Lost Boys Tour of Europe 2010: The Road to Minerve

Jen attacks the climb!

June 21, 2010

With the rain gone, it looked like the remainder of our stay in the Laure-Minervois area would be under sunshine. Several members of the group elected to go on a local wine tour with an English-speaking guide with a van while seven others decided to go with me on the route I had worked out some months before. The ride was meant to be without any extreme climbing but, of course, when sitting at my desk in Ottawa I had not considered the effects of the fierce wind!

The Thin Man sets the pace for Jen

The Lost Boys group has been fairly consistent over the years but we have added new members. On this ride we were joined by Jennifer, an American opera singer based in Leipzig, who is engaged to a regular Lost Boy, the Thin Man. As an engagement gift, they had gotten each other custom-built bicycles made by Sam Whittingham in British Columbia. The steel bicycles are beautifully constructed and his “Naked” brand’s fans include Lance Armstrong, who bought a fixed gear Naked show bicycle straight off the floor a few years ago at the North American Handmade Bicycle Show. Jennifer’s bicycle was a lovely blue and ivory and is designed for touring. It is a bit daunting to ride with a group of strangers who have put in many years together already but she did extremely well–although there were moments in the wind when I thought I was about to cry myself.

Taking the back roads, we quickly reached the village of Peyriac-Minervois, which is located on the busy D11 regional road, but we crossed over it and continued on some very quiet roads, passing through what seems like miles of vineyards. The road, the D52, through Pépieux and on towards Olonzac, was fairly flat but we had a good view of the mountains to the north. There was some irrational exuberance demonstrated by the sprinters and time triallists in the group as they joyfully raced down the road. The wind was not very evident and I was worried that we would feel it on the way back. I usually try to plan rides so that you have a headwind out and a tailwind back but you cannot always choose.

Heading north towards Azillanet (population 370), we took a energy bar break and looked around at the impressive old church, pausing for the requisite group photo, which took on a somewhat irreligious aspect, and then headed out on the D10, where we discovered where the wind had been hiding as it hammered straight down the road. It was very hard and we took turns pacing but not everyone could keep up. It was 6 difficult kilometres but suddenly we had a dramatic view of a river twisting through a canyon, surrounded by yet more vineyards, and we had reached our objective for the day: Minerve.

Located about 30 kms from our gite, Minerve, which gives its name to the whole Minervois wine region, is a tiny village of 111 inhabitants that is one of the three villages in Languedoc-Roussillon judged to be among the most beautiful villages in France. It sits on the Cesse River, which appears innocent but can seriously flood, and its narrow streets are very charming. Looks are deceiving since Minerve was the site of a massacre during the Albigensian Crusades. So goes the story:

In 1210 a group of Cathars sought refuge in the village after the massacre of Beziers during the Crusade. The village was besieged by Simon de Montfort, 5th Earl of Leicester. The attacking army besieged the village for six weeks before it capitulated. They set up four catapults around the fortification: three to attack the village, and the largest, Malevoisine, to attack the town's water supply. Eventually the commander of the 200-strong garrison, Viscount Guilhem of Minerve, gave in and negotiated a surrender which saved the villagers and himself after the destruction of the town's main well. However, 140 Cathars refused to give up their faith and were burned to death at the stake on 22 July.

Only one tower remains of the original fortifications, but it still is a beautiful place, and we enthusiastically crossed over one of the high bridges and began to look for a suitable place for lunch. The village is dug into the sides of the canyon and the pizzeria we found required us to leave our bikes on the street and climb up a set of steep stairs. It was a pretty place and the pizzas were the big, thin, generous European ones.

Sandra digs into the recovery ice cream

While we were eating, we were joined by our wine tourists, who were stopping on their route to look at Minerve and they saw our bicycles. A good meal and an excellent coffee or two later and we were back on the road.

The road took us westwards along the Canyon de la Cesse and we had a dramatic view on our right-hand side as we rode along a flat stretch. The canyon is deep and twists and turns constantly. Riding on the ridge, however, we caught the full force of the north-east wind, which must have been blowing at a steady 40 km/h, making progress slow. It was a long 11.5 kms of patient riding that brought us to our next turn, south onto the D12 at St-Julien-de-Molières. Now we had both a tailwind and a descent so this made up for the pain of the previous hour. Zipping through Saussenac and Félines-Minervois, we stopped briefly to look at a pretty restored windmill and then found ourselves in our market town, Caunes-Minervois. Dr. Chef and I split off from the group to look around the old town a bit and admire the big church and monastery before heading back to the gite.

