batteries are rechargeable, and quick to charge too).
It was at the campsite that we realised our biggest problem. Given time alone with the VW camper van, Mrs HMC had fallen head over heels. Completely smitten. We used to have an old Mazda Bongo van that was a bit like an unreliable uncle, or a badly behaved family pet. We adored it, but it was not to be trusted, and frequently let itself down. The California was your charming cousin, the one that goes to a really good school, who is great at sports, knows where he is going in life. You should really hate him as he’s just too perfect, but you just can’t - he is just so damned nice. I drifted off to sleep dreaming of HMC branded VWs, the ultimate CX team van. Well, we can all dream…
Day two: longer, shallower, but still another 1550 metres of up. Rubber band boy’s legs had recovered and he was optimistic for the day ahead. Despite a pounding, our kit had proved itself worthy and we were hopeful of slightly easier paths - we’d soon be on more familiar routes. The day was longer, with 55 miles planned, and we mentally set Queen Elizabeth Country park as Monty’s potential finish line for the day, some 35 miles down the trail.
And the kit? We were on cyclocross bikes, and while we saw a couple of other riders on gravel rigs it’s really an MTB trail, if only so you can relax a bit and really enjoy the descents. but HMC Junior doesn’t have a mountain bike, so we rode our CX bikes in solidarity, took the occasional pounding, and made the most of the flatter, faster, funner sections that the western end brings.
• Bikes: Forme Calver and Forme Calver SLC
• Wheels: Mavic All-road
• Tyres: Hutchinson Overide 38mm, tubeless - no punctures, but we were glad it was dry, slippery wet chalk would not have been fun no matter which tyres you rode.
Day two passed in more a blur, less stops, steady progress, less photos, and the alarming sight of HMC Junior dropping me on a couple of hills. His determination and stamina was really astounding, he had never tried anything as tough as this and not one word of complaint was passed across the whole weekend.
However, as we rendezvoused at QECP (for many the end of the ’true’ SDW) and he fell asleep at the table we reluctantly took the decision to pull him from the remaining 20 miles. He could have done it, he wanted to do it, be we were worried that he would break himself through his own determination. And - selfishly - I didn’t want to put him off future adventures. As your kids grow these moments are to be treasured, preserved… two days with him all to myself, a tough, hard, glorious treat.
We parted, and I flew the last score back to Winchester and home, with new found respect for the trail, for those who scale it in a day, and making a personal vow to never, ever, be talked into the ‘double’.
But most of all I came away with some new perspectives. I’d come to appreciate just how wild, rugged and downright beautiful the countryside was on our very doorstep, every inch as beautiful as anywhere in the country. And I had a new view of my son. I’d been able to see just how much he has grown, how strong and fit he now is and had a glimpse of what he may grow to become. I’d seen him draw on reserves that i don’t think either of us knew he had. And I hope that for him too, this little adventure will have allowed him to learn about himself, to learn even more how to appreciate the world around us, to know that no matter how hard the challenge he can dig deep and overcome - and that every challenge should end with a comfy bed and mum’s spaghetti bolognese.
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Added to that, the way I ride has been changing. More and more I was turning to The Frankenbike, the battered old cyclocross bike bought for £150 off gumtree that I hack round the odd CX race on. Now the Frankenbike wasn’t going to win any beauty contests, but she was fleet of foot and allowed me to link road, bridleway, single track and gravel in one long, fast ride. Which was fun. And then the Frankenbike broke, too.
So, it was time for new wheels. And like many people out there, I hankered for something that could handle on and off road, which was fast enough to be fun but flexible enough for adventure. A gravel bike, you say? Maybe. But maybe not.
But could it be that there was one bike out there that could do it all well enough to be the only bike I would need? The mythical ‘quivver killer’, one arrow to rule them all, the white whale. A unicorn bike. I decided it was time to find out.
Now, this is not a new topic. Gravel bikes have bounded along in the past few years, with their sexy attitude, hairy-legged fun and devil-may-care promises of backwoods adventure. Just like MTBs promised the same thing back in the 90’s (the last time the bike industry hit upon a world-beating winning formula to get everyone to swap from one perfectly good bike to another).
And those gravel bikes, they sure do look cool. I want one. You probably want one. Research shows that everyone’s next bike is a gravel bike. Well done, bike industry. But this is also a product of the hostile environment that we all ride our road bikes in, where Mad Max of Maidstone feels entitled to run you off the road in his two-tonne-death-machine because, well, just because. Small wonder everyone wants to flee for the hills.
Cut and dried then? Well, no.
They look great. They ride great. But, whisper it, they are - and there’s no polite way of putting this - slightly portly by road bike standards. Ah yes, you say, that’s because they need to be strong enough to handle all that off road gravellyness. Ok, well they are also a little hefty by cyclocross standards, and I don’t see Matthieu van der Poel holding back on the rough stuff. Hell, gravel bikes are chunky even by XC MTB standards, and they can ride down cliffs. And so, outmoded weight-weenie dinosaur that I am, I had nagging doubts. Is a gravel bike really the solution, or am I just a sucker for a sales pitch?
As ever, it comes back to usage. So I made a list. My clever unicorn bike would need to:
- Be light enough, short enough and frisky enough to at least partially cover up my inadequacies on a cyclocross course
- Be comfortable enough to take on longer distance adventures with a lightly loaded backpacking rig (full on adventures are not forecast, no matter how much I close my eyes and wish for them)
- Be fast enough to keep up with my betters in group road rides, and generally not feel like riding through soup on the tarmac.
Fail any of these and I’d be reaching for one of the other, older, more tired rides in the shed. And then the quivver would start to fill up again.
As a start point, I thought I’d have a look at the bikes of the Dirty Kanza, as there’s not many faster, harder or longer races out there, so I figured these guys would be riding the cream of the gravel crop. But wait! What’s this? Turns out both the women’s and men’s winners in 2018, and a significant number of riders in 2019, were riding cyclocross bikes.
Then I checked out the amazing Lachlan Morton, who led EF Cycling’s attack on the alternative calendar last year. And lo, despite Cannondale featuring a dedicated gravel bike - the Topstone - in their range, Morton opted for the Super-X for Kanza and the Three Peaks (though he did ride the Topstone for the longer, self-supported GBduro). Looks like the faster - or shorter - the race, the more suited a CX bike is.
But what of the carbon XC bike? I’ve picked up cross country MTBs that are lighter than my road bike, and sure as hell are faster than just about anything when the track gets rough and the hills point down. I’ve got a Kinesis hardtail in the shed that comes alive as soon as it hits the dirt - but on the road, still feels like treacle. Really though, point yourself twenty miles in any direction from HMC headquarters and you can probably count the trails that really call for suspension on one hand, and try as I might, I just can’t imagine that the MTB option will ever cut it on the blacktop.
That was it - the MTB was out.
