650B Wheels For TCRNo4

Before last year the furthest I’d ridden in one ride was about 150km, and I only did that once, by accident.  By the time I managed 450km in one day (24 hours), how I thought about distance and bicycle travel had changed.  That realisation that you can cover big distances, to the next town, across the next country, on little more than a decent lunch.   After that it comes down to how efficient you can make yourself, your setup, your bike.  This, I think, is the driver, challenge and appeal of the Transcontinental race for me.   Just how efficiently can I ride a bicycle?

The TCRNo4 bike race is from Belgium to Turkey, some 4000km, non-stop and unsupported.   Grabbing an hours sleep at the side of the road, eating at whatever place happens to be open when you pass through; petrol stations and supermarkets mostly.  If it sounds crazy then consider that the race itself is the cherry-on-top  (the holiday?) you look forward to, after months of through the night training rides.   Just to be at the midnight start in Geraardsbergen last year felt like a victory in itself.

Despite pulling out of last years race halfway through (GPS failure), I was always planning to try and get a place in this years race.  My work with high performance systems means I am always analysing for inefficiencies, always looking to test theories and new methods.  So the appeal of endurance racing for me is in searching for and chipping away at those inefficiences.   During the race I was making mental notes of improvements for this year, and things that were or were not working well.

The most positive outcome of last years race attempt was the sheer number of pieces of kit I tested, and how much of it I was able to specifically rule out as cosmetically #Adventure.    This year I will test far fewer pieces of equipment (thankfully for the bank balance!), and the testing I do will be more specific.  Being a non-roadie I spent last year discovering how to get a road bike fit, and this year will be about making that bike faster without sacrificing comfort.

I say ‘that bike’, but I really mean ‘that bike fit’.   This year I’m using a Surly Pacer frame, principally because I want to also switch to STI gear shifters; I used downtube shifters on last years Surly Trucker frame.   I have setup the Pacer with the same ‘fit’ as the Trucker had, so the only real difference will be how it handles.   And the shorter chain-stays on the Pacer should allow more power to reach the back wheel, good for climbing.

The big news is that I will test a 650B wheel conversion, which allows larger volume tyres that should be faster rolling while reducing fatigue.   My approach to endurance riding/racing is comfort > efficiency > speed.  If the 650B conversion improves any of those things without negatively affecting the others then it’ll be worth adopting.   One reason I chose the Pacer frame is that it easily takes 650B wheels, just requiring some deeper drop brakes.   The 650 rim size means I can try out 35 or 38mm tyres; I ran the Trucker on my ride to Morocco with 37mm tyres. (Note: in the photo above the Pacer has 700c wheels)

I intend to test Compass Stampede Pass tyres, a specifically designed fast randonneur tyre.   The Pacer right now has Gatorskins (700×32), the actual tyres I used in last years race.   So first I’ll be testing 32mm extra-light Stampede Pass tyres against the 32mm Gatorskins, for comfort, speed and puncture resistance.  But at £50 per tyre (imported from the US) they’re not cheap!

These tyres are designed for long distance fast riding.  The physics behind the Compass tyre design, from the size to the tread, all stacks up for me.  It’s now just a case of seeing and feeling how they are on the road, over a few 400km rides.   If they prove to be comfy and fast, and puncture free, then I’ll hopefully try the Loup Loup 38mm versions in 650B size.

A small improvement from last year is to reduce the luggage I carry, and be a bit minimalist.   Last year I used a bar bag, mainly to give me a map case in the event that my GPS failed.   Well, my GPS failed and I discovered racing by map was nigh on impossible.   Freed from the need to carry a map case allows me to get rid of the bar bag.   I spoke to Wee Cog and they very kindly customised one of their seat bags to fit underneath the bikes stem.   So I now have my essentials (passport, credit card, phone, etc) neatly and securely stashed out of the way.

Essentially this years training plan is to continue evolving the bike using the traditional (1930-50s) randonneur ideas.   The TCR gives a bit of structure and motivation to this journey into the past.  And of course the TCR is a holiday at the end of all the training…

Five areas to improve after TCR2015

The Transcontinental Race 2015 is over, and unfortunately I failed to finish.   My GPS broke during the race at 1000km, and I didn’t have a good enough back-up plan so pulled out with only 2000km done.  In spite of this I do feel extremely positive about the whole race experience, as I started out a complete race virgin.