Brett grilling zucchini

One of the advantages of staying at a gite is that you can do your own cooking if you so choose. With a group of dozen, there are always enthusiastic cooks (and cleaner-uppers) to count on and we were not disappointed. Wrong-Way Brett and Dr. Chef worked their magic and we took over the big patio at the gite for an excellent dinner, lubricated with a great deal of local wine.




68.85 km | round trip
Altitude range: 392 Meter (50 Meter to 442 Meter)
Total climb: 863 Meter Total descent: 863 Meter

Lost Boys Tour of Europe 2010: Chill Week Begins

As I presently sit in Canada, frozen and buffeted by a late March blizzard, my thoughts turn towards the warm and sunny (for the most part) second week of our Lost Boys trip ("Le Mauvais Détour") to Europe last summer. Week One, in the Pyrenees, was Hammer Week as we rode some of the hardest passes in the mountains of France. Week Two was Chill Week, enjoyed near the famous city of Carcassonne in the Languedoc-Rousillion wine region. But Chill Week was not without its challenges, as you shall see!

To the Black Mountain

June 20, 2010

We were happy to get set up at our gite (holiday home) and while awaiting the arrival of of our two vans from the Toulouse Airport with the group for Week Two of our trip, we got on our bicycles and rode the short distance to Caunes-Minervois, a larger town with restaurants, grocery stores and even a small farmers’ market. We loaded up on cheese and honey and various breads, although our carrying capacity was pretty limited. Getting back to the gite, we spread ourselves around in three different buildings, had a delightful lunch, and waited for the others. Mr. and Mrs. Badger went for a walk to the nearby vineyard and brought back a fine catch of local wine. And then the rains began and thus our first day was reduced to getting organized and hoping for better weather on the next day.

On June 20 we awoke to more hopeful signs as it looked like we would be able to do our first real ride from Laure-Minervois. The plan was to go north to the Pic de Nore, the Black Mountain, the highest point around. After getting underway, the four of us—myself, TriMolly, Terry and Greg—made good progress to Conques-sur-Orbeil but lost the trail that was supposed to take us northwards. For some reason, the signposting of the roads was incomplete and we could only find that part of the D101 that would take us towards Carcassonne rather than away from it. We rode up and down for a while, stopping to photograph a nifty castle, and finally, at a roundabout in an industrial park and after trying to deal with a brutal headwind, found a useful sign that led us in the right direction, to Mas Cabadares. As we passed Conques yet again found that we were indeed on the correct road.

The D101 climbed upwards gently alongside a little river, the Orbiel, and we enjoyed the ride on this nearly empty road although there were moments when the headwind was truly painful. But the scenery was great and the little towns, with their reminders of the ill-fated Cathars, were lovely. We took a short detour to look at Mas-Cabardès and then doubled back to take us along a small road signposted for Pic de Nore. It was fairly steep now and when we came to the village of Roquefèrre we saw a tiny cafe/grocery store and thought it was a good idea to stop for a break.




















Four hungry/thirsty cyclists probably made the lady in the shop pretty happy as we ordered coffees and various bits of cake. The shop had lots of local products and I even bought a small glass jar of chestnut honey as I find French artisanal honey quite impossible to resist, even if I have to carry it around in my jersey pocket. TriMolly was impressed with the wine-in-a-plastic-sack on sale and was considering how we might carry this for the remainder of the ride.

It was a good thing that we did not take it, either externally or internally, as leaving Roquefèrre we soon found ourselves on a serious climb through Labastide-Esparbairenque and past the three-house hamlet of Les Jouys. Terry and Greg went ahead while I waited a bit for TriMolly, who was riding a bike more suited to time-trialling than climbing. She came up pretty quickly, however, and we headed together up the road to Pradelles-Cabardès, from whence we would launch our attack on the Pic de Nore. Or so we thought.

Mountain bikers came across the road, one at a time, as a cross-country race was being run. They were using a marked path and going at an impressive speed. But when we looked towards the Pic de Nore, it was covered in clouds and they were evil, black clouds. So a vote was taken and it was decided that rather than try the climb to the top, we would just continue our loop ride south back to the gite and call it a day. We would try our luck with the Pic de Nore on a better day.

