Swiftly lancing Lance (haha) from my brain I started thinking about where the boundaries lie, or perhaps should lie, between fair competition and the (over) use of technology. When I started cycling the frames of choice were made from steel tubing, Reynolds 531 or 753 being the best. Now, we have carbon monocoque frames which are both incredibly light and strong, and designed to maximize aerodynamic efficiency. To set the boundaries, the UCI, cycling’s world governing body, has established some technical standards and competition frame designs are formally approved by them. My Bianchis all carry the UCI approval sticker.
Components have improved beyond all recognition. Gone are the days of clunky, imprecise manual gear change mechanisms. Today, closely indexed gear systems, often with electronic controls, are the norm. And instead of ten gears today’s bikes have 20 or 22 close ratio set-ups to maximize the output and efficiency of pedalling. Clothing too has evolved. My early riding days were done wearing wool clothing, usually loosely fitting, which would double and triple in weight if it rained or when (not if) I stared to sweat. Today aerodynamic Lycra is the norm and the materials used are usually breathable and fast-drying if not water-repellent.
Fuel has also changed. In the good old days I often used to carry a squashed jam or peanut butter sandwich in my back pocket together with a banana. The sandwiches were squashed so they took up less room. I still carry a banana from time to time as some things are hard to beat. Nowadays, scientifically developed gels and energy bars are the norm, designed to refuel riders quickly. Whole books have been written on the subject.
Ideas about training have changed too. Today’s riders have access to huge amounts of data to record and assess their efforts in real time. Heart rate and power output are the watchwords. My first cycling ‘computer’ was a small odometer which fitted on to the base of the front fork and mechanically recorded the distance ridden. The clicking of the gadget was a sort of reassuring sound of progress. Effort and the like was measured in terms of tiredness, during the ride and after.
My thoughts were very much along the lines of: where is the limit for what is a physical sport and a test of strength – rider against rider? Is cycling getting too technology-driven for its own good, and is the massive investment made in the technology forcing riders down the doping route to perform at the highest levels and achieve the desired profile and rewards for their teams and sponsors?
Two of my cycling icons are Barry Hoban and Eddy Merckx. Each achieved their successes by a similar route: hard training and hard riding. When asked what was the key to his success, Eddy Merckx said, ‘miles, lots of miles’. Barry Hoban had a similar approach, which I wrote about after meeting him at the Tour de Broads in September 2014. Don’t misunderstand me, I am not suggesting that the Hoban‒Merckx approach is the way to go today. I’d probably be lynched if I did. But it was the sort of approach to riding that really inspired me and I like to think that when I’m at a tough point on a century ride and struggling, I can call on Barry and Eddy for some inspiration.
So my conclusion is we mustn’t forget that ultimately the challenge is about athletes competing against each other. Technology can and does help, but it is always the athlete, the cyclist, who has to be supreme. And, as I was reminded by the Norfolk prose in Old Buckenham: ‘Watch Yar Speed Ma Ole Booty’. Although, of course, they meant it for a rather different reason!
Sunday 18 September 2016, 106 Miles
Queen Adelaide and the Ten Mile Bank (C#42)
On Tuesday to Thursday of last week, record-breaking temperatures were being recorded. I know this as I sweated through them on some shorter rides. By Friday and Saturday things had turned nasty with heavy rain and high winds, and certainly not the weather for riding. Today was what I would describe as an average autumn day with cool, light winds, and overcast skies. But also good for riding, and it was with relief that I could get in the saddle again.
A few weeks ago on My Deer and Denver ride (C#21, 14 July) I had ridden past Queen Adelaide (the place, not the person). This had piqued my interest, so I decided to head over there today and see a bit more. Daren (Nairo) Morgan had, rather intriguingly, told me I had to go and photograph the collection of level crossings in the town. So, that was the plan.