I did a few back to back 350km days, a huge amount of climbing and 2000km within a week.   Physically and mentally I felt fine during the race, I had no mechanical problems and my sleep-system worked well.    I feel that a lot things I brought from my cycle-touring experience worked pretty well; sleep anywhere and eat everything!

Looking towards the 2016 race, I want to focus on the areas that will give the biggest improvements.   I fall into the enthusiastic rookie class of racer, and just about every area could benefit from improvement.   But with time and money limited, I need to get the best bang for my buck.

Inevitably I started thinking about a new bike frame, but that’s probably the least value for money option.   So I talked myself out of it.   To put that into context, I already know that I can sit on my bike (Surly Trucker, downtube shifters, XT groupset, Brooks saddle, 15kg) for 18 hours a day.   I can do back to back 350+ km days.   And there’s no magically enchanted item that’s suddenly going to propel me up the leader board.

My goal is to gain a couple of kph’s on my average speed and become more efficient overall.   I’m thinking of using the North Coast 500 route as my benchmark, a beautiful 500 mile road route around Scotland’s coast.   And I have some training rides in mind to Morocco and back, and possibly a ride back from Uzbekistan (visas allowing).

Over the next few months I’ll be exploring, testing and developing in the following areas, in an attempt to become faster, stronger and better.   It will be interesting to discover what actually makes significant gains, and where money is best spent.

body conditioning

Without a doubt the best value for money improvement I can make is to lose weight.   Me plus the bike are 115kg, and I certainly notice it on the long climbs.   My egoistic first thoughts were a nice new £1200 Dave Yates custom frame, saving a whole 500g of weight (0.4% of 115kg).   But £1200 spent ‘on the road’ (Morocco trip, etc) would give me a lot of miles and I’d lose far more than 500g in weight.

By carrying a surplus of, say, 15kg I have to produce more power to go the same pace as the racing-snakes.   More importantly, running a higher power output means I fatigue more quickly.   It gets worse, by doing more work I produce more heat which is compounded by the insulating properties of body fat.   So I must drink more, which means I must carry more water or stop more often.

The benefits of carrying more body fat are being able to burn it off while riding, therefore requiring less eating.   It’s also possible to sleep in just a bivvy bag in near zero-degree temperatures.  But these benefits are far outweighed by the disadvantages, especially in a race across Europe in August.

So weight loss is my biggest priority.   I have no kg target, I plan to simply ride my bike a lot.   My body will reduce down to its natural weight and body fat percentage.   Any guesses what my rider+bike weight will be for the 2016 race?

smoother power delivery

My touring bike has downtube shifters, because I prefer their simplicity and the perfect and silent shifting they allow.   I used my touring bike for the Transcontinental race, and never felt I lost time in gear changes.   However, with downtube shifters you tend to increase or decrease your power for minor changes in gradient.   This is fine for touring, but smoothing out pedal cadence and power would lessen fatigue; important for endurance racing.

To smooth my cadence isn’t straight forward, for my shifters and drivetrain need to change.   The knock-on effect is a few hundred pounds of new bike parts.   I plan to switch to 11sp Ultegra, and am hoping to try out Di2 electronic shifters.   Though I’m not sure Di2 is good value for money, at this stage; an extra £300 just to get auto-trimming?   Apparently 11 speed Shimano is more durable than 10 speed, we’ll see…

Switching to an Ultegra group set means hydraulic discs front and rear (currently I have front v-brakes and a rear mechanical disc).  It’ll also mean a switch from square taper bottom bracket, to the weaker HollowTech.  The downside of progress.

I’ll also kit out the bike with a Bluetooth cadence sensor and power meter, and hook it up to the iPhone app I’ll develop (see below).

bike fit

If I can already sit on the bike for 18 hours then the bike must fit, right?   My Surly Trucker is certainly a good fit for comfort, no complaints at all.   But there is another aspect to bike fit, efficient use of power.   The upper body acts as a counter balance to the power produced by the legs.   More powerful riders can better use their power by leaning over further, riders producing less power do so when more upright.

Finding a position on the bike that is comfortable and also enables me to use the most power is what I want to achieve with a bike fitting.   I’ll be trying out a bike fitting session using a Retül machine, and also Spin Scan to measure power output.   I will be looking for improvements over my long distance NC500 test route, but I’m not quite sure what to expect.  Hopefully the main benefit will be reduced fatigue, allowing a little more power to be used which will give me a kph or two extra average speed.