The first raindrops began to fall as we rolled over the Col de la Prade (altitude: 925 m ASL) and began the challenge of the technical descent of the D112. We stopped briefly to put on rain jackets as it was raining lightly. It was nice to have a tailwind for a change and after we navigated the serpentines for 8.5 kms, we found ourselves on a fast fast road running alongside the scenic Gorges de la Clamoux for another 6 kms. It was a wonderful feeling to whistle down the road through gentle curves on excellent pavement and we reached Villeneuve-Minervois all too soon. We rode past the weird-looking plane trees that you see in many village squares in France and afer a bit more downhill riding we rejoined the D111 and it took us directly back to the gite. For dinner that night, we returned to Villeneuve by van to celebrate at the Auberge Gourmande.

The Spring Classics: My Latest Book Review at Pezcyclingnews.com

My latest book review, "The Spring Classics: Cycling's Greatest One Day Races," published by the nice people at VeloPress, has just appeared at Pezcyclingnews.com, and you can read the whole thing here.

There are a lot of great photos in this large-format volume, and I really enjoyed the stories as well. And the next time somebody says that cyclists all look malnourished, show them this photo of three-time Tour de France winner Louison Bobet, who has legs like I have never seen before. In the pantheon of Tour winners, Bobet seems to be somewhat forgotten. In addition, he was World Champion in 1951 and features quite a bit in this book as he also won, among other things, Milan-San Remo, Paris-Roubaix, the Tour of Flanders and the Tour of Lombardy. The photo shows him at Bordeaux-Paris, a ridiculous race that covered 550 km non-stop, using motorpacing!

Cycling the Mighty Erft: the Touring Season Begins!

Intrepid Cyclists at the Erftquelle

Living as we do in this modern world of electronics, it always delights me that I can ride my bicycle, a century-old invention, over sometimes-cobbled roads to destinations rich in history and communicate through this blog with digital photos and GPS maps of my rides to an audience (small, but select, I flatter myself) as quickly as I can type. My most recent bike tour in Germany, which took place last Saturday, March 12, not only benefited from fine Spring weather but also the presence of my Facebook friend Nick, a British expat teaching near Bonn. We have communicated by e-mail since we both arrived in Germany around the same time last August but have never actually been able to meet. Two attempts–to meet in Essen for the bike fair and to meet in Bonn for the exhibition on Napoleon–fell apart due to illness (and believe me, colds and flus seem to last forever here) but things finally came together for a day-long bike ride.

While looking at the very excellent Nordrhein-Westfalen (NRW) bicycle map, I discovered a reasonable-length bike route accessible to both of us and which would take us about 120 km to the Rhine at Neuss, very close to Düsseldorf, meaning access to the rail system so that Nick could easily get back to Siegburg and I could get back to my neighbourhood S-Bahn station in less than 20 minutes.

That was the plan, but it was nearly derailed by Deutsche Bahn, as my train to Cologne arrived five minutes late. With only a seven minute connection to meet Nick on the platform for the next train, I had to move pretty fast and made it just as the train pulled in. The regional train was not very crowded, so there was plenty of space for the bikes and we sat and got acquainted.

No lack of signs here!

Disembarking at Nettersheim, I saw a sign for the Urft River, which is not be to confused with the Erft, which we were planning to follow! Getting our gear together took a few minutes but we soon we riding off on quite country roads with no traffic. There was a bit of up-and-down for a while but it was great to have the fresh Spring air and I could feel my legs getting back into that cycling groove. Nick’s usual rides in the Bergische Land involve non-stop brutal climbing, so I think he was pretty relieved that today’s ride, once we reached the source of the Erft, would be mainly downhill.

A few minor wrong turns, but then we had a fast descent into Holzmühlheim, where the Erft begins as a spring coming out of a rock wall, 10 kms from our starting point. Time for some photos, and the chance to get the bikes a bit muddy as we walked through the little park that led us to the spring. There was also an old gristmill stone nearby, and once we were back on the road, we passed an old mill on the Erft.

We continued riding the quiet roads but then the route began to pitch up, quite severely at one point, as the bike ride led us off of main roads. Reaching the crest of a hill, we saw Bad Münstereifel spread across the river ahead of us, and with 20 kms in our legs, it was time for a coffee in the most scenic village in the southernmost part of NRW.