Still no wiser, I turned to a proper cycling guru, Gary Willis. Gary’s a man who knows a thing or two about bikes, having - among other things - organised the time trial at the London Olympics. I had last seen Gary on a bike as he sped past me going down Avoriaz… on a cyclocross bike with 38mm semi-slick tyres and a dropper post. Gary uses that bike to do everything in the Alps - up and down cols, on and off road. His sage counsel was to go for a CX bike, as the slackness of a gravel bike would mean I would always miss that CX speed and cornering. What’s good enough for Gary is good enough for me - a CX bike it will be.
As ever in life, making a decision is that hardest thing to do. This decision had the benefit of narrowing down the selection massively, for while every bike manufacturer in the world is throwing out new gravel bikes like nobody’s business, the humble CX bike has been left in the corner a little. Those that there are out there can be broadly put into two camps: old school, euro-style bikes with high bottom brackets, super steep frame angles and relatively small tyre clearance, or a slightly fresher take on the genre, with space for 40mm tyres and a slightly more relaxed front end - which fitted my bill.
And so here we are. After much agonising, the new CX-cum-gravel bike lands this week. A Forme Calver SLC - carbon, decent clearances, with a ‘slightly slacker than rowdy’ front end. It’s got race pedigree in spades, but also seems to have miracle bike potential. Forged in UK conditions, which should be shorthand for ‘mud clearance’.
Will it be our do-everything, go-everywhere forever-bike? We’ll see. In the meantime, we’re off riding…
]]>Farewell then, to the UK's 'golden age' of cycling.
Can you still remember it? Those golden ten weeks of eternal sunshine? The empty roads, with a handful of cars driven by careful, courteous drivers? The families riding together?
So what happened?
I'll start by retelling of one of Billy Connolly's most famous skits. He tells the story of a poor young Celtic fan who accidentally ends up in the Rangers end at an Old Firm derby. A series of unfortunate, bullying, scatalogical events follow (for which he gets his own devious revenge), culminating with the lad being interviewed for the TV news while trudging home. Upon being asked about hooliganism, he responds:
"In my opinion, football hooliganism will never end. Not as long as they are sh***ing in our shoes and we are p***ing in their Bovril!"
What, you may rightly ask, has this got to do with cycling?
So here's another tale. On two weekends I rode the same route back from the New Forest, a pleasant and scenic 50km on quiet roads that are very popular with cyclists. Two weeks ago I rode alone, this past weekend I was accompanied by my 13-year-old son.
The ride two weeks ago was one of the most perfect days I have ever had on the bike. The weather helped, but mainly it was the quiet roads, and polite drivers. It truly did feel like the 'golden age' was upon us.
The contrast with yesterday couldn't be more noticeable. Lots more drivers, yes, but it was the attitude of the drivers that had changed. Two incidents stand out.
The first, my son and I were riding single file. The road was narrow, but the cars coming the opposite way to us would move a foot or two to the left and everyone passed through just fine. One younger driver though drove straight, no deviation, just close enough to unnerve us, all while making the universal sign for w**ker at us.
The second, we were riding two abreast on a wide, empty road. A car gave us the classic 'punishment pass', deliberately driving too close, cutting quickly across us, while their passenger gave us the finger through the window as they drove off. We had not held the driver up or inconvenienced them even for a second.
To remind you: I was with a child.
Now, its easy to tell ourselves that where there are drivers there are bad drivers, and where there are cyclists there are bad cyclists too. But my sense is that something more fundamentally has changed in the past few days.
Two weeks ago, we were still 'all in it together'. We were limiting our travel, and those on the roads were conscious of this; cycling was seen as a permitted and encouraged form of exercise; everyone wanted to limit any stress on the NHS. In short, we all looked out for each other.
Since then: Cummings, the validation of selfishness and the easing of lockdown. No one is in it together any more. It's everyone for themselves, validated from the very top.
Is that it then? Are we forever to be Celtic fans and Rangers fans, doomed to conflict, eternal opposites? Are cyclists to be perpetually vulnerable, passing through hostile space populated by drivers who cannot bring themselves to be delayed by a few seconds, or to allow a few extra centimetres of space?
In my last post I pointed out the structural changes that need to take place to keep cyclists on the road. Many councils have taken steps to create protected, but temporary, infrastructure (and many have not, our local council being one). But this does not go far enough. We don't just need structural protection from drivers, we need protection from the drivers' attitude.
There are a few theories about how to do this.
The optimistic approach is to assume that if enough people ride their bikes the number of riders on the road will reach 'critical mass' (also the name of a series of impromptu, global mass bike rides). This presumes that if there are enough people who ride that drivers will be forced to change their attitude, because either a) most people will be bike riders, and therefore the prevailing culture will change or b) the number of riders on the road will be so high that the very act of driving will need to be different and more considered. This is all well and good, but rather like the 'herd immunity' theory for CV19 the numbers needed for critical mass to occur are vastly high, and it's just not going to happen any time soon, and not without a lot of casualties along the way.
The second theory is education. Ask the average driver what annoys them about cyclists and the same old tropes come out (and which are then repeated in the media)... 'cycling two abreast'... 'don't pay road tax'... 'cause traffic jams'... 'shouldn't be on main roads', and so on, all manifestly, provably false.
Can drivers be better educated to understand the rights and vulnerabilities of other road users? Sadly, all the evidence suggests not. Drivers are well aware of the rules of the road, but choose to frequently break them; the inherent selfishness and lack of vulnerability of car travel insulates the driver not just from their responsibilities but from any feeling of connection with the outside world and other road users.
The third way is enforcement. Increasingly police forces are taking incidents against cyclists more seriously, with certain forces leading the way more than others (take a bow the West Midlands RPU with their ground-breaking close pass policing, and the Surrey RPU). But numbers are thin on the ground and resources stretched, and the chance of any act of aggression towards a cyclist being seen, acted upon and prosecuted are vanishingly small.
Given this stacked system against the rider, it's small wonder than many are fleeing the roads altogether. Gravel bikes aren't just selling well because they look cool. Riders are increasingly looking to get off road and away from the conflict. But some cyclists are finding new ways to fight back, with on bike cameras on the rise (and, encouragingly, police showing some move towards acting upon the evidence they receive from them). Your choice: fight or flight.
And so here we are, the rather depressing state of play in post-lockdown 2020. Drivers again feeling empowered to use their potentially lethal force to dominate the vulnerable. Parents like me feeling that they have an ideological choice to make about whether to expose their kids to danger and hostility on the road, or whether to quit the battlefield altogether. Celtic versus Rangers, two wheels versus four. The Old Firm.
And for all us the memory of a few halcyon weeks where it seemed there really was a better, more efficient, more caring way for us all. A memory we must cling to, because it showed us change is possible, it just takes a cause everyone can believe in.
A reason to pull together, not pull apart. That really is critical mass.