A single bike fit session is in the region of £200.   I think that will be good value, particularly as I want to try out aero-bars for the first time.   So having a measure of my optimal power output for a given body position will save a lot of time experimenting with different aero-bars.

better fuelling

Taking on fuel on a long distance ride is a hit or miss experience.   Sometimes you find the perfect plateful of tastey carbs and protein, other times the only thing open is a 24 hour McDonalds or a roadside vending machine.   When you’re tired it all gets a bit difficult to eat well, to make good decisions.

There are many calorie counter smartphone apps around, but I think I need to develop something a little more endurance-race specific.   I’d like to have a carb and protein counter (enter quantities as you buy), with an app which helps regulate consumption over time.   Because you can only digest a certain amount, excess is (literally) wasted.

I think my fuelling was reasonably good during the 2015 race, but could be made more efficient with a little technology help.

ride metrics

Being an engineer type, the use of metrics to understand and improve a system comes naturally; the system now being the endurance cyclist.   During some of the longer audax training rides I’d been thinking about developing a smartphone app to help improve efficiency.   And during the 2015 race this became a more interesting idea for a work project.

Taking in many of the above ideas for areas to improve my performance, I’ll build a metrics app to measure how things are going.   Polar do many sensors which are Bluetooth enabled, and I’ll begin with heart rate, cadence and speed, and then add in a power meter (expensive!).

While a standard bike computer or GPS already display metrics from these sensors, I want to go a little further.   I want to incorporate calories ‘in’ (maybe from the calorie counter app), and match it up with calories ‘out’ (burned cycling).   Having a smart app indicating protein intake for example and how long digestion takes, would help in the efficiency of fuelling.

Tracking time spent sleeping would also be pretty useful too, possibly combined with heart rate for ‘good’ sleeping.   During this years race I kept to the 24 hour periods starting at midnight (the race started at midnight).  For me it would beneficial to see stats (riding, averages, sleeping, eating, carbs, etc) on a 24 hour or race-long time frame.

This is a good R&D project for the next few months.   And I hope some of the technology developed may be useful in a commercial app for the long distance community (audax, endurance racing, etc).  I’d be looking to build in some smart monitoring which could indicate general performance drops due to lack of fuel or sleep.

Combining some development work into the race training schedule keeps the cycling interesting.   There’s lots for me to learn, as well as bringing my ‘systems’ methodologies to the bike computer thing.   In addition I have some far flung places to ride to, and am really looking forward to seeing a bit more of the world.

Time to ride, again….

Thoughts From A Transcontinental Race Virgin

It’s been a long six months (Dec 2014-June 2015), as I tried to upgrade myself from a cake powered cyclo-tourist to potential endurance racer.   Starting from the position of a complete novice in endurance racing, the last months turned into a journey of discovery.   Testing bike frames, components, nutrition ideas, sleeping gear and bike setup.   It’s been expensive, and quite a lot of ideas failed leading to some very short rides indeed.

The significant outcome has been the sheer quantity of experience and knowledge all that testing produced.   I rode four bike frames, three sets of forks, innumerable luggage setups, six energy products, and a whole lot more.   I love learning new stuff, but it does feel particularly hard won knowledge.   Particularly the cold days and nights when long rides were disappointingly shortened by kit failure.

So while there has been a huge amount of learning, there hasn’t been a huge amount of training; only about 5,000kms.   I’m still very far from being an endurance racer, but I do feel I know what I need to do for next year.

Yes, I’m already thinking about and looking forward to preparing for next years race!   For the race this year though, I plan to have a goal of simply enjoying the ride…

Here’s my take on a few salient points:

Comfort is key, when you’re planning a 200 hour bike ride.   Little things which don’t show up on a 10 hour ride, can suddenly cause seepage (physical or mental) after just 20 hours.   Regular skirmishes with my ego have made me aware of what the real priorities of endurance racing are comfort and fuelling, not bike-bling.

Real food is more effective than ‘sports product’, by a long stretch.
The only drawback with real food is finding it (especially through the night)  and digesting enough of it to get the maximum benefit.   I suffered from poor fuelling quite a bit, swinging between eating nothing till too late and other times eating too much junk.  It’s tough living out of petrol station shops, but I think I’m getting the hang of it.