In front of the ancient mill (photo by Nick)

We entered the town through an impressive gate, passing a restored mill (now a hotel) dating back to 1112. The town was founded in 830 AD and has had a significance as a religious centre and a pilgrimage destination, with a number of monasteries (hence “Münster”) having been built. The wall around the town is mainly intact, as we entered through one gate and left through another one.

The last religious order, the controversial Legion of Christ, left the town in 2008. The “Bad” part of the name indicates it is a spa resort. This begin in 1926 and the town added “Bad” to its name in 1967. Today it is a major regional tourist destination, judging from the cafes, including one owned by the town’s most famous current resident, Heino, the he’s-an-acquired-taste German folksinger.


Enjoying a croissant break (photo by Nick)

The river runs directly through the centre of town and we propped our bikes up against a stone wall and enjoyed our coffee and croissants. Old men walking by gave the bikes the once-over, and I tweaked Nick that they spent more time looking at my classic steel bike than at his magnificent Serotta Ottrott. A bit further on, we came upon a bright red British telephone booth and a mailbox, both of which Nick tells me are becoming rarities, so more photos there.

The better part of the unpaved path

The next town we came to, at the 30 km mark, was Euskirchen. It was here that the bike route signs began to fail us, and then the asphalt failed us as we ended up on unpaved paths following the banks of the Erft. Nick’s research had told me that the river had been quite wide but through its use for irrigation it had become the rather ditch-like feature it is today. Euskirchen, which was founded in the 14th Century and has 55,000 inhabitants, was not very attractive and the traffic seemed quite bad on this Saturday at noon. The town is twinned with Kutztown, in the US Pennsylvania Dutch country.

The view towards Bad Munstereifel

As we had only covered 30 kms in the first three hours, we determined to push on a bit or else the ride would take us way past the fall of darkness. Although we were moving quickly, we were hampered by the poor quality of the bike route in many places. We passed Weilerswist, Erftstadt and Kerpen without seeing very much and then the route along the river was really bad through Bergheim and Bedburg. In Bergheim, we rode around the impressive Schloss Paffendorf, a 16th Century water-castle and in our attempt to get through Bedburg on the wrong road, we passed Schloss Bedburg, which has scaffolding around it. It was a school for the nobility from 1842 until 1922 and thereafter served other purposes but after all these years the foundations were shot and there was no economic choice but to demolish this fine building, rebuilt in the 16th Century, as the 12 Million Euro cost of renovation was not forthcoming.

Bedburg was also the scene of considerable violence between Catholics and Protestants immediately prior to the 30 Years’ War, and the site of the trial of the so-called “Bedburg Werewolf,” a farmer accused of murdering thirteen women and children. It is not clear whether the farmer actually committed these crimes, but his barbaric execution was meant to give troublemakers pause.

Kaster: cake and coffee soon!

On the other hand, rolling through the old gate at Kaster brought us to our first long stop after Bad Münstereifel, as we headed down the pedestrian zone to a bakery. We revived ourselves with some latte macchiatos and German high-sugar energy pastries and launched into the last stretch of the trip. After Grevenbroich (Km 110) we saw no further signs for the route and although we were heading for Neuss we were on a main road. However, a sign did eventually show up and using Nick’s GPS and our somewhat errant navigational sense, we managed to find the banks of the Erft again for the final push towards the Rhine.

At the confluence of the Erft and Rhine (photo by Nick)

Passing a mill, we gained speed and fairly flew to the end of the route, although it appeared we ended up on the wrong bank of the Erft at the confluence. No matter: we had a fine view of the barges passing on the Rhine and the end of the official.

A short ride took us into Neuss, which must be the only town in Germany where the Bahnhof is not prominently signposted. Nick, asking for directions, used his extensive German by first asking a passerby, in English, whether he spoke English. Nonetheless, we were pointed out the right way and headed north, yet again going through a pedestrian zone, this one with streetcar tracks in it. It seemed to be taking a long time so I thought I would ask a passing girl just to be sure. After I said “Excuse me,” I realized she had earbuds in but she looked directly at me and when I said “Excuse me” again, she looked again and kept moving. Nick laughed.

The Erft reaches the Rhine near Neuss

We reached the train station as dusk was approaching and as our trains were about to arrive we parted, saving the beer for another occasion. I was pretty tired as this had raised my mileage for the entire year from 58 kms to 188 kms, but luckily although I had felt some cramping coming on during the ride, I did not get the screaming muscle seizures while sleeping that night!

