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oh no it isn't

there is an interesting selectivity about the weather; not so much its reality, but the methods by which it is perceived. from a journalistic point of view, weather is cited as a subject matter that sells newspapers, whether good or bad, but there is little other than anecdotal evidence that location tends to skew how that news is portrayed. to place this in perhaps a better perspective, this past weekend was previewed on many of the national news websites and print publications as of potential danger to those over a certain age and harbouring health concerns. temperatures in the low thirties were forecast, though reading a bit further would elicit that, more specifically, those temperatures were specific to southern england, and not necessarily the west coast island on which i am domiciled.

temperatures up here were a tad more conservative, failing to reach more than the upper teens, and in the case of the hebrides, ameliorated by the almost permanent wind. that said, so used are we to far lower temperatures, that 17 or 18 degrees does indeed qualify as verging on the outlandish. the family wedding taking place on saturday afternoon in bowmore's round church was blessed with excellent, sunny (if a tad hazy) conditions, and the ideal setting for an evening reception in marquees adjacent to the island's gaelic centre.

as one with very little faith in either weather forecasts or prevailing conditions, despite the summer temperatures, i opted for a long-sleeved jersey, though admittedly matched with a pair of bibshorts. i did have cause perhaps to regret the length of sleeves, but overall, my choice of apparel did little to undermine the validity of riding to debbie's for a double-egg roll and a soya latte. as a brief aside, it might be of slight concern that the lovely deborah was somewhat disapproving of my choice of tomato sauce on my eggs.

however, buoyed by the unseasonal weather, my cycling colleague and i agreed that sunday morning would set the scene for expansion of the parcours that has been in place since i began the recovery period. i am of the opinion that my physical status is very much the equal to undertaking the first part of the regular sunday morning bike ride route; the only thing left would be to prove that to be the case. unfortunately, with health conditions such as those with which i now have to contend, there is, as yoda would say, "only do or do not". the fear is that doing might prove to be a step too far. however, there's no manual, so it falls upon the incumbent (me) to push the envelope a wee bit at a time.

overnight, between saturday and sunday, the weather changed substantially, with distant thunder, the onset of rain and a noticeable drop in temperature. that persisted into the morning, aided and abetted by a rising wind, pushing me to abandon any attempt on the mulindry loop of the sunday ride; just in case it proved an unrepaired bridge too far. though the rain did back off a smidgeon late morning, waterproofs were required between the croft and bruichladdich. the irony, of course, is that sunday 22 june was officially the first day of summer, no doubt worthy of celebration in london and the south, but effectively business as usual on the outer edge. depending on where you live in the british isles, you may well be aware that this is hardly a place of 'one size fits all' when it comes to weather, no matter the assurances or forecasts expressed in the national news.

i daresay such guarded moaning would be better served were such reports extended north of the border, clearly pointing out that the temepratures featured in the headlines were not universally applicable. i'd imagine that the world's cycling apparel purveyors sell proportionally more waterproofs to scottish cyclists than to those in the south.

i wonder what the gaelic word is for gore-tex?

monday 23 june 2025

targetting

in my early youth, bicycle sales and repairs were entirely at the behest of mr benzie's shop in kyle street, an entirely wooden affair consisting of, effectively, two huts side-by-side, reached by climbing a wooden staircase. the first of these was the 'shop' featuring a sales counter and surrounded by what we would nowadays refer to as accessories. the second, adjoining 'hut' was the showroom, a modest affair, but filled with everything from kids' bicycles to those suitable for adults. behind both of these and situated at right angles, was a long, corrugated iron shed in which repaired bicycles sat alongside those which had been left for repair. on my sole visit to the latter, it was jammed from one end to the other.