Fighting fatigue is pretty high up on my desicion making tree, but it’s part of a vicious circle involving ego and feel.   Some stuff tickles your ego and feels fast, like 23mm high-pressure tyres which do look very racer.   But those tyres only feel fast because they’re putting some high frequency vibrations right into your body.  My ego was disappointed when I mounted some fat 32mm low-pressure rubber, but they’re actually faster and bring less fatigue so I can ride longer.

Audax rides continue to be a great periodic check on progress, particularly the longer distance events (300+ km).   The audaxers at the sharp end of the field, on the longer distances, are a great source of info, advice and encouragement.  Such an unassuming and easy going bunch of folk.

The biggest surprise has been the ongoing mental battle to avoid becoming a feartie when things get a bit tough.   My ego provides no end of believable excuses as to why I should seek refuge in a cafe, or a hotel for the night.   It’s job is to make me feel good in the here and now physical world, but it ignores what’s good in the longer term.   While it has been difficult, I think me and my ego are now level pegging on arguments won.

It’s only 10 days until we line up at midnight to start this years Transcontinental Race, Geraardsbergen in Belgium to Istanbul in Turkey.   4000km of unsupported and non-stop bicycle racing which should not take longer than 14 days.  In a weird way I feel like I’ve already achieved more than I expected, so the race is almost like a holiday.

You can follow the racers at TransConRace, our GPS trackers go live at midnight on the 24th July 2015.   The spills, thrills and bellyaches will be pushed out onto Twitter (@FarOeuf, @transconrace, #TCR2015).   There’s also a Facebook group for the race, TransCon FB Group.

— racer #86

 

Frame of Mind for the Transcontinental Race

I think Aesop had long distance cycling* in mind, when he set down the fable of The Tortoise and the Hare.  The animals were symbolic, hares are as stereotypically fast as tortoises are slow.  But life on the road is not as simple, and stereotypes evaporate when you’ve been riding for days on end with little sleep.

For as long as I can remember I’ve viewed one particular human characteristic as pretty significant.  Humans are, very definitely by nature, adaptable.  If we’re cold we shiver to warm up a bit, if we’re hot we sweat.  Give the human a greater physical workload and muscles will develop to cope.  Operating regularly in danger, a human will grow in courage.  Humans are pretty amazing.

Amazing, that is, until we become civilized.  Then we develop a fear of fear, spend enormous amounts to maintain a consistent personal environment, and generally retreat from nature into our Goretex shells.  We do everything we can to avoid being uncomfortable, as if it’ll cause us to melt.   Does the desire to become ever more civilized run counter the fundamental characteristics of being human and adaptable?  I think so.

A significant aspect of my approach to the TCR has been training my uncivilised self.  Pushing back the edges of my comfort zone, trying to increase my despair threshold.  Looking to exploit my cyclo-tourist credentials, exploit my capability to adapt and rise above the challenges of the road.  The harsher the conditions on the race, the better I’m hoping to do.

Rebuild a rear wheel on the hard shoulder of a busy motorway in Bulgaria, check.  Wear the same clothes without showering for a week, check.  Ride towards a pack of fiesty wild-dogs on the Transfăgărășan, check.   Sleep out in a summer bag on a frosty February night on the Isle of Mull, check.  Check, check, check…

Being out there ‘on the road’ is such a great training tool.  Even more so because the real value of the training is on the subconcious.  The amount of time I now spend procrastinating, simply staring into space feeling sorry for myself, has shrunk to almost nil.  If a spoke breaks you can spend twenty minutes fixing it, or twenty minutes plus another twenty procrastinating.

I have also noticed that my mood no longer takes a nose-dive when something unexpectedly interrupts progress.  Thirty-five kilometers along a Norwegian fjord only to find an impassble dead end?  No point in having a tantrum, just turn around and go back to the last junction.  The flora and fauna doesn’t care if you ride back quickly or petulantly slowly.

It’s not that I no longer care about making mistakes or things breaking, I do.  I just pay less attention to the civilised part of me that expects everything to go to plan, and then gets pretty upset when it doesn’t.  On a long distance solo ride, maintaining a generally positive outlook (“you’re gonna make it!”) is a key asset us cyclo-tourists inevitably develop.