In spite of the bad sections of the path, it was a great day out and reminded me of just how much I love to ride in Germany. I think next time we should find a route that is a bit shorter and look around some more, or just concentrate on the more interesting sections of a bike route. I think I will also map the course on my GPS beforehand so that we do not go around in circles quite so much!

Vote For Bob's Spoke-Bicycle on FaceBook and Help Japan!

My friend Bob Thompson of Far and Away Cycling Tours has entered Easton Cycling's "Win A Dream Bike Contest" by submitting a photo of a spoke-bicycle. Vote for his spoke-bike with a "like," and if he wins, and there is a good chance as Far and Away Cycling has lots of fans, the bike will be auctioned for Japanese relief. The Dream Bike is valued at US$ 9,000.

To do this, you have to "Like" the Easton Page. Then (and only then!) can you "Like" Bob's photo.
I think this is a great idea!

A Nice Video About L'Eroica

L'EROICA (UK) from Edouardi Sepulchro on Vimeo.

The Messe in Essen

It was yet another rainy weekend in Düsseldorf so rather than sit at home and mope about yet another lost cycling day I took the train to Essen, 30 minutes away, to visit the leisure trade show at the Messe (as the exhibition centres are called here). I just followed the crowd on the subway leaving the main station and got there quite easily. As usual, it was raining.

Just as I entered the building, I saw a cyclist in an old-style Continental wool jersey, sitting astride a high-wheeler. He rolled off into the parking area for a few circuits and when he came back I took some photos. He was impressed with my high-wheeler sweatshirt and we chatted for a bit about the bike, which was not an antique but was a reproduction. He told me to look out for the bike shop in Hall 6 where some other old bikes were on display. I saw these subsequently: a pair of Opels, one, unrestored, from 1906 and the other, with balloon tires, dating to 1934 and looking brand new.

The show was called the “Messe für Fahrrad, Freizeit & Zubehör,” or the “Show for Bicycles, Leisure and Accessories.” It was a somewhat peculiar mix as it was actually three shows in one. A large part of the show was dedicated to travel and camping, one part to cycling and a slightly smaller bit to fishing. I entered first into one section of the camping area but quickly moved on to the “travel” area, which featured a lot of stands representing different parts of Germany, often divided into entertaining subsections. “Oh, you must want to go to East Münsterland–we just represent West Central Münsterland!”

I was so excited by all the bicycle travel possibilities that I stopped a booth presenting the products of the Landhaus-Brauerei Borchert in Lünne, in Emsland, which is Lower Saxony and is bordered to the west by the Netherlands. The Brauerei offered its own Braun Bier, but I could not pass up the opportunity to try a little shot of Bier-Liköre, which is made with beer and honey, although it tasted more of honey, I think. I decided to keep walking but would return for some of their beer later. If you go to the brewery/beer garden you can participate in a "Bierathlon," which includes shooting a crossbow, kicking a soccer ball into a hole in a wall and doing something like horseshoe throwing. Two drinks are also included for your 10 Euro participation fee.

There were a lot of interesting stands, including those promoting spas (which are extremely popular in Germany and very nice after a bike ride). The emphasis appeared to be more on Northern Germany, although the South was represented by Franconia (the northern part of Bavaria) and the Allgäu, east of Lake Constance. I collected brochures that were specifically for cycling but also got general brochures about attractions in each area. I chatted with the Roman legionnaire at the Xanten stand, and a lady was very keen that I go to visit the gardens of Schloss Dyck, which is only a short distance from where I went riding on the indoor track a week ago. It was a good opportunity to get brochures about the Ruhr and Nordrhein-Westfalen, which has an excellent cycling map. There were a lot of stands devoted to Mecklenburg-Vorpommern on the Baltic and even a large area devoted to the exhibition’s 2011 “partner country,” Sri Lanka.

I did not go to all 650 stands but limited myself to the ones that seemed to value bike touring. Some of the gimmicks were great: there was a bicycle driven game that required you to knock the top hats off of the rotating puppets, and this attracted a big crowd. At the stand devoted to nudism in Germany, everyone was fully dressed, however. The brochures suggested that nudism (Freikorperkultur) is stuck a bit in the past as the camps pictured, with their little caravans and volleyball courts, looked a bit forlorn and down-market, particularly compared to the flashy “wellness” spas, where you could get equally naked in the sauna if you wanted. Having suffered from what seems to be a near-continuous six months of rain and darkness here in Germany, I can understand why people would suddenly go crazy at the first sign of sun and throw away their inhibitions.