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In case you missed it, the government have declared we are entering a 'golden age' for cycling. Modal shifts are being forced upon us by the social distancing needed to survive the COVID-19 pandemic and one form of transport fits the bill better than anything else: the bike. But, as things stand, this golden age is dead in the water before it starts. Here's why.
Want to get people cycling like they do in Copenhagen or Amsterdam? Where it is normal, and not some kooky lifestyle choice requiring tight shiny clothes and nerves of steel?
This means bike lanes: proper, segregated bike lanes. This will be hard - the space for cycling needs to come from somewhere, and that somewhere means less road space for cars. I fear the government will fudge this, and fail this. There will be more 'shared-space' paths that will only create conflict between pedestrians and cyclists. These are poor for cyclists - they are slower and generally less direct. And they are terrible for pedestrians, because no one enjoys a cyclist flying past them (or their dog, or their kids) at close quarters on a footpath. The only winner from shared-space paths is the car driver.
We've all seen the huge (and very welcome) increases in runners, walkers and cyclists over the past few weeks, especially family groups riding on the road. This is because those people feel safe on the roads for the first time in a generation. Once cars return in significant numbers, and once the population returns to a 'me first / get out of my way' mindset and culture, those numbers of cyclists - especially women and families - will disappear overnight.
The current, rather conflicted, guidance (stay at home, unless you have to work, and don't use public transport) presents a massive opportunity. But unless fairly radical steps are taken immediately then people will default to their cars (and understandably so) if that is the most convenient mode.
This means that unless steps are actively taken to make car driving less convenient then the opportunity will be lost. This should include closing streets to cars completely, or converting lanes of streets to protected cycle lanes, and using both these methods to create new one-way / orbital routes for cars around towns, while allowing bikes to use the most direct routes through the urban centre. Unless the bike is considered faster, easier or less hassle, it won't be used.
Of course, the other massive incentive for getting people out of cars and onto bikes is the health and economic benefits for the overall population. There would be a very significant benefit to the NHS, not just from the improved health from regular exercise for those who cycle, but also to the population as a whole due to decreased pollution. And, by extension, to the planet. Sounds good, right?
The reality of cycling in the UK is that for most people it is a difficult, off-putting option. The roads feel dangerous, the UK is a reasonably hilly place, the weather is poor. The media takes every opportunity to demonise cyclists. The road network and infrastructure prioritises cars. Shopping has shifted away from local high streets to out of town superstores that rewards weekly, high volume buying. Fitness levels are low and obesity is high. Good bikes are expensive, and cheap, badly set-up bikes are heavy and tend to fail regularly. Workplaces don't have bike parking, or shower facilities. Commuting distances are long. You may as well ask the average person in the UK to cycle to the moon as to swap from car to bike.
However, there is one solution to all of this, and it is here now: E-Bikes.
Electric bikes will be the game-changer for the UK. All barriers (real or perceived) relating to fitness can be overcome. Regular clothes can be worn. Cargo can be carried, plus laptops, work equipment etc. Ask anyone who has tried an e-bike and you'll be hit with the full beams of the converted. But - and it's a big but - e-bikes are still very expensive. This is an impossible ask for the average worker at the moment: no one is likely to be spending over £1000 on an electric bike when they are worried about their jobs and income.
So - as well as prioritising immediate changes (and long-term structural change) the government needs to get workers in the UK onto e-bikes.
So here's what we should do:
We are facing a tremendous opportunity. COVID-19 has forced massive temporary changes in the way we live upon us. But it has also offered us a generational chance to make real, life-long changes to the way we live and work, and to the type of country and environment we want to live, work and travel in.
But it won't be easy. We are facing an environment and culture that for decades has not just prioritised the car but has actively suppressed many other modes of transport in its place. It will take concerted effort to change this. It may inconvenience some people. It will be resisted.
But if we are serious about making the nation, and the world, a happier, healthier, greener, more efficient place, the time and opportunity is now.
The question is, how serious are we?
]]>We don't know about you, but we've been spending a lot more time on the turbo.
We've been lucky that here at our home base in Winchester in the UK we've had lockdown with a small 'L', and we've still been allowed to get outside on the bike. And we know that some of you, particularly our friends in Spain, France and Italy, have had far stricter restrictions (which are hopefully beginning to lift). But we've been sensible, limiting our outdoor rides to one or two a week and #Stayinglocal #Stayingsafe.
Which means more time on the turbo, with its amazing ability to bend time itself, where 15 seconds can feel like a minute and a minute can feel like an hour. So alongside Zwift we've turned to watching some classic cycling films to pass the time.
So here you are: the greatest cycling films you've (hopefully) never seen - and one that you most likely have, but really don't need an excuse to watch again.
Ok, so it's set in the mad, bad, juiced-up world of the early-2000's peloton. And it follows the thoroughly disgraced German Team Telekom and features a veritable rogues' gallery of dopers, including Vinokourov and Lance himself.
But if you can put that aside there's loads to admire here, not least the stunning cinematography. For us, it's the best insight into the craziness of the Tour that we've seen. Centred on grizzled roomies Eric Zabel and Rolf Aldag, you get a real insight into the pain glory of the sprinter, the dedication of their teammates and a proper sense of the struggle through the mountains on the road to Paris.
France has never looked so lovely - just don't peek behind the curtain.
Three weeks, thousands of kilometres, decided by mere seconds. Weeks of concentration, focus, plotting and paranoia. Little wonder the riders feel like prisoners of the race, breaking rocks daily just to stay alive.
Those riding for the win suffer most of all. Constantly chasing the uncatchable horizon, never afforded a moment’s rest. Trapped in the race and in the unquenchable pursuit of glory.
The Tour of Flanders is more than a bike race to the Belgians. And when you watch this brilliant film you'll understand just how completely it takes over the country for one weekend each April.
Mainly eschewing the more obvious race action, the film expertly stitches together the narrative from a dizzying array of cameras following 'the race behind the race'. There's lenses in the team directors cars, on the moto with the staffer tasked with marshalling the press camera corps, with the race directors on the road and back at HQ, plus with the veteran TV commentators and the roadside fans.
The film is a triumph of editing, threading a meaningful narrative from multiple strands, adding depth and colour to the bare bones of the race. And it all ends with a truly memorable sign off from Peter Sagan, dropping the clown mask for once to show the racer underneath.
Flanders: the heartland of cycling, where road racing is close to a religion. And for its disciples, there is no more hallowed ground the the Muur van Geraardsbergen, the cobbled ramp shearing skywards up to the Chapel Of Our Lady Of Oudenberg on slopes of nearly 20%.
This artwork, produced as an exclusive partnership between the Handmade Cyclist and Rouleur Magazine, features a detailed, architectural isometric projection of the chapel and it's surroundings, with a subtle, textured, watercolour finish.