Solo touring improves not only the physical muscles, but also various aspects of the invisible too.  You’re forced to deal with situations and people head-on, there is no phone-a-friend.  My training has ramped this up a little, by deliberately spending time being uncomfortable.  Sleeping out in cold temperatures with bare minimum kit, cycling hungry and thirsty, giving myself opportunities to overcome fear.  It’s not as bad as it sounds, erm….sort of.

Existential training on its own will not be enough for the Transcontinental Race, but I’ll take any potential advantage I can.  Here’s to being less civilised…

Team Tortoise, #86.

* yes, I know, I know, bicycles didn’t come along for another few thousand years after Aesop.

Thorn Club Tour (mk4) First Impressions

So, the bike has arrived.   But all is not well…

Delivery… the bike arrived on the right day, always a bonus!   The huge delivery box means the bike comes fully assembled, and I just needed to rotate the bars into the correct position.   I added my saddle and pedals, and was good to go.   All the documentation for each component comes in a jiffy bag, very good.   Along with some touch-up paint (red and blue in my case).

The spare spokes I requested (paid for) came as a loose bundle, so I don’t know which is front and rear, nor d/s and n-d/s.   A bit annoying really, as I’ll have to fit one into the wheel to find out (and that will only ever be at the side of the road while doing a repair).

Straight out of the box… The bar tape finishing is a bit of a mess, peeling off and ripped.   The bar tape itself is wrapped so close to the centre it means the brake cables prevent installation of a bar-bag bracket.   Now, this is a big deal for me, especially so as it’s a touring bike built up by a company specialising in touring bikes.   It means I’ll have to remove the bar tape and redo it.

The steerer tube appears to be cut.  I expect this from a high-street general bike shop, but didn’t expect this from Thorn.  I expected we’d err on the side of caution and the steerer would be cut once I’d ridden the bike for a while, and was absolutely sure.  Especially so as I’ve got the expensive MERVC fork.   I just hope I don’t want to raise the bars!

There’s a nick in the head tube, and a score on the stem (both were obviously pre-shipping).  Both relatively small, and don’t really affect much.   Having said that, it does negatively affect any, “wow, awesome, a new bike,” feelings.

The first 10 miles…  I raised the saddle height about 15mm, but I still find myself uncomfortable and pushing myself to sit on the rear-lip of the saddle to feel ‘right’.   The feel at the front end (stretch to the bars) is very good, and much better than my LHT.   But I’m concerned about the saddle position, as the saddle is as far back as it can go.   The LHT has a lower BB, which may be the difference.   It does feel that the problem is ’saddle relative to the pedals’, and horizontally rather than vertically.

The Tektro (RL540) brake levers rattle whenever the brakes are applied, it’s the little QR pin on the levers that’s making the noise.  I have the same levers on the LHT and they don’t rattle.  Quite annoying, and I think I’ll have to replace the levers as it’ll drive me nuts.   The brakes don’t feel as powerful on the CT (rear BB7 disc, front Deore V-brake) as they do on my LHT (LX v-brake front/rear).   But they are easily powerful enough.   There’s a rubbing noise from the rear disc which indicates the rotor isn’t quite true, but that’s pretty common.

The Dura Ace downtube shifters (spec’d by me), oh my, these are very ugly from the top-side.   The online pictures show the underside, all nice and sleek looking, but the top-side (the side you see all the time) are agricultural.  And boy oh boy does that agricultural theme continue when you use them.   About 20 years ago I had some Deore thumb shifters on a mountain bike, and they clunk-clicked every shift.  These Dura Ace shifters remind me of them; very, very far from finesse.  I have second-hand Suntour Radius friction shifters on my LHT, and they are silent and silky smooth.   I think the Dura Ace shifters are for the bin, unless I can find a way to disable the indexing.

Which brings me to the 10-speed wide gears.  I didn’t want this system, I am perfectly happy with 8-speed, but 10 speed is what the manufacturers want us to buy.   To my absolute horror (really!) it turns out that on the middle chain-ring the chain will rub when using the left-most couple or right-most couple of sprockets.   So, I’m riding along up a hill which flattens out, and shift up a few sprockets and then the chain rub starts and I have to trim the front mech.  I’d expect this from the granny-ring on the smaller sprockets, or the outer ring and the larger sprockets.   But the middle-ring, really?   Do you guys trim with STIs too?   I suspect I’ll junk the lot and revert to 8-speed, which also means I can get my silky smooth Sun Tour shifters too.