i have no recollection of anyone working alongside the gruff aberdonian, mr benzie, but i'm sure there must have been, unless he worked on repairing bicycles in the evening or on sundays. my parents had bought me a raleigh twenty shopping bike for my 12th birthday, shortly after i began secondary school, a bicycle that pragmatically fulfilled a dual role as transport to and from school as well as a (very) safe means of carrying out my daily paper round. with twenty-inch wheels, a dynamo and sturmey-archer three-speed hub gear, had the term street-cred been coined in those times, i would have possessed none whatsoever.

on reaching secondary school age, however, my younger brother was presented with a metallic red and green, ten-speed racer, the very sort of bicycle of which i felt i should have been the owner, despite its manifest unsuitability for replacing the raleigh in the newspaper delivery stakes.

regular petitioning of my parents to trade in the shopper for a ten-speed racer of my own, eventually paid off, when my father took me down to mr benzie's one saturday afternoon. yet, despite having cheerfully sold just such a bicycle for my brother, on enquiring whether he might have one for yours truly, mr benzie dismissed the genre as largely unsuitable for a lad just into his teens. "you'll have all manner of problems with derailleur gears, and the chain is likely to come off quite regularly" was his sage advice. only later did i realise that his reticence to sell was based on not having any suitable bicycles in stock, and presumably he had no great desire to alter that situation, even if it had resulted in a sale.

i subsequently queried a lad at school known as 'bugsy', for reasons i never did discern, who had long ridden to school on what seemed a quality ten-speed racer, whether he'd experienced derailleur problems of his own? his quizzical response led me to believe the contrary, and in truth, i do not recall my brother experiencing any serious downtime due to derailleur problems. it seems that mr benzie's curmudgeonly approach to everything, also extended to his sales technique.

as you may have garnered over the years, islay is bereft of anything even vaguely resembling a bike shop, so, a couple of decades past, when i was in the habit of visiting london town perhaps twice a year, i would often pay token visits to bike shops in the city, just to avail myself of current trends and stocks. on virtually every one of those cases, almost without exception, it proved possible to manhandle any bicycle you care to mention on the shop floor without any noted interest from the shop staff. i may not have been intending to buy anything at all, but nobody ever ventured close enough to find out. it would, however, be unfair to single out the nation's capital as sole outlier in such practices, as i have observed similar habits in both edinburgh and glasgow. several of those velocipedinal retail outlets are no longer in business, though their demise could have easily been the result of factors other than their appalling sales techniques.

i would, however, be the first to put my hand up and state that over-attentive sales staff can be every bit as offputting as is total indifference; the trick, i'd imagine, is finding the sweet spot between those two extremes. but, though i am very rarely even to be found window-shopping (after twenty-nine years of writing about bicycles, i cannot deny that treading a bike shop floor has lost some of its lustre), i was genuinely surprised to learn that there are specific sales techniques that reputedly lead to money in the cash register, techniques that rest heavily on body language and psychology rather than how many gears the bicycle posesses, or whether it can be retrofitted with a power-meter.

i confess, i have literally never been in a position where a salesperson has attempted to interest me in a particular type or model of bike; probably because i've rarely expressed any direct interest. no doubt salespersons in any retail outlet have learned to distinguish those 'customers' who are very unlikely to part with cash. there's also a strong likelihood that those of us who consider ourselves part of the cognoscenti, reckon ourselves to be better informed than any bike salesperson, perfectly capable of making the correct purchase all on our own. in fact, just to prove how well-informed, we find ourselves asking if the shop would like to fit a longer stem and different saddle, should we deign to part with cash. after all, what newbie would ever think to ask?

however, there's no doubt that retail has moved on considerably since the days when a gruff aberdonain refused to sell a ten-speed racer to the parent of an eager twelve year-old. but just in case you're in the market for a new bike, with the intent of visiting one or two bricks-and-mortar outlets, keep wide awake to any potential sales ploys (such as the triangle method) and if the sales person immediately suggests a gravel bike, head straight to the door without further comment.