After collecting several hundred pounds of brochures, I staggered into Hall 6, which along with Halls 8 and 9, made up the cycling area. Nordrhein-Westfalen had a very good stand and I picked up some useful cycling information about the province there. But the majority of stands were selling bicycles or parts and were very popular. Brands, like Specialized or Trek, were represented by local retailers, while probably the largest stand of all belonged to Rose Versand, Germany’s largest mail-order bicycle retailer and publisher of a great door-stop of an annual catalogue. The current one is 960 pages and there is not much that you cannot get from Rose.

Their bicycles have quite a good reputation in Germany, close to the standards of arch-rival Canyon, which is in Koblenz. Rose is in the Nordrhein-Westfalen town of Bocholt and they have what must be one of the world’s flagship bike shops there, Bike Town, with 6,000 m² of floor space (around 65,000 square feet). Rose had an area for set aside for touring/commuting bikes, another for mountain bikes and yet another for electric bikes. The electric bike boom is clearly continuing as lots of people were trying out the bikes and there is even a magazine devoted to them. Several of the travel booths featured tours with electric bikes available.

The other test area was devoted to recumbents and people seemed to be having a great time zooming around in what looked like rolling armchairs but this enthusiasm has never translated into real world popularity. I was very taken with a red Leitra Velomobile, a fairing-covered all-weather recumbent that even had an iPod sound system in it. The latest model, the Avancee, was developed by an Austrian firm that took over the Danish design a few years ago. On Friday I was walking to an appointment at the Landtag when I was passed by a white Leitra, which was not only silent but surprisingly fast, as it zipped by on the bike path. The current model goes for 7,250 Euros, which is probably not such a bad deal considering how limited the demand must be and you are getting a lot more vehicle than you would with a racing bike at a comparable price. Racing bikes were notable, unlike at Eurobike in September, for their absence at this show. Rose had a few, as did Specialized and Trek, but the vast majority of bikes on display were meant for shopping or local travel.




By now my feet were aching and I stopped for a while to watch some trials riders do their thing. They ride bikes that have not saddles or seatposts, so they are standing while they do their stunts. And impressive they were as they jumped around on one wheel, hopping over a volunteer on the ground, who must have found it pretty terrifying.

I made my way back to the beer stand and had a nice Braun Bier and chatted with the young woman pouring beers. She was puzzled by my accent and thought my German was very good and did not sound like that of a typical English speaker. On the other hand she was diplomatic not to say it does not sound like a typical German speaker either...

Dragging my pile of brochures, I made my way back to the subway and then to the train station. The trains run quite often and I was back in Düsseldorf in mid-afternoon. It was a good day in spite of the sore feet and now I have enough travel brochures to plan cycling trips for my next three and a half years in Germany (provided that it stops raining).

Book Review---Better than Christmas: A Connoisseur Builds His Bike

With the experience of nineteen bicycles in his baggage, Mr. Penn personalizes the globalized product.

Robert Penn’s “It’s All About the Bike” is a charming book that has been playfully titled in opposition to the huge best-seller by a certain Tour de France winning Texan, that rather more serious book being not about the bike but about surviving cancer. Mr. Penn is no young racer but a lifelong cycling enthusiast who has ridden around the world, in 40 countries and five continents and one day he decided that the six bikes he currently owns are not enough. None of them was truly his bicycle.

For most people who see a bicycle as, at best, utilitarian or, at worst, a children’s toy and/or traffic nuisance, what Mr. Penn has written about will be incomprehensible. To True Believers it seems logical: as we ride over the years, our view of what makes the Perfect Bicycle evolve with experience and eventually we need what Mr. Penn seeks: “...I require a bike you can’t buy on the Internet; a bike you can’t buy anywhere.”

His rationale?

Like many people, I’m frustrated at the round of buying stuff that is designed to be replaced quickly. I want to break the loop with this bike. I’m going to ride it for thirty years or more and I want to savour the process of acquiring it. I want the best bike I can afford, and I want to grow old with it.

I want craftsmanship, not technology; I want the bike to be man-made; I want a bike that has character, a bike that will never be last year’s model. I want a bike that shows my appreciation of the tradition, lore and beauty of bicycles.