Getting over to Queen Adelaide was easy enough and I made good time in light winds and on drying roads. I got a tad annoyed as I reached the edge of the Fens near Mildenhall when I had to ride through some pretty mucky and smelly water, which sprayed both me and my Infinito. A full bike-cleaning session will be needed when I get back home. As I rode towards Prickwillow I could see the outline of Ely Cathedral to my left through the morning haze. This was a very impressive sight and I imagined the pilgrims of old feeling mightily relieved as they approached it at the end of a long journey on foot.
Reaching Prickwillow I turned left and was quickly at the sign for Queen Adelaide – and a level crossing. After getting the requisite photo for Nairo I pedalled on, and after less than a quarter of a mile I reached another level crossing and took another photo for Nairo. Setting off again I managed to ride 600 feet before reaching… another level crossing! So another photo stop. All this stopping and starting wasn’t helping my average speed though. Looking at the map on my Garmin my heart sank as I realised that a quarter of a mile further on, the road crossed another railway line. This was getting silly! I rode on to discover that there was no level crossing, just a bridge. Relief. Job done.
As far as I can work out, all the level crossings and railway lines are part of some sort of system that enable trains travelling on the three lines that converge at Ely, to turn around. The rails looked shiny so they appear to be still in use. Hmm. All the trains that I’ve ever seen around these parts are capable of travelling in either direction without turning round. I’ll leave it at that, and if any of you are of the trainspotting persuasion then you either probably already know the reasons or can go and delve further into this on the Interweb.
But let’s get back to Queen Adelaide. She was the wife of King William IV who reigned between 1765 and 1837. The Queen hailed from Germany and I was curious to find out what her connection was with this small hamlet in the Fens. My own post-ride Interweb research revealed that there was no connection whatsoever. The hamlet of Queen Adelaide, which was established in the nineteenth century, is named after the village pub which was built when the railways first arrived. Naming the pub after Queen Adelaide was pure coincidence.
From Queen Adelaide I then rode north to Littleport, which did make me wonder if it had at one time been near the sea; highly improbable. The name is a translation of the Old English for ‘little market town’! Littleport achieved a certain notoriety when local Battle of Waterloo veterans rioted in 1816 when they couldn’t find any work.
Leaving Littleport I continued to head north across the Fens along the splendidly named Ten Mile Bank which runs along the west side of the River Great Ouse. From time to time the air was filled with the pungent smell of onions, as fields of them were ready and waiting to be harvested. I also passed by loads of fields growing maize, which also looks nearly ready to be harvested. As I rode along I was buzzed by a very low-flying plane. Now, I have a fairly vivid imagination, so my thoughts immediately turned to Hitchcock’s North by Northwest and the scene where Cary Grant is chased through a cornfield on the prairies by a crop-dusting plane. Like I say, I do have a vivid imagination. My aircraft, however, continued onwards in a straight line until it disappeared over the horizon.
The remainder of the ride took me gradually east from Downham Market and across the Brecks before I turned south to head for home. There was even a hint of some warm sunshine, but it didn’t last. I fear that autumn is upon us and am guessing that my days of riding in short sleeves and bib shorts are numbered. I would dearly like to be proved wrong on that score though.
Wednesday 21 September 2016, 117 Miles
An Autumnal Ride to The Naze (C#43)
; I stuck my head out of the back door this morning and was greeted by the sight of my breath on the air and the remnants of some overnight mist. Brrr! I’m pretty certain that autumn has now arrived. Well, we can always hope for an Indian Summer. But do you know what an Indian summer is and where the phrase comes from? I wasn’t that sure, so I did a bit of research on the Interweb.
Since 1916 the Met Office has defined it as ‘a warm, calm spell of weather occurring in autumn, especially in October and November’. I’m keeping my fingers crossed in the hope that I will enjoy some extra riding time. The origins of the phrase are not entirely clear. The balance of opinion is that it refers to conditions that enabled Native American Indians to continue hunting beyond September. The first record of the term being used dates from 1778 in a letter from a Frenchman called John de Crevecoeur dated 17 January. In his description of the Mohawk country he wrote, ‘Sometimes the rain is followed by an interval of calm and warm which is called the Indian summer.’