Before Ritchie Porte, before Cadel Evans, Phil Anderson was Australia's first true cycling star to hit the European peloton.
Always a distinctive sight with his brilliantly toothy smile (and in later years flying mullet and massive Oakley glasses), Anderson was a rider in the old-school mode, competitive from the Spring Classics right through the season. This film follows his attempt to win the 1983 Tour, so as you would expect it's a riot of classic bikes and jerseys and features some of the most iconic names in cycling, including Kelly, Lemond, Hinault and Fignon.
A classic quote needs a classic china mug.
Enjoy your pre-ride brew in one of our handsome mugs, made by one of the oldest surviving fine bone china manufacturers in England. Fired in the heart of the potteries in Stoke on Trent in the same building that's been used since 1875 - a time before the Tour was even a twinkle in Desgrange’s eye.
Ok, so you may already have seen this one. And if you haven't, you really, really should. As much a piece of art as entertainment, Jørgen Leth's film takes a meditative look at the 1976 Paris - Roubaix.
No matter how many times we see it there's always something new to spot (and to this day we still have no idea what Eddy Merckx's mechanic is doing with that paintbrush at the start). There's relatively little race footage left of the 'golden era' of Merckx, De Vlaeminck etc, so this is a perfect time capsule that has really stood the test of time.
What strikes me every time I see it is both how much things have changed, and how little - no matter how much the bikes, the science and the training has moved forward, the primal challenge of Roubaix remains the same. And, oh boy, those guys could ride those skinny-tyred old bikes fast.
We loved the film so much we created a tee in its honour.
Our Arenberg ’68 range of tees feature our unique chevron pattern inspired by the cobbled pavé of northern France. The Arenberg ’68 logo subtly references the arrow-straight trench road through the Arenberg forest, and the cobblestone trophy that awaits the victor. A Handmade Cyclist hip label in the fresh green of spring completes the look.
We hope you like our little selection of movies.
Hopefully there's something new there for you. Why not let us know what you think of them - or tell us if there's any we've missed. Ping us an email or let us know on our socials - the links are below.
And of course, stay safe. We'll see you up the road.
The Handmade Cyclist
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As a family-run business we have the luxury of working from home, and all our printing, framing and fulfilment is done by one person - the excellent Carl - from his studio in Swindon.
So we're able to keep functioning with minimal contact to our products, zero travel miles and the safest working conditions possible.
So it's business as usual, though there may be some delays to deliveries due to the weight of pressure on the UK and international postage and courier systems. This is particularly affecting our range of performance cycling wear. We'll advise you of any delays expected when you order.
All other items are unaffected, so you can order in confidence that your items will arrive in good time.
Away from the shop, we're continuing to ride, but keeping it local, safe and short. We ope you'll be able to get out, if it is permitted where you live.
Stay safe - and thank you for your continued support.
The Handmade Cyclist
]]>Glorious weather - mostly - meaning loads of riding. We were lucky enough to head to the Alps with Global Cycling Network to help run their events, and in between found time to head to the Italian lakes, meaning a summer of col-bagging, including the Joux-Plane, the incredible Grossglockner and the hardest of the lot, the little-known Monte Baldo, quite possibly the toughest climb we'd never heard of (and never want to speak of again).
All this and quite possibly the most exciting Tour for years (though we don't like to think about it too much, as Pinot's demise still brings a tear to the eye). It's fair to say we are more in love with cycling than ever - and we hope that you are too.
We asked you to share your photos of your summer rides with us on our Insta, Twitter and Facebook pages, using the hash #HMCsummer. Here's the best of them, all of whom receive a Handmade Cyclist print of their choice. Enjoy!
First up, we've got this cracking photo from @neilxca on Twitter. Featuring both MTB and road, on the descent from Avoriaz to Morzine, it got us wondering who made it to the bottom first.
Next, also from Twitter, is this rather classic shot of @brendonfraser89 topping out the mighty Izoard. Bonus points for doing it fully loaded.
Finally, and definitely the highest photo of the summer - actually scratch that, the highest cycling photo just about ever - here's Simone Buddemeijer in Tibet, at a mind-boggling 5236 metres. Presumably the oxygen tank is just out of shot - what an unbelievable achievement.
Wherever you rode this summer, you can be sure that we have a print, mug or t-shirt for you. Our Routes prints are a great place to start: featuring a selection of the classic roads, races and climbs of cycling, there something there for you whether you are celebrating conquering a climb or just adding a target to the bucket list.
Here's to next summer.
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Oh sure, we set off early on Friday morning, with adapted bikes, a mountain of rice cakes and gels, a carful of animated chatter and a dash of trepidation. We spotted the cars laden with bikes at the tunnel entrance, we laughed at how many vans full of slightly-too-skinny young men there were at every service station. We counted the UK registration plates on the streets surrounding the velodrome and we wondered if any nations other than the Brits were stupid enough to enter this, the most stupid of sportives. As we queued to get our event numbers on the infield of the newer, indoor velodrome, a senior and a junior rider lap, lap, lapping the track around us, we asked ourselves why we hadn’t done this before. So close to home, just a short hop over the channel, this most mythic and fearsome and legendary of races, where stories and horror and facts and fiction have intertwined for over a hundred years.
See? I’m at it too. Actually, that last bit isn’t quite true, we weren’t complete greenhorns.
We had an interloper, one amongst us who had some experience of the pavé. Not much experience though… in fact, about two hundred metres of it. Rich, the intrepid leader of our merry band of four, had a crack at Roubaix the year before. Well, perhaps just the ‘c’ of crack, as at the very start of the very first section of pave he rode (the mighty Arenberg, of whom we shall speak again later) his rear derailleur exploded through his back wheel, leaving him stranded some 50 kilometres from home armed only with a busted bike, some very rudimentary French, and a whole heap of unfinished business. So here we were: three novices, and one nearly-novice with a grudge. Be afraid, cobble-goblins, be afraid.
Like all Roubaix novices, we had long since embarked on another journey. Kit had been planned, options considered. Tyre size and choice? Tubes or tubeless? Double wrap of bar tape or gel inserts? Both? Gravel, CX, or road bike? Or - surely sacrilege - MTB? How many spares would we need to carry?
We consulted the small cottage industry of blogs, websites, videos and books all advising the cobble-newbie how to prepare, how to get fit, how to avoid crashing, how to minimise the pain. All adding to the myth, the fear factor, the anticipation. We’ve all trained for events before, but this was… more. Had we considered upper-body strength training? They say vibrations from the cobbles accentuate any wobbles. Better get strong. I posted a photo of my Roubaix-ready bike on Twitter and was promptly told to swap my bottle cages for some steel ones as the plastic ones would surely break. Words of kindness framed with the dark warning that ‘it really is very, very bumpy indeed’. Heads swimming with information, legs brimming with fitness, bikes and backs and thighs tautened and tightened and tweaked, we were ready, dammit.