He writes of how even in the times of mass manufacturers there were small artisan shops where craftsman with names like Singer, Masi, Cooper, Herse and Galmozzi made a personal statement with their skills. To their successors he would turn for his new frame and to match it he would travel the world to find components that were not necessarily the lightest or sexiest but the best made. This book is about his journey to shops and factories in the United States, Italy, Germany and Britain, and not only does he takes us along as his bike is assembled but he also takes us through the history of the diamond-framed safety bicycle and the technology that makes the glorious ride possible.

The tour begins at home in Britain. The framebuilder that Mr. Penn chooses is Brian Rourke and, unsurprisingly, the material of choice is steel and not just because “Fausto rode it.” Steel is very strong, long-lived, not prone to sudden failure and easily repairable and, in the case of the stainless steel Reynolds 953 tubing selected, aesthetically pleasing with straight, roundish forms. A timeless look, although the author goes with TIG welding rather than a lugged frame. He does point out that there has been a renaissance of lug-cutting in the United States, whereas it has mostly died out in Britain. The chapter not only covers his fitting for the Rourke frame, but touches on frame geometry, materials and the invention of the diamond frame, and ends with his being present at the welding.

The core of the bicycle thus established, he flies to Portland to pick up a Chris King headset from the rather secretive factory, and makes a side trip to visit frambuilder Sacha White at Vanilla Bicycles, as well as an excursion into more bicycle history. Then it is off to Milan for Cinelli handlebars and a very entertaining visit to Columbus, makers of steel tubing (once 20,000 sets at a time, more like 20 now) for a carbon fork. An even more secretive factory–no tours, just an interview-- is to be found in Vicenza, Italy, where storied Campagnolo provides the drivetrain components for the new bicycle. A very laid-back and philosphical gentleman in Marin County builds the wheels, using Swiss spokes and rims with British hubs, and Mr. Penn is given industrial gloves to pull his very own Continental tires out of the oven in Korbach, Germany. And the antithesis of the secrecy at Campagnolo is to be found back in Britain, where Mr. Penn selects a saddle at Brooks, where many employees appear to have been around since the advent of the diamond frame. The saddle chosen, a B17, has been in production since 1896.

We learn a great deal more than about Mr. Penn’s personal bike-in-progress (and some of the trips he describes are pretty epic): the history of mountain bikes; how bicycles stay upright; how time-trialling was run in Britain; Leonardo da Vinci’s sketches; and the history of wheels, from solid cart wheels to three-cross spoke patterns. Finally we come to the agonizing moment of truth: selecting the colour of the new bicycle. And then, everything assembled, the first ride...Portrait of the bike - © Chris Anderson (www.chris-anderson.net)

In a world of mass production, there are few items where the customer so directs the final result. One thinks of Savile Row suits, or violins, or perhaps architecture. But the bicycle is an extension of ourselves, something we trust implicitly while going downhill at 80 km/h in the Alps, and a form that is so simple, so elegant that it takes real connoisseurship to detect the subtle differences. In the end, Mr. Penn probably paid less for his custom Rourke than for a top-end, ultra-light carbon pro racing wonderbike from Taiwan and has this book to recount its enviable history. My only quibble is that there is only one photo of the finished bicycle, the one on the cover.

The bicycle saves my life every day. If you’ve ever experienced a moment of awe or freedom on a bicycle; if you’ve ever taken flight from sadness to the rhythm of two spinning wheels, or felt the resurgence of hope pedalling to the top of a hill with the dew of effort on your forehead; if you’ve ever wondered, swooping bird-like downhill on a bicycle, if the world was standing still; if you have ever, just once, sat on a bicycle with a singing heart and felt like an ordinary human touching the gods, then we share something fundamental. We know it’s all about the bike.

It is a cliche of Christmas that a child runs downstairs to unwrap with the greatest delight his or her dream bicycle under the tree. How much better it would be if all dream bicycles could be like this one! Highly recommended.

“It’s All About the Bike: The Pursuit of Happiness on Two Wheels”
by Robert Penn
208 pp., Penguin Books, 2010
ISBN 978-1-846-14262-8
Currently available in the UK and Canada, this book will be released in the United States by Bloomsbury Press in April 2011.