So, whatever the terminology, the weather today hinted at excellent riding conditions. With a bit of luck, as the sun rose the mist would clear and temperatures would rise. And, as far as I could tell, there was no prospect of rain. I set off on the Infinito hoping that I wouldn’t be disappointed. As I rode along there were some excellent views with villages, and especially their church towers and spires, poking out above the low-lying mist. However, as I headed southeast towards Bildeston and Hadleigh the mist got thicker and became more fog-like with visibility reducing. And there was I, riding without any lights. Passing through Hadleigh, though, the foggy mists disappeared completely. It was almost like going through a door from a dark room into a well-lit one. The sun also decided that it was time to come out and play as the clouds lifted. The early morning chill had gone and I could feel the rays warming my forearms. Time to remove my arm warmers. What bliss!
Crossing over the A12 and passing through Manningtree I was into countryside that I’ve never ridden in. I was soon at Mistley with its rather splendid warehouses close to the quayside on the banks of the River Stour. The other rather striking architectural feature are the Mistley Towers, which are all that remain of the church which was originally designed in the 1770s by Robert Adam, the eighteenth-century architect. Mistley is one of only two churches that he was responsible for designing. Sadly, the main body of the church was demolished in 1870 when a new, larger church was built nearby. Only the two towers now survive from the original church.
Putting Mistley behind me I rode on to Walton-on-the-Naze on the coast. Although I didn’t stay there very long, it struck me as quite a nice place; a smallish, intimate seaside town with a distinctive character. Well, that was based on only a few minutes’ observation, so I could be well wide of the mark. The pier is the second-longest in Britain. Just down the coast is Clacton-on-Sea which, as it’s a much larger place, I’m guessing is more like the typical seaside resort. Time didn’t allow me to extend the ride to Clacton so I’ll have to sit on the fence for now in terms of expressing any opinions.
Leaving the coast behind I turned north-west and rode inland, passing to the north of Colchester and back into south Suffolk. From Dedham to Lavenham I passed through a succession of extremely pretty and largely undeveloped villages and hamlets. Higham, Thorington Street, Stoke-by-Nayland and Boxford were each lovely. This was delightful countryside and certainly put a spring into my pedalling as the miles clocked up. I must make a point of coming back and spending more time in this area, riding round the lanes. Once again, I was surprised at how much variety there is in Suffolk’s countryside; it’s just waiting to be explored. Well, by me at least! So, watch this space…
Thursday 22 September 2016, 108 Miles
In Praise of the Local Bike Shop (C#44)
With a second day on the trot which promised fine weather, I decided to go for it and ride another century. With the increasing likelihood of inclement weather as the year rolls on, grabbing any fine day is a must. Like most folk, I prefer not to ride in the rain. I decided to head northwards into mid-Norfolk on the Ride of the Three Hams route (C#23, 18 July). To ring the changes I decided to ride it in reverse. Now, as I’ve already written about the route a couple of times I’m not going to repeat myself here today. Suffice to say that I paused in Wymondham for the customary photo stop of the rather fine Market Cross, which was built in 1617 after the previous one was destroyed by fire. So that’s it, no more about today’s ride!
Instead I want to chat about something that’s both very close to my heart and absolutely essential to my continued pedalling success in this Sixty Centuries Series. So I want to sing the praises of the Local Bike Shop (LBS). I hope you enjoy it, and can relate to the tune. With the relatively high annual mileages that I do it’s inevitable that my bikes take a pounding and need quite a lot of looking after and care. I can do most of the routine basics but I’m not especially mechanically minded, so having the back-up and support of my LBS is rather essential.
My LBS of choice is Madgetts Cycles in Diss. I’ve been visiting them on and off since I moved to East Anglia in the early 1990s, and over the past few years as I have increased my riding they have seen quite a lot of me. Madgetts is best described as a traditional bike shop. It’s not a flashy place, with lots of bright lighting and polished chrome displays. Quite the opposite. But what is (thankfully) missing in glitz is more than made up for in other ways, as I’m going to tell you. It shares similarities with the first ‘proper’ bike shop that I can remember visiting as a teenager when I lived in the Chilterns and was getting into serious cycling. I feel quite comfortable there.