sunday 22 june 2025

attack, decay, sustain, release

at the turn of the century, i and a colleague were involved in a local project with highlands and islands enterprise (hie) and british telecom (bt) to introduce broadband to islay well ahead of the national rollout. the cunning plan behind this project was their joint contention that the island could be positioned as a closed communications network, benfitting businesses and individuals via vastly improved internet access. were this to be proved a tenable technological situation, it would surely prove a self-contained fait accompli that could be implemented elsewhere in the uk. after all, they posited, if they could make it work on an island off the west coast of scotland, they could make it work anywhere.

our complicity in this project started off well, with travel to specific training courses designed to put us in the right place to help train others on the island as the rollout proceeded. we were introduced to online retail, only five years on from the launch of amazon's online store, how to advise local businesses in the art of selling online, when few if any were truly ready for the experience. my photoshop skills, such as they were, became useful in creating graphics for new websites, while my colleague took care of the more arcane coding necessary to enable the sites of which i speak.

sadly, over the course of a year or so, things became considerably less urgent and management became less and less communicative, till eventually, rather than an island-wide exposition of the latest in internet technology, we ended up with only a website which attempted to achieve what one or two others had already accomplished. the official launch of what was termed an islay portal was held in a small tent at the annual agricultural show, following which the visitor statistics dropped like a stone and the site was eventually scrapped and we all went back to real life.

of course, the project's eventual but almost predictable demise made not a dent in the inexorable rise of the internet and web technologies, not all of which now seem entirely necessary. but as a bandwagon to be jumped on, the internet, from the outside looking in, seemed the veritable bees-knees. and through my gainful employment at the local newspaper, i was the frequent recipient of press releases announcing yet another website to add to the great panoply on the interwebs. that is, until i wasn't.

nowadays it's still common to find hyperlinks included in corporate press releases, but unadorned by inviting heraldry. the launch of a new, or upgrade of an existing website is no longer of note. in fact, it is far more surprising to learn that a particular enterprise is bereft of a website, than to discover an existing one has changed. in the grand scheme of things, it's a situation that deserves our wholesale approbation. in that particular respect, life has settled down once again.

so why has the velocipedinal realm not learned from such a happenstance? we're not actually discussing websites at this point, but groupsets. do we really care that campagnolo/shimano/sram/classified/tektro (delete as applicable) have foisted yet another variation on something most of us found maximum satisfaction with at eight-speeds. the subsequent five, while increasing the dishing of our rear wheels and faffing with the freehub sizing, have truly been of academic importance. i seriously doubt that any member of the professional peloton has been heard to relate "if only i'd had one more gear, the yellow jersey would have been mine." whether gravel, road or mtb, every trumpeted upgrade has been at the behest of the manufacturer, highlighting incremental and purported technical advancements to convince us all that cycling isn't cycling without extra gears or improved electrics.

in recent days we've been on the receiving end of announcements from each of the big three, most of which have been accompanied by the inevitable videos, all of which promise the first look at a new version of old technology. will there, however, ever come a time when such releases are simply the concern of the retailers responsible for stocking boxes of the new product? a time when we'll all be quite content with the gears, brakes and cranks already helping propel and stop our prides and joy?

unfortunately, i doubt it.

saturday 21 june 2025

these are not the droids we're looking for

a little surprisingly, following my heart attack almost four months past, i was invited for a follow-up consultation by an nhs cardiology nurse. the appointment was set for wednesday, 18 june, at the community hospital in lochgilphead, a town approximately 34km from the ferry terminal at kennacraig. as an island dweller, the only means of reaching an appropriate location in scotland from which to reach the hospital, was to take the morning ferry from port ellen on islay and subsequently board the campbeltown - glasgow coach, alighting at lochgilphead. now, because i'm relatively ancient, i possess a calmac ferry card that provides a discount on the full-fare, as well as an argyll & bute travel card, funded by the scottish government, which offers free bus travel all across the nation. thus, my local bus trip over the 16km distance to port ellen ferry terminal was free of charge, as was the return coach trip to lochgilphead.