Friday Night at the Track: Climbing the Wall

It has been a very busy few weeks, not helped by the fact that I was struck down on a business trip to Mainz by an evil virus that resulted in my losing 3 kilograms in about 12 minutes. Recovery was slow and my stomach muscles ached for days, putting a dent in all my biug plans. Although I only ate my first hot meal in a week on Thursday evening, I thought that I was well enough to go with my mechanic friend Richard to the indoor bicycle track in Kaarst-Büttgen. I felt bad because I had had to cancel out the week before due to the virus and was very disappointed.

When I got to Ricci-Sport on my city bike, Richard realized that I had no car, which posed a bit of a challenge. It seems that Kaarst-Büttgen must be one of the only places in Western Germany completely unreachable by public transit, so it was onto the bicycles and off we went through various suburbs of the city. It was only 17 kms but there were so many stoplights and bad traffic sections (not to mention pitch-dark sections of bikepath) it took us nearly 80 minutes to get there. I began to get the feeling we would arrive in Belgium momentarily.

The sports centre at Kaarst-Büttgen was quite an impressive facility. It was built in 1971. In addition to the cycling track, which is 250 m long (the same as Berlin’s Velodrome), there are facilities for gymnastics, inline-skating hockey, badminton, basketball, volleyball and handball. We quickly got to the locker room and changed before getting our bikes.

Crossing the track into the infield, I was surprised to see a lot of riders on this Friday evening. It was impressive to see them go around so quickly, following the small moped-like derny pacesetter. Richard got me to ride the bike around the track a few times at slow speed to get used to riding a bicycle with no brakes and no freewheel, meaning that the pedals never stop turning as long as the bicycle is in motion. I quickly got the hang of slowing down and stopping but as we practiced going around I discovered that the bicycle was quite unforgiving if I attempted to coast through the corners and jumped around a bit. It was actually startling and a bit nasty to feel the bike fight me, but in fact I was fighting the natural physics of the bike and the track. I mentally forced myself to relax my grip on the bars, as well as relax my shoulders.

Richard at speed on the Peugeot

Gradually I got used to the bike and increased my speed, practicing holding my position and trying to match Richard’s tempo. He has been riding a track bike since he was 12, so I was not under any illusions that I was going to impress anyone. As I began to get confidence and move up the track I found that I could slow down by putting a bit of reverse pressure on the pedals. However, it was soon clear that my recent virus-y condition would not allow me to go all that fast and I could feel my calf muscles getting sore from the unusual sensation of pedalling without a pause. It was quite dry in the hall and I had to stop twice for water but I did not get very cold. The fast riders all had arm and legwarmers, as well as jackets, even though the hall is heated. It is obvious that at the higher speeds they were going it would feel like cold wind and getting sweaty would be uncomfortable.

Richard showing what a bank of nearly 48 degrees looks like...

As I could feel my muscles slowly start to stiffen, I thought I would make a big effort to chase Richard up to the blue line, called the derny line. It was amazing to me how hard this was as riding on the track you do not perceive just how steep the banking really is at 47.8 degrees . It is like riding up a steep hill that appears quite flat. My legs and my lungs did not approve at all.
When I stopped for water, I chatted with a big rider who, unsurprisingly, noticed it was my first time on the track. He was very enthusiastic about cycling, owning 11 bikes and using an expensive SRM power meter on his track bike. He also said that he had lost 34 kilograms due to cycling and various physical problems he had had, such as symptoms of diabetes, were now under control. He was off to Mallorca the next day and was very excited.

Richard rode for a while longer, chasing and being chased by a really strong cyclist named Vladimir, who is an Elite Men’s road racer and, apparently, an eight-time world champion.

Getting changed in the locker room, another rider also chatted about his first time on the track. I think I provided a great deal of amusement for the experienced riders but everyone recognized that the first few times are awkward. I felt that I did pretty well, all things considered, but I really need to get in better shape. I can imagine that an hour on the track is amazing for conditioning. And there is a rhythm you develop after a while on the smooth surface, with the bike quietly humming away under you. Although I am not ready for a Six Days yet, I can imagine how track racing can become addictive.

Riding back home in the cool night, with a few raindrops mixed with snow in the air, I felt completely exhausted. I got back to the apartment at nearly midnight and collapsed into bed. Unfortunately, I woke up twice in the night with extreme leg cramps. Nonetheless, I enjoyed my first excursion on the track and look forward to trying it again, although I think I would prefer not to have to ride all the way out to Kaarst-Büttgen before the track ride itself.