The MERVC fork is an interesting thing.   Coming down a 35mph hill, of not-super-smooth tarmac, it started sort of bouncing a little.   It never felt dangerous at all (I was going straight), but is was something a bit more than a vibration.    It just felt like there was not enough weight over the front end to dampen it down.   It was absolutely fine on smooth downhills.   Maybe I just need to lean over the front wheel on descents?   It’s another annoyance, as the steerer has been cut it’s going to be difficult to sell on the fork should I wish to revert to the standard fork.  I am really hoping that this is just a slight ‘live with it’ thing, in return for all day comfort (though my Trucker has all day comfort without the bounce).

Finally the bars.   They trail back past the head tube, which means my knees hit the bar-ends if I lean forward in the saddle, or stand up on the pedals.  It doesn’t happen often, but really it shouldn’t happen at all.   I think the bars are excessively long.   But they are wide enough (44cm), which I like.   Although I think I would need to replace them with some a bit shorter in the trailing part.

What do I actually like…?   Well, I can easily bend the axle of a square-taper bottom bracket (causing chain rub), so the external bearing system on the CT is very welcome as it’s much stiffer.   The rear triangle of the frame feels smoother over the bumps than the Trucker, which is welcome too.   The whole bike (11kg) is lighter than the Trucker (14kg), but it felt no different on the hills; only climbing the three flights of stairs to my flat!

serious things to think about:

1. the MERVC fork being too springy
2. saddle position not being comfortable

component changes to improve things (£££):

1. replace the drop-bars
2. replace the brake levers
3. replace the shifters
4. replace the bar-tape
5. probably change the whole chain-set to 8-speed
6. replace the Deore v-brake (when it wears out) with an LX or higher

Unfortunately, for now, the (slightly too big for me) Long Haul Trucker is a better riding bike than the Club Tour.   I’ll take the CT out tomorrow for 80km or so and see how things go.   I have a 200km Audax ride on Sunday and I’d like to take the CT to give it a thorough test ride, see how tomorrow goes first though.   At the moment it feels like I should have just bought the frame and forks on their own, as most of the components I’ll probably end up throwing away.

Currently I’m pretty disappointed, as it doesn’t feel any sort of ‘step up’ from a Long Haul Trucker; though it was more expensive and more fuss is made of Thorn’s.   I could certainly ride around the problems, and those problems may well be peculiar to me.   It’s also quite likely that the component changes may make the bike feel much better, thought at some further cost.   However, the fundamental frame questions (fork and saddle position) are not really solvable.

a few Flickr photos

Why I Cycle Long Distance

I was unfortunate to have faltered at the piano, as a child.  The effect of climbing trees instead of practicing piano was that my consciounsess of rhythm came very late indeed.   This has had consequences far more widespread than just awkward attempts at dancing.

As a child I was outside in all weathers, listening to the waves crash onto an empty wind-swept beach, climbing trees and feeling the seasons roll by.   Dawn, sunset, night following day, phases of the moon, low winter-sun, bright spring mornings.   Flocks of geese leaving then returning, fallen leaves and autumn storms.   Natures beat was all around, superior and necessary.

As an adult I no longer climbed trees, nor did I listen to the sea.   Instead, I tried to do what the other adults were doing, and fell into a routine.   I moved to the city, worked, bought stuff, commuted, and continually talked about ‘getting out’.   Routine had replaced rhythm, and being an adult wasn’t much fun.

Nature is not tolerated in the city, there are no seasons there.   The few fallen leaves are tidied away, no flocks of geese pass by.   There was no spring bloom, no lambs or foals, no stars in the night sky.   Everything was synthetic, one big con-trick.

Where did the day go, the week , the year?   I lost touch, and lost my way…

Things are different now, because now I mostly ride.   Long distances, weeks at a time.   My routine is simple, wake, pack, ride, eat, unpack, sleep.   I ride when I’m strong, rest when I’m not.  Discovering that a single meal each day suits me was a surprise; oh how I used to shovel food into my sedentary self.   Rising with the sun, immersed in whatever nature conjures up, until drifting off under the stars.