the return ferry sailing on the mv finlaggan was priced at £4 and took two hours, five minutes from departure to disembarking at kennacraig. i'd to wait just over half an hour for the glasgow bus to arrive.

my hospital appointment was set for 13:30. the coach arrived in lochgilphead at 13:15, leaving fifteen minutes to walk to the hospital which, by my rough calculation was close on two kilometres from the bus stop, complicated slightly by the fact of little relevant signposting and my being blissfully unaware of precisely where i was headed. much of the journey was accomplished upon tarmac'd footpaths; following my appointment, asking the hospital receptionist whether there was perhaps an easier means of reaching the hospital from the bus stop, revealed that to be unlikely. i'm exceptionally glad that it wasn't raining. however, in mitigation, i'm well aware that the heart-attack had been mine and mine alone, so i was relatively content to suffer the slings and arrows of convoluted travel.

on any other day of the week, there would have been a 15:00 ferry sailing from kennacraig back to islay, but on wednesdays, the second boat sails to the isle of colonsay, meaning no return sailing until 18:00. but rather than sit in lochgilphead for a few hours, i boarded the coach designed to deposit passengers at kennacraig for the non-existent 15:00 sailing. you may be comforted by the fact that i had taken ample reading material to keep me occupied while sitting at kennacraig ferry terminal from 15:15 until 17:35, when calmac allowed boarding of (once again) the mv finlaggan.

though the coach trip from lochgilphead to kennacraig was largely uneventful and ran exactly to schedule, as we drove between tarbert and the ferry terminal, rounding a corner, the driver had to slow to a crawl behind a few other vehicles, in turn behind two touring cyclists climbing a relatively steep hill. thankfully, they were well aware of the situation, and on reaching the summit, they pulled off to one side and let the traffic past. i overheard the driver say to the passenger sitting behind him, "i've nothing against cyclists, but certainly not on this road. it's simply too dangerous." the sad reality is that he was absolutely right.

the eight kilometre distance features a twisting, relatively narrow two-lane road, with numerous short climbs and blind corners. the major problem is that, with up to four ferry sailing per day leaving kennacraig for islay, there are always (and i do mean always) going to be drivers rushing for the ferry, having either left too late, or been held up along the way. this means that, inevitably, they will take chances in order not to miss their particular sailing. the majority of cyclists on this road are of the touring variety, often weighed down by full panniers or backpacks and unlikely to ride at speeds that find favour with these rushing motorists. i really don't think i have to explain further.

but then there's my entire return trip as described above, one that, no matter my boundless enthusiasm for undertaking it on a bicycle, was simply never going to happen. there's not a chance in the universe that i could have accomplished the trip by bike, without incurring danger to life and limb on not just the route between tarbert and the ferry. it could perhaps be done over a three day period, with two overnight stays, but bearing in mind the whole enchilada had been foisted upon me in the first place by a heart-attack, probably not at all advised.

so, despite my endless enthusiasm for undertaking any and every travel requirement by bicycle, there are gaping holes in that particular argument, some of which are only now being highlighted, as health and ageing encroach. locally, i foresee few direct problems, but i fear i may have been a tad myopic. and i doubt i'm all alone in my misguidance.

all in all, a twelve hour day for a ten minute appointment.

friday 20 june 2025

the accidental tour-ist. (final) dispatches from the road. ned boulting. bloomsbury hardback, 277pp illus. £20

we've been through all this before, but suddenly its relevance has reared its ugly head once again, and simply needs to be cited as part of this review. following many happy years of eurosport, through more commentators than i can truthfully recall, the cycling horizon took on a far darker hue earlier this year, when owners warner brothers/discovery decided to forcibly transfer velocipedinal activity to tnt sports, the re-named edition of bt sports. where many had watched all manner of cycling via eurosport on the telly box as part of their sky package, or, as did i, via a monthly subscription to the online player, at the end of the 2024 tour de france, eurosport discontinued their proprietary online broadcasts, switching continuing subscribers to discovery+.