These days there’s a few different route options depending on your levels of intrepidness / optimism / foolhardiness. We went for the option of medium stupidity, the 145km route that indulges ‘only’ twenty of the twenty-nine sectors of cobbles, but that starts and finishes from Roubaix and thus avoids the 5am bus to the start that is required for the 175km maximum-cobbles route (I’m glad to say that there’s no option for the full 250km pro route, presumably on some sort of Catch-22 basis, in that anyone insane enough to actually want to do it would therefore be automatically refused entry on grounds of insanity).
We rolled from the Velodrome (the new one, again) in five minute intervals of whoever could muster the courage, roared on by a Frenchman-with-microphone of worrying bonhomie. There then followed a lovely little run down to the first secteur, with plenty of time to avoid working on the front as much as possible, marvel at the locals’ ability to immediately form a perfect echelon at the merest puff of a crosswind and to enjoy the usual, but alien sensation of polite respect from the passing cars, as sure a signal as riding on the right that this sportive is not on UK roads. All the while we passed dozens - no, scores… no, possibly hundreds - of Bora-jersey clad women, all of whom seemed to be undertaking the short route upon MTBs, and we wondered at their provenance. Perhaps a work trip, or just a gathering of the Sagan fan club, the Roubaix equivalent of the Take That fan club camping outside Mark Owen’s house in the 1990’s, but with added punctures.
As we rode, however, something nagged at us. The roads got narrower, and as we passed through the classic flat farmlands of the region I remembered how Roubaix (the race) was nearly ruined by the post-war drive for modernity. The local mayors saw the cobbled farm tracks as an embarrassment, a sign of old, outmoded rural ways, and ordered them covered by lovely, smooth, modern metalled roads, the better to show that their towns were part of France’s brave new future. But as we passed over these monuments to change, here and there the past poked its head out. Cracks and potholes revealed a glimpse of shockingly jagged pave lurking just below the surface, like malevolent rocks beneath smooth seas, and I knew that sooner or later we would run aground.
Now, if you were to ask the average cycling fan who was the person most responsible for the continued legend that is Paris - Roubaix, the chances are that the name of Jean Stablinski would not be their first to their lips. But Stablinski’s name looms large over the race’s history, for it is he who first recommended to the organisers that they change the route to include a hitherto unknown section of pave through the Arenberg Forest (the legend has it that he was a miner before he became a professional cyclist, and rode the track each day to the Arenberg mine). Fortunately for Stablinkski he was a far better cyclist than he was a miner, becoming World Champion in 1962. But I’d also argue that Stablinski was the smartest cyclist in the peloton, because crucially he only recommended the Arenberg after he retired, meaning he never had to race through the bloody thing.
It would also seem that the modern-day organisers share Stablinski’s sense of sadism, because - perhaps to punish those puny cyclists who shy away from the ‘5am-start-and-twenty-nine-secteurs-of-pain’ route - the 145km riders face the dreaded Arenberg first. Now, if you are like me you’ll have heard many a rider who has braved Arenberg telling you how nasty the cobbles are, you’ll have seen years of crashes on TV, and read yards of copy about this hallowed and hated secteur. And it’s all true. Nothing can prepare you for the first few hundred metres, and I clattered and banged my way at shockingly slow speed cursing the (sacrilegious) MTB riders who whooped and swooped past me, marvelling at my own stupid folly and hating on Jean-bloody-Stablisnksi in equal measure. Fun? Not so much, and genuinely scary at times as I struggled to control my wildly bucking bike.
Our group had agreed a plan before the event: cobbles at our own pace, regroup at the end, recover before the next secteur. Rinse and repeat. I rejoined the others feeling chastened. I’ve watched Roubaix every year since my early teens, my favourite race. Before we went to France I updated The Handmade Cyclist website and realised that Roubaix features in our products and prints far, far more than any other race. It’s a massive reason why I ever started cycling in the first place, it is a part of me - and I had waited a long, long time to be a part of it. I had raced through Arenberg many times in my dreams and it had never been quite so slow, so scary, so amateurish as this. My arms cramping from my death grip on the bars, I let some more air out of those carefully considered tyres, jettisoned my slippery long-fingered gloves and vowed optimisitically that the rest of the ride would be better.
Fortunately the secteur that immediately follows Arenberg is chalk to the Forest’s cheese (perhaps deliberately so the organisers can avoid the challenge of bussing hundreds of emotionally-scarred refusenik cyclists back to Roubaix). Or maybe it just seems that way, so horrible is the secteur before. We positively flew through it, getting the first glimpses of the mythical ‘float’, the sensation when you ride fast enough that the cobbles smooth out beneath your flying wheels (‘smooth’ is a relative term here, naturally). Buoyed and braver, it began to appear that the ride might be fun after all.
And so it proved. With each secteur our speeds increased, we began to get the hang of handling the bikes on the cobbles, weaving round slower riders, hopping on and off the verges. The names of the sectors so immediately familiar as they passed by - Orchies, Mons en Pevele, Carrefour - and other, finer details long lodged in our brains from watching the race over the years: a faded, painted advert on the side of a building, a high street, a road bridge here(the closest thing that passes for a hill on this event), a rail crossing there.
The kilometres clicked by, our fatigue slowly increased, aches and pains spreading from hands and feet to shoulders, neck, back. Each sector was ticked off, one by one, until finally we picked our way through the pre-race traffic and entered the famous, crumbling old velodrome. Crowds line the entrance, cheering you in, and the vista widens to revel riders milling around, dazed and triumphant, lying on the infield and posing for photos on the track. The obligatory sprint finish followed, followed by a skidding halt to receive our (actually very classy) finishers’ medals.
While all around us the usual sportive finish line scenes were played out - beers were procured, photos taken, phone calls made to family, and groups of riders chatted about the trials and triumphs of the day - I had a sense that something different, more magical, was at play. There’s something about this event, more than any other sportive, that hits home emotionally. As cyclists we are all party to the unique privilege of being able to enjoy our sport in the same venues as our heroes, whether riding up l’Alpe d’Huez, or the Tourmalet, or even the more prosaic roads of Box Hill. We ride in the wheel tracks of the greats.
It was this, perhaps more than anything, that made the Paris- Roubaix Challenge such a profound experience for me. I realised that this race, perhaps more than any other, had shaped my views of cycling. Of what it means to suffer, what it means to overcome. Roubaix gave me my heroes. The moments and places where those heroes were forged are etched in my mind, viewed and replayed over the years. To ride this event is to experience just for an instance what it took for those heroes to win and to share a fraction of their pain, their hope, their glory. To share that feeling where the aches and fatigue and suffering gives way to the satisfaction of finishing. Not to win, just to finish. Triumph enough.