Now, here’s the thing. Madgetts first opened their doors in 1924 and Mick, the present owner, is the third generation of his family to run the shop. In fact, its roots go back further than that to the nineteenth century, when a family ancestor used to run a cycle repair business. That in itself says something: this is a business that’s been in it for the long haul. They stock a range of bikes. I guess that there are people who got their first (kiddy) bike there, perhaps as a Christmas present, and over the years have come back time and time again as both they and their cycling needs grow and evolve. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that there are customers now buying bikes and bits there for their own children who were bought stuff by their parents. As I said, this is a long-term business.
Like most cyclists, I buy some gear off the Interweb, either special items or consumables where cost is a consideration for me. But in recent years I have bought all my Bianchis from Madgetts, as I strongly believe in supporting local businesses where I can. But money isn’t everything, as they say. Ultimately, it comes down to relationships. And for me, this is where Madgetts have the edge. Their knowledge and the quality of their service is, in my opinion, second to none. Let me back this up with two examples.
Last year, a few weeks before I rode from Land’s End to John O’Groats, I thought it would be a good idea to get my Via Nirone completely stripped down, cleaned and rebuilt with some essential replacement parts. In the five years since I had owned it the Nirone and I had travelled about 30,000 miles. And we’d had a lot of fun together. So I took the bike over to Madgetts and Mick said it should be ready in about a week. Well, by the time I got home a couple of hours later, there was a message on my answerphone from Mick asking me to call him.
When I called back he said there was good news and bad news. The bad news was that the frame had an irreparable crack on the bottom bracket where the chainstay was joined. My heart sank. Apart from the loss of a dear old friend I now faced the cost and hassle of having to get a replacement. Well, not so, because the good news was that Mick told me the frame was covered by a five-year warranty and he’d checked his records and could confirm that the warranty still had 17 days ‒ yes, 17 days ‒ left to run! Phew. But what really put the icing on the cake was that Mick had already photographed the crack, emailed Bianchi UK with the information, and a replacement frame would be sent fro
m Italy in the next few days. Well, to cut to the chase, within a fortnight I was riding on a brand new Impulso frame and fine-tuning my Lejog preparations. Now that’s what I call service!
But it isn’t just about service, it’s also about knowledge, and Mick and his team have it by the bucket load. Shortly before I went to ride in Italy earlier this year I was checking and adjusting my gears after fitting a new cassette to the rear wheel. Try as I might I just could not get the rear derailleur to engage the lowest gear on the cassette. In desperation, and with more than a degree of embarrassment, I made the trip to Diss. Mick, who was there on his own working on a bike, had a look at the problem and within seconds had worked out the cause. The gear cable, where it attached to the shifter inside the brake hood, had become frayed. So no matter how hard I pushed the changer paddle, all that was happening was that the cable was stretching. Now that’s what I call knowledge!
I’m guessing we all have our favourite bike shops and our reasons for liking them. Mick and his team, Tony and Sean, are all cyclists. There’s a natural affinity backed up by the solid professionalism borne of decades of experience. I’m looking forward to benefiting from many more years of their knowledge and service. ‘Chapeau Madgetts!’
Saturday 24 September 2016, 104 Miles
A Bit of Goat Mouth on the Norfolk Coast (C#45)
I’m in Cromer with Daren (Nairo) Morgan getting ready for today’s ride. This will be the third time Nairo has joined me, so it seems he’s getting a taste for the longer distances. Our plan is to ride along the coast road as far as Heacham and then turn east and ride back inland to Cromer. The route is based on another from Chris Sidwells’s 100-Mile Bike Routes book. We’d been planning to ride here for a while, and have been waiting for suitable weather. A few years ago I walked the North Norfolk Coast Path from Hunstanton to Cromer, and was keen to try riding along the coast.
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