i was one of those who was provided with a healthy discount on that discovery+ subscription fee until december 2024 by way of compensation for the sudden demise of the eurosport equivalent. but, as previously explained at length, warners/discovery paid £6.7 billion for the sole rights to england's premier league football until 2030. along the way, they hoovered up the same rights to the tour de france and pretty much every other world tour race, mountain bike event and cyclocross season. to fund all this, the monthly subscription price dramatically escalated from £6.99 to an unpalatable £30.99. i can only assume that warners/discovery/tnt aren't overly concerned about the size of their cycling audience.

but the acquisition of exclusive rights to the next five years' worth of tours has had the collateral effect of removing free-to-air broadcasts from itv4. in other words, if you're not subscribed to tnt sports, this is the last year you'll be able to watch le tour.

that means, of course, the excellent commentary partnership of ned boulting and david millar, captained by gary imlach (who knew the latter didn't own a bicycle?), has metaphorically joined the dole queue. and since this will be the end of ned's twenty-two year association with the tour, over the course of 277 pages, he offers his acutely observed reminiscences.

"I had experienced the sometime glares of Cavendish, the inscrutability of Nibali, the excessive pre-answer nodding from Froome and the sheer oddness of Peter Sagan."

arguably unlike many of the professional peloton who have written in partnership, or have engaged the services of a ghost writer', mr boulting is a remarkably adept and erudite writer, as well as a commentator of particular note. his association with former professional, david millar, however has produced a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts; two disparate individuals who seem genuinely to complement each other to the extent that their extracurricular activity (the never strays far podcast - "a title that doesn't make sense"), has proved every bit as popular as their commentary exploits.

"I went to the Giro to commentate daily with Mat Stephens, while David remained at home in Spain. Every morning I would set my alarm for 6:30am, wake up in a state of disorientation, insantly dial David up on a Zoom call and, without any preamble, start to record a podcast."

former eurosport commentator, the late david duffield, was somewhat of an expert in waffling endlessly about nothing in particular during particularly lengthy sprint stages. he was even given to describing his and sean kelly's travel plans as they wended their way around france during the tour. but by and large, it's only the commentary to which viewers are party; behind the scenes is hidden between gary imlach's introductions and daniel friebe's on-screen insights. but now, all (or at least some) can be revealed.

"Those who provide the words alongside the action at say, football, rugby, cricket, athletics, tennis or any of the much, much bigger and more lucrative sports benefit in one peculiarly meaningful way: they can actually see what they are talking about. In road racing, we can't."

ned's appreciation that the sports mentioned above are 'much, much bigger and more lucrative' than the decidedly niche sport of cycling, is paid testament by citing the late richard moore "telling me that he'd once seen froome walking down a london street pushing his bike alongside him, dressed in a team sky tracksuit, being totally ignored by every single passer-by". mr boulting is well aware of his place and that of cycling in the grand firmament; there is no grandstanding here.

along the way, we are treated to tales from his solo theatre tour, a series of extravaganzas that were to begin life as an evening with chris froome, where ned would ask searching questions at various locations throught the uk. close to the start of this venture, froome pulled out. we also learn of his lengthy relationship with mark cavendish, the transition from cycling journalist to cycling commentator, and the often hilarious brompton adventures. but, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end, and on 27 july this year, it seems that they will.