That, surely, is why we follow this beautiful sport and why we ride. Why we get up early and train hard, why we pore for hours over book, videos and magazines. Why we too put ourselves through the ridiculous demands of this most ridiculous of races. To be - even if just for one day - part of the history of the greatest bike race of them all. To finish a ride that for me started thirty years ago watching Sean Kelly and the heroes of my youth.
It’s a long journey to Roubaix.
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Make sure you don't miss out. Here's the last postage dates for your area.
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Want to know how it feels to ride over 19 sectors of pavé? From iconic locations to catastrophic mechanical failure, we get the low down on the Paris-Roubaix Challenge from three friends of The Handmade Cyclist. And before you ask, yes we are planning to do it ourselves this time next year…
Why did you want to do Paris-Roubaix?
LEE: Paris Roubaix is definitely a ‘bucket list’ ride for any cyclist – the opportunity to ride on the infamous cobbled sectors. I wanted to test myself on this demanding route and gain an appreciation for the professionals racing the same route the following day.
FRED: Having watched the race on TV and spectated many times I wanted to see how tough it really is. It also gave me the opportunity to visit and stay with my family who live a couple of miles from the Roubaix velodrome.
RICH: I did Flanders last year which gave me a taste of riding on cobbles. Paris-Roubaix is such an iconic race that it was the next logical choice. Also, I am not exactly built like a flyweight climber so the Paris-Roubaix has the added attraction of being more suited to my strengths!
How did you prepare yourself and your bike?
LEE: I used a Boardman Team CX cyclocross bike. I needed it to stand up to some punishing treatment and not rattle itself to bits on the cobbles, but also be fast on the tarmac roads.
I used metal bottle cages, bent in to hold bottles in place. I also changed the handlebar tape and installed gel pads underneath to help absorb some of the vibrations. I fitted Continental Gatorskin 28mm tyres to help with puncture protection and used pressures of 65psi front and 70psi rear. I also carried three spare inner tubes in my saddle bag, just in case!
One of my training rides was a 100km on a rough cycle track, to help me get used to riding on that sort of terrain and to prepare me for the cobbles.
FRED: Long rides over the winter including a 215km sportive in Belgium (Gent-Wevelgem) a couple of weeks before the event. On the day I rode my cyclocross bike which was fitted with 32mm tyres (running at 65 psi) and I double taped the handlebars to try and absorb some of the vibrations on the cobbles.
RICH: I tried to focus on strength and endurance rides, but I probably put more thought into preparing the bike than I did myself. The bike was equipped with 32mm tyres, double wrap bar tape and aluminium cages to hold my bidons in place. All cables and bolts were checked before the event.
Ultimately my bike prep was in vain. The first sector of the day was the infamous Arenberg. It was muddy and slippery. Riders were sliding all over the place. I made a move to get past some slower riders and as I pulled away, there was an ominous crunching sound and I skidded to a halt. Initially I thought my chain was jammed, but I then realised it was a fairly catastrophic mechanical failure. My rear mech was detatched and tangled in my spokes. It seems the chain had become jammed in the jockey wheels and then just ripped everything apart as I tried to pull away. The rear mech was bent, the chain was bent and useless, the jockey wheels had disintegrated and the rear mech hanger had snapped. With the chain damaged I couldn't even convert to a single speed; not that I would have got very far on cobbles! I was left to hobble back down the Arenberg in search of some assistance which never materialised. I was absolutely gutted that the day would end with not even a single sector complete.
What were the highlights of your weekend, and why?
LEE: Highlights for me were riding the three big ‘5 star’ cobbled sectors without falling off my bike! Also, riding through beautiful French countryside in glorious weather, being willed on by enthusiastic by-standers, chatting to fellow cyclists from different countries. Completing the challenge by riding into the famous Roubaix Velodrome at the finish was also very special.
FRED: It was a great weekend, the sun was shining, the legs felt good and I did not suffer any mechanical problems, crashes or punctures. But the main highlight for me was the entrance into the Roubaix Velodrome, an iconic place that has witnessed so much cycling history.
What were the biggest challenges of the weekend, and why?
LEE: Certainly the biggest challenges were ALL 19 cobbled sectors! The first at Arenberg being by far the hardest, due to the mud over the cobbles causing my bike wheels to slip and slide all over the place. Just keeping the bike straight through that sector was very challenging and trying to avoid hitting other cyclists travelling at different speeds.
As time went by, the toll on my body started to have an effect. My hands, fingers and arms became incredibly sore, my handlebar tape started to unravel and the cobbled sectors were coming thick and fast. Just when you thought a sector was over, another one would start. It was relentless and brutal, but you just had to keep on going. There was no ‘exit route’!
FRED: The last few cobbled sections were particularly painful for the hands and wrists to a point where I really struggled to hold on to the handlebars.
RICH: Ordering a taxi to take me back to Roubaix! Despite the local bar tabac being filled with locals at 11:30 in the morning not one of them could muster the number for a taxi company. This could have something to do with my sub-standard GCSE French, the vast volumes of Pastis being consumed, or most likely a combination of the two.
How did you feel at the finish?
LEE: Due to the brutality of the ride, crossing the line on the Roubaix Velodrome was pure elation! Just so thankful I completed it in one piece (both myself and my bike). I had a big smile on my face. I certainly enjoyed the post ride beer!
FRED: Crossing the finishing line felt like a great sense of achievement. Riding Paris-Roubaix is a once in a lifetime experience and you cannot truly appreciate what the pros are going through until you have done it yourself.
If you did Paris-Roubaix again what would you do differently?
LEE: The Paris Roubaix challenge was an incredible experience. I’d certainly recommend it to anyone who’s not done it before, but it’s not one I think I would want to experience again. It really was the ‘Hell of the North’!
FRED: I would pray for nice weather. We were lucky this year but I cannot even imagine what it is like to ride on wet cobbles...
RICH: Hotels are already booked for next year. The plan? To complete at least one sector of pavé!
Chapeau to Lee Davis, Fred Frizzarin and Rich Petherick for their Paris-Roubaix achievements and here is Peter Sagan showing them how its done..
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Legendary Dutch rider Hennie Kuiper talks to The Handmade Cyclist about his stunning coffee table book 'Champion Willpower', a collection of incredible photos spanning his 15-year career in cycling.
What was the inspiration behind Champion Willpower?
It all started with my son, Bjorn Kuiper. For the last ten to fifteen years, he’s been collecting photographs. He was just 8 years old when I ended my cycling career, so it was his way of understanding what I’d achieved. At the end of 2016 he started talking about creating a photo book of my career. At around the same time Joop Holthausen – a great sports reporter who has created numerous books – approached me as well. Bjorn and Joop started talking with one another and that was the start of it all.
How did you collate such a huge range of stunning photography?
I collected a lot of photos throughout my career – I had 34 photobooks that my son had digitalized. But most of the great material came directly from the photographers of that era themselves. Names such as Cor Vos, Hans Heus, Berry Stokvis, CB van Flymen, Bruno Bade, John Pierce, Tonny Strouken and KJ van der Weij. We reached out to them and they were all more than willing to look into their archives for us, which we really appreciated – this is what shaped the book.
Which is your favourite photo, or selection of photos, and why?
Tough question – it is really hard to choose! The photo on the climb of the L'Alpe D’Huez of 1978 where I drop Bernard Hinault is definitely one of my favourites. I was so strong that day. It is one of the few or perhaps the only day that I beat Hinault. A few days later in the stage from Grenoble–Morzine, Hinault reached out to me as he was getting nervous when I went to the front of the race. Sadly enough I was too nonchalant with my powers that day and crashed on the descent of the Granier, crushing my dreams of winning the Tour once more.
Which is your favourite race as a spectator, and which was your favourite as a rider?
My favourite race to watch and race is Paris-Roubaix. Paris-Roubaix is for riders with stamina, it fits with the title of the book: Champion Willpower. You have to maintain a certain spirit, no matter how many flat tires or crashes you have. You have to push on through, show determination and reserve to win the race. In all the editions I rode I never quit and always finished. Only the truly strongest riders, mentally and leg wise, win in Paris-Roubaix. There are no lucky winners…although that can be said for all the five classics.
And finally, Hennie’s son Bjorn on their unique collaboration with The Handmade Cyclist…
For my father’s 60th birthday in 2009 I was looking for a special gift. My search led me to The Handmade Cyclist. I had seen Neil’s artwork before and I really liked the prints he did for the classics. I reached out to him to get a set of his posters in a smaller format so I could make a picture frame of the five classics with matching photos of my dad’s career. This was a huge success and still hangs in my father’s living room – it is always a nice conversation starter when people visit him. So when we started working on the idea for the special items for the book I immediately thought about the picture frame again and thought of ways to add it to the book. This resulted in a collection of postcards that is now part of the special edition of Champion Willpower.
Above: Hennie celebrating his 60th birthday. His son Bjorn wanted to celebrate his father's achievements with The Handmade Cyclist Monuments artwork. Pictured; Hennie with the framed artwork and a photo underneath of Hennie finishing each Monument race (winning four of the five) . Chapeau!
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The inspiration behind all your designs is always either a brilliant story or a ride that has real meaning. Would you say that with Arenberg 68 you got both?
Absolutely. As a bike race to watch, for me there’s none more exciting than the Paris-Roubaix. It's like watching the Grand National. It’s got that element of chance and that old school heroism and courage. Plus this year is the 50th anniversary of the first time the race went through the Arenberg Forest.
The Arenberg stretch was introduced when a retired rider – Jean Stablinski – convinced the organisers that the race wasn’t tough enough and that he knew a track that would really put the cat amongst the pigeons. But that’s another story! Eddie Merckx was the winner that year. That first year, 1968, when they first rode through the Arenberg forest, Merckx was World Champion. It’s the year he won his first Paris-Roubaix and he’d attacked going through the Arenberg.
There’s a piece of video footage on YouTube which has him riding through the forest and he turns to the camera and almost smiles as he’s leaving everyone behind. He didn’t ride solo from there but he made the selection and then won from that group. It was a legendary attack. The print is capturing that moment.
Which elements of the story guided your design process?
The pattern is inspired by the Paris-Roubaix cobblestone trophy – the trophy is one of the actual cobblestones. The bottom part of the image, with the blocks of colour, is the base of the trophy, the plinth. The centre part of the print, the spike, is the classic shot of the Arenberg forest going off into the distance. There’s a bridge across the track in the forest, an old mining bridge. That’s the view from the bridge. Then to give the whole thing perspective, we have Merckx riding into the distance in his world champs jersey. The whole design is an homage to that day.
How did you choose the colour palette for the print?
On the Arenberg T-shirt range we went for a restricted colour palette that was inspired by the region. Basically, the sludgy, wet, northern French spring. For the print, we had a mood board and created a colour palette from that. We kept the background quite dark – which is to make Merckx stand out more. On a lighter background it just didn’t work, because he’s so tiny. But he needs to be tiny to get the perspective of the road. The dark greys of the cobbles contrast with the green and the acid yellow to represent the first shoots of spring ¬– a pop of colour in amongst all the sludge.
What did you use for source material for your Merckx illustration?
Sometimes it’s just finding a photo of someone in the right kind of pose. But that can be really hard – you need to get them at just the right angle and perspective. So quite often I’ll get loads of different photos and then just work it out, adjusting it until the perspective and angles are right. With this Merckx one, I wanted to put his race number from that day on the print. It’s really hard to find race numbers from past events. But I found this photo of him riding into the distance, the view from behind, putting the power down and riding away. Brilliant.
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In the run up to Milan San-Remo, thoughts turn to all things Italian. Neil Wyatt, Creative Director of The Handmade Cyclist, confesses his first Italian love.
This is a story of romance – a very geeky, bicycle-y sort of romance - hero worship, teenage lust, mid-life crisis and possibly the most Italian object ever made. Above all, it is about the triumph of beauty over practicality.
1987. I was fourteen, impressionable, and discovering the freedom that a bicycle could bring a young lad, escaping into the Wicklow mountains for hours at a time. And I had a hero.
Stephen Roche. Only the second man after the great Eddy Merckx to win the Giro d’Italia, Tour de France and World Championships in the same year. Roche was charming, fragile, talented, and all Ireland was in his thrall. And I knew his secret weapon.
Campagnolo. The finest cycling components on earth. Impossibly expensive, gloriously light, every single component a design labour of love. Legends abounded that even the internal surfaces were perfectly polished, even though no-one would ever see them.
A Campagnolo groupset was as desirable – and unattainable – to a teenage boy as Sophia Loren herself. And there was one item above all that every self-respecting young cyclist wanted more than any other.
Delta brakes. To this day, there has been nothing else like them. In 1987 they looked like they had been beamed down from Mars. It’s hard for me to explain to those of you who are not lifelong bike geeks the effect these have on riders of a certain age, but suffice to say…
The Delta brake was a visual triumph, as gloriously, brilliantly evocative of 1980’s Italian product design as a Ferrari Testarossa. A marvel of proportion and beauty, polished to the finest lustre. However, the average cycle brake is made of around 30 parts.
The Delta had 76 separate parts. It is the swiss watch of the cycling world, and mechanics the world over still suffer nightmares at the thought of servicing them. But there was one fundamental problem with the Delta brake.
They just didn’t work. The first edition was withdrawn as it could suffer from slipped cables, leaving the rider with no brakes at all (in a gloriously Italian touch, riders were offered a Cobalto brake instead, which was decorated with an actual blue jewel for no practical purpose whatsoever).
In addition, they were difficult to set up, impossible to adjust when on the road, scary in the wet and weighed nearly half a kilogram. They needed a special tool to maintain them that you couldn’t actually buy anywhere. And if they were still being made today they would cost £500 a pair.
Campagnolo stopped making Deltas in 1993. The company was in decline, fading in the face of lighter, cheaper, more technically advanced products from Japan. Another nail in the coffin of cycling’s golden age, as technology trumped romance. 1993 saw Lance Armstrong win his first Tour de France stage - on Shimano components.
So, by just about any practical measures, the Delta was a failure. But life is not wholly practical. The greatest Italian design is not wholly practical. And sometimes, like many a romance, those that are the least reliable are the most desirable.
And so it proved with the Delta. For me, they sit in a long and distinguished line of spectacular, gloriously Italian design. Products with heart and soul. Products that aim for the stars. Products that aren’t afraid to fail.
If practicality was no concern, which would you rather have, a modern, ultra reliable car, or an Alfa Romeo Disco Volante? Which will rule, the heart or the head?
Why does coffee taste better – no – why does coffee feel better from a classic Gaggia coffee machine? (Just don’t dare ask for a cappuccino after midday).
Italian culture centres around the family. Even today, many of its medium-to-large sized manufacturers remain family run concerns. Campagnolo is no different, family run for over 80 years. Families have a heart.
Italian design still prizes beauty in all its forms, allied to a ‘made in Italy’ mindset. From fashion to manufacturing, family-run businesses take generations of skill and craftsmanship and apply them to the creation of products with signature Italian style.
Campagnolo still make insanely expensive, hard to maintain components that need a whole new set of – yes – insanely expensive, hard to find tools. Why? Because they are passionate about making the very best, most beautiful products they can, and to hell with practicality.
Campagnolo once dominated the high-end cycling component scene. Their market share has dwindled to an all-time low. By any usual business standards, this is failure. But the heart is not led by numbers, and beauty creates its own rules.
Thirty years on, you can still buy a set of Delta brakes, if you are prepared to search a little, and to let your heart rule your head. Sometimes it’s better just not to think about it. Technology dates, but beauty is timeless.
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Introducing Convicts of the Road, a new range of prints from The Handmade Cyclist. From the earliest days of the Tour de France the riders have been mere pawns in the enormity of the challenge of the Tour, set ever-tougher challenges by organisers set on furthering the legend of the race.
In 1924 a French journalist, Albert Londres, was assigned to follow the Tour for the first time. He was struck by the similarity of the mood and morale of the riders to the subjects of his previous report - the convicts subjected to hard labour in France’s brutal penal colonies. Overcome by sympathy for the riders and awed by their courage he wrote ‘truly these are the convicts of the road’.
Over the years the Tour has changed massively, but the conquest remains the same. Instead of the unpaved roads and mammoth stages of the past the riders face new challenges - excruciating pressure, higher speeds, super-organised teams ready to press home any tiny advantage and the suffocating glare of the world’s media. Failure is not an option in a race where only the few succeed. Little wonder the riders still talk of being trapped within the race, prisoners to the hugeness of the Tour.
Maillot Jaune
To win the Tour you need the precision of an accountant, the courage of the bullfighter and the flair of the dancer.
Three weeks, thousands of kilometres, decided by mere seconds. Weeks of concentration, focus, plotting and paranoia. Little wonder the riders feel like prisoners of the race, breaking rocks daily just to stay alive.
Those riding for the win suffer most of all. Constantly chasing the uncatchable horizon, never afforded a moment’s rest. Trapped in the race and in the unquenchable pursuit of glory.
Maillot Vert
Sprinters are professional killers, paid to finish the peloton off with cool, dead-eyed precision. Nothing can stand in their way. Win at all costs.
Some say their race is only 300 metres long. If so, it must be the longest 300 metres in all of sport, a lung-busting chasm as elite athletes go deep into the depths of oxygen debt at 45mph.
How far away does the finish line look as the sprint is launched? How enormous the boulevard? How suffocating the pressure, an entre race defined by a split secord? To hit or to miss?
King of the Mountains
Climbers are cycling’s dreamers. Impossibly light, the greatest climbers seem to defy gravity as they soar towards the clouds. They hide in the safety of the bunch on the flat, gossamer-fragile, lest the crosswinds catch them.
But when the road rises, unbound they fly.
Like any convict, the climber dreams of escape. The spiraling hairpins of the high mountains give them their chance to break the shackles and fly solo, alone into the thin crisp, mountain air
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Eroica 2017… There’s something happening here.
One week on and we’ve finally just about recovered from a wonderful weekend at Eroica Britannia. Glorious weather, idyllic scenery and one of the best atmospheres I’ve ever experienced at an event made it a really perfect festival.
By far the most enjoyable aspect was meeting some many lovely people, most of whom were dressed up to the nines in vintage gear, from goggle-clad Edwardians on clunkers, through Coppi-era italophiles resplendent in celeste wool atop gleaming Bianchis, to immaculate land-girls on step through frames, with a series smattering of Lemonds, Hinaults and Roches too. A delight to behold, and quite frankly I simply had no idea that there were so many beautifully restored bike still in existence.
The Eroica phenomenon has been well documented, and taps brilliantly into a deep and nostalgic cycling romance, a time when the achievements seemed huger, the racing purer. A simpler time. And, of course, it helps that the bikes and clothing of the era(s) look great too.
But there’s something happening here, something big. The vintage movement stretches far beyond cycling, and certainly there was a proportion of the audience there who were there as much for the dressing up, the great food, and the musical entertainment - its a great family event. I’ve been told the event had around 12,000 attendees on the Saturday (the rides themselves take place on the Sunday). That is a huge amount for any cycling event, and a lot for any new(ish) festival full stop.
Eroica has achieved the neat trick of taking what could be a very blokey niche of quite a blokey sport and made it charming, accessible and wonderful to behold. Whole families riding tandems, small children in full vintage gear riding the 25-miler, support and encouragement for all. The polar opposite of the solitary middle-aged-man-in-lycra, lost in his power data. Who knew a bit of wool and some unreliable, fragile, beautiful old bikes could be such a leveller? Long may it reign.
Finally, our Eroica in a few words.
Dogs. Surely a record number of cute dogs for any gathering, bar Crufts. And some of the dogs were just as well dressed as the riders.
Caps. The nascent #CapsNotHats movement should draw strength. Anyone who was anyone at Eroica was sporting a vintage cassette, with plenty of luft on show. I’ve not seen so many in one place since the glory days if Acid House. And you know what - they looked great.
ABC. Ok, there’s only a few real hits, but what songs they are. And props to the Fry family for riding on the Sunday, too.
Meat. Festival catering is awesome, of course, but I now need to take a quick holiday from the meat, meat, glorious meat.
Compere - Matt Jones, take a bow. Thirteen hours of non-stop, personal, funny and uplifting commentary, calling the first riders out to the last riders home. Chapeau.
See you next year, we’ll be back with (vintage) bells on!