I am now working with my natural rhythm, rather than fighting against it.   My creativity comes in strong bursts, not fitting a fixed nine-to-five timetable.   I created my own company to foster this style of working.   The quality of what I do is immeasurably higher than before, but perhaps now consumes thirty percent instead of eighty percent of my time.

I cross countries, continents.   Between five hundred and a thousand kilometres per week.   Cycling some of the best roads in the world, and some of the worst.   I prefer the forgotten, out of the way places but I shy away from nothing.   It’s all about being out there, relishing the absurdity of the world.

The bitter pill of the long distance ride is the solitude.   Riding multiple days in remote places, wild-camping in mountains or forests, can stretch the need for human contact.   Cafes provide a haven, offering fleeting converations as I pass through other peoples lives.   Fleeting yes, but genuine too, because we all have something to say.

The road is life.   It is disappointment, excitement, fear, luck, confidence, tiresome, enlightening, freezing, frustrating, happy, memorable, funny, sad, it is rhythmic.   My bicycle is my companion.

I ride to stay creative.   I ride to stay energised.   I ride to stay sane.

Bicycle Touring In Norway Mountains

The mountain passes in Norway, I discovered, are opened on certain dates through May and June. Bicycles are banned from quite a few major roads and tunnels, with the high passes being the only option.
Closed passes, therefore, present a problem.

Due to the mild winter some of the passes are opening early this year. I got lucky with route 13, from Voss to Vik, it was quietly opened the day before I arrived.

Quiet mountain passes are a cyclists nirvana, more so when they have a snow covering. Despite the open status, the mountains always need respect. Getting stuck up-top can quickly turn into a nightmare for the unwary.

The approach was around 30km of gentle incline, warm and sunny. The climb began abruptly with a series of stacked hairpins, passing through the snow line at 800 metres. I was surprised by how clean the tarmac was, like they had hoovered up the snow.

With the snow banked up to five metres high, the only sound at the top was the cracking of melting snow in the afternoon sun. Only a handful of cars passed, over the whole 70km.

Norway is a challenging place to ride, but everyone should have days like these.

Isle of Mersea Oyster Tasting

I am a firm believer that Scottish oysters are the finest available, but a Mersea native suggested to me that theirs are equally good.
The only thing to do is head there and try them for myself.

When I arrive in Mersea, I head straight to The Company Shed down by the shore. This is the place that’s recommended, and it has an enviable reputation. A family run fishmonger-cum-diner, they supply the seafood and you bring your own bottle, bring your own bread.

There are few formalities here, and I was cheerfully directed to a shared table part-occupied by a Swedish couple. While the Swedish couple lingered over the menu, I immediately ordered half a dozen oysters (No. 3’s).

I thought of the cool and creamy Scottish oysters I love so much, and then plucked an English from its shell. Somehow the taste made me think of the local waters where they are farmed, muddy, warmish and earthy.

Mersea oysters are clearly fresh and of good quality, with a sort of working-class goodness about them. Their taste fits in with the other staples of these parts, the jellied eels, cockles, mussels, etc.

I still prefer the Scots oysters, though that is undoubtedly biased. Had I grown up in Mersea, no doubt I’d feel the reverse. Taste is deliciously complicated.

Bergen Without Snow Tyres

My first visit to Norway could either be viewed as a catalogue of disasters, or a useful learning exercise. The snow tyres I’d ordered for my Surly Troll bicycle disappeared in the courier van. With two days to departure the trip changed from cycling over the Hardangervidda to hiking.

The Hardangervidda is a plateau in Norway, a remote national park. A route from Bergen, going east to Oslo, seemed the logical choice. The timing wasn’t planned, it was just coincidentally November.

My backpack weighed in at 18kg, including a few days food and camping gear. I reckoned that walking around 25 km per day would be possible, making a nice three week trip.

Walking out of Bergen it soon became apparent that Norway is a fully motorised country. The roads and tunnels are built for traffic, the non-motorised are second-class. Unable to traverse a tunnel, I was forced to resort to a bus.

Finally up on the Hardangervidda, after a few days re-routing, it was good to be above the snow line. Winter was mild in 2013, so the days went from minus five degrees to plus five. Everything soon became a slushy mess.

Overall, I managed a week of walking before beating a soggy retreat to Voss, to dry everything out. The train from Bergen (via Voss) to Oslo is the highest rail line in Europe. It was a scenic finale to an otherwise mixed trip.