"I am dreading our final descent into Paris. I already fear the moment that I will glimpse the Eiffel Tower by night on the last transfer I make to the capital city..."

in truth, this is not only the entertaining recollections of one of cycling's finest commentators, but also something of an historical document, a last treatise on the changing face of sports broadcasting, where those with money can run roughshod over the needs or desires of a rapidly disenfranchised audience. the sport may be the very definition of the word niche, but it has been all the better for ned boulting's twenty-two year association with the yellow jumper.

thursday 19 june 2025

restorative

i know you will think much less of me when i admit that i have developed a liking for a programme shown on the u&drama channel, entitled bangers and cash. this concerns the business dealings of the matthewsons family who operate a vintage car auction business in thornton-le-dale, north yorkshire. the tv programme's initial premise was reasonably sound, following the fate of vehicles delivered to or collected for auctions which originally took place in the village hall. with the onset of the covid pandemic, auctions became, of necessity, online only as opposed to their in-person predecessors. it would appear, however, that this method, including bids by phone, has proved more pragmatic, since the village hall has been left to its own devices ever since.

vehicles placed for auction range from truly vintage vehicles such as the bullnose morris and the model t ford, to relatively recent rolls royces, porsches and the seemingly beloved ford sierra cosworth (the one with the 'whale-tail' spoiler on the bootlid). however, while the programme has gained substantial traction amongst tv audiences, there's only so often, i'd imagine, the premise can be repeated, car after car. in the face of repeated repetition, the programme's makers opted to test the theory that restoring used vehicles could be made profitable, despite the advice of the matthewsons to the contrary.

thus was born bangers and cash- restoration, where the producers purchase apparently suitable vehicles at one of the regular auctions, before transporting them to specialists in the type of vehicle purchased and having a thorough and oft-times expensive restoration undertaken. once completed, the vehicle is re-entered at auction in the hope that the purchase price might return a profit. it almost seems unnecessary to make it clear that on very, very few occasions do they leave with more money in their pockets than with which they arrived.

as a motor car agnostic, you would be well within your rights to query my fascination with the programme, at which point i will emphasise that it's the restoration series than garners my principal attention, while the regular edition is only chosen when there's precious little else to watch. the interest is rarely the cars themselves, but the skills required to reinstate an ageing vehicle to its former glory. while engines, gearboxes and wheels are often sub contracted to specialists, bodywork, upholstery and the mechanical wherewithal are dealt with inhouse. watching the mechanics at work is often highly educational and fascinating. and i cannot deny that i harbour similar sentiments to those in the market for a vintage car in the first place, where the accent on relative simplicity contrasts directly with present day motors cars into which more and more pointless technology is shovelled if only to differentiate from the previous years' pointless technology.

the wonder, and i'm pretty sure i'm not the only one to consider it, is whether a similar practice could be applied to the humble bicycle?

carbon frames have been a part of the daily peloton since the arrival of ernesto's c40 in 1994, possibly, or possibly not long enough to discover the purported longevity of the material. we are constantly informed that a crashed carbon frame may well contain internal fractures that remain concealed until they very dramatically appear when least expected. steel frames, and arguably some aluminium models can be successfully restored to their former glory. only last week i spoke of the restored colner shown at an exhibition in los angeles, while there are a number of outlets across europe retailing vintage steel bicycles, though not always specifically restored.

of course, it may be more economically viable to restore an elderly motor car than a lugged steel frame featuring several chromed stays. there are several businesses involved in the supply of new parts for vintage motor cars; i'm unaware of anyone specifically producing polished alloy, replica campagnolo record components from the 1950s. that said, many of campagnolo's original componentry was undoubtedly built to last, often requiring a new set of chainrings and a polish with brasso. and though i confess i'm in no rush to return to downtube gear levers, aesthetically, they do add a certain je-ne-sais-quoi entirely missing from a set of di2 levers. and who can deny that the cables exiting the top of the brake levers don't send a shiver down your back?

though the restoration process involved in an episode of bangers and cash is rarely undertaken in the search for environmental credibility, it's something a great deal closer to home in the world of the velocipede. i'm aware that there are many community businesses dotted around the country which take in elderly, dysfunctional bicycles and bring them back to life, but rarely do they stretch as far as restoring them to showroom condition. in mitigation, many such bikes were hardly worth the price of admission in the first place.

just a restorative thought.

tuesday 17 